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There was an article in the Guardian the other day about conductors – you may have seen it. It was charming in its way and continued the long history of confrontation between players and maestri and was intent on showing how over inflated their fees are. Well, we could argue about that forever, but it was strange how little of it mirrored my experience. Here is the article
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/oct/06/orchestral-conductors-pay-cut
By the time we reach the concert, a large proportion of the hard work has been done in rehearsal and a lot of what is left for the conductor to do is to inspire. The one thing the writer says that is very odd, is that during a concert she barely has time to look up to see the beat as she has too much to do! Also that the success of the concert is pretty much down to the players with very little input from the conductor. Hmm, not with Bernard on the podium. I think any discussion over the difference a conductor makes could be settled when you here the LSO play Mahler 9 with Haitink on one night and Gergiev on the other. I’m sure you’ll each have our own personal favourite, but I don’t think any of you would say that we sound the same!
I thought of this when we were rehearsing yesterday in Avery Fisher Hall. If you google Bernard, you’ll find hundreds of articles that usually include a phrase which says something like, “economical gestures and a man of few words”. It’s true, he also has a great sense of humour. The thing is that he doesn’t always say much, but he shows so much in his conducting; so much so that when he does say anything, its astonishing that a few words can make such a huge difference. Let me give you some examples-in fact, he hasn’t said very much more than this all week!
Schubert 5 is one of my favourite symphonies, it gives me a huge feeling of happiness as we dance through the first movement, much like being a kid waking up on Christmas morning. Just like when you unwrap your stocking and enthusiasm overtakes good manners, its easy to start ripping the paper off a little too fast. In rehearsal, you could sense that the orchestra was getting a little too over excited for the simplicity of line Bernard was asking for. He stopped us,
“OK, these accents on the bar-lines are a little too much now, yes? Nothing harsh, just a bow to Schubert please. Once more.”
And that was it. A small sentence with a huge impact, we all knew what he meant. Other conductors would have to sing what they wanted or would have gone to great lengths to explain how the accent was to sound. Bernard just wants a nod in the right direction. In this respect he is very like Colin in that he trusts the players judgement as well as his own. To use an over worn cliché, it really does feel like we are making music together.
The opening of the slow movement is quite tricky and Bernard was anxious that we did it quick enough otherwise “It sounds boring already”. So we played it and he smiled. He graciously stopped us at the first repeat mark.
“Well, that really was very good indeed. Lets do it again to make sure!”
We repeated it.
“Yes, good but please, pi-an-iss-i-mo. Don’t get louder yes?”
We repeated it again, this time with Bernard barely moving.
“Yes as I thought. The less I do, the better it sounds.”
We all laughed. “Its because you must listen more”
And there you have it. You can have one of the greatest conductors in the world in front of you, but if you don’t listen, it means nothing.
There are many times when Gordan, our leader will say something to the orchestra. Now if Bernard comes from the Harold Pinter school of dialogue, then Gordan subscribes to the Eric Cantona school of verbal meandering.
Last week in rehearsal, we stopped and Eric, sorry, Gordan said,
“Sorry Bernard, may I say something?”
Bernard settled back on his stool and watched intently as Gordan started talking. Now I sometimes find it hard to hear exactly what he says as he is a long way away and he often talks and plays at the same time, demonstrating the kind of sound he is after.
“Hey guys, listen to the sound here. Its kind of (demonstrates the sound) waaaaah, you know what I mean? But you know, we need like (demonstrates a different sound) waaaeeeerrr, you know what I mean. I mean like, less hard, more like swiss cheese, you know what I mean?”
I think the first violins know what he means.
Bernard, just sits and looks, raises his eyebrows and starts again. The sound is indeed different. We stop again.
“Well Gordan, I didn’t understand a word of what you said, but they do. That is exactly the sound I am after.”
He then turned to David Alberman.
“ He did say Swiss cheese didn’t he?”
“Er, yes maestro, he did”
“Ok”
You’ll probably think I’m making this up, but I assure you that everything on this blog really does happen!
During the opening concert last night, I made a point of seeing how much I did look up. I wanted to see if I really was too busy to watch. The truth is, I spent most of the time watching his every gesture as he moulds and crafts the performance like no other. A lot of the time, Bernard seems to be enjoying the sound of the band, a look of approval when the remarkable Phil Cobb sails above the texture or a smile at the characteristic playing of Lorenzo; and there is a huge amount of affection for him from us too. I can’t wait for the next two shows.
I’m sure, as in all things, there are over paid conductors. But there is no question about it in my mind, Bernard is priceless.
It still feels like the calm before the storm. We keep coming back to work after the summer holiday, do a few concerts and then have a few days off again. It’s quite nice really, I had a chance to put together some flat pack furniture from Sweden and go to the coast for some windsurfing – two things which normally render me incapable of playing for a day due to sore palms. However, I have had time to recover.
The calm has now finished and the storm has arrived. This time, as before , at the eye of the storm is Gergiev. After some recording sessions and a rehearsal at the weekend, yesterday found us flying off to Berlin. After playing in Salzburg last week, Berlin is another of those temples to music which always feels a little special. I remember reading James Galway’s autobiography which includes his time in the Berlin Phil, and I have to admit that walking into the Philharmonie is a little intimidating. I can imagine that the feeling of walking out onto the stage is not dissimilar to taking the final stroll into a roman Amphitheatre to face the Lions. It is a place where the giants of the musical world come to prove their worth and the corridors are full of ghosts of past masters, overshadowed by the biggest of them all, Karajan.
To be honest though, as we approached it on the bus in the September gloom, I had no idea that it was covered in gold paint like a Christmas Bauble from 1977. I was kind of expecting a grand statement like the Musikverein – now that is a hall, it looks and sounds fabulous from every angle. The Philharmonie looks more like its been moved from the set of Barbarella. Still, I’m sure they speak very highly of the Barbican…
Anyway, we couldn’t get into the hall until later in the afternoon, it gets quite busy in there. In its typical understated way, the LSO schedule said,
“Unable to load in before 15.30 due to rehearsal by local orchestra”
Wonder who that was?
Inside, it becomes clear why this is a great hall. It is a fabulous design for all concerned, not always a style I enjoy looking at, but then, that’s the point, you are there to listen not look at the walls. The orchestra is sort of perched on the stage in the round, and it is possible to see almost everyone from where I sit ,which makes communication very easy. From the audience point of view, it looks like you can see very well from wherever you sit. In short, it is designed to make music making and listening as easy as possible.
And so, the concert-Shostakovitch 11.
In the rehearsal, our newest member this week, Lorenzo on bass clarinet, made his presence felt at the climax of the finale. He came thundering in like a giant snake for his first concert as a member- he certainly made an impact and we hadn’t even got to the show! Lorenzo was appointed a few months ago but only started this week as he had to finish his job in Madrid. Its always a nervous moment when you join, but as Christine Pendrill said to me after the rehearsal,
“As soon as he started playing that bit at the end, I knew we’d made the right choice”
I quite agree and I’m sure you’ll enjoy hearing and watching him play. He is Italian, looks like Tom Jones from 1965 and has a sidestep to outwit Barry John. You’ll know what I mean when you see him play!
Speaking of Christine, she was looking a little green around the gills before the concert. In fact, she had been sick several times before and after the rehearsal (I hope she doesn’t mind me telling you this!). It happens to us all from time to time, still at least there isn’t anything for the Cor anglais in Shos 11. Oh, except for that massive solo at the end. That was probably why John Lawley was looking sick too! Thank goodness Chris is such a pro and more importantly has excellent control of her stomach muscles, especially for the violas in front of her; I had thought that the screens behind them were to protect them from noisy trumpets, but perhaps not.
At 8pm , Valery came on stage and the storm began, quietly at first in the gentle first movement, but then movement two began and went at such a pace I really wasn’t sure whether we would make it in one piece. But we did. In fact, such was the level of concentration and fury, that when we reached the relative peace of the stunning violas in the third, I realised that I hadn’t had time to start sweating. On realising this, I started sweating.
Just after the loud bit of the last movement, I looked down the line to see a very green looking Christine preparing herself for one of the peaks of the repertoire-she looked like she was concentrating very hard. But remarkably as always, she put the reed to her lips and gave a performance of such beauty that it was difficult to believe she felt anything other than on top of the world. Momentarily stunned into silence, suddenly Valery looked across and gave the cue to Lorenzo who unleashed the most ferocious sound, gradually joined by the rest of the orchestra. It was a pure adrenaline ride to the shattering climax and the audience loved it-quite a relief in this cultured town. In fact after an encore, most of the band had left the stage when Valery came back on to take another bow on his own. I thought it best to leave him to it, he’d earned it, so I left in search of a beer.
Christine looked relieved but still green and headed off to bed before today’s long journey to Bonn. She plays so well even though she was feeling sick, its just not fair!
It makes me…er…sick.
If you are reading this in England, you might want to go and check your email for a moment and come back in five minutes.
We left a very wet Stansted Airport at 9am this morning, and landed 3 hours later at Palermo airport. If you are enjoying the English summer of rain, I have to tell you that it is 30 degrees and very sunny here. It is a huge contrast to the concert earlier in the week in St Pauls where we concluded the Mahler cycle with number 8. It rained a lot that day. If you missed the concert, you can still hear it on the BBC website or if you go over to St Pauls, you can probably still hear the reverberations. Or you can wait for the CD release later on in the year,
Anyway, back to Italy. We are here to do two concerts with Daniel Harding, playing Brahms 2, Don Juan and Firebird. After arriving at the hotel we had a quick lunch, fortunately, being in Italy, it is culturally relevant to have a quick bowl of pasta, and it always tastes better than in England, I expect its the rain-sorry to rub it in.
We drove straight past the concert hall, I hadn’t read the schedule, as it turned out that we were playing outside. Now I have a soft spot for outdoor dates as I spent every summer of the first 5 years of my career in muddy fields with the Bournemouth Symphony-happy days. We played on an open air stage with no roof, no chance of rain you see. Sorry! I was concerned at the ambient noise during the rehearsal, the stage was surrounded by Cyprus trees full of crickets who felt the need to join in. However, I am happy to report that they stayed quiet for the show. Sadly the local dog population did make their presence felt during the quiet bits in the second half.
Its always strange playing outdoors as the lack of reverberation makes it feel like you are playing in a dead box. It is quite difficult to judge how loudly or quietly you are playing as well. Rather disconcertingly, the applause was very quiet, although as it was fairly prolonged, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Even the dogs and crickets.
We began with a hot and steamy performance of Don Juan with a beautiful oboe solo from our guest principal oboe, David Theodore. Wearing tails is never my outfit of choice, but in the humid Italian evening it was almost unbearable. So as the opening of the Firebird competed with an offstage mobile phone ringtone, a cool breeze drifted in from the east, physically and musically. Most welcome. Almost as welcome as the cold beer after Brahms 2.
At the end of a very long day, most of the band drifted into the centre of town in search of a quick bite to eat. My small group managed to find a lovely little place down a small side street which it turned out had a kitchen 5 minutes walk away, not a good sign especially as the pizzas arrived two by two over a 30 minute period. Always being sensitive to local custom and traditions, and having had pasta at lunchtime, we all decided to eat pizza.
It was the worst thing I have ever eaten in my life. Probably the equivalent of an Italian having his first roast beef and Yorkshire pudding in one of those reheated carvery/refectory places. Next time I pass the one near me and see some tourists, I’m going to take them round to my mums for a proper roast dinner.
Still apparently there is an outdoor pool at todays hotel. And still no rain.
I’ll let you know how we get on.
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