Quality Of Live

Question: In assessing the quality of a live orchestral performance, how do you differentiate the contributions of the composer, the conductor and the musicians? In other words, how do you decide who deserves the credit, or the blame? Swed: Making music is a matter of society. For me the greatest performance is one in which conductor, composer and musicians fuse into an inspired whole greater than the sum of its individual parts.

"Empty your pockets and get rid of your gum" was the security policy on Saturday at the Hollywood Palladium for yet another Mexican rock concert, as guards confiscated everything from Wrigley's to ballpoint pens. But despite the uneasy atmosphere at the door, the party--which drew about 1,500 fans--lacked any major incidents and went on as expected: wildly peaceful.

Seven songs into her seductive set Saturday at Avalon Hollywood, Brazilian singer-songwriter Bebel Gilberto eased herself into a Space Age stool made of clear acrylic. She sat sideways in the chair, putting her feet up on some sound equipment, leaning back and letting her flowing, curly hair cascade over the other side. The lights dimmed, and for a moment it seemed like she was just taking a breather from her lively, often festive performance.

The decision by Elton John and Bernie Taupin to rewrite "Candle in the Wind" as a eulogy for Princess Diana may seem inspired now, but it was actually the result of a mix-up between the celebrated songwriting team--an indication of how fast the project was accomplished. When composer John phoned lyricist Taupin in California from England to say he'd been asked by Buckingham Palace to sing a song at the Sept.

The senior NASA astronomer, his robust tan now almost flannel gray with fatigue, waited for the sun to rise over the Johnson Space Center, as somewhere in the sky overhead a crew of astronauts, flushed with success, completed their repairs on the Hubble space telescope. So the question was inevitable: Had NASA now earned a ticker tape parade like those once awarded the men who went to the moon? "Oh god," Edward J. Weiler murmured bleakly and inhaled the last of his filter-tipped cigarette.

As soon as he was inside the hall, clear of the guards at the doors, Tapewyrm tended to his preparations with a burglar's stealth. This obsession of his was both an act of love and a crime, and to do it right, he had to take care. The 40-year-old communications technician headed to a bathroom. Inside a stall, he unpacked a tiny sound studio he had smuggled in beneath his flannel shirt. He fit dime-sized microphones under his hair, then readied a miniature digital tape recorder.