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Peter Schreier, the universally admired lyric tenor from what used to be East Germany, isn’t the first major singer to take up the baton at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. Dietrich

Fischer-Dieskau led the Los Angeles Philharmonic in an ill-advised symphony concert back in 1974. The indomitable Placido Domingo turns up in the pit for the Music Center Opera

regularly--some might say too regularly. But Schreier is the first vocal virtuoso to conduct _ and_ sing the same performance. He did just that Thursday night when the Philharmonic ventured

Bach’s lofty, sprawling “St. Matthew Passion” for the first time in many years. Although Robert Shaw had led the Passion at Hollywood Bowl in 1977, downtown audiences hadn’t experienced the

masterpiece since 1972 when Zubin Mehta offered a romanticized abridgment. Schreier has been conducting since 1970, but he had not practiced his second craft in America until now. Clearly,

this “St. Matthew” represented a historic event. It turned out to be always fascinating, sometimes moving and frequently frustrating. Most of the frustrations were acoustical, not musical.

Schreier positioned his forces on the vast Pavilion stage in an unorthodox configuration that threatened to compromise his best intentions. He stood on a podium deep in the center, flanked

by the key vocal soloists and surrounded by a semi-circle of supporting players. The splendid orchestra, split in half for obvious antiphonal purposes, sat on either side in front of him

with backs to the audience. Contingents of the Los Angeles Master Chorale, trained by John Currie, stood sideways at his left and right. The Paulist Boy Choristers, trained by Jon

Wattenbarger, were stationed behind the podium. The setup conveniently allowed the maestro to face the auditorium when he served as Evangelist. It created a sonic ambience comparable to what

one might encounter in a great cathedral. Unfortunately, it also created problematic sightlines. More damaging, it permitted fuzzy imbalances, introduced echoes and made the central

soloists sound like muffled intruders in the distance. One had to take a lot on faith. Still, one had to admire Schreier’s extraordinary dedication and intelligence, his unerring control of

the disparate elements at his command, and his refusal to confuse reverence with sentimental indulgence. Most important, one had to be awed by his ability to serve as imposing biblical

narrator simultaneously on two levels. The double duty here was no gimmick. Schreier punctuated the crucial recitatives of the Evangelist with precise cues to his excellent continuo players.

The conductor’s duties never interfered with the singer’s prerogatives. With dauntless concentration and unified clarity of purpose, Schreier sustained tension throughout. He favored

momentum over theatricality. Without getting too fussy or self-conscious about it, he revealed a keen awareness of Baroque performance practices and insisted on presenting the three-hour

marathon uncut. The opening performance began at 7 and, with a half-hour intermission, ended at 10:30. It demanded a lot from its disappointingly small but remarkably enthusiastic audience.

At this stage of his distinguished career--he will be 56 in July--Schreier doesn’t sing with the easy sweetness of yore. He occasionally finds the high tessitura of the Evangelist’s

utterances a strain. Although he certainly justifies no puns on his name (_ Schreier_ happens to mean _ screamer_ ), he does employ a harsh, nasal timbre for keen dramatic effect, coloring

the German text with uncommon expressive fervor. Even those who were not following the archaic and inappropriate singers’ translation provided by the management could hear the dark

significance of Jesus’ reference to the crowing rooster and could feel the weeping pathos of the words “_ weinete bitterlich_ .” The other vocal visitors proved less imposing. Olaf Bar, a

much-lauded young baritone from Dresden, sang the music of Jesus with meek, bland, all-purpose lyricism. Ulrike Sonntag, the German soprano, and Elisabeth von Magnus, the Austrian

mezzo-soprano, sang their poignant solos with small, straight, white tones--as if they were emulating bad boy-sopranos. Although he is customarily cast as the Evangelist, David Gordon

brought proper poise to the tenor arias (replacing Aldo Baldin). David Evitts, remembered as Peter Sellars’ Bartolo, brought more authority than suavity to the bass arias (replacing Udo

Reinemnn). The Master Chorale dispatched its crucial duties with much gusto, reasonable security and dubious diction. The Paulist boys provided the wonted halo of sweetness and purity in

Part One. For better or worse, it was Schreier’s night. _ Remaining performances take place tonight at 7 at the Orange County Performing Arts Center and Sunday afternoon at 1:30 at the

Dorothy Chandler Pavilion._ MORE TO READ