Ticket scouts were outside. In 
          the audience, movie stars and their paparazzi mingled with cheering, 
          stomping fans draping adoring banners over the railing. Mick Jagger? 
          David Beckham? No, just Riccardo Muti making one of his seasonal stops 
          in Paris to conduct the Orchestre National de France - with whom he 
          has had an annual date for the last sixteen years. Earlier this season 
          you could witness his passion for early music with performances of the 
          Pergolesi Stabat Mater and the Haydn Seven Last Words of Christ in the 
          version for orchestra. He returned this time with a more mainstream 
          work, Tchaikovsky’s Pathètique Symphony (No. 6), in a concert 
          that was broadcast live on France Musiques. Muti opened the concert 
          partnered with one of the many grand talents who make regular appearances 
          on his La Scala stage, mezzo-soprano Violetta Urmana, who sang Berlioz.
        
        The Paris musical season is chock 
          full with the red-haired firebrand's music in celebration of the bicentennial 
          of his birth. ‘La mort de Clèopâtre’, although one of Berlioz' 
          early lyric works, is one of his most gripping. Urmana, at the top of 
          her form, sang the text with a taut and edgy style that perfectly complemented 
          Muti's electric conducting. It was a performance of high dramatic impact 
          and impressive virtuosity from all concerned.
        
        The symphony, which closed the 
          program, was also given a propulsive reading and showed why Muti is 
          easily one of the top rank of conductors of his time. His use of the 
          strings like percussion instruments, the high precision he demands, 
          and his rooting out of all sentimentality and rubato in the music reminds 
          one of the crackling but seamless performances of Sir George Solti. 
          He did find unusual dance-like charm in the second movement. The famed 
          march-like third movement was delivered with a measured pace but generous 
          with vitality. He seemed to be at pains to show an alternative to the 
          almost universal breakneck tempo usually heard. It was an original and 
          expansive reading of what is often a slap-dash cliché in other 
          hands. No less impressive was the final movement's scale and passion. 
          Everyone in the hall, and a large audience on the radio, knew that that 
          this was an evening out of the ordinary and likely to linger in the 
          memory.
        
        Frank Cadenhead