MUSIC REVIEW : Stormy Beethoven by Franz Welser-Most

Had everything gone as planned, the Beethoven concert by the London Philharmonic Orchestra at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion on Sunday would have been led by Klaus Tenn-stedt, one of the last authentic practitioners of the grand old German school.

But everything did not go as planned. A man of mercurial temperament and apparently precarious health, Tennstedt seems to be one of those special artists who are available each season only for a limited number of cancellations.

In mid-February, it was announced--to no one’s great surprise--that the conductor-laureate of the London Philharmonic Orchestra would pass his baton in Los Angeles to the 32-year-old music-director, Franz Welser-Most.

Welser-Most, who made a promising if controversial debut here with the Los Angeles Philharmonic last November, is a firebrand, impure and complex. He may look mild-mannered when he makes his way to the podium, but watch out when he starts waving the stick.

He favors reckless tempos, inviting exhilaration on one hand and disorder on the other. He deals in passion that borders on frenzy, urgency that flirts with hysteria.

One doesn’t have to approve of his interpretive excesses to appreciate his daring. In an age when many young conductors are content to impersonate efficient machines, Welser-Most asserts instant emotional fervor. It may be disturbing, but it also is refreshing.

Although his brisk, tense, muscular approach to Beethoven pays little homage to the majesty of Furtwangler or to the lyricism of Bruno Walter, it isn’t altogether unprecedented. Toscanini certainly didn’t dawdle over details, and Carlos Kleiber isn’t celebrated in this repertory for his introspection.

Welser-Most attacked two symphonic war horses--first the gentle “Pastoral,” then (da-da-da- dummmm ) the heroic Fifth--with momentous brio. The storm in the “Pastoral” has seldom seemed so inevitable, or so violent. The climactic flourishes of the Fifth have seldom seemed so exultant.

Unlike some bravura specialists, Welser-Most is not insensitive to certain demands for finesse. While rushing to the mighty peaks, he may shine unexpected light on a telling inner voice or enforce a shimmering pianissimo in the midst of what threatens to be dynamic clutter. He makes music with brain as well as brawn.

For better and worse, his Beethoven remains a young man’s Beethoven. One looks forward to the day when his marvelous exuberance and impetuosity are counterbalanced by pathos. One looks forward to the day when he allows Beethoven’s poetry to coexist with Beethoven’s drama.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra responded to the boss’ frenetic urgings with high spirits that could not camouflage some technical problems. The brass tended to blare, the strings sounded a bit wan under pressure, and the prevalent high speeds sometimes introduced textural muddles.

The huge audience--never underestimate the attraction of Beethoven’s greatest hits--applauded dutifully after every movement until the final opportunity in the Fifth. By that time, the assembled enthusiasts had finally noticed that the conductor was turning his back on misplaced ovations.

Pandemonium erupted at the ultimate cadence, however. In response to an ecstatic standing ovation, the German maestro offered the jolt of a lush, sentimental, regulation-British encore: Edward Elgar’s transcription of his 1888 piano piece “Salut d’amour.”