MUSIC REVIEW : STERN RETURNS TO MUSIC CENTER

When the occasion warrants, Isaac Stern invariably rises to it with eloquent speech. And Tuesday, as the throngs assembled for his recital at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the virtuoso with portfolio decided that a few words were most definitely in order.

So, before playing, he referred to the shock of the space-shuttle explosion, speaking about “what a hard day (it was) for us all” and “the difficulty of doing things as if nothing happened.” He then explained that “musicians say a prayer with music, their source of strength and solace,” his words thus adding significance to an evening that could otherwise be regarded as diversion.

The difference between Stern and most of his brethren is that they probably would have dedicated the concert to the seven who died. But since on this day he ended up needing everything he could get, it was wise and fitting of the violinist to ensure this bond between himself and the audience.

What he really needed was more of his wonted vigor and finesse. Either his playing was markedly off form, as it reportedly had been two weeks ago at a Pension Fund benefit for the L.A. Philharmonic, or perhaps this is the way Stern plays these days. At 65, it is conceivable that the master fiddler can no longer keep up the accustomed pace.

Many things were the same, however. The program was unstinting, a collection of choice, though mostly familiar, works ranging from Bach to Hindemith. And he resorted to his characteristic devices: controlling a crowd that has grown noisy or cough-convulsed, for instance, by staring at it dead center with his bow raised--Sternly.

But other trademarks remained elusive. Seemingly distracted and lacking concentration some of the time, the violinist stayed close to his music stand all night. There were no little excursions to stage side, the equivalent of leaning toward an ear for a whispered intimacy. And in place of an accompanist who could offer a full partnership, Stern introduced a relative tyro, Richard Bishop, who has yet to become an integral part of the duo.

On all counts it was not the best of times. After offering a tribute--an adagio by Haydn, which sounded lusterless and dull--Stern further warmed up on Handel’s Sonata in D, Opus 1. By the time he arrived at the presto finale of Bach’s unaccompanied G-minor Sonata, however, he was off flying with hot intensity.

Matters stayed improved for Hindemith’s Sonata, which also skittered along fleetly, its phrases taking complex shape and its lyric modernisms being served with refinement. Here was the old Stern, deftly flashing a technical brilliance wed to musical canniness.

And after intermission he found the tender, exquisitely seamless line for Dvorak’s Romance. But Stravinsky’s “Suite Italienne” turned from aptly gruff expression to stridence, and bogged down in pitch problems.