MUSIC REVIEWS : A Night of Tunes at the Philharmonic

Wednesday was a great night for tune lovers at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The Los Angeles Philharmonic, conducted by Vladimir Ashkenazy, delivered a ripe bounty of orchestral melody with affectionate skill, some lapses in execution notwithstanding.

The biggest shock to the program actually came several weeks before the event, when soloist Vladimir Feltsman dropped Stravinsky’s Concerto for Piano and Winds in favor of Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand. No, he has not injured his right hand--it was just a personal decision, according to a Philharmonic spokesman.

That removed the most distinctive spice from the recipe, and replaced a relative rarity with an evergreen staple. It was difficult to be disappointed, however, given the nobility of Feltsman’s account of the Ravel.

After some pedal-blurred edges in the opening cadenza, Feltsman’s effort proved crisp and powerful. He concentrated on fierce accents and rhythmic clarity, and suggested that intellectual hauteur could work as well as the insinuating sensuality that is all too often the stock response to Ravel.

Ashkenazy and the Philharmonic supplied colorful accompaniment, more zesty than tidy. Despite some very active cuing from the conductor, it missed effective coordination with the soloist at several points.

The Stravinsky-Ravel swap left the repertory interest all on Rachmaninoff’s tone poem, “The Isle of the Dead.” Based on a painting by Arnold Bocklin, the programmatic piece mixes edgy morbidity with characteristically expansive sentiment intended as life-affirming contrast.

In Ashkenazy’s stern interpretation and the steely shimmer of the Philharmonic strings, that contrast never completely emerged. Here, at least, Death not only had the last word but the greater eloquence as well.

At the back of the program lay Brahms’ beloved Symphony No. 1. Actually, it has not been as commonly encountered in recent seasons as Brahms’ other three, and Ashkenazy’s richly detailed ideas made a potent reminder of all its glories.

The conductor revealed particular flexibility in the Andante, a sympathetically phrased wonder of expressive nuance. He opted for cooler, but fully articulate, dynamism in the other movements, reserving climactic expansion for the end of the finale. Only the Allegretto, reduced to pale politesse, suffered from this rigorously controlled approach.

The orchestra responded with collective vigor and point, and a wealth of pertinent solos, headed by concertmaster Alexander Treger’s warm and elegant simplicity in the Andante. The winds, both as choirs and in some individual efforts, proved uncertain in several exposed entrances.