MUSIC REVIEW : A Difficult Debut for Pianist

Pity the poor pianist who must make his debut at Hollywood Bowl. Pity Artur Pizarro.

The 22-year-old virtuoso from Portugal managed to conquer all adversity at the formidable Leeds Competition in Great Britain last September. Chances are, he found his open-air trial in Southern California on Thursday even more daunting.

At Leeds, after all, he did not have to cope with an amplification system than can make a Steinway grand sound like a calliope one moment and a kazoo the next. He didn’t have to worry about communicating subtleties to a distant audience of 10,423 in an arena that can accommodate 18,000. He didn’t have to compete with airplanes buzzing overhead or with sirens wailing on a nearby freeway.

He certainly didn’t have to cope with the unyielding, almost perverse accompaniment provided by Yuri Temirkanov on the podium of the Los Angeles Philharmonic.

Pizarro, to his professional credit, did not fall apart. In his hum-along vehicle, Rachmaninoff’s Second Concerto, he sustained a semblance of nonchalant poise under terrible pressure.

Rising above the acoustical mush, he played the legitimately lyrical passages with considerable sensitivity, even shading the cantabile line with fine dynamic nuances. Although he didn’t seem able to summon much power or dramatic thrust for the climactic outbursts, it was hard to decide if the blame belonged to the pianist, the piano or the microphones.

In any case, the pervasively intimate scale did suggest that Rachmaninoff’s fortes might not be Pizarro’s forte. Final interpretive judgments should be put aside, however, until this very young, obviously talented pianist returns under more auspicious conditions--and with a conductor willing to follow more and lead less.

Temirkanov once again enforced ponderous tempos, curious sonic balances and some bracing structural distortions. One cannot assume that they reflected Pizarro’s preferences.

Closing his fortnight under the Hollywood stars, the erratic maestro from Leningrad opened the program with another glitzy excerpt from Borodin’s “Knyaz’ Igor’ “--this time the smooth, exotic Polovtsian Dances in rough, decidedly unexotic performances. After intermission, he redeemed himself, emphatically, in the Fifth Symphony of Shostakovich.

Without resorting to bombast at one extreme or to sentimentality at the other, Temirkanov placed the composer’s precarious pathos, his ironic grotesquerie and tense heroism all in perfect perspective. Despite some untidy edges, the Philharmonic responded with uniform sensitivity and bravura force, as needed. The performance offered a belated revelation.

For once, the massive Bowl audience-usually more interested in conspicuous picnicking than in music-applauded only in the right places. There may be hope.