Bar 28 - Delacroix weighs in

On Rossini, Mozart, Bellini, Weber, Gluck and Verdi:

My dear friend, will you please arrange your affairs tomorrow so that we can go together to the Italians to see the first performance of Othello, del Signorissimo Rossini.  (1821)

How I like those Italians!  At the Louvois theatre I revel in listening to their lovely music and gazing rapturously at their delicious actresses…Galli has arrive. He made his debut yesterday in La Gazza and scored a great success.  I’m looking forward to seeing him at the second performance. (1821)

I hope too, that we shall occasionally go together to admire the magnificent Mme. Pasta.  I’m yearning to hear her.  My heart is still full of the music of Tancredi, which as you know I was lucky enough to see twice.  I am very glad to see that they are reviving the Nozze.  (1822)

I have seen Freischütz in two different theatres, with some music that was omitted in Paris.  There are some very remarkable things in the scene where they cast the bullets.  The English understand theatrical effect better than we do, and their stage sets, although they are not so carefully carried out as ours, provide a more effective background to the actors. (1825, from London)

Belatedly, I send you my sincerest congratulations.  I saw La Juive for the first time yesterday; and I must tell you how wholeheartedly I admired the lively interest you shed over this play, which is certainly in need of it, smothered as it is by all that rubbish that’s so alien to art.  What has become of us, that we need so many extraneous reinforcements for music, which is the most powerful of all the arts…? (to the tenor, Nourrit, 1835)

I shall not be able to come and see you tonight: it’s the last night of my Italian players and I Puritani...  (to George Sand, 1840)

Last night I saw the opera of the famous Verdi about whom that Young German musician I met at your house waxed so enthusiastic; Verdi or Merdi is all the rage today; it’s a rehash of Rossini’s leavings, minus the ideas, nothing but noise...Where is Chopin, where is Mozart…?  (to George Sand, 1847)

Today I heard Rossini’s Stabat.  It’s a cut above Pistolet, and above Jean too.  It isn’t quite Mozart, either; but such as it is, it stands quite a few cubits higher than my friend Halévy. (1842)

As we dine late, we can’t go for walks after dinner, and in the absence of virtuosi such as Batta, etc., we plunge boldly into score-reading.  We must sound very odd stumbling through Don Giovanni, La Gazza Ladra, etc. (1855)

Mme Viardot has just been singing Orphée; the best thing you can do at this moment is to take the coach from Châteauroux and come to Paris to see her in this masterpiece, to which she has really given fresh life. (to George Sand, 1859)

(excerpts taken from “Eugène Delacroix, selected letters, 1813-1863; edited and translated by Jean Stewart)

I recommend to you all the diaries of Paul Klee, who wrote with insight about concerts he attended and in which he performed as an orchestral violinist.  And while we are reading Delacroix and Klee, it wouldn’t hurt to view some of their pictures; among the two greatest painters in Western art.  Composer’s letters are part of score study as well.  There is priceless correspondence between Mahler and Strauss, between Saint-Saëns and Faure.  Get to the museum, get to the library, get to the theatre.  And don’t forget to call your mother!

Bar 27 - Tous les Jours

Bar 27 – Tous les Jours

Marvin Gaye is on in the background, and I left my Ravel score back at the hotel; we won’t be continuing our passage through Valses Nobles today. So my thoughts are turning back to four hours of conducting masterclass yesterday at Seoul National University.  First movements of Beethoven 3 and 4, Mozart 36 and 41 and Schubert 5, plus overtures to Rosamunde and Fledermaus.   All with two pianos; everyone played for each other, just like Beijing.  We had fun; we worked hard, and there were all sorts of Korean sweets on the table.

We talked about the usual issues:  Posture, left hand, looking down, mirroring, beating ahead of the pianists, angle of the stick, saving vertical space, the fold out, wrist rotation, baton grip, traveling through the orchestra, footwork. Even Beethoven metronome markings, at dinner.  They all went after these new ideas with joy and bravery. Over the course of the class, I related conducting to bus driving, surfing and dating 10 women at once.

Tried and (for me) true aphorisms were iterated and explained:
He who lives by the beat, dies by the beat.
Listening to recordings is to score study what watching someone else eat is to having a meal.
What goes up, must come down.
The intersection of gesture and pulse.
There is a reason they hate us.
Nobody gets into conducting for the beating.
Ignore the basses at your peril.
Beethoven had terminal itch.
Language is power and respect, two ways.
What you give to one, you don’t give to the other.
Your mouth conducts your hands.
A prepared subito is an oxymoron.
The best conducting is no conducting.
Active listening trumps active beating.
There is no right and wrong; there is only informed and less informed taste.
If you don’t know the score, it doesn’t matter where you put your hands.
Clarity of intent, not clarity of beat.

The musical concerns were addressed:
No harmonic analysis in the score
Limited awareness of other works by the composer
No sound concept – how does Beethoven sound differ from Schubert?
The three adjectives
The song lyrics
Understanding the continuum of sound and repertoire.

I soliti sbagli sono stati spiegati:
The bob-‘n’-weave
The page-turn two-step
The slalom
The bend-‘n’–beg
The behind-the-back
The hide-‘n’-seek
The look-down
The look-away

Will the beating will start up again when I leave on Tuesday, the beating that precludes listening, that doesn’t convey accurate pulse or tempo, the hyperactive rebounding practiced while listening to the IPod?  Maybe Lao Tse was right: “The Tao that can be explained is not the eternal Tao.”  “He who talks does not know; he who knows does not talk.”  Or is what Seiji told us at Tanglewood true?  “If I can give you just a taste, and you like the taste, you will be back for more of the taste.”  If we don’t share these things, how could they be learned?  There were brief but tangible glimmers yesterday in these wonderful students, these inquisitive young musicians; I will depart hopeful.

Tous les Jours, the newest in a local chain of bakery/cafes, just opened across the street.  GRAND OPENING EVENT TODAY.

Bar 26 - Delicious Pleasure

Valses Nobles et Sentimentales (1911, orch. 1912)

A delicious pleasure – I can think of no better way to describe this work – that is tricky to conduct and remains difficult to put over in concert.  It speaks to another epoch, another place, best enjoyed next to a spot of absinthe, perhaps.  It is dedicated, from de Régnier, to “…le plaisir délicieux et toujours nouveau d’une occupation inutile.”  How appropriate for the conductor: “Useless occupation” indeed, though he wasn’t referring “occupation” in the sense of our métier.

Written for piano in 1911 and modeled after a set by the same name of Schubert, it is one of many keyboard works Ravel later orchestrated, including Ma mere l’oye (1910), “Alborada del gracioso” and “Une barque sur l’océan” from Miroirs  (1904-5), movements of Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-17), but curiously, not Gaspard de la Nuit (1908).  La Valse (1919-20) went the other way; a piano transcription was made after the orchestral version.

A Schubertian influence is difficult to trace, apart from the name.  Unlike much Schubert, nothing of tangible spiritual import happens over its 16-minute duration.  There are however in Ravel’s work moments of the most sublime, ineffable beauty, harmonic daring amid the melodic insouciance.  It is among my favorite of his works; I often pair it with La Valse, which shares with it only the waltz rhythm.  Two pieces of the same genre could hardly occupy more distinct emotional terrain.

I - Modéré

The first waltz is marked at quarter = 176, although it is conducted in 1.  At slightly under 60 to the dotted half (although that would be a fair tempo), it is slightly slower than the first movements of Eroica, Beethoven 8 and Schumann 3, which are themselves tough (in the case of Eroica at least, inadvisable) to keep together in 1.  The accents on beat 3 offer the first conducting challenge, demanding that we save vertical space on the rebound, so that we can mark the accent with some gesture.  I usually think of the 3^rd beat of ¾ as being on the downstroke (the hand moving towards the downbeat of the next bar) anyway, but many people hang up in the air after a too-vigorous rebound off of one.

In fact, this tendency, to rebound hard and high off and one and wait for the orchestra to catch may explain the “Viennese” waltz tradition, which Swarovsky eschews (see his critical edition of Fledermaus, published by Eulenberg).   But that is a longer discussion; back to Paris!

I love the absurdity of the chords on beat 3 in the first four bars; they scream “silly” to me (did Ravel consider them “noble”?), followed by two diatonic bars of sanity and a most pleasing G Major 7 sonority.  Chromaticism reappears in bar 9, with G-sharps and the resulting E dominant 7 harmony.  Two bars of cascading dissonance lead to a cadence based on E minor 7, some extended dominant function on A, and resolution in D.  There are no articulations indicated on the 8ths in the strings when they are not slurred; I do them detached, even in bars 15 and 16, when they double the legato winds.  Bars 17 - 19 – SAVE VERTICAL SPACE!

Reh. 3 – tricky chord to play in tune in the brass; dim. 7^th chord in the trombones/tuba, underpinning an E, followed by D half-diminished 7^th (go to English horn, clarinets, bassoon and celli on the downbeat of 23).  Another dim. 7^th, followed by A-flat half diminished 7; the harmony over the next few bars may best be described as “loopy.”  The conducting - at least until reh. 6 - is normal.

Do you know all the string harmonics?  Make a chart just in case.  Orchestras love to trip up a conductor on harmonics.  What strings are they played on?  What is resulting pitch, in what octave?  You don’t need to explain how they are played (unless it is a very young orchestra, in which case you shouldn’t be doing this piece anyway!), but as Gustav Meier used to say, “You gotta know!”

1^st violins at two before 6 are an intonation problem, as are the string triplets at five after 6 (compare to the 2^nd movement of La Mer!).  From reh. 6 to reh. 8, check length of quarters in the winds/brass.  Intonation is tricky here; also, what quality sound do you think appropriate?

Note the subito meno forte (marked “mf”) at reh. 9 on the extended G dominant function.  The E dominant 7 that follows (2 before 10) is for me a riotous affirmation; recall how the similar harmony affects the listener so differently at 2 before 2!  Last two bars are sometimes done poco stentato.  If you want that, again, you must restrain your vertical rebound, and show (as opposed to merely “beat”) all three quarters in the penultimate bar.

Before proceeding, MAKE TIME FOR STRINGS TO PUT ON MUTES!  While they are doing so, think about your French pronunciation:  Closed “e” as in “Cédez” sounds like the “a” in the English word, “chaos.”  Open “e” as in the word, “très” sounds like the “e” in the English word, “bed.”  OK, the strings should be ready by now.

II - Assez lent

At quarter=104, this is a deceptive tempo marking.  “Rather slow,” it moves nonetheless, so keep it going.  What does that “expressif” refer to in the winds - a color, vibrato, dynamic contrast?  The same marking for the 1sts at 2 before 12 is clear; a great slide on the G string - not too slow, please, the slide - then pick up the fab bass pizzicato!  The pitch of the F-sharp augmented triad in clarinets and 3^rd horn will be compromised by the stopped horn.  Careful how you address this, if you choose to address it at all.   At rehearsal 12, stick with the harp.  I always have harp play forte, everywhere in every piece by every composer.  Well, just about every piece.  Simple, small 3 here, please; a dotted half would be about 35, so don’t try it in 1 unless you are already dead.  I love the low flute, kind of breathy.  For me, this is one of the “noble” waltzes, though it is sensuous beyond belief; I prefer it not turn “sentimental.”  “Languid” sums it up; tough for the conductor, we can’t really indulge in that quality; ours is more of a vicarious thrill here.  More harmonics coming up; another word of caution – harmonics must still be played in tune.  Many strings just throw up some random note there; if they are out of tune, they sound just as bad as out of tune regular pitches.

“Rubato” at 14, tempo is marked, “Un peu plus lent.”  Is it possible that Ravel uses the R-word as Puccini does “rubando,” that these pitches actually speed up a bit in the first bar and then settle back?  Otherwise, for me it just dies.  5 after 14, “très expressif” in flute. Hmm…don’t be tempted to ask the flute to play more expressively, at least not at the rehearsal. Make sure the strings fill out final quarters of bars; again, save your vertical space on beat 3!

At 15, I go for a special sound, a special vibrato in the strings.  Note the shifting between arco and pizzicato in the violas.   Go with confidence to the high C in the horn.  Not too soon the diminuendo that starts 5 after 15.  2^ND FLUTE SOLO at 16 (shades of Dvorak New World!), magic sound.  Don’t slow down, else you’ll be caught “staring.”  Pitch is tricky at 17, especially so in the trumpet/horn chords at 2 before 18.  Note the wealth of expressive marks at 18 and the parallel passage previously; accents in pp strings, for example – how do you want that?  In the last bar – harmonics IN TUNE, and sustain; don’t let 2nds and violas run out of bow.

III – Modèrè

No metronome indicated, but it is done in 1.  Similar tempo to the first waltz.  Don’t you just love pizzicato passages!  They don’t really have to be rehearsed, other than the rushing. Oh yes, they always rush.  Also, all strings play them differently, so you might pay attention to where they are played on the string, what part of the finger is used.  Bass harmonics at 19; why shouldn’t they get in on the fun?  Make sure their pitch is not vague.  Pitch between flutes, oboe and EH at 19 is less obvious than it appears on the page.  1^st violins and violas have a wonderful passage at 20, make sure there is no accented tug on beat 3 if they change bows there.  At 1 before 21, I put a little accent on the F-sharp in the 2nds, just for fun.  Clever 4-string pizz in the 1sts at 21.  Hey, no conducting issues!  Yet.  Notice the “soutenu” in the violins at 22, this I do without bow change, just a little portato between beats 2 and 3. 

2 before 23 – our first conducting problem.  First of all, you will have to indicate two bars earlier that something is going to happen at the “Cédez très peu”; the orchestra has been going on automatic 1 for too long.  I use a left hand signal – my index finger pointed up – to show that I will change something soon.  The only way that works at the cédez is to drift right off of your downbeat and gently mark a three. The bar before 23 is still at this slower tempo, at least two beats of it.  The upbeat is in tempo primo (“au Mouvt”) and subito f (pick up the bass pizz!).  The shrewd conductor actually does practice gestures for these two bars; I don’t believe this kind of sudden tempo shift comes naturally.  Employ that trick I mentioned in the first waltz; the 3^rd beat is already on the downstroke.   I call this move the “ice cream scoop.”  Lush bowstrokes at 23!  The Cédez before 24 in a genuine (if legato) 3.  I find the transition between 24 and 25 difficult to make sound convincing; 2 before 25 wants a little relaxing, for my taste.  Note a new marking at 25 “(à peine plus lent), in contrast to the similar “un peu plus lent” in the 2^nd waltz.  I actually make more time for the syrupy passage at five after 25 and inflect, inflect, inflect each quarter for those 3 crucial bars, particularly 3^rd beats.  Bonne chance avec ces mesures!  At 26, all is normal until the Retenez, a substantial ritardando in 3.

Phew!  That’s a lot already.  We’ll cover the rest later.  Such a great piece.  À plus tard, mes amis!

Bar 25 - In the beginning

In the beginning was the score.


The composer painstakingly organizes notes by pitch and duration horizontally to form melody; pitches are aligned vertically to define harmony and counterpoint, which in turn puts melody in context, giving it meaning.  Dramatic ebb and flow are generated through rhythmic activity and pulse.  Rests in the musical texture create drama and bring interior lines into relief.  The language of our musical notation is sophisticated and rich, incorporating 4 different written languages (apart from musical symbols themselves), 12 different pitches over 6 octaves, a complement of meters and note lengths, spoken in sound by an organism of as many as thirty different instruments capable of a host of distinct sounds.  The depth of what can be said through this notation is limitless.


We study the score for days, weeks, months, even years trying to learn the score's logic, grasp its structure and intuit its poetry.  We so earnestly want to find a way to understand what the composer is saying; some of take the time to read the composer’s letters, discover other works by the composer, explore the times during which the composer lived.  


Then we face the orchestra, meaning to share what we have learned to our orchestra so that it can play what we believe the composer wanted to say.  And what tools do we use to express the composer’s artistic intent?  


One is down.
A four pattern goes down, left, right and up.
Three looks like a triangle.
Make bigger gestures for more sound.
Point to the player in time for them to come in.
Make a big round gesture to cut off the ensemble.


We work so hard to understand this musical language, yet our own language – the language of gesture we employ to express the score physically – is so limited.    How can we ever bridge the gap between the poetry of composition and the prosaic act of leading an orchestra to play together?


These and so many other thoughts challenged me during last weekend’s conducting workshop at CCM, devoted to Schumann 3, 4, the Cello Concerto and Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony.


It was such a pleasure to work with interesting, interested young conductors!   Thirteen maestros-to-be came to CCM to learn and share something about the craft from my teacher, Gustav Meier, my colleague, Ulrich Nicolai, and with me.  The level was quite good, and those who have been with us in the past demonstrated remarkable growth.


The same issues nonetheless arose from time to time, too much beating and unnecessary rebounding, resulting in or stemming from vague musical ideas and an inability to shape sound and time.   Those with “easy hands” – to whom beating “clearly” either came naturally or was practiced into security - didn’t use their beats to shape phrase, show dynamics or define sound specific to and appropriate for Schumann and Schubert.  Some simply didn’t trust the orchestra to maintain pulse and continued to beat in spite of the ensemble.  Often the orchestra seemed to play on its own, though curiously, it did sound different with each conductor.   Clearly, body language was being read by the orchestra, but there was very little traveling in much of the conducting, very little sense of who needed what information when.  


And yet. There was one conductor who dared during the brief bridge leading into the development of the 1st movement of the Schubert. The descending scale in the low strings was allowed to unfold virtually without gesture but with the clearest musical intent; no beating, only the very slightest indication of when pitch changed.  The reentry of the upper strings was rendered with merely a glance.  The sound left us speechless.


Another conductor expressed Schumann through a sheer joy in conducting I've rarely seen, working from memory, confidently sharing shape and sound with the orchestra.   Yet another demonstrated his maturity with a light touch, his face communicating his love for this music so powerfully that the orchestra barely needed a gesture.  Careers are made of such moments.  And that is the next beginning.

Are we going to change what conducting looks like? 

Are we going to reestablish the primacy of gesture and pulse over beat? 

Are we going to expand our physical vocabulary to encompass the composer’s will?

In the beginning, there was the score.

How will you now begin to conduct?