I am quite good at planning things; both my occupations (IT and music) require meticulous preparation and project management and I have learnt from both professions how important these are. Good preparation does not stop things going wrong of course, and part of good planning is having things in place to cope when the inevitable cock-up surfaces.
The potential for things going wrong is in direct proportion to the number of people involved in a project and to their experience in doing what they have to do. Opera has an implausibly large number of people involved, far too many to make sense, it shouldn’t really work at all. I try to explain how different conducting opera is from conducting symphonic music with a little story that happened to me a few years ago. It was I think a performance of “The Tales of Hoffmann”, a tricky opera by any measure you care to choose, there is a lot of action, the music is constantly changing, and the characterisation is strong (which leads to singers getting carried away!). During a difficult bit of recitative one singer exclaimed an “Oh” where there was none in the score, this is never a good sign! I looked up to find him bent almost double under another character’s arm. His wig had somehow got caught in the other character’s button, or cuff link, or somesuch, and he was trying to extricate himself. His position rendered him completely incapable of singing so I stopped beating and held the orchestra in a pause where none was written in the score. A good opera orchestra will react to this, hold the pause without question, and continue when directed. Fortunately I had fixed a good orchestra for this production and that is exactly what they did. The principals on stage dis-entangled themselves after a few moments and the performance continued. It should be noted that although I was looking at the stage, waiting for the magic moment to arrive when I could continue, the orchestra were all looking at me, not the stage. This is a small but crucial detail, as they needed my direction to start again, not the stage’s. Such a problem is unlikely to occur during a performance of a symphony. There is a lot to go wrong in opera.
In fact little that I do is as complex as opera. Preparation can often take more than a year providing I have that much notice. It is also a great deal easier to conduct an opera one has already done. This may seem obvious, indeed it is obvious, but it still needs to be said. There are several pieces I would love to do again simply because having done them once I now know what to do!
So, I am now brought to the story I have to tell, the small matter of keys. I like keys, I do have a lot of them and I organize them carefully on my key-ring. I can tell anyone who asks exactly what each one does. I am the exact opposite of my wife whose key-ring is a complete mess and I have no idea of how she finds her way around her keys, or anything else for that matter. I can find my front door key in the dark, when we arrive home late at night together there is never any point in asking her to unlock the door.
I have an elderly relative who lives in London in a house which is owned by a trust of which I am a trustee. The house has been in the family for a very long time and I know it well. My relative has lived there all his life and shared it with his sister until she died. The house has always been as cold as iron in the winter, so I set about seeing if I could get a grant for central heating to be installed. My relative is in his seventies so I set about researching and found a body that might give a grant for heating. Little did I know the saga on which I was to embark, I made literally hundreds of phone calls to get and keep this project going. It was with a curious sense of elation that I welcomed the engineers to start work a short while ago, I had almost convinced myself that the bureaucracy would beat me, it was most satisfying that work was actually starting.
Several other more trivial things had come to a head at more or less the same time as this. We have a small house in France, there had been storms there and our roof is old and fragile and in need of replacement, I needed to go over and check it. My car was due for a service and I wanted this done before I went as the trip would take me substantially over the mileage when a service would be due.
There was also the less trivial matter of a client who had re-arranged an important meeting for the morning of the last day of the scheduled heating installation.
Lastly, and this is significant, and I should have paid more attention to it, my relative was ill and in hospital during for the period of installation, in some ways this would be helpful as he would be spared the noise and disruption to his life during the work, but I was anxious that his health was starting to deteriorate.
I could see the disaster looming, so I knew I would need my best “attention-to-detail” hat on to get all this together.
So, the plan was: I would ask my relative’s next-door-neighbour whom I knew had a back door key to open up the house for the engineers, I would take my car to Crawley for its service, hop on the train from Three Bridges to Reigate (change at Redhill) for my important meeting with my client, take the train back to Three Bridges, pick up the car, drive to London to check that the installation was going well and finished up properly, spend the evening at the house checking it all worked, drive home, get up at 4 in the morning to catch the early Eurotunnel to France and onward to our house for its checkup. Everything would fit together perfectly. Of course it was all too good to be true, I should have seen that wig and that button inevitably coming together. But I had checks in place, the neighbour had been feeding my relative’s cat whilst he was in hospital so I knew her keys worked, the neighbour had called my mobile on more than one occasion to discuss another matter so I knew she had my number.
The day came and started well, I dropped child No. 4 off at the station to go to school without problem, arrived at the garage half an hour before it opened but still managed to drop the car off without a problem. The trains all worked perfectly so I found myself in Reigate for my meeting about an hour early. There was time for a Latté and cake at Café Nero and a few minutes revision before my presentation. I checked it all over, made a few changes, and saw I still had twenty minutes before the meeting. Should I check my email? No, my other clients were quiet at present, there was no need. But I have a 3G mobile broadband dongle, and being a bloke I don’t need much encouragement to play with toys, so I plugged it in, fired it up and checked my email.
There it was, an email from my relatve's neighbour to say her keys didn’t work and the engineers could not get in to the house to finish the job. What’s worse, some joker had deduced that the key wouldn’t work because there was another key in the lock inside the house, this prevents a key from working on the outside. The solution would be to take a hammer, give the outside key a sharpish blow which would dislodge the inside key allowing the outside key to turn and give access. Of course this would work! As it happens on this occasion, the god of small things decided that the hammered key would jam in the lock, rendering it impossible to either turn or withdraw it. Then a different bright spark tried to extricate the key with some pliers, breaking it in half leaving a portion inside the barrel completely incapable of being withdrawn.
I paused to reflect for a moment, the solution was obvious - mass annihilation of all Central Heating Engineers. Or... perhaps the use of a front door key. I had one on my key ring, but this was with me in Reigate when it was needed in London. I could run it over after my meeting, but I would have to collect my car first, this delay would probably mean that the installation would not be finished today and I would have to delay my trip to France. Even if I cancelled my important meeting with the client the situation would not be improved much, and my client would be annoyed. This would not be good.
Now, if you have come with me this far you will remember that I like keys. It is always my habit to have a spare set of keys around in case they are needed. I did indeed have a spare set of keys, but they were at home in the key box. To get them to London I would have to ask (I shudder when I remember it) The Wife to run them over. Marriage is a complicated thing; often it resembles a competitive sport, if I were going to ask this favour there would be a price to pay.
Given the circumstances I thought I would give it a try. I called The Wife and explained the situation. There was, as is usual, a bit of grumping but after some smooth talking she agreed to do it. I called the engineers (who had left to do another job) and let them know a key was on the way, and with fingers firmly crossed left for my meeting.
The meeting with my client went well and achieved what I had wanted from it. Afterwards I got the train back to the garage, picked up my car and drove to London. By the time I arrived the engineers had finished the installation and were making good, the broken lock had been disassembled to reveal a standard lock barrel which was easily replaced from the local DIY store. I confirmed that with this type of barrel having a key in the lock inside really does prevent a key from being inserted outside. I didn’t try to replicate the trick with the hammer though.
I still don’t know what price will have to be paid for getting the key to London, but there will be one, and it will be high. Even so the pleasure I felt in getting the problem sorted, and the satisfaction from feeling the iron cold house start to warm up with the heating will outweigh it. Overall, I was satisfied that the day had worked and the problems thrown up had been overcome; if you'll pardon the pun, the key was preparation.
Life is sometimes almost as complicated as opera.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Dreadful, awful.
Why do directors do it? Because they can I suppose.
I have seen plenty of poor productions in my time, up till recently the worst production of anything I have ever seen was at, of all places, Covent Garden. The Tristan and Isolde that I saw a few years ago consigned the two principals to red and white boxes, similar in size to the sort of containers that are shipped all over the world. Tristan did leave his box at the end (I can’t remember which colour was assigned to whom) but Isolde was stuck in hers for the duration. All the love music in the second act was sung without touching, I can’t remember many other details other than the men’s chorus came on to sing at the end of Act I will megaphones. It was frightful, but not offensive. I applauded at the end but not with much enthusiasm. As I recall the Isolde was very good, but the Tristan was a stand in and could not really cope with the role. It is a killer and I felt sorry for the poor fellow.
The production was silly, stupid perhaps. It certainly did not pay any attention to the intentions of the composer and librettist (the same person in this opera of course). But it was not offensive. I have just seen the most offensive piece of theatre that I have ever experienced. Something that not only reverses the intentions of the composer and librettist but twists and mangles them to such an extent that I was genuine upset as well as offended.
Bluebeard’s Castle with music by Bela Bartok and libretto by Bela Balazs takes the myth of the Bluebeard legend and adds a twentieth century twist. It is not easy to explain what the opera is about, but to me it is clear Bluebeard and Judith are deeply in love. From here on in I think every individual has to decide for themselves what is going on, this does leave the piece open to alternative interpretations. Perhaps Bluebeard has been damaged, as Judith opens each of the first five doors she finds blood on whatever is in there. At the opening of the 5th door Bluebeard rejoices, happy that Judith has brought light to his castle. He begs her not to open any more, and this for me is where the heart of the story lies. He knows that going further will damage both of them, but Judith is not able to stop and their relationship crumbles.
To turn this into a story about recent mass murderers and criminals is so absurd and hateful that I can’t believe anyone who listened to the ravishing music in the final scenes could ever consider it. This music moves me to tears, now it is spoilt, probably forever.
I feel betrayed. A hooligan, a vandal, a moron has disfigured something beautiful. A great gash has been cut in the face of a beautiful and much admired friend. I will not be able to forgive Daniel Kramer and his cronies for the offence they have caused. I will never attend another of his productions. I don’t really want to set foot in the home of the ENO ever again, the thought of doing so sickens me.
For the first time ever I regret to have to say than on the 6th November 2009, I am genuinely sorry that I went to the opera.
I have seen plenty of poor productions in my time, up till recently the worst production of anything I have ever seen was at, of all places, Covent Garden. The Tristan and Isolde that I saw a few years ago consigned the two principals to red and white boxes, similar in size to the sort of containers that are shipped all over the world. Tristan did leave his box at the end (I can’t remember which colour was assigned to whom) but Isolde was stuck in hers for the duration. All the love music in the second act was sung without touching, I can’t remember many other details other than the men’s chorus came on to sing at the end of Act I will megaphones. It was frightful, but not offensive. I applauded at the end but not with much enthusiasm. As I recall the Isolde was very good, but the Tristan was a stand in and could not really cope with the role. It is a killer and I felt sorry for the poor fellow.
The production was silly, stupid perhaps. It certainly did not pay any attention to the intentions of the composer and librettist (the same person in this opera of course). But it was not offensive. I have just seen the most offensive piece of theatre that I have ever experienced. Something that not only reverses the intentions of the composer and librettist but twists and mangles them to such an extent that I was genuine upset as well as offended.
Bluebeard’s Castle with music by Bela Bartok and libretto by Bela Balazs takes the myth of the Bluebeard legend and adds a twentieth century twist. It is not easy to explain what the opera is about, but to me it is clear Bluebeard and Judith are deeply in love. From here on in I think every individual has to decide for themselves what is going on, this does leave the piece open to alternative interpretations. Perhaps Bluebeard has been damaged, as Judith opens each of the first five doors she finds blood on whatever is in there. At the opening of the 5th door Bluebeard rejoices, happy that Judith has brought light to his castle. He begs her not to open any more, and this for me is where the heart of the story lies. He knows that going further will damage both of them, but Judith is not able to stop and their relationship crumbles.
To turn this into a story about recent mass murderers and criminals is so absurd and hateful that I can’t believe anyone who listened to the ravishing music in the final scenes could ever consider it. This music moves me to tears, now it is spoilt, probably forever.
I feel betrayed. A hooligan, a vandal, a moron has disfigured something beautiful. A great gash has been cut in the face of a beautiful and much admired friend. I will not be able to forgive Daniel Kramer and his cronies for the offence they have caused. I will never attend another of his productions. I don’t really want to set foot in the home of the ENO ever again, the thought of doing so sickens me.
For the first time ever I regret to have to say than on the 6th November 2009, I am genuinely sorry that I went to the opera.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
From the sublime to the ridiculous
The DVDs of the Master Course in Bulgaria arrived a few days ago. The organisers of the course had rushed through a copy for me to take away but I left them in the car that took me from Ruse to Sofia, I was very cross with myself. I have been looking forward to receiving the replacement disks for a while and since they arrived I have taken a good deal of time studying them.
The session that I was looking forward to watching the most was the twenty minutes I spent running through the finale of Mahler’s third symphony. As I wrote in this blog I have almost no recollection of this rehearsal. I do remember the first few minutes, the moment when Panula makes some remarks about some ties missing in the first violins, and a missed subito piano in the wind.
I went into the session with the wrong idea, I wanted to prove that I had the orchestral control to do rubato. I had not at that point got my head around what could be achieved at the master course and was still looking for a sense of direction. I did not get my thoughts clear until well into the third set of rehearsals and I owe a lot to my colleagues for helping me to realize that the course was about learning, not proving myself.
Even so, I count this session as one of my most successful at the course. When I stepped up to the podium I had already established myself as the conductor with the loud voice, I didn’t need to prove that any more! I made a few opening remarks, which I think were ignored! I waited for the chat let to subside by raising my arms into the ready position, and looking at the chatters until they stopped. The first rubato took the orchestra by surprise, but they caught on quickly and were soon prepared for the music to be pulled about.
From then on, with the exceptions noted earlier, I remember nothing until the end of the movement and the crashing tympani blows. Watching the video has been especially interesting and a great pleasure. I now realize that the orchestra pulled out all the stops for this rehearsal and made a huge effort. The dynamic contrasts are fabulous and the music really sings out. I had been worried about the brass players getting tired, so was keen to give them an easy time, but they play with great feeling and power. The wind play beautifully and the string tone is lush and full. I take the brass restatement of the theme fairly quickly, again I think this must have been because I was concerned not to tax them unduly, but I can’t remember doing so at the time. The final chords are played with great power.
If and when I do that movement again I will do several passages differently, but that is to be expected. I have now played the video several times, and in many of the passages the orchestral playing is superb, bravo!
One of my colleagues mentioned after the rehearsal that he didn’t like the way I shake my hands and arms during long sustained chords. Many conductors do this to encourage the orchestra to sustain a chord fortissimo and I consider it to be an acceptable technique. What I didn’t realise is that this can look a little odd when someone a bit overweight such as myself does it. I posted a remark on this blog a while ago saying that I was going to have to lose some weight, and two dear friends (both ladies, both singers, both mezzo-sopranos!) said that I was perfect as I was and didn’t need to change a bit.
Well ladies, take a look at the last few seconds of the Mahler 3 finale Part 2 video. It’s not the arms that are shaking! The music may be sublime, but I look ridiculous.
The session that I was looking forward to watching the most was the twenty minutes I spent running through the finale of Mahler’s third symphony. As I wrote in this blog I have almost no recollection of this rehearsal. I do remember the first few minutes, the moment when Panula makes some remarks about some ties missing in the first violins, and a missed subito piano in the wind.
I went into the session with the wrong idea, I wanted to prove that I had the orchestral control to do rubato. I had not at that point got my head around what could be achieved at the master course and was still looking for a sense of direction. I did not get my thoughts clear until well into the third set of rehearsals and I owe a lot to my colleagues for helping me to realize that the course was about learning, not proving myself.
Even so, I count this session as one of my most successful at the course. When I stepped up to the podium I had already established myself as the conductor with the loud voice, I didn’t need to prove that any more! I made a few opening remarks, which I think were ignored! I waited for the chat let to subside by raising my arms into the ready position, and looking at the chatters until they stopped. The first rubato took the orchestra by surprise, but they caught on quickly and were soon prepared for the music to be pulled about.
From then on, with the exceptions noted earlier, I remember nothing until the end of the movement and the crashing tympani blows. Watching the video has been especially interesting and a great pleasure. I now realize that the orchestra pulled out all the stops for this rehearsal and made a huge effort. The dynamic contrasts are fabulous and the music really sings out. I had been worried about the brass players getting tired, so was keen to give them an easy time, but they play with great feeling and power. The wind play beautifully and the string tone is lush and full. I take the brass restatement of the theme fairly quickly, again I think this must have been because I was concerned not to tax them unduly, but I can’t remember doing so at the time. The final chords are played with great power.
If and when I do that movement again I will do several passages differently, but that is to be expected. I have now played the video several times, and in many of the passages the orchestral playing is superb, bravo!
One of my colleagues mentioned after the rehearsal that he didn’t like the way I shake my hands and arms during long sustained chords. Many conductors do this to encourage the orchestra to sustain a chord fortissimo and I consider it to be an acceptable technique. What I didn’t realise is that this can look a little odd when someone a bit overweight such as myself does it. I posted a remark on this blog a while ago saying that I was going to have to lose some weight, and two dear friends (both ladies, both singers, both mezzo-sopranos!) said that I was perfect as I was and didn’t need to change a bit.
Well ladies, take a look at the last few seconds of the Mahler 3 finale Part 2 video. It’s not the arms that are shaking! The music may be sublime, but I look ridiculous.
Friday, 25 September 2009
Growing old humorously
I don’t really think of myself as old yet, but it won’t be long before I have to. I am certainly no longer young, and “middle-aged” is such a dreadfully bourgeois term. My youngest child is now over 16 and should therefore be considered an adult in most regards, my eldest is thinking of buying a house. These things alone can make one feel the time that has passed.
As for growing old, my awful sense of humour hasn’t changed much over the years, I still love teasing the wife and kids, I love jokes but can no longer remember them. I enjoy quirky or humorous stories and these I can often remember. Amongst my favourites stories are those about one of my favourite conductors, Sir Thomas Beecham. Beecham’s recordings are wonderful, most especially those made of live performances. They always have life and energy.
The stories are many and I was delighted to add to them on the recent master course. I asked Maestro Panula whether he had ever seen Beecham conduct and got an affirmative answer, “very good”. Panula then smiled and recalled a Beecham story that was new to me. Beecham came to Helsinki on many occasions to conduct the works of Sibelius and others, but had trouble sleeping through the very light evenings. After a particularly bad night he was taking an orchestral rehearsal and whilst continuing to conduct dived into his bag which was below his stand and started rummaging around in it. After a few moments he brought out a sandwich and started to eat it, whilst continuing to conduct! This would be quite unheard of now, and whilst it may seem of little consequence to a non-musician, to a conductor it is quirky beyond belief.
One of the advantages of getting older is that less is expected of you and to some extent you expect less of yourself. If one of the kids volunteers to do something energetic on my behalf, I let them. If they sort something out for me because they think I am tired and a bit gaga, so be it.
The other day I received an “are you there” email from a daughter who shall remain numberless. Since we are both attached to mail servers, emails are delivered more or less instantly. We often have conversations via email. After a few moments the phone went, it was my turn to write something in the email conversation but I answered the phone anyway. It was the same numberless daughter I was having the email conversation with. I asked her to hold for a moment and typed into my computer’s email client “Speaking on the phone to someone now, won’t be a minute.” and sent it. We then had a phone conversation about something so important that I have completely forgotten what (age playing its part again perhaps?). After hanging up I resumed the email conversation with “Off the phone now. What’s up?”. This had the delightful effect of getting the numberless daughter worried about whether I had realised that the email conversation and the phone conversation were with the same person, namely her. Eventually I had to give in and admit that I was teasing her but she remains concerned that I am getting old and confused.
Getting old is going to be fun, if only a bit.
As for growing old, my awful sense of humour hasn’t changed much over the years, I still love teasing the wife and kids, I love jokes but can no longer remember them. I enjoy quirky or humorous stories and these I can often remember. Amongst my favourites stories are those about one of my favourite conductors, Sir Thomas Beecham. Beecham’s recordings are wonderful, most especially those made of live performances. They always have life and energy.
The stories are many and I was delighted to add to them on the recent master course. I asked Maestro Panula whether he had ever seen Beecham conduct and got an affirmative answer, “very good”. Panula then smiled and recalled a Beecham story that was new to me. Beecham came to Helsinki on many occasions to conduct the works of Sibelius and others, but had trouble sleeping through the very light evenings. After a particularly bad night he was taking an orchestral rehearsal and whilst continuing to conduct dived into his bag which was below his stand and started rummaging around in it. After a few moments he brought out a sandwich and started to eat it, whilst continuing to conduct! This would be quite unheard of now, and whilst it may seem of little consequence to a non-musician, to a conductor it is quirky beyond belief.
One of the advantages of getting older is that less is expected of you and to some extent you expect less of yourself. If one of the kids volunteers to do something energetic on my behalf, I let them. If they sort something out for me because they think I am tired and a bit gaga, so be it.
The other day I received an “are you there” email from a daughter who shall remain numberless. Since we are both attached to mail servers, emails are delivered more or less instantly. We often have conversations via email. After a few moments the phone went, it was my turn to write something in the email conversation but I answered the phone anyway. It was the same numberless daughter I was having the email conversation with. I asked her to hold for a moment and typed into my computer’s email client “Speaking on the phone to someone now, won’t be a minute.” and sent it. We then had a phone conversation about something so important that I have completely forgotten what (age playing its part again perhaps?). After hanging up I resumed the email conversation with “Off the phone now. What’s up?”. This had the delightful effect of getting the numberless daughter worried about whether I had realised that the email conversation and the phone conversation were with the same person, namely her. Eventually I had to give in and admit that I was teasing her but she remains concerned that I am getting old and confused.
Getting old is going to be fun, if only a bit.
Friday, 18 September 2009
The end of the course
The Master Course is now over and I am back home in Surrey. Normal life is resuming, the wife has what she calls a stinking cold and I would call the sniffles while daughter No. 4 has the sniffles and calls it the sniffles. No.3 is off to University at the weekend and is cross with me for forgetting her birthday whilst I was away. I was too busy chatting up photographers. There is a mountain of post and the tax on my car needs renewing urgently.
The course ended with a concert in which I conducted the last movement of Sibelius’s Symphony No. 2. It went well and was well received. My tempo was a little fast but in the circumstances was not a bad choice, though if I were to do the whole symphony and have adequate rehearsal time I would probably take it a little slower. The orchestra played well and with spirit.
Unusually for me I felt a little nervous before going on; I am rarely nervous before conducting. I had to calm down and breathe deeply for a few moments. Even so when the moment came to go to the podium I strode on as if I owned the place, took my bow, preened myself a little to show the orchestra that I had had a haircut (smiles from the woodwind), and launched into the music without a worry, all nerves gone.
The orchestra reacted beautifully to everything that I did, the pianissimos were very quiet and the fortissimos powerful. After the performance the orchestra were very complimentary and many of the players congratulated me. I was very pleased about this as orchestral players won’t congratulate a conductor unless they mean it. Panula seemed happy as well, and was all smiles and congratulations. I asked if I had done anything wrong technically, “You bent your knees, but only once”. This man is strict!
I have put the videos from my camera, with sound from the camera, on YouTube. When I have the version with sound from the separate microphones I will add them as well.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiFqdC6sR24
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvAPrcXkFX0
The next morning I was booked on the early car to Sofia, I had to get up at 4:15 to be ready to leave at 4:45, farewells were taken at the after concert party and final thanks given. I packed and got a few hours sleep before my alarm. The journey home was uneventful apart from the fact that I stupidly left the DVDs of the course which had been rushed through for me in the car at the airport. I am VERY cross with myself about this.
After a coffee and catch-up with an old friend at Gatwick the taxi bore me home and back to reality. The post and the sniffles need to be dealt with, the taxman must be paid and the kids educated.
The course was a wonderful experience, and has given me a great deal to think about. The comments of Panula and my colleagues will be brooded over and the videos studied. The orchestra was hard working and committed, they were unfamiliar with all the music (even Sibelius 2, which did surprise us, it is a standard work in Western Europe) and struggled to sight read some of it, but worked hard at learning it and with dealing with 18 conductors with varying degrees of experience and skill. Congratulations to them.
The course was well run and good value, credit is due to the organizers.
Looking back at my sessions a pattern is starting to emerge. For the first three sessions I was trying to prove something. At the first that I could control an orchestra and get them to play in a disciplined fashion, at the second that I could control a choir, at the third that I had enough technique to get the orchestra to do outrageous rubato. I then realised that continually trying to prove myself was not really what I was there for, so the fourth was about getting the passion and drama out of some very powerful music. From then on I settled down to some conducting and building a working musical relationship with the orchestra. Fortunately there was just enough time for this to be achieved before the concert, the sessions ended with both me and the orchestra happy.
Maestro Panula was critical of some of my conducting but seemed to like other parts, I have to think hard about what he suggests as some of the things he does not like are very built into my technique. I will also reflect on what my colleagues said during the course, there were some fine conductors there and they made many useful and interesting comments. I made some good friends too, I hope to stay in touch and I will follow their careers with interest.
One thing is already clear to me from watching my videos, if I am to continue conducting, I have to lose some weight!
The course ended with a concert in which I conducted the last movement of Sibelius’s Symphony No. 2. It went well and was well received. My tempo was a little fast but in the circumstances was not a bad choice, though if I were to do the whole symphony and have adequate rehearsal time I would probably take it a little slower. The orchestra played well and with spirit.
Unusually for me I felt a little nervous before going on; I am rarely nervous before conducting. I had to calm down and breathe deeply for a few moments. Even so when the moment came to go to the podium I strode on as if I owned the place, took my bow, preened myself a little to show the orchestra that I had had a haircut (smiles from the woodwind), and launched into the music without a worry, all nerves gone.
The orchestra reacted beautifully to everything that I did, the pianissimos were very quiet and the fortissimos powerful. After the performance the orchestra were very complimentary and many of the players congratulated me. I was very pleased about this as orchestral players won’t congratulate a conductor unless they mean it. Panula seemed happy as well, and was all smiles and congratulations. I asked if I had done anything wrong technically, “You bent your knees, but only once”. This man is strict!
I have put the videos from my camera, with sound from the camera, on YouTube. When I have the version with sound from the separate microphones I will add them as well.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TiFqdC6sR24
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvAPrcXkFX0
The next morning I was booked on the early car to Sofia, I had to get up at 4:15 to be ready to leave at 4:45, farewells were taken at the after concert party and final thanks given. I packed and got a few hours sleep before my alarm. The journey home was uneventful apart from the fact that I stupidly left the DVDs of the course which had been rushed through for me in the car at the airport. I am VERY cross with myself about this.
After a coffee and catch-up with an old friend at Gatwick the taxi bore me home and back to reality. The post and the sniffles need to be dealt with, the taxman must be paid and the kids educated.
The course was a wonderful experience, and has given me a great deal to think about. The comments of Panula and my colleagues will be brooded over and the videos studied. The orchestra was hard working and committed, they were unfamiliar with all the music (even Sibelius 2, which did surprise us, it is a standard work in Western Europe) and struggled to sight read some of it, but worked hard at learning it and with dealing with 18 conductors with varying degrees of experience and skill. Congratulations to them.
The course was well run and good value, credit is due to the organizers.
Looking back at my sessions a pattern is starting to emerge. For the first three sessions I was trying to prove something. At the first that I could control an orchestra and get them to play in a disciplined fashion, at the second that I could control a choir, at the third that I had enough technique to get the orchestra to do outrageous rubato. I then realised that continually trying to prove myself was not really what I was there for, so the fourth was about getting the passion and drama out of some very powerful music. From then on I settled down to some conducting and building a working musical relationship with the orchestra. Fortunately there was just enough time for this to be achieved before the concert, the sessions ended with both me and the orchestra happy.
Maestro Panula was critical of some of my conducting but seemed to like other parts, I have to think hard about what he suggests as some of the things he does not like are very built into my technique. I will also reflect on what my colleagues said during the course, there were some fine conductors there and they made many useful and interesting comments. I made some good friends too, I hope to stay in touch and I will follow their careers with interest.
One thing is already clear to me from watching my videos, if I am to continue conducting, I have to lose some weight!
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Soap operas and faux pas
I write this sitting in my hotel room, which as I have mentioned before is basic but has air conditioning. I am grateful for this as I have promised not to buy shorts on this trip and it is once again hot outside. I did a brief rehearsal of the finale of Sibelius 2 this morning and I will conduct it at the concert this evening, the rehearsal went well and I am relaxed about the concert.
The master course is nearly over and what I would really like to do is to describe the final few days in the most dramatic fashion possible, allowing free reign to English language’s propensity for exaggeration and hyperbole. I could write that one conductor was on the point of refusing to work with the orchestra, that the orchestra were on the point of refusing to work with a conductor, that Maestro had gone missing for an hour an no-one could find him and that a colleague and friend had been taken very ill for a while and we were on the point of calling a doctor. But of course no-one would believe me. This is nerd’s convention, we all sit around discussing our down beats, on occasions we seek some light relief but discussing our up beats. Nothing so exciting could ever happen on such a course. Hmmm....
So instead I shall tell you (remind you might be better) of my continuing ability to open my mouth and put my foot in it, as deeply as possible. One of the conductors told us in the first week that a friend of his would be arriving to take some photos of him at the master class. She was a student at the university in Berlin and was studying film; she designed websites to get by. When she arrived she asked if she could take photos of me and I agreed, I hate having my photo taken but it is necessary to have good photos of oneself conducting and a few more would not go amiss. We got chatting and I mentioned this blog amongst other things. We met a few days later and greatly to my surprise she said that she had read the blog and enjoyed my story about the Turkey Sandwich (see below). I was of course delighted and very flattered and since then we have had a good chat every time we meet.
She showed me some of the photos she had taken of me during a rehearsal; I was very pleased with several which showed me not looking too ridiculous, perhaps even a bit artistic. My favourite was one where I am making some dramatic gesture with my right hand, which is holding my baton, while my left hand is brought up and back and looks as though it is just about to pluck out my eye.
After today’s rehearsal I went once again to the restaurant next door to have lunch, I had had a short discussion with Panula and he seem satisfied with what I was doing, some of the others were discussing matters but I had nothing more to say so left the group. In the restaurant I saw the conductor and his photographer friend and went to join them. I ordered the cat-fish from the river and we got chatting again. She had heard that I have four daughters and was asking after them so I gave my usual laconic description of each (sorry kids!). I was a bit surprised when she said that she had a daughter, I don’t suppose that I should have been, it’s not that unusual for students to have children these days. My standard reply when caught like this is to say “You’re not old enough to have children!” which usually goes down quite well. “Ah, you might be a bit shocked to find out my daughter’s age then” she said. OK, so the child might be five or six I thought. “She is twenty”.
It does take a while to extract one’s foot when it is THAT deep in one’s mouth.
The master course is nearly over and what I would really like to do is to describe the final few days in the most dramatic fashion possible, allowing free reign to English language’s propensity for exaggeration and hyperbole. I could write that one conductor was on the point of refusing to work with the orchestra, that the orchestra were on the point of refusing to work with a conductor, that Maestro had gone missing for an hour an no-one could find him and that a colleague and friend had been taken very ill for a while and we were on the point of calling a doctor. But of course no-one would believe me. This is nerd’s convention, we all sit around discussing our down beats, on occasions we seek some light relief but discussing our up beats. Nothing so exciting could ever happen on such a course. Hmmm....
So instead I shall tell you (remind you might be better) of my continuing ability to open my mouth and put my foot in it, as deeply as possible. One of the conductors told us in the first week that a friend of his would be arriving to take some photos of him at the master class. She was a student at the university in Berlin and was studying film; she designed websites to get by. When she arrived she asked if she could take photos of me and I agreed, I hate having my photo taken but it is necessary to have good photos of oneself conducting and a few more would not go amiss. We got chatting and I mentioned this blog amongst other things. We met a few days later and greatly to my surprise she said that she had read the blog and enjoyed my story about the Turkey Sandwich (see below). I was of course delighted and very flattered and since then we have had a good chat every time we meet.
She showed me some of the photos she had taken of me during a rehearsal; I was very pleased with several which showed me not looking too ridiculous, perhaps even a bit artistic. My favourite was one where I am making some dramatic gesture with my right hand, which is holding my baton, while my left hand is brought up and back and looks as though it is just about to pluck out my eye.
After today’s rehearsal I went once again to the restaurant next door to have lunch, I had had a short discussion with Panula and he seem satisfied with what I was doing, some of the others were discussing matters but I had nothing more to say so left the group. In the restaurant I saw the conductor and his photographer friend and went to join them. I ordered the cat-fish from the river and we got chatting again. She had heard that I have four daughters and was asking after them so I gave my usual laconic description of each (sorry kids!). I was a bit surprised when she said that she had a daughter, I don’t suppose that I should have been, it’s not that unusual for students to have children these days. My standard reply when caught like this is to say “You’re not old enough to have children!” which usually goes down quite well. “Ah, you might be a bit shocked to find out my daughter’s age then” she said. OK, so the child might be five or six I thought. “She is twenty”.
It does take a while to extract one’s foot when it is THAT deep in one’s mouth.
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Fishing and to be a fish.
A few days ago a group of my conducting colleagues and I were sitting at the breakfast table discussing our favourite topic, conducting technique. Yes I know, yawn - yawn, but bear with me for a moment please.
I am, and always have been, fascinated by conducting. I watch other conductors very carefully and with interest. I study their movement, technique and the way they act out the music. I like to think that over the years I have gained a good deal of technique and have enough presence on the podium to keep things going well. I can and do conduct opera, and you can’t do that without technique.
So these conversations with other conductors are fascinating to me, and with apologies for repeating myself, we were discussing technique a few days ago when the subject of “fishing” came up. This is conducting with a series of upbeats that can look like someone making regular rhythmic pulls on a fishing line. According to my colleagues, all of whom have been on Panula’s Masterclasses before, the Maestro doesn’t like fishing conductors.
One of my colleagues has to conduct a movement which is one beat to a bar and is concerned about being criticised for fishing. Panula can be cutting sometimes if he wishes to be, and avoidance of techniques he dislikes is strongly advised on his courses.
I had decided some time ago to concentrate on the Sibelius works in this Masterclass, and I am ill-prepared to avoid fishing. As it happens none of the pieces or movements that I have done or want to do are one beat to a bar, and so far the Maestro seems to like what I have been doing, so I have to date escaped his wrath with the possible exception of overdoing the rubato in the finale Mahler 3.
The next thing I wanted to conduct was the 1st movement of Mahler 2. I thought long and hard about this, but I decided on it as I had not worked on the first movement of Mahler 3 and I thought it would be sensible to do a first movement of something. This movement is a very powerful statement, words can never do it justice, despair and desperation seem the most appropriate of them. As my response to the finale of Mahler 3 had caught me by surprise, I wanted to be properly prepared for this piece. For a couple of days I avoided most company, studied the score and got myself mentally prepared.
When the moment came I stepped to the podium and started. I realised that all the preparation had been entirely unnecessary, the music said it all. I was quite pleased with the session apart from the fact that the Cor Anglais player was missing, I was very annoyed about this as there are many important solos for the instrument in this movement. I was told he was ill and that there wasn’t another player available in the town.
I did rehearse a few sections, and got to the crushing climax which held together well. When I left the podium I was still cross that there was no Cor Anglais but I had had a satisfactory rehearsal, even if my mood didn’t make me particularly popular with the orchestra!
Most of my colleagues have brought their own Camcorders with them to video themselves conducting, I had not as I didn’t have one to bring. I was anxious to see myself conducting before the next video session with Panula so I have bought one. I recorded myself conducting the Mahler so dashed away to view it.
A few days ago an American had passed comment on the fact that I seem to conduct with an open mouth, and perhaps I was vocalising a bit to the music. Not having seen myself conduct much I was curious about this and watched my video for it. Sure enough, there it was. I sing along to the music, I hope I sing soundlessly (if that is not a contradiction in terms) as I don’t like my own singing voice much, and the family hate it. I have not had complaints from any orchestras so I am pretty sure that I make no noise.
But I now have to reconcile myself to the fact that when I conduct my mouth opens and closes all the time as though one of my fishing conductor colleagues has just landed me.
This was not the sort of fishing I was expecting to have to deal with.
I am, and always have been, fascinated by conducting. I watch other conductors very carefully and with interest. I study their movement, technique and the way they act out the music. I like to think that over the years I have gained a good deal of technique and have enough presence on the podium to keep things going well. I can and do conduct opera, and you can’t do that without technique.
So these conversations with other conductors are fascinating to me, and with apologies for repeating myself, we were discussing technique a few days ago when the subject of “fishing” came up. This is conducting with a series of upbeats that can look like someone making regular rhythmic pulls on a fishing line. According to my colleagues, all of whom have been on Panula’s Masterclasses before, the Maestro doesn’t like fishing conductors.
One of my colleagues has to conduct a movement which is one beat to a bar and is concerned about being criticised for fishing. Panula can be cutting sometimes if he wishes to be, and avoidance of techniques he dislikes is strongly advised on his courses.
I had decided some time ago to concentrate on the Sibelius works in this Masterclass, and I am ill-prepared to avoid fishing. As it happens none of the pieces or movements that I have done or want to do are one beat to a bar, and so far the Maestro seems to like what I have been doing, so I have to date escaped his wrath with the possible exception of overdoing the rubato in the finale Mahler 3.
The next thing I wanted to conduct was the 1st movement of Mahler 2. I thought long and hard about this, but I decided on it as I had not worked on the first movement of Mahler 3 and I thought it would be sensible to do a first movement of something. This movement is a very powerful statement, words can never do it justice, despair and desperation seem the most appropriate of them. As my response to the finale of Mahler 3 had caught me by surprise, I wanted to be properly prepared for this piece. For a couple of days I avoided most company, studied the score and got myself mentally prepared.
When the moment came I stepped to the podium and started. I realised that all the preparation had been entirely unnecessary, the music said it all. I was quite pleased with the session apart from the fact that the Cor Anglais player was missing, I was very annoyed about this as there are many important solos for the instrument in this movement. I was told he was ill and that there wasn’t another player available in the town.
I did rehearse a few sections, and got to the crushing climax which held together well. When I left the podium I was still cross that there was no Cor Anglais but I had had a satisfactory rehearsal, even if my mood didn’t make me particularly popular with the orchestra!
Most of my colleagues have brought their own Camcorders with them to video themselves conducting, I had not as I didn’t have one to bring. I was anxious to see myself conducting before the next video session with Panula so I have bought one. I recorded myself conducting the Mahler so dashed away to view it.
A few days ago an American had passed comment on the fact that I seem to conduct with an open mouth, and perhaps I was vocalising a bit to the music. Not having seen myself conduct much I was curious about this and watched my video for it. Sure enough, there it was. I sing along to the music, I hope I sing soundlessly (if that is not a contradiction in terms) as I don’t like my own singing voice much, and the family hate it. I have not had complaints from any orchestras so I am pretty sure that I make no noise.
But I now have to reconcile myself to the fact that when I conduct my mouth opens and closes all the time as though one of my fishing conductor colleagues has just landed me.
This was not the sort of fishing I was expecting to have to deal with.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
