MUSIC REVIEW : Mediocre Beethoven From Bulgaria

Strange things happened Tuesday night at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. Strange quasi-multicultural things.

The usually enterprising Philharmonic Society engaged the gutsy Sofia Philharmonic Orchestra of troubled Bulgaria to play an all-Beethoven concert with a Japanese-American soloist.

Music, the platitude assures us, is the universal language. Beethoven serves as a common denominator. Still, lazy, possibly cynical, programming doesn’t do much to advance the cause of international enlightenment.

Lazy programming can, of course, help commercial causes. Beethoven’s hum-along Violin Concerto and mighty “Eroica” are supposed to be box-office draws, no matter who rides the warhorses and how.

Not necessarily. The large number of empty seats on this occasion suggested that it may take more than the churning out of Great Hits to attract the masses.

Under the circumstances, one could doubly regret the absence of more adventurous, less familiar fare. Even in these difficult times, someone in the Balkans must be writing some interesting music. Emil Tabakov, music director of the Sofia Philharmonic since 1985, actually happens to be a composer.

If, for some reason, modernism must be deemed unworthy of export, someone still could have found a repertory showcase for this eager, hard-working, embattled ensemble that did not invite instant--instantly unflattering--comparisons with the world’s greatest orchestras.

A lot has happened to the Sofia Philharmonic since 1978, when it visited Southern California for a Long Beach concert. State subsidies have fallen as the Iron Curtain has risen. Nevertheless, private enterprise in the arts remains a dubious prospect and a low priority.

One would like to applaud the idealism displayed on this occasion and voice some stubborn optimism for better times. Still, it would be less than realistic to pretend that the Bulgarian Beethoven concert rose very high above the level of comfortable mediocrity.

Intentions no doubt were lofty. Achievements were not.

Tabakov--43 or 45, depending on which official source one chooses to believe--is an obviously authoritative, technically proficient, usefully energetic conductor. His gifts as an interpreter were not severely tested, however, on this occasion. And it is difficult for an outsider to know if the ongoing problems regarding precision, timbre, balance and intonation should be attributed to him or to conditions beyond his control.

For the Violin Concerto, which took up the first half of the evening, he functioned primarily as accompanist for Masuko Ushioda. Since her performance was wispy in tone and dull in expression, the conductor had to concentrate primarily on reducing the dynamic scale of the orchestra. He did this admirably, matching the reticent soloist fragile nuance for fragile nuance.

After intermission, he made up for his restraint with a wildly impetuous “Eroica.” Tabakov nearly scrambled the outer allegros in a quest for speedy excitement, and his generosity in observing repeats suggested that there are times even in Beethoven when one can have too much of a good thing. He did offer compensation, however, in the sensitive pianissimo of the funeral march and the lyrical poise of the scherzo.

Perhaps next time. . . .