Since we are approximately the same age and both grew up in LA, Michael Tilson Thomas was always a boy come home to me. It may have once seemed that he had inherited the mantle of Leonard Bernstein as a conductor/composer/pianist, most importantly in his open-hearted generosity of spirit and the ability to connect with his audiences in the way that American conductors can uniquely. But where Bernstein became increasingly haunted, perhaps by the specter of conductors who he perceived as greater in some sense, Thomas never succumbed to those particular devils.
Throughout both works on this Los Angeles Philharmonic program, the 79-year old conductor, waging a battle against brain cancer, stood with a balance of someone very much in touch with his roots and perhaps with the peace that comes from the sense of returning.
It was a full house in Walt Disney Hall and the orchestra warmed up with particularly brilliant runs, a sign of how psyched up they were for the occasion. At 20:06 Tilson Thomas came out carefully, slowly turned to the podium, took a moment to gather himself before mounting the podium. Then, with little ceremony, he began conjuring up a Petrushka out of the orchestra that was so open-hearted, refreshingly curious and often magical that it was like he was listening to the music for the first time, taking us along for the ride. He gave cues, as if welcoming the players into the musical embrace, like Bernstein.
He took tempos that allowed the audience time to enjoy the instrumental antics, thrill to the mighty LA Phil brass and bathe in the beauty of iconic moments like the flute, bassoon and trumpet trio; it was a puppet show of life. Although the orchestral sound was more homogenized than edgy, could have used more depth and a bit less sobriety, these small complaints were lost in the overall glee of the performance and in fact, towards the end MTT literally marched himself on the podium for a few seconds. For an encore he chose the Russian dance that ends the first tableau and, with his elfin ways, it was easy to imagine that he had been the magician who makes the puppets come alive.
The Tchaikovsky Fourth after intermission had its moments but was otherwise mostly uneventful; Tilson Thomas started out well by painfully teasing out the transition to the Allegro non troppo in the first movement and it seemed that he and the orchestra were fully committed to the music, but from then on through the last three movements, despite occasionally brilliance, there was a sense of autopilot. No matter – the crowd gave him a warm standing ovation and when he returned for his curtain calls instead of an encore he brought with him his French poodle, Maydela, and sat with her on the podium for what seemed like a few minutes but was only a few seconds.
