MUSIC Previn on probation
GILLIAN WIDDICOMBE
Sometimes I wonder why so much music criticism is so polite. Approximately thirty seconds later I conclude that it must be the side-effects of the indescribability of the sub- ject in verbal terms. After that it takes approximately ten seconds to remember that it was not always so, and to pinch and twist the classic Shaw review of a Wigmore recital so that it reads: `Andre Previn is the prin- cipal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra. Why?'
Which is not to say that I think Previn should not be principal conductor of the Lso —please follow my meaning—but is to admit to extreme provocation by the lengthy blah published as an extract from a forthcoming book in last week's Sunday Times, in which Previn answered questions about his role as conductor. Previn is without doubt the big- gest publicity magnet since Beecham. He is fast becoming the London equivalent of Bernstein and Karajan; which is all to the good if it draws more people to attend and enjoy the Lso's concerts—and there is plenty of evidence that it certainly does.
Publicity circles round his interesting past as jazz pianist and Hollywood composer/ arranger, also round his unusual wife who occasionally comes to concerts. Previn is articulate, amusing, candid and unpretenti- ous; ideal on television; altogether an attrac- tively spicy figurehead, American styled. Added to and involved with this, when he was appointed to the Lso in 1968 he had a recording contract with RCA which effectively guaranteed the orchestra a large number of profitable sessions. However, it would be ridiculous—not to say libellous—to suggest that Previn was only appointed for his 'trendy image' as the Sunday Times described it; as ridiculous, perhaps, as it would be to claim that Wilson became Prime Minister on the strength of his telly chats and pipes. Yet a conductors job is difficult to analyse. Previn himself des. cribed it as 'being the traffic cop', but ad- mitted that this was an over-simplification. Still it does mean we can begin with his signals. Previn is a lithe man and has a wide beat, extending his arms more than most and certainly more than pupils of Boult and Monteux. He tends to balance one hand against the other, and often appears to dupli- cate their indications; it is not an economic technique, and could be caricatured as a kind of paddle. That in itself is not significant, for Sze11:s knitting, Bemstein's ballet and Klemperers tremble also have ambiguities for those who do not know them. The point is the audible one that Previn's traffic does not always obey his signals, and when the crunch comes
(as for example in his recent accompaniment to the 'Emperor' with the young American pianist Joseph Kalichstein) the result can be astonishingly untidy for an orchestra with the tso's virtuoso response.
Moreover, Previn's geographical memory does not seem to be all that strong—by which I refer to his overall command of a score rather than the exact position of the fourth trombone. This is something that usually eludes the ears of outsiders; the Lso has even been heard to carry a lost con- ductor safely through The Rite of Spring. But Previn had a significant catastrophe a few months ago. Rashly he played a Mozart piano concerto at the Festival Hall; unfor- tunately he seemed to get lost in the slow movement, leaving the orchestra to circle hopefully in G major.
What, then, of his musical qualities? He is, by all accounts, strongest in the romantic repertory, with pieces like Sheherazade and Rachmaninov's second symphony which give him a big tune to get his teeth into. and where his ear fot sonority rather than line is most effectively used. Otherwise I can think of no specific 'character' most commonly associated with his performances, and none of the pungency that enables one to smell a Karajan, a Bernstein or a Giulini within a few bars. Time may change this. For the moment we leave him, hoist on his own publicity. 'I should like to give good con- certs,' he says. Gloves off? Maestro! The orchestra is waiting.
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