MUSIC REVIEW : Salonen Back for Week With Philharmonic

When Esa-Pekka Salonen burst upon the downtown scene in 1984--the occasion was his American debut--the young Finnish conductor served notice of a major, flamboyant, inquiring, and, yes, picturesque talent.

Audiences loved him instantly. Even the press was impressed.

Since then, he has won assembled hearts on frequent occasions at the Hollywood Bowl as well as at the Music Center. He has led the Los Angeles Philharmonic in a prize-winning recording of works by Lutoslawski. His relationship with this orchestra, and with this city, hasn’t exactly been casual.

Thursday night, at the grand old age of 29, he returned to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion for a meager one-week stand. This, regrettably and inexplicably, represents his only local engagement of the season.

Together with his compatible soloist, Peter Serkin, he chose an interesting program. The first half was devoted to a provocative combination of unpredictable Stravinsky and neglected Mozart. Then, after intermission, came a rather unconventional look at some conventional Beethoven.

To wake up the potentially somnolent first-nighters, the conductor and his symphonic friends snapped, crackled and popped through Stravinsky’s “Fireworks,” a brash little exercise with which the 26-year-old enfant terrible had jolted a rather staid Russia in 1908.

After this bracing start, Serkin joined Salonen for a survey of the pervasive clarity and elegant urgency of Mozart’s D-major Piano Concerto, K., 451, anno 1784 . Believe it or not, our Philharmonic had never ventured the piece before.

The Mozart proved more notable for fluency and solidity than for subtlety or finesse. Serkin rippled and soared with earnest, robust energy, without pausing long to consider the expressive advantages of light and shade. Salonen provided self-effacing accompaniment.

In Stravinsky’s Capriccio of 1929--a wild fantasy that veers in so many directions that the sympathetic listener must abandon most hope of stylistic coherence--a surprisingly sedate Serkin offered propulsion without much wit or bite. Salonen and the orchestra, which had ventured this jerky and perky challenge previously only on two distant occasions at the Bowl, followed tentative suit.

In the Beethoven Fourth, Salonen explored a lot of independent ideas, some of which seemed patently convincing. He opted for some exceptionally languid slow passages and dwelled on introductory details. He focused inner voices that other conductors tend to regard as unimportant.

Then, in sudden sweeps of excitement, he often took off in speedy sonic excursions that threatened to scramble the lines. When the final, whomping cadence beckoned, he brought the evening to a gasping, emphatically climactic close.

It will take time, of course, for him to unify his concept. Great Beethoven conductors do not spring full-formed from the half-shell.

It also would take more time than apparently was at his disposal to make the Philharmonic respond to his independent concept with conviction and precision. What we heard on this occasion emerged as a brave young man’s Beethoven and, as such, essentially as a sketch.

Still, it was a fascinating, thoughtful, heroic sketch. It was a sketch drawn with intelligence and passion. It bodes well.