PREVIN HELPS CONDUCTORS SETTLE SCORE WITH BRAHMS

As the casually dressed youth orchestra tuned up, Peter Paul Ioannou paced nervously near the podium, twittering the baton in his hand and looking for all the world like an anxious runner psyching up for a big race.

Who could blame the young conductor? Waiting on the music stand in the Schoenberg Hall rehearsal room was the score to Brahms’ imposing Symphony No. 4. And standing nearby, clutching his own copy of the music, was Andre Previn, an intimidating presence.

Ioannou (pronounced Ee-AHN-oo) is one of three conducting fellows who struggled gamely with Brahms earlier this week, under the eyes and ears of Previn, as the Los Angeles Philharmonic Institute began its final days on the UCLA campus. The Institute Orchestra, with co-directors Previn and Lukas Foss on hand, ends its summer season Sunday at Hollywood Bowl.

The reading session abounded with firsts: It was the first time Previn had assisted the conductors in an orchestral setting--the first time, in fact, that a Philharmonic music director had taken an active role at the six-year-old institute. And, as quickly became apparent in the rocky 2 1/2-hour session, it was the first time many of the players had tackled the Fourth.

“The other afternoon, at a chamber-music session,” Previn told a visitor during the break, “I pointed out how, with the Brahms, they’d be able to play some great tunes. They looked at me and said, ‘Oh really?’ Some of them hadn’t even heard the piece.” Previn smiled. “Isn’t that marvelous? They’re discovering the Fourth today.”

This good-natured attitude had already carried over into the rehearsal. Once the initial tuning had concluded, Previn addressed the musicians: “I heard you play this morning and it was (pause) interesting. Now, I’m not going to change what your conductors want--that’s their business. I might try and help them get what they want, however.”

Before the rehearsal, the three conducting fellows relaxed in the quiet of a nearby lounge, speaking highly of the institute--and candidly about their nervousness.

“There’s no doubt about it,” noted Clyde Mitchell, “it’s not natural to be up there. You may act cool, but it’s intimidating.”

Ioannou nodded his agreement, but also stressed the value of the experience of stepping up to the podium: “This has been an education on a number of levels,” said the Cal State Northridge graduate. “But working with an orchestra on a regular basis has been primary.”

Mitchell, a former horn player with the Montreal Symphony and at 31 the oldest of the three, also emphasized the benefits of time spent with Previn and the other visiting maestros. “It’s wonderful to work with someone with all that experience. I’ve done some conducting (in Tucson and Bogota), but it’s still great to brush up. Hey, even (Chicago Cubs slugger) Andre Dawson has a hitting instructor.”

Peter Rubardt agreed that the experience offered by the institute is invaluable, but added that he has felt specific improvements in his baton technique: “I’m more focused in my podium manner now than five weeks ago. My approach has been changing constantly here.

“It’s true, though, that you can’t really teach conducting,” the 29-year-old UC Berkeley graduate and Juilliard doctoral candidate noted. “It’s all very vague, very ambiguous.”

Laboring diligently, if stiffly, the trio of conductors guided the orchestra through parts of all four movements of the Brahms. It looks so easy when you watch a Karajan, Mehta or Previn at work. We’ve all effortlessly waved our arms in front of our stereos, dramatically cueing the right or left speaker.

But watching these incipient maestros struggle to learn their craft revealed a simple fact: Conducting is difficult, demanding work.

Pacing from one side of the room to the other, Previn did his best, alternately encouraging (“That was beautifully done, just beautiful”) and criticizing (“Don’t wave the stick at her. It’s not nice.”).

The conductors’ styles varied considerably: Ioannou displayed a jerky manner, repeatedly drawing fire from Previn for overconducting: “Let them play on their own. Give them a little more freedom.”

Rubardt appeared more confident, using an abundance of facial expressions and quickish tempos to drive the players through the powerful Scherzo and part of the fiendishly difficult Andante.

Mitchell finished up the slow movement and led most of the final passacaglia. He conducted with a straight back and earnest expression. He also made a big boo-boo.

“OK, brass,” he instructed, “really growl on those opening chords (of the finale).” Rubardt’s eyes bugged open: “Oh, that’s a dangerous thing to say.” Sure enough, the results proved hilariously cacophonous. Amid the laughter, Previn pointed to the brass and told Mitchell, “That was their way of telling you they didn’t like it.”

The best music emerged when a fourth conductor stepped to the podium.

“Let me just try something here,” Previn said, as the ensemble noticeably brightened in expectation.

Urging the cellos and basses to dig more with their bows, pitting them against the violins, he drew a rich, vibrant tone from the combined strings. His point made, Previn stepped down, eliciting muffled applause from the orchestra and an expression of unconcealed admiration from Rubardt, who had observed this little demonstration in silent wonder.

Making his way to the sidelines, a slightly embarrassed Previn giggled and commented to no one in particular, “Fun and games.”

If only it were that easy.