MUSIC REVIEW : Previn Leads L.A. Premiere of Dutilleux 2nd Symphony

It wasn’t exactly a case of Beauty and the Beast on Friday at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. But from the diverse contributions of a 17-year-old Japanese violinist and a 73-year-old French composer came one of the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s most exciting concerts of the season thus far.

The music of Henri Dutilleux has been so little heard here that the local premiere of his Second Symphony--composed in 1959 for the 75th anniversary of the Boston Symphony, recorded by Charles Munch with that orchestra, and then again last year by Daniel Barenboim and the Orchestre de Paris--had to come as a revelation for most listeners. The more so in light of the composer’s own casual acceptance of the conservative label, since his symphony proved to be a punchy, substantial sonic kaleidoscope, progressive for its time without being stylistically dogmatic.

Dutilleux has also provided an orchestral showpiece of the first order. “Le Double,” as the work is subtitled, grouped a dozen of the Philharmonic’s brightest and best around music director Andre Previn, as a soloistic but cohesive suborchestra. The resulting textures are occasionally thick or traditionally antiphonal, but more often flickering in volatile permutations.

Though comprehendibly shaped, and linked through apparently intuitive thematic developments, “Le Double” could easily disintegrate into a collage of sound bites. Previn, though, propelled it as an organic drama, one of swift, purposeful action and pointed reverie.

His orchestra responded with an athletic, somewhat breathless effort. The solo team offered integrated playing of great poise and elan, and the whole proved wonderfully alert to the symphony’s jazzier suggestions.

Midori, the mononominal violinist from Japan by way of Juilliard, displayed similar panache in Tchaikovsky’s much-tried Concerto. Already a veteran of countless concerts, proven in the publicity crucible of the “Tonight Show” and a celebrated Tanglewood triumph over repeated broken strings, Midori is personally and technically unflappable.

She is also, mirabile dictu, a musician of ready communication. Some of her phrases were snapped off too sharply, but she delivered a remarkable feeling of paradoxically concentrated abandon. Her tone is evenly weighted, her bow capable of any feat at any speed, and her spirit clearly at play in the fields of the fiddle.

Previn and the Philharmonic backed her steadily and suavely. They opened the program with a rough reading of “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” by Dukas.