MUSIC REVIEW : Oregon Symphony Makes Bowl Debut

The Oregon Symphony does not make a fearsome noise, or a visceral impression. As heard Tuesday night in its Hollywood Bowl debut, it merely plays well, like many another North American orchestra that has visited our outdoor symphonic haven. But certainly not on a par with the best of them.

The last symphonic ensemble in a miniparade of second- (maybe third-) level orchestras playing at the Bowl in the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s five-week absence, the Oregon Symphony can boast a small-scale virtuosity. It does not command the listener’s attention with its finesse, or sweep away memories of other orchestras with its authority.

Under longtime music director James DePreist, the Oregon players gave a very clean, usually well-paced, altogether respectable performance of Berlioz’s “Symphonie Fantastique” on the second half of its two-work program. Before that, they proved less successful in a choppy and piecemeal, if courageous, run-through of Brahms’ Second Piano Concerto.

More interesting, however, was their reading of the national anthem. DePreist’s interpretation of “The Star-Spangled Banner” is remarkable for idiosyncratic pacing.

It begins in a flurry of energetic and no-nonsense briskness--too fast, one might think, forgetting that the composer marked it: Con spirito-- then, at, “And the rocket’s red glare,” turns back on itself in a small orgy of tempo rubato, ending in a noble ritard. Fascinating.

The 55-year-old American conductor’s view of the Berlioz work turned out to be not nearly so intriguing.

Those extremes of temperament that the piece regularly broadcasts seemed reined-in and under tight control, the result being a more sedate, if nicely detailed account of familiar territory. Here, the Oregon brass and woodwinds, finely accomplished and highly disciplined, showed off stylishly.

The underpowered achievements of the orchestra’s strings were also on display, more gratefully in Berlioz’s “Fantastique” than in Brahms’ B-flat Piano Concerto, where they sometimes sounded puny.

One could not be sure whether a continuing sense of fragmentation in this performance emanated from the podium or from the game soloist, Yefim Bronfman.

Whoever the culprit, this became a one-dimensional rendering of a complex musical tapestry, an honest and competent, if monochromatic, essay in Brahmsian style.

Its pluses were solid pacing and bar-to-bar continuity. Its lacks included an overall sweep and vision, a full range of dynamics and color and an apprehendable connection between movements. Some day, the 34-year-old Bronfman may master and project the actual content of this work; for now, he has a good grasp of its exterior.

Reported attendance: 8,813.