Danger Will Beethoven…Danger!!!!

In tribute to the debut of the conducting robot Asimo by Honda (I drive an Accord which pretty much drives itself also!), I thought I would write a post about interpretation in response to a lively exchange over on Greg Sandow’s blog.  Interpretation is one of the most overrated, over studied elements and at its worst can amount to the pre-meditated murder of music….

Greg wrote this post, followed by this post regarding Orchestras as museums and I noticed some of the comments spoke directly about interpretation itself as a sort of as a be all and end all regarding a works continuing value.  Well if that’s the case if you’ve seen the Sistine Chapel a number of times, if you happen to be there again, make sure you don’t look up!

A great work does not have singular meaning or purpose (otherwise it’s not really a great work is it?), and for an audience member it could mean one thing the first time they hear it and another if they hear it again and then another when they hear it after having a terrible or great day for instance etc….  Great art puts us in a moment and the formula that makes it great is not the skill by which it was created alone, but also the reaction by those experiencing it and sometimes collectively.  It doesn’t matter if it was written by Delius or Duke Ellington, greatness is subjective, and the same work might be great one day and infuriating the next.  Greg points this out in response to one of the comments:

Finally, you might find your own meaning — or your own narrative — for the symphony. What if you thought the triumph in the final movement was unconvincing? Or the coda of the first movement too insistent, as if Beethoven was protesting too much?

The point is that I believe we must as performers also be in the moment that way and think organically.  If we are in a performance hoping the whole time to gain a great ovation at the end for instance, then we are already thinking about the end of the work while it’s still going.  Worse, if we are worrying about the critic’s reaction, then we are already thinking about reading our paper tomorrow while we are performing!  Are we also as performers not allowed to change our minds about a work while we are performing and react accordingly?  To do so is not indecisive, to do so is in the moment.

Interpretation to the point that we think about every last detail without deviation even if it’s “distinctive” or “radical” takes away the true magic as the spontaneity of performance is removed.  Like in a recent episode of Top Chef Spike Mendelssohn (yes that’s his name!) and his team made soup.  Even though they had a recipe that included seasoning, he kept checking them and adjusting them right up until it was served.  It was given high marks and proof that a formula only goes so far, the execution in the moment was the key to the success of the dish.

To the question of presenting the same “old” works.  I don’t buy that great masterworks become stale, performances become stale.   Also one commenter to Greg mentioned the fact that to many, older works are always new to some people and this is true.  After every concert I did this season in Springfield I was introduced to someone who as at a Symphony concert for the first time ever!!!  The reason I bring this up is that when I hear talk of “distinctive” interpretation, it becomes an extremely narrow viewpoint, inter or intra personal and designed for those in the audience who have heard the work many times representing (in many places) the minority!  Should we not try to give a performance that satisfies the most people by putting them in the moment where emotion overrides opinion. This is not to say that it needs to be watered down, bland or safe, quite the contrary, and that is where the true challenge lies.  Also if you know a critic is coming who likes the brass loud, then it’s hardly bold to make the brass play loudly is it?  Hey you might get a great review, but everyone else was covering their ears!

Ultimately what to do then?  Far be it for me to say “this is how it should be done”, that would contradict the idea that there should be spontaneity and an organic approach which will be different for everyone. Here is my approach (well for now anyway, I’m going to jump around here!):

• There is definitely prep work to be done, the research, the learning the analysis, the listening etc…When thinking about tempo I learned much from conducting Balanchine ballets.  Ballet can be inflexible at times but with Balanchine there are tempo parameters, no faster than this and no slower than that.  Sometimes they were wide and accounted for the different bodies (sometimes on different nights of the same run) he had to work with.  In the end that helps decide the tempi.
• In your iPod you might have Kleiber or Harnoncourt, but in front of you have the group of players that you have to perform with.  So this is where one has to develop skills, working out what is possible, what will work.  By working with who we have in front of us (instead of the ideal in our heads), our own personal favorite tempo or sound is then not the highest priority, it’s how to make the whole thing work so that we give a complete performance that is exciting and satisfying.
• It’s also not about compromise because then it’s about us again.  It is actually about reality.  Like the concept car, when it’s finally built they almost never look exactly the same as the first rendering because reality dictates what’s possible to build. I mean they could build it exactly as it was first imagined, but what if because of that it doesn’t drive well or is not safe?  Well it wont last long and then will soon be forgotten.  Same goes for hard and fast interpretation, it cannot be made of stone, it has to be formed with something malleable to allow for adjustment if it’s needed.
• There is nothing wrong with pushing the limits, that’s part of the fun, to see what’s possible in a performance, but if the goal is to capture the full attention of an audience, then pushing something so that a musician breaks down will take the audience out of a musical moment because they will notice the breakdown.
• Bottom line, we are supposed to be interpreting for the audience not ourselves.  The approach I like to take is how can we make the best and richest sound, what tempi will allow us to do that.  It will be different with different orchestras, and even though it’s always great to work with top orchestras, it’s just as satisfying or even more so sometimes to be able to help create a beautiful sound and excitement with an orchestra that works part time.
• I have been critical of the league placing young conductors with level 1 20+ million dollar orchestras, because doing this is not going to help most of them become better conductors or musicians.  Let’s face it (lots of analogies today!), in Atlanta, Houston, LA etc.. they could play just about anything with no one standing up there, they are that good.  In Springfield and in many of the regionals, no autopilot switch exists, and so that’s where a young conductor will have to learn how to fly!
• I approach familiar works like a walk in a neighborhood.  One day it could be sunny and bright, no traffic.  The next day on the same walk, there might be rain, roadwork, a dog chasing me!  It would be impossible to walk the same way at the same speed otherwise disaster could result.  The orchestra in this case is actually that neighborhood.
• If interpretation is about expectation, then you are already at your destination before you even begin.  If it’s about hope and adventure then it becomes about the journey.  Ultimately the balance I hope for is that the work and the orchestra actually also leads us in equal measure to us leading them.
• To this point, musicians need to be given the benefit of the doubt a lot of the time.  Trusting them needs to come into it.  When I recently directed Brahms 3 with the Syracuse Symphony, when in the 3rd movement it all comes to a stop and then the Horn enters with the theme playing the pick up alone, instead of bringing John in, I told him that instead I wanted him to bring us in.  That way he breathes when he wants to, giving him the best chance to make a beautiful sound, and it also hands part of the interpretation over the orchestra, so that we are in it together.
• I know tempo is only one element of interpretation, dynamics too are a big focus, but again I like to treat it organically and in the moment.  When we see crescendo to forte on a page for instance, it’s easy to focus on the dynamic you want to reach, and I have noticed many times at the end of a crescendo there is a sudden jump in volume to the pre-determined forte even on recordings.  It’s like Beam me up Scotty! so it doesn’t feel real when it happens this way.  I like to make the forte to be whatever dynamic is reached at the end of the crescendo, that way they are not always the same, and can even be different from rehearsal to performance.  For me that is exciting as every forte is different according to what happens in the moment.  A forte in the first movement might be louder than a fortissimo in the last movement, it just depends.
• Finally for now, rehearsing for me is to get us close to the peak, not to reach it until the performance. Trust comes into that also.  For instance if a musician clams on something in the dress on the day of a performance, if by going over it again you risk the musician getting tired so that they are not at their best that night then you risk not reaching that peak at the performance.  I almost always ask them if they want to play it again, or give them the benefit of the doubt and just move on.

My instinct is to trust the people in front of me, around me and the audience also, interpretation for me is about preparing for the path ahead knowing where we are going but not exactly how we are going to get there.  This is one of my favorite quotes:

Creativity comes from trust. Trust your instincts.
Rita Mae Brown

If we don’t, then we might as well be Asimo!