`YOU COULD PUT TOGETHER AN AUDIENCE OF 70, 80 PEOPLE, AND THEN YOU COULD TALK ABOUT THE WORK AND HAVE DINNER, AND THEN GO TO THEIR SHOW THE NEXT WEEK. I AM SURPRISED THAT NEW YORK CAN STILL FUNCTION THAT WAY.' DLIM : PHILIP GLASS' PHILOSOPHY OF THE EAST (COAST).

Byline: Reed Johnson Daily News Staff Writer

Philip Glass has nothing against movies. It's Hollywood he can mostly do without.

Since the late 1970s, the minimalist composer has written haunting, evocative scores for such memorable motion pictures as ``Koyaanisqatsi,'' ``Mishima'' and ``The Thin Blue Line.'' In each case, the music served as an essential artistic component of a greater whole, not as an afterthought or embellishment.

Alas, that's seldom the rule in the backlot jungle.

``Films generally as an industry are not friendly to composers, and I've not enjoyed it (composing film music) generally,'' says Glass, who is appearing in concert tonight at Glendale's Alex Theatre. ``I'm not happy with film projects where they just want you to come in at the end and put a little icing on the process, a little icing on the cake, and I've argued strenuously for a different way of working.''

Throughout his career, Glass' way of working has been about give and take, experiment and assimilation. He has teamed up with everyone from Paul Simon and David Bowie to Allen Ginsberg and David Henry Hwang, gradually winning converts to his hypnotically sparse compositions, which are more like thematic meditations than conventional musical narratives.

In fact, despite his prolific output and distinctive musical signature, Glass, who recently turned 60, believes that his most significant artistic achievements have come in collaboration.

That overlaps with his conviction that artists should be active participants in the lives of their communities - working professionals rather than ivory-tower aesthetes.

Glass has been putting those convictions into practice since moving to New York in the late 1950s to enter the Juilliard School of Music. After breaking decisively from 20th-century 12-tone composition in the mid-1960s, he found himself floating in an underground milieu with such rule-breaking young composers as Steve Reich and Terry Riley, and such experimental performers as the off-off-Broadway theater group Mabou Mines.

In those frenetic days, Glass' community, if not his entire world, revolved around a five- or 10-block area of New York's arty Soho district. The close proximity of so many fellow artists fostered a cooperative, supportive atmosphere.

``You could put together an audience of 70, 80 people, and then you could talk about the work and have dinner, and then go to their show the next week,'' Glass recalls fondly. ``I am surprised that New York can still function that way. We have the advantage of being very compact, which you (in Los Angeles) don't.''

Speaking by phone from his New York City home, Glass is gracious and garrulous, not at all like the dour, pensive fellow he appears to be in publicity photos. His thoughts tumble out in jazzy riffs. You wouldn't have trouble equating his speech with the rhythmic swerves that characterize his music.

But the conversation doesn't really get jumping until a subject like government arts subsidies comes up.

In a flash, Glass' stream-of-consciousness shifts from 45 to 78.

``Let's put it this way,'' he says, ``we live in a country where, when we talk about arts, what we mean is entertainment. We've completely lost the distinction between art and entertainment. It doesn't make any sense. This is a country that feels the arts should pay for themselves because entertainment makes money.''

Functioning as a kind of mini-retrospective, the Glendale concert will feature both works that were originally composed for solo piano as well as music for various instrumental combinations. Covering the mid-1970s to the present, the lineup includes ``The Fourth Knee Play,'' from one of Glass' several collaborations with theater director/designer Robert Wilson; and excerpts from ``Satyagraha'' (1980), Glass' three-hour Sanskrit epic depicting scenes from the early life of Mahatma Gandhi.

Professing little concern with critics' rants and raves, Glass likes to quote one of his mentors, Virgil Thomson, the peppery, grand old man of American 20th-century composers.

``He'd say, `When you're young you get bad reviews, when you're middle-aged you get mixed reviews, and when you're old you get good reviews.' ''

Glass credits his continued durability to a restless mind and a steady emotional life. He plays about 60 concerts a year and spins out operas and film scores with clocklike regularity.

Any artists he'd still like to work with?

``Merce Cunningham,'' Glass says, referring to the esteemed choreographer. ``I'm not gonna let him go. While they're still around, I have them in my sight lines.''

THE FACTS

What: Philip Glass in concert.

Where: Alex Theatre, 216 N. Brand Blvd., Glendale.

When: 8 tonight.

Tickets: $22.50 and $29.50. To charge, call [phone].

CAPTION(S):

Photo

Photo: Composer Philip Glass performs his minimalist brand of music in concert tonight at the Alex Theatre.