Music Review : Soloist Von Stade Steals the Show at Hollywood Bowl

So how do you like your French music?

Light and airy, lilting and sexy? If so, the first half of the program at Hollywood Bowl on Thursday must have been just your morceau of cake.

Frederica von Stade, mezzo-soprano extraordinaire, won all hearts singing--also sighing, chanting, chirping and artfully yelping--seven of Canteloube’s irresistible “Chants d’Auvergne.” For popsy orchestral punctuation, Roger Norrington, the guest conductor who resists typecasting at all costs, led the Los Angeles Philharmonic in Chabrier’s “Joyeuse Marche” and “Espan~a.”

Prefer your French music ultra-Romantic and gutsy, ponderous and grand? If so, you could have your gateau and chew it too after intermission.

Here, Norrington led his merry modern band through the overblown convolutions of Berlioz’s “Symphonie Fantastique.” Although this served essentially as an encore of the British maestro’s controversial performances at the Music Center last year, the Gallic indulgences made a mightier noise in the great amplified outdoors.

Still, not everyone in the audience of 7,893 at Cahuenga Pass could be totally ecstatic.

Those who value stylistic coherence in programming may have found the concert a bit disconcerting. After the froth of Chabrier and the folksy charms of Canteloube, the listener had to do some drastic shifting of gears to accommodate Berlioz’s wildly heroic, intellectually demanding, stubbornly meandering poetry. The large number of mid-symphony defections suggested a crisis of concentration at best, a crisis of aesthetic faith at worst.

Those who came expecting to hear Ravel’s “Sheherazade” and “Alborada del Gracioso”--as promised in advance schedules, the current program magazine and posters on display--must have been disappointed. Without apology or public explanation, the management had altered the program, adding additional Canteloube excerpts, reportedly at Von Stade’s request.

Those who think a human voice should sound human must have been disoriented by the sonic blasts emanating from the new loudspeaker towers. Even at its voluptuous best, Von Stade’s suave and delicate tone suffered distortion. It was oddly muffled one moment, electronically boosted beyond the bounds of nature the next.

Those who think the words mean something in vocal music must have been annoyed by the absence of texts in the program. For the performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony on Tuesday, the forces in charge had deemed it worthwhile to print Schiller’s “Ode to Joy.” No such illumination was provided, however, for the relatively obscure Canteloube songs.

With the top ticket fetching $144--repeat, $144--a dauntless optimist might expect a little more when going Bowling. Even the grumps in attendance could find compensation, however, in certain big favors.

The biggest, no doubt, was Von Stade. The diva stole the show without looking or acting the least bit like a diva. She exuded poise, wit and cheer as she defined the elusive line that fuses elegance and earthiness.

Elegance would not seem to be Norrington’s strongest suit. Still, he served Chabrier with splashy fervor, accompanied Von Stade sympathetically, and repainted the vast Berlioz canvas with broadly appreciative strokes, some blunt stresses and blurry details notwithstanding.

The Philharmonic, ever cooperative, responded with as much bravura as conditions would allow. As usual, the microphones offered far greater fidelity to the orchestra than to the soloist.