Quotes of the Day

In rehearsal, Colin Davis, the 76- year-old principal conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, resembles nothing so much as a benevolent headmaster. Dressed in suit trousers, shirt and tie, he cajoles his 88 musicians as they gallop through Verdi's Falstaff in the wide traverse of London's Barbican Hall. In response to his coaxing, the strings gently underline, then swoop over the singers in a frenzy of quavers. The brass coos, then blares. The players work together almost as a living organism, with Davis their energetic nucleus. It's only after the music stops and Davis, blank-eyed and suddenly looking his age, staggers to a chair, that the strain of working at this level becomes evident. Seeing a tape recorder, he wearily says, "Excuse me if I fall asleep during your questions."

Like Davis, the LSO is feeling its age as it marks its 100th birthday this year. The orchestra has certainly taken its lumps. For years the string section was below par; even Davis admits the section had an unyielding hardness to it. And although standard repertoire sells well, audiences for little-known or contemporary music at the Barbican are dwindling — last year attendance for some concerts dropped to 60% (down from the usual 80%). Even the best orchestra must sometimes feel like it's performing on the Titanic; as former LSO principal conductor André Previn gloomily notes: "Classical music isn't on TV anymore, it doesn't sell records, it's not popular with kids."

So the fact that the orchestra is around for its 100th birthday is an achievement in itself. And there's plenty to celebrate: under Davis' leadership since 1995, the LSO has won widespread praise. They are not only technically brilliant (with a newly mellow string section, thanks to new players Davis brought in from abroad) but remarkably versatile. They are as comfortable in the French elegance of Berlioz as in the Germanic muscularity of Beethoven. Okay, so the Berlin and Vienna philharmonics may make sounds more gorgeous still, but perhaps no other orchestra today has such a sense of drama, of adventure. "The LSO was the orchestra I most wanted to conduct because they had — and still have — the greatest sense of danger in their playing," says Previn.

"The LSO has a rhythmic attack that I love," says another former principal conductor, Michael Tilson Thomas. "Many orchestras play quite far behind the beat. The LSO plays very close to it, they push the music to the forward edge to drive it across the phrase. It makes all their music-making sound completely spontaneous."

The orchestra's breakneck schedule for its 100th birthday celebration speaks of its worldwide esteem. Having already played New York, Chicago, Amsterdam and nine Asian cities including Singapore, Hong Kong, Beijing and Tokyo, it still has Athens, Salzburg and Gstaad to visit in August, and a 12-city North American tour scheduled for September. And for the official centenary concert on June 9, a dream team of music celebrities — including jazz pianist Dave Brubeck, legendary classical pianist Alfred Brendel, stunning violinist Sarah Chang, popular classical guitarist John Williams and leading mezzo-soprano Susan Graham — will help the orchestra blow out its birthday candles.

The LSO has impressive staying power for an institution founded on anarchic principle. In 1904, musicians broke away from the Queen's Hall Orchestra to protest the banning of the "deputies" system, under which a musician could skip a concert if he found a replacement. To this day, musicians still own the LSO — each of the 100 players owns an equal share, which they sell back to the orchestra when they leave. Even Clive Gillinson, managing director for the last 20 years, was once an LSO cellist.

Gillinson's great achievement has been to transform the self-serving culture into a dedicated business. Holidays, for instance, now must be rigidly planned so that there are always LSO players on the concert platform, never substitutes. Despite a rash of early resignations, the orchestra — once notorious in the music world for schoolboy tricks like tampering with players' scores — is more serious-minded and eager, in Gillinson's words, to "chase the vision".

It's a tough chase. With annual income of around $18.4 million, Gillinson is constantly trying to find new revenues. Film recordings — even for such high-profile movies as the Star Wars saga (all of which feature the LSO), aren't necessarily big money-makers. Neither are CDs (even if, like the LSO, you've got your own label). Touring doesn't even cover costs without sponsorship; Rolls Royce had to fund the recent visits to Beijing and Singapore. And so the LSO remains dependent on concert sales, which is a challenge because, as Gillinson says, audiences "have become more conservative. In the last three years it has become harder to sell contemporary and unknown music."

Hence the LSO has its eyes on building the audience for the next 100 years. "We've got to ensure that children take up instruments, not only for our future audiences, but so we can find new players," says Davis. Between 2000 and 2003, the LSO raised $33 million to convert St.Luke's, a dilapidated London church, into one of the most advanced music-education centers in the world. It houses 55 exotic Indonesian instruments called gamelans, and is equipped with state-of-the-art satellite broadcasting which allows events there to be beamed to schools and homes around the globe. International video conferences with schools in Scotland, Spain and the U.S. have already taken place.

Back at the Barbican, the Falstaff performance, a week after the rehearsal, saw Davis and the players in hyperactive form. With Davis beaming at his players, the score was suffused with warmth and vibrancy. And as orchestra and singers belted out the final, joyous chorus — "Tutto nel mondo è burla ... ma ride ben chi ride la risata final" (Life is a joke, but whoever laughs last, laughs longest) — it was almost like a motto for the improbably youthful brio of the LSO.

• JAMES INVERNE | London
• The London Symphony Orchestra celebrates 100 years of elegant yet daring music