MUSIC REVIEW : A Lonely Bing Recital by Austria’s Wolfgang Holzmair

What if they gave an important, sophisticated concert in Los Angeles, and nobody came?

It virtually happened Wednesday night at the Leo S. Bing Theater. It was sad. It was pathetic. It was embarrassing.

The artist on display was none less than Wolfgang Holzmair. Many reasonable observers regard the young Austrian baritone as a possible successor to Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. That says a lot.

Holzmair has already mustered two successful tours of North America. Riccardo Muti chose him for Papageno in “Die Zauberflote” at La Scala. He has made many fine recordings, including four volumes of Schubert. He is booked for recitals this season in New York, Paris and London, not to mention orchestral appearances in Cleveland, Berlin and Vienna.

And here he was in Southern California, singing a discerning program of Mendelssohn, Schumann, Duparc, Faure and Ravel for a tiny crowd at our County Museum of Art. Tiny? The appropriately intimate hall can accommodate nearly 600. An informal head-count suggested that 100 patrons showed up. Maybe fewer.

Tickets, not incidentally, cost $15. Students, seniors and museum members received discounts. The price wasn’t exactly prohibitive.

So what went wrong? Who knows?

Holzmair happened to be facing some serious competition, with Anne-Sophie Mutter at the Music Center and Ruth Ann Swenson at Ambassador. Still, one would like to think that a big, smart city like ours can support three concerts in one night. It happens all the time in New York and Vienna.

Dorrance Stalvey, the beleaguered impresario in charge of music at the museum, points out that he doesn’t have much of an advertising budget. Still, one would like to think that word of mouth would sell out an event like this in a big, smart city like ours. It happens all the time in New York and Vienna.

Oh, well. . . .

It would be less than realistic to claim that the absentees missed a recital to cherish forever. Perhaps Holzmair was disconcerted, as it were, by the modest turnout. (He did look a bit startled when he made his entrance.) Perhaps he was suffering from a cold. Perhaps he still has some technical problems to overcome. Whatever the reason, achievements did not invariably match intentions on this unhappy occasion.

But the intentions obviously were lofty.

Holzmair’s lyric baritone--exceptionally bright, light and pliable--sounds almost like a tenor. His tone is reasonably plangent, if a little tight and nasal, at the top, rather breathy at the bottom. Although he can rise to ringing climaxes when absolutely necessary, he is more effective when he concentrates on vocal refinement.

Call him a pianissimist. If you must, call him precious.

He articulates texts, German or French, with careful clarity. He doesn’t dwell very much, however, on verbal nuance.

His work is always tasteful, always restrained, invariably intelligent. Sometimes it is poignant.

He seemed a bit distracted, understandably so, in the four Mendelssohn Lieder that opened the program. Still, he floated the legato sentiment of Mendelssohn’s “Auf Flugeln des Gesanges,” a.k.a. “On Wings of Song,” most gracefully.

In the 16 songs of Schumann’s “Dichterliebe” he tended to settle for emotional generalities rather than poetic specifics. Even so, the bel-canto rewards were considerable.

The second half of the program turned out to be more consistently rewarding. Here, Holzmair seemed more relaxed (or was it merely more resigned?). His penchant for understatement, his apparent preference for elegance over eloquence and his exquisite use of soft head-tones proved distinctly advantageous in the delicate French miniatures.

He sustained a perfect aura of muted agony in Faure’s “Adieu,” and actually defined the charm of Ravel’s “Tout Gai!” without becoming arch. One would like to hear him as Debussy’s Pelleas.

Duparc’s “Soupir,” dispatched with perfect nostalgic poise, served as the only encore. It seemed generous under the circumstances.

Thomas Palm provided oddly matter-of-fact accompaniment on a gruff Yamaha. The management provided full texts and translations, but no annotations.