suitespot

Peter Burwasser on classical

by Peter Burwasser

When Riccardo Muti returned to Philadelphia in 1998 to conduct a benefit concert with the orchestra he led for 12 years, I wrote a preview in these pages that declared his choice of repertoire to be showy and crowd-pandering. I called him arrogant. I still maintain that there is a grain of truth in both sentiments, but in retrospect, I must admit to missing the point of Muti's extraordinary relationship with his musicians and audience. I also regret my rather sophomoric choice of words. That concert turned out to be, by far, the most thrilling orchestra performance of the season.

Muti's most recent appearance here, on Feb. 13, also crackled with a special energy, but there were some different dynamics at work. In 1998, there were still plenty of raw feelings between Muti and orchestra management and a lingering unease about his relationship with Philadelphia culture generally. Time, one hopes, has healed many of the wounds. It almost seemed that much of the tension dissipated during the course of the concert itself. When Muti first marched onto the stage, it seemed like old times, for better or worse. The dashing, still athletic-looking maestro wore the same dark scowl with which we were so familiar. By the end of the Brahms Second Symphony, he was moved to address the audience at some length, revealing a humility and even a sense of humor — he actually smiled! — that was virtually unknown to the public at large during his tenure as director.

The big story, no doubt related to Muti's bemused post-concert demeanor, concerns his Verizon Hall debut. This was his first appearance in the theater that he so urgently clamored for, and like swooning lovers delivering a special gift, everyone wondered, did he like it? His muted comments about the acoustics were essentially positive, but the bold sound he made supplanted a thousand words. There were a number of retired veterans of Muti's orchestra who played that evening, but also many players who were facing his baton for the first time. Nevertheless, and despite minimal rehearsal time, Muti's remarkable ability to inspire the highest levels of concentration, coupled with his propulsive expression of line and rhythm, was vibrantly on display.

The Monday morning buzz was not just about the concert itself but about the future of this relationship. Will we have to wait another seven years for a Muti appearance? How about a commitment to a more permanent arrangement? It would be a major coup for the Philadelphia Orchestra to assemble a season that includes prominent places for the last three music directors, drawing on the unique strengths of Muti, Wolfgang Sawallisch and Christoph Eschenbach. Make a wish.