MUSIC REVIEW : A Poignant Celebration for a Lonely, Gentle Giant

Witold Lutoslawski turned 80 on Jan. 25.

That milestone may not be of earth-shattering significance to those who think serious music ended with the mysterious death of Tchaikovsky. The same timid conservatives regard Richard Strauss, after all, as a historic blip, a brave extension of a quaint romantic aberration.

For anyone who feels music is a progressive, still-lively, potentially adventurous art, however, and for anyone who values form and order in a creative world dominated by slick redundancy at one extreme and chaotic primitivism at the other, Lutoslawski looms as a giant among little people.

He may be a gentle giant, a lonely giant, a thinking-person’s giant, a polite giant--if you will. Nevertheless, a giant is a giant.

He definitely is the giant of the hour and, who knows, he may be the giant of the year. San Francisco paid generous homage last month. Ambitious celebrations are scheduled for the immediate future in London; Manchester, England; Paris; Strasbourg, France, and Helsinki, Finland. This week, the Los Angeles Philharmonic is devoting its attention--for the fourth time in a decade--to the beloved octogenarian from Warsaw.

Beginning Friday, subscription audiences at the Music Center will witness the composer conducting the world premiere of his Fourth Symphony, not to mention the challenging “Mi-parti” and the relatively popular Cello Concerto (with Lynn Harrell as presumably fearless protagonist).

Monday night, the Lutoslawski festivities began in more intimate tones, however, with a Green Umbrella program devoted to chamber-music spanning the years 1957 and 1988. The Japan America Theatre seats 841. It wasn’t exactly sold out on this occasion--it never is for a survey of modern music--but Lutoslawski did attract an unusually large, unusually appreciative, unusually distinguished crowd. The cognoscenti took notice.

Their attentions were rewarded with an evening of brash yet civilized modernism--some of it witty, some of it percussive, some of it poignant, all of it polished.

The performances ranged from brilliant to dutiful with, thank goodness, more of the former than the latter. The sentimentalists in residence will be able to tell their grandchildren that they saw the white-haired composer--remarkably spry and ever-genial--taking bows, sharing bows and, in a climactic little finale, manning the podium both elegantly and efficiently on his own behalf.

The program, concise and nicely balanced, began with the String Quartet of 1964, Lutoslawski’s only venture in the medium. It is an extraordinary, probing demonstration of sonic cohesion, the four instruments sharing melodic ideas and rhythmic impulses as if they were one. The structure is precise, some carefully controlled aleatoric flights notwithstanding, and the concern for subtlety in dynamic interplay is almost desperate.

The performance with Camille Avellano, Elizabeth Baker (violins), Meredith Snow (viola) and Daniel Rothmuller (cello) began a bit nervously. Matters were not helped by some apparent confusion regarding the complexities of page-turning. About 10 minutes into the piece, Rothmuller broke a string. After a quick onstage repair job, muttered apologies and some managerial consultation, it was decided to start again from the beginning.

This time, all went well. Very well.

After intermission, percussionist Mitchell Peters led 10 colleagues in an almost-literally smashing performance of “Slides,” a dramatic convolution of fanfares written in 1988 in honor of Elliott Carter. The five-minute opus turned out to be the only West Coast premiere on the agenda.

Lynn Harrell, natty in crimson socks to match the de rigueur crimson ties and cummerbunds favored by all Green Umbrella participants, brought casual virtuosity and plangent tone to two central miniatures: the cleverly whimsical “Sacher” Variations (1975) and the cleverly passionate “Grave: Metamorphoses” (1981). For the latter, Brent McMunn matched the cellist in flair at the piano, even though he refused to match his partner’s flair in colorful hose.

Harrell, not incidentally, is about to assume the coveted post of principal at the Royal Academy in London. His move, no doubt, will signal a sad loss for Los Angeles.

McMunn returned as sensitive accompanist for the suave mezzo-soprano Kathleen Roland in five early songs on texts by Kazimiera Illakowicz (1957). The tone was somber, the style comparatively retrogressive. The so-called lighting in the auditorium precluded following the text and translations thoughtfully printed in the program. The singer’s restraint bordered on inhibition.

Finally, Lutoslawski took charge for the first of his three “Chains” (1983), a kaleidoscopic essay in overlapping chugs and evolving textures that, after 10 taut minutes, builds to a nice whomping climax. The audience responded with the sort of ovation usually reserved for divos who wave little white tablecloths.

There may be hope.