Audience Dances Happily to Rieu’s Regulated Tempos

They were dancing in the aisles, swaying in their seats and clapping to the music again Wednesday at the Universal Amphitheatre. This time, though, it wasn’t a hot pop act on stage. It was Andre Rieu and his Johann Strauss Orchestra.

Rieu is the Pied Piper of light classical music. He stands in front of his orchestra, playing and conducting with violin in hand. He charms his audience with appealing, low-keyed banter in lightly accented and slightly fractured English.

He has good looks and an easy manner. He introduces the selections from the stage--works by Strauss senior and junior, Kalman and other operetta and waltz kings and princes. A $20 souvenir booklet didn’t give the program--and none were handed out separately--but the booklet did have lots of glossy, glamour shots of Rieu, his Empire-gowned women and tuxedo-clad men.

People love him. His CDs top the classical charts. PBS audiences light up the switchboard when his specials--taped in Europe--are aired during pledge drives. Rieu definitely connects with an audience.

The surprising thing is that he does all this with such mediocre musical talent. He plays violin adequately but without much technique, individual style, sparkle or fire. He doesn’t make the instrument sing. The 30-member band mirrors his playing exactly.

The musical arrangements were banal--souped-up, reorchestrated and otherwise edited. Selections typically ended with a bang, then the lights went up and the musicians stood to take bows. The amplification system reduced their playing to a loud but narrow band of frequencies.

Tempos, when they were not regular as clockwork, were dragged or pulled around. The real charm, beauty and variety of the music rarely emerged. Instead of finding the heart of each of these works--and there is one--they made everything sound alike.

Rieu also had some surprising ideas about what fits into the “Night in Vienna” tent. Apparently, that includes Chopin, Offenbach and Khatchaturian (“Sabre Dance”).

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The worst offense against music was the treacly version of Chopin’s Etude in E, Opus 10, No. 3, with solos for piano, violin and oboe set against lush strings and newly composed dance rhythms that Chopin never thought of.

The worst offense against taste was the string bass player’s semi-striptease, used to introduce Strauss’ blacksmith-inspired “Feast of Fire” polka. The zither player’s antics in “Tales From the Vienna Woods,” earlier, however, proved that the Rieu formula for success includes music’s taking a back seat to making a joke.

Still, Rieu has the formula locked. You couldn’t argue with those folks waltzing in the aisles.