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21/8/2007 12:00 am
08/12/2006 5:32 am
08/12/2006 5:14 am
Leadership Dialogues: A monthly Q-and-A with The Spokesman-Review Editorial Board
Working in concert
August 12, 2007
Q: When was it, how early did you know that you wanted to pursue a life in music?
A: I went to a boys’ choir when I was 10 years old for eight years. And for those years I lived in a boarding school, and we ate and breathed and everything we did was just music. I mean we had five hours of rehearsals a day. And school was just a little side job, and my life was, for those eight years, basically music and soccer, and that’s it. And so, when it came to choose what I wanted to do, it was either becoming a soccer player or become a musician.
And I was not that good at the piano, and I always wanted to conduct. I wanted to lead people, kind of, I wanted to do the whole thing. I didn’t want to be dependent on other people, which you are when you’re a singer, for instance. You are dependent on the conductor. You are dependent on his tempo. So I wanted to do that. So I was about 14 years old. Thirteen, 14 years old. But of course I had no idea what I was getting into, because if I had known I would have not chosen that profession.
Q: You mentioned that you grew up in East Germany. Was the choice that sent you to boys’ choir in the first place your choice or someone else’s?
A: No. I never wanted to go there. It was my father’s choice. I have an older brother who was there. He is five years older and is also a conductor now, and I did not want to go there. I had a very good voice, and my father trained me and practiced with me. Piano. We had daily struggles with tears and all. Everything, every day. And he sent me there.
But very early on, you create a different group of people there, in terms of bonding with people there because you live there 24/7, together with these boys, and they become your new family. And when you make music so often, and all day, all day, it was all new to me — the repertoir, singing, in a group, ensemble. It was just life-changing for me, and I liked it, really.
But I got into music as a conductor because it was the only way to express myself, in East Germany, under all this political pressure, with music, because it was non-verbal. Nobody can interpret the music I make in a political way. And I can make very sad music, because I feel it’s a very sad time for me. But people will think, “That’s romantic. That’s beautiful.”
As soon as I write, as soon as I say something, it would be interpreted. Everything you did — with math, literature, chemistry, biology — it was all interpreted in political ways and if you were not in line you were in trouble. So music was the only thing, because it’s non-verbal, that you could express yourself.
Q: Do you compose?
A: No, I don’t.
Q: In the way you interpret music and the way thatyou conduct, has the emotion that goes into that and the sense of feelings that you convey with your music changed since you left East Germany, or since the wall fell?
A: My attitude toward music, or …?
Q: You mentioned that your music may have conveyed a sadness because you were in a sad time of life. I was just wondering if that has changed.
A: Of course it has changed. I think there is an innate sadness, and I think, or a longing for sadness, too, and the liberty that comes with it in each and every one of us. So when you have a touching and a very tragic piece, it is, whatever people think, but it’s something very deep inside them. It’s not necessarily any more about my circumstances because my circumstances are very well, but there’s always something very, very deep where we are very sad, and I think we long for that as well as for happiness. We need that balance. And I think there’s nothing more freeing yourself up. When you cry, it’s the best thing. It doesn’t happen too often because we’re not supposed to do it. When we do it, it’s one of the most liberating things I know of. It’s almost like the best laugh you have.
Q: You said that being a conductor gives you the freedom, and you’re not dependent upon others. Are you typical of serious musicians? Do you think most serious musicians would prefer to become conductors, or are you atypical?
A: I thought when I was a young boy that as a conductor you weren’t dependent on others. Complete mistake. You are dependent on each and every one you work with. That was a mistake I made when I was young. Now it’s quite different. But there is definitely an urge among musicians to conduct, to lead. They want to be on the other side.
And there are many examples of famous, particularly soloists, who either abandoned the instrument, or neglect the instrument, or who still play but who picked up the baton and conduct because they want to be in charge of the whole picture.
When you are a musician in the orchestra, you have your responsibility. You play your little part in this whole mosaic of things. And you think that as conductor you are in charge, and kind of you are, but it doesn’t really change anything about that it’s a communal event, that you are dependent on each and every one. That you’re just kind of facilitating, and that’s what I think a conductor does. You’re facilitating.
You enable people to play as best as they can. But it’s not about you and you’re not in charge. I mean you’re not the absolute leader. Because as a conductor you don’t make a single sound, unless you grunt, but usually you don’t make a sound. Everyone else makes sounds. So you’re dependent on people who make sounds, so you can just inspire them and to make them make the best sounds they possibly can.
Q: But you do communicate in non-verbal ways with your musicians.
A: Absolutely. I mean the beauty of music is that you don’t say anything. I mean you keep your mouth shut and you just say it with your heart and with sounds. But it’s non-verbal, and we are not talkers. The best conductor talks the least.
Of course there’s so much ambiguity about music, starting with the notation, going into intonation. Everything is ambiguous.
So for instance when a score says moderately fast, I have no idea what that means. Or when it says soft, I have no idea what kind of soft it is.
Is it a dark soft, a light soft, an airy soft? There are many, many ways to do it, so you need to clarify it and the shorter you make that clarification very precise, concise.
And everybody’s happy, because everybody wants to know, because they are the masters of their instrument. They have to know what to do on the instrument.
And so, kind of you are, it’s a unifying idea, because everyone in the orchestra is an individual with great ability, skill, taste, experience.
And many of these people have played these pieces much more often than I have. Sometimes for me it’s the first time and they have played it 50 times.
So the wealth of information and experience that is in the orchestra is just mind-blowing. But they need to know, “OK, what do you want me to do at this time?” And they need it. That’s a natural principle, I think, human, but also musical.
The principle of leading and following — we need that. You cannot do anything, pretty much, without it. I think it’s very, very human.
People want to follow, and people need to lead. Otherwise, it’s just going to be anarchy.
Q: What do you have to do to establish the confidence in your musicians that they will be able to follow you willingly and eagerly in the interpretations that you have made in that music, given, as you say, the experience levels that they all have?
A: First, you have to be confident about what you want to do. I mean, if you don’t know what to do, nobody knows what to do, and then everybody does whatever they think is right.
Many orchestras figure out themselves how they can get by without a conductor giving precise instructions, but it’s never going to be good.
So you need to be, first of all, you need to know what you want to do.
And then sometimes you have to make a case. Because there are traditions, old traditions, particularly when it comes to warhorses, to musical warhorses, like Beethoven, Brahms. That’s the way it’s always been done, and everybody has played it that way. Now you come along and say, “No, I want it this way.”
There will be a resistance, because music is so inside of you.
When you’ve played it a couple of times in this way and then all of a sudden someone says, “This is wrong. I don’t want it this way.”
Then you have to change everything — how you feel, how you breathe, how you move your fingers, how you pace your breath or your bow. Everything has to change, and that takes a while. And sometimes you have to make a case, to convince them, to tell them why you want to do it why historically it should be the other way around, not the way they know it.
And sometimes you lose. Or sometimes, which is the most amazing thing, the musicians come up with better solutions. And that is, I think, the main job of a conductor is to listen. It’s not necessary to make them do what you wanted them to do. It’s to know what they want you to hear, as well. And then you listen and say that’s actually much better than I thought, than I ever came up with. The image in my mind — and you have to create this image in your head of what you want to hear, and then you try to recreate this in reality.
But sometimes the real picture is much nicer than what you came up with.
Q: In the overall process of selecting the pieces you want to perform and bringing the musicians together and going through the rehearsal process that all leads up to the night when you stand up there and tap the baton, getting ready to go before a live audience, when does that part happen, when does that sense of the idea coming together of what’s the best way to approach this?
A: I think the idea really starts, it’s a very gradual process. There are very few pieces where right away, after five minutes or after 10 minutes, that’s exactly how I want it.
Mostly it’s a very gradual process. And I think the rehearsal process and the way people play in rehearsals is quite different than they play in performances. So the real picture only comes out at performance.
In performance you are very aware of your surroundings. You know there are 2,000 people sitting there listing to you. Your adrenalin is going high. You have to make sure there is nothing happening, no wrong note, nothing.
So you’re overly focused and it’s amazing what concentration of focus goes into performance. So it’s quite different in the rehearsal.
In rehearsal we’re trying to figure things out. The performance is really what has to be
And you get one shot. You get one shot, and that’s it. And that is, I think, the exciting thing but also the frustrating thing, because as soon as you hear it it’s over and you can’t go back. And as soon as it’s over, it’s just memory. That’s just music. You can not just go back a page and read it again and “What was it again?” and “What could that have meant?”
The moment it’s over, it’s over, and this can be very, very frustrating.
Q: I’m thinking of, I’m searching for analogies and you can probably come up of a much better one than this one, but I’m thinking of a race car driver who, when the race is under way, has to adjust and react to a million and one different things that he didn’t know was going to happen. It’s more than just driving; it’s staying under control.
And as you’re conducting during a live performance, can you describe for us what it’s like to have to be alert to those little things that need to be tweaked here and there?
A: During a performance, in general it’s very important to know when to lead and when to let them play. I think that’s the most crucial, crucial thing. Don’t do anything when you… Don’t fix things when there’s nothing to be fixed. So, sometimes just let the orchestra play and it will be much better than if you try to do something. And there are always other…
I mean everyone, because everyone is so hyped up kind of and very focused. Things always happen. Things always go a little different. The tempo is usually a little faster.
Intonation goes a little sharper, and so there are always surprising things. It’s never really, that’s the way we did it in rehearsal, that’s exactly what were going to do in performance.
And we don’t want this to happen. That would be boring. Every time it’s different. Every time it’s different, because we’re all individuals.
Our mood is different, our focus, whether we’ve eaten before, how much sleep we had. It’s all a part of this, but it’s like before you hit a golf ball or in tennis. The moment, the split second before you hit it, you know if it’s going to be a good one or bad one.
And it’s the same thing when you conduct. I lift my arm, I know exactly if it’s going to work or not.
And, bang, I know it would happen or would not happen. And also before something goes wrong, you always know it beforehand and it’s usually too late to fix it.
And I think that is something that makes a good conductor, is to prevent things from happening, mistakes from happening. Not to really initiate — you do initiate. Let them play, and then prevent things from, you know, anticipate things from going wrong.
Q: If the cellist hits a note that’s a half step off, do you hear that?
A: Absolutely. If not I should quit.
Q: With 30 or 40 musicians out there, you pick up on it, is that a situation — I mean it’s happened, the cellist knows the note was off — is that a situation that calls for leadership or an acknowledgement of some sort?
A: A situation when someone plays the wrong note calls for leadership in the sense that it is not intentional.
We are all human beings. Wrong notes always happen.
Now, if the same mistake happens several times, then it is my duty or my responsibility to step in and say, look at this note.
But it’s also important since we are all so personally involved, and music is such an emotional business.
Every note has to have an intention and it is usually an emotional intention that, do not take things personal. So when someone makes a mistake, it is not a personal insult to me, even though it’s very easy to take it that way. Because
it’s all about emotion, and if someone says, “ennhh,”
then it disturbs the whole thing, but it’s not a personal insult and it’s not by bad intention so you always have to give people credit. You have to say, OK, this is a mistake. We all make mistakes. I make mistakes — hopefully not too many — but we all make mistakes and we all correct mistakes. And they are mistakes that are done because we are humans and not because of bad intention.
And I think these are the most important things to remember, that these people are not there to play badly. They are there to play at their best, and you are there to make them play even better.
Q: Elaborate on that if you would a little bit — because I mentioned earlier that we’ve talked about this idea of the leader as a catalyst, somebody who gets more out of the aggregate than they would add up to initially. How do you do that? How do you get them to play even better than their best? How do you get the group to come together and be greater than the sum of the parts?
A: I think that as a conductor, as a leader,…
First of all, many people think that the conductor is a powerful position. And this is not about power, and power is handed to you, and people have to give you power.
Otherwise you’re absolutely powerless. And in order to make people play better, I think is to remind them what they already know, most of the time. To remind them why they are there, what this phrase should be like, and they say, “Of course, of course, I knew that. I knew that, actually, but I was just not remembering at the moment, or I did not have time to think about it.”
But then the most difficult thing, I think, is, I think for all leaders is, A, to be inspired and B, to inspire. And that means — inspiration for me — it means that it’s something new, something that I did not know.
And you need those lights from time to time. It’s good to be reminded of something I know and remember, we played together with these guys, OK, and remember we played the same articulation, remember…
But I think to tell them something that they did not know, this changes the whole thing. “I didn’t know that. That’s amazing. Of course!”
That, I think, is the toughest thing to do, to have ideas and convincing ideas. Not just to be original.
That’s not about originality, and it’s not a popularity contest. But it is to really make people realize there is so much more to explore than we think we know. That we’ve barely scratched the surface. I know what I know is barely anything, nothing basically.
But that there is so much more to learn, even in famous, common pieces that we’ve played so many times, there’s so much more.
Q: What’s the most inspiring or inspirational moment you can remember having witnessed in music?
A: Two things. One was seeing Carlos Kleiber, famous conductor doing Viennese waltzes.
It was inspiring in two ways. A, how little he actually did. It was all just about being there. And being present and having that charisma. He was not beating, he was just there and kind of inspiring them by personality and by giving them certain moods. That, I think, is inspiration, too, just be there, and the way he did the waltz, it was an eye-opener for me.
And the other one, that was very early on, before performance practice, which was a new way to play old music, basically.
It was a recording, actually, and usually I don’t really learn anything from recordings, and I don’t really like recordings because they don’t give me anything emotional.
But at a technical level it was in a time group playing Vivaldi, and I thought, “I didn’t know you could play Vivaldi that way.”
And these were really inspirational moments where I thought, “OK, this has changed the whole way I look at things in those two genres, for instance.
Q: We have been asking people to draw a distinction or comment on the merits, relative merits of patience or impatience in their respective leadership roles. And most people have come up pretty much with the same answer, which is to say both are important in one way or another. So I’m going to rephrase that, and I’m going to ask it to you a little bit differently, and that’s, what is the difference between impatience and haste in terms of the way you lead an organization?
A: Impatience for me is a means to get attention.
I think I’ve avoided being loud and yell and being impatient, because I feel that I’m
out of control. And patience sometimes makes people think, “Oh, let’s take it easy. Let’s take it easy.”
So sometimes appearing impatient – I never am really impatient — but appearing impatient is a means to get someone’s attention, and that has to be done very sporadically, goal-oriented, and you have to lighten it up right afterwards, particularly in music. You can not base a performance or a relationship with people who play music with you and are doing all this beautiful stuff, you can not do that in a bad environment. It’s just impossible, for me it is.
That’s an old tradition, old conductors…
Toscanini is the prime example, that he was just yelling at the orchestra all the time and they were just scared out of their minds, which is for me a bad base to make music.
But I think impatience is not good.
I think to appear impatient is good, sometimes.
Q: When you have had a performance and you can just tell by the electricity in the room when it’s over and internally you just know you have something nailed, what is it that makes the difference in that kind of an event?
A: I have to say that when performance went well and I take a bow, I don’t take the bow for myself. I think that is there’s a misconception. The conductor takes a bow for the orchestra, and when something went well, and what makes the difference…
And that is always a dream come true, is when there is no separation between orchestra and conductor and between orchestra and audience, and as a conductor you’re right in the middle between those two constituencies, basically, and you feel the energy that you initiate from the orchestra, and this energy goes to the audience, and if that doesn’t happen you feel that.
I know exactly what’s going on behind my back most of the time. If that doesn’t happen, then the performance will be flat. But sometimes it happens when there’s enough energy in the orchestra and the music is good and it grabs the audience, that you feel this energy all of a sudden rotating around you. So it’s like really a whirlwind, and that is amazing. And how do you create this? I don’t know.
I mean I try consciously to do that sometimes but there are just so many possibilities, you know, with people feeling not right or not knowing the music or the audience coughing at the wrong time or a child there. I mean all these things can hinder that, but, and you cannot plan for it. That’s one of the greatest things in music; you can not plan for anything.
You go in there, you go on stage and you have no idea what’s going to happen. But I think also that it’s important to remember we’re not kind of in risk management, so you try to make it a good performance, no matter what.
But then there’s sometimes the moments when you think, “I don’t know how that happened,” and it just happens.
Q: Do you feel a great deal of pressure on the performance, on you in your role, on being maybe responsible to have the musicians themselves prepared? Is there a lot of tension and stress that goes along with that kind of responsibility?
A: Absolutely, absolutely. There’s a lot of pressure, but it’s also, I think, important to remember that everybody shares responsibility. If something goes wrong, it’s not necessarily my fault. Everybody has responsibility in the orchestra. So it’s really a common effort. It’s not the conductor who’s at fault, it’s… Everybody is involved, every single musician is a part of this.
Usually the leaders get the blame or the praise, whatever. But this is not really right. I think it’s people who make it happen who get the praise and who should get the blame.
And I think, in music you never really know, you know, it’s… There’s a lot of pressure, I think, also because it is emotional, and everything that is emotional is important, and if a performance is not perfect emotionally, you feel very dissatisfied. You feel kind of betrayed, because your inside was ready for it, was ready for something special, and it didn’t happen, so you feel disappointed. And that’s where the pressure, I think, comes from, because you feel very passionate about it.
And if you’re not passionate about it, don’t even start. But since we’re so passionate about it and it doesn’t happen, you feel very, very disappointed in a personal way, more so… it’s not just a failure, it’s just disappointing for a moment — too bad, too bad.
Q: You spoke earlier about pieces and talking of classical music, so much of which has been around for years and performed over and over and over again. How much of the satisfaction that you get out of your work comes from being innovative and stretching boundaries and breaking rules and doing things differently?
A: I think a lot. But then it’s also important that … It’s not about breaking rules, it’s not about being different.
It’s about being appropriate to what you’re supposed to do, to the composer, to the musicians, to your audience. I think that’s what it is about.
I have to build an opinion about something. That’s what my job is. I have to have an opinion about every single piece, about every single section, every single measure, every single note.
I have to have an opinion. That’s what I’m expected to do. That’s what I need to do. Otherwise I cannot conduct.
I build that opinion upon what I know — previous performance, recordings, mainly the score. And so I’m basically paid to have an opinion, because I know questions will come. And so… I don’t really know where ... I forgot your question already.
Q: That’s OK because I thought of another one. Really, to just pick up on what you were saying, as you know, our project, our series is oriented toward trying to identify qualities that can be applied to leaders in civic and political situations.
And you’ve said a number of things that seem to me to have absolute application.
But I’m wondering, is that anything you have ever given thought to, in the comparison between what you do as the conductor of a symphony as opposed to what a mayor or a council person or a senator or someone else does in the terms of trying to be leaders in a civic context?
A: I think one major difference between an artistic leader and a civic leader is that I’m always faced, face to face, with my constituency. I mean every single time. I see my orchestra, and I see my audience every single time. There’s no anonymity almost. I mean I don’t know each single face but I recognize a lot of faces that
I see all the time. And also it’s not a desk job. I mean this is a hands-on job.
And you delegate, too. There’s a hierarchy in the orchestra between principal players, assistant principal players, winds and then section players, and it always goes back to you.
But I think there is a very direct interaction with people you work with.
I work with 80 people at the same time, and if I ever have a chorus, then 200 people or more at the same time directly. And it’s not just I make a call and then my people tell the other people what should be done. And that you also develop things together. That’s what I said. A conductor has to listen to what’s happening so that
I have my ideas and I have a plan and I have a vision but that is all just a molding. I mean you’re just molding it together, together with everybody and see what comes out of it.
To see what they suggest, musically, what they offer to you.
And if it’s good, don’t touch it. Otherwise, tweak it here, tweak it there, tweak it there.
See what do you think? OK. So it’s a very direct interaction, no anonymity about it at all.
And I think it’s very personal. It’s very, very personal. Because when I tell my first oboe to do something, I have to do it also in a way that he accepts it and says, “OK, that’s right.” Or is it, “You didn’t like what I did? What was wrong with it?”
So you have to be a politician in a certain way but it’s on a much more personal basis. I mean since it’s all about emotions, it’s very, very personal.
Q: You are a Spokane celebrity, whether you like it or not. How does fame make leadership, first, harder and, after that, how does fame make leadership easier?
A: Fame and leadership. Fame makes it harder. I mean, I think the problem with fame is thatyou think you can not be yourself, which I think is a mistake. I think you have to be yourself, no matter where you are. People want to know who you are, not who you want them to think who you are.
And I think people want to identify with leaders, and the only way you can do this is if they think they know you. Because otherwise you take on a different personality. That I can not do, and I don’t want to do and I don’t think I should do.
It makes it easier, I think fame makes it easier because people are more likely to help you accomplaish things. So, for instance, if the symphony wants to collaborate with the museum or with the ballet or with the universities or so, I think it helps to make things happen. Also, if you need financial aid, I think it helps. People are more likely to say, “I know you do a good job. I know it’s going to be great. I like what you do. Here we go.”
Q: All creative people go through slumps, probably non-creative people too, but when you see your musicians in slumps, how do you as their leader help them work through the slumps or come out of them?
A: I think slumps are very common, I think, and human. And I think it’s something we should not avoid, we shouldn’t be ashamed of. I think there are great things there because then we can bounce back.
It’s always good to remember, to remind people that they’re good people and good musicians. I think that is… Musicians, and also conductors, by the way, seem to be confident because confidence is the cornerstone of a convincing musical interpretation.
If you’re not convinced about yourself, or what you do, what you want to say, it’s not going to happen.
So I think it’s always good to remind people that they’re good musicians, they’re good people, that they have a lot of experience, or they have knowledge.
And usually in the orchestra, since it’s a group, the individual is just part of the group. So the group is not in a slump, but they will pull each other out and they will help each other very much, and as leaders I think we should just encourage that. Not be in the way, not be counter-productive, not be impatient, and I think then things will just take care of themselves. I don’t think it needs, like micromanagement. I don’t really like managing people. I think treating people as people, that’s enough.
Q: You said earlier that as a leader, power is not grabbed but you are given it almost as a gift. How did you come to the decision to say yes to that power given to you because you could have said no?
A: Because you don’t have a choice. If you are given power, you are given responsibility and given opportunity, and you cannot deny that.
There are people maybe who do, but … And I’m put in a position as a conductor that you are the leader. I mean there’s just no way around it.
I’m not a natural-born leader, I don’t think I am, but I don’t have a choice either. So,
I define power in this case as enabling other people to matter to other people, to make a difference, to make something better. I think the whole purpose of a leader and of power is to make things better in our little way. And if its just Spokane or
if it’s just the symphony or if it’s just my little section in the orchestra, or if it’s just my instrument, I think to matter to people is all that power is about, and to use it wisely and not to abuse it.
Q: Who were a few of your mentors and are some still alive because we’ve been contacting mentors.
A: One mentor is still alive. He was my first teacher who had a great influence on me in Germany. Gunther Kahlert. He taught me all I know, pretty much, about 70 percent of what I know about technique, conducting technique. We are very, very different. He’s a very brainy person, kind of dry, but was able to communicate technique in a very precise way and in a way that each of his students adapted his technique but looked completely different, so there were no copycats.
Another one, who is unfortunately dead, inspired me by just giving me different spin on certain technical things, but also he knew everything by heart, every little thing and he was very condescending, so I learned from that.
When I asked him questions he always said, “When I was young I asked stupid questions, too.” And you learn from that. You learn,… how people treat you, you learn from that.
And then there was my French teacher from whom I just learned how to treat strings and understand strings. And since I’m a singer, I think I understand wind instruments pretty well but from him I learned how to treat strings.
Q: You have to wear kind of many different hats in the symphony. One of them is, obviously, you have to be a leader in front of, you know, the group. But also you’re also the face of the symphony out there. How do you define those two different leadership roles? Are they different? Do you see yourself differently when you’re in the mode of being the face of the symphony, and how do those leadership roles, how are they different?
A: Well, you try to combine both. I mean you want to be one personality. I don’t want to be a split personality. I don’t want to be like this when I’m on stage and then I’m this when I’m off stage. I want to be the same person.
But naturally you’re not, because on stage you are a public figure. You are very focused. You have 80 people staring at you from the front and then 2,000 more in back. So it’s very, very difficult to be natural, but you have to try to be natural. And the main difference is, I think, that as a musician you do not talk. Off stage, I talk.
And that is something I never learned in school, I never thought I would ever do. In Germany still nobody does, even though they’re changing now.
America is there, the big example, how to attract new audiences, and how to make concerts again fun and approachable. So they’re starting this, but we never learned this.
And I see, I refused it at first. I just, I couldn’t do it. I mean I remember the first time I had to talk in front of an audience, I was so scared.
And I wrote everything out. I partially still sometimes do. Because you need to know what to say. You can not just scramble in front of 2,000 people. You cannot, and think, um, well. You cannot afford that.
And so, but I think it makes things for yourself also clearer when you have to talk about them, because music is so ambiguous. It’s such, you know, I feel this way, I feel that way.
Put it in words, and I think it will narrow it down a little bit, I think, in terms of meaning, but it will also make it more precise.
Q: Last question. If you ever leave Spokane, what would you like your legacy to be for the symphony? What mark did you leave on the symphony do you feel after you’ve left that you’d like to see carried on?
A: We’ll, I’m not in for legacy. That’s not why I’m here, and I think it’s for other people to decide. But what I’m trying to do is to make the symphony and classical music approachable and not a luxury, and that people think, you know, this is something for me. I don’t need to know anything about it. I don’t need to understand it because there’s nothing to understand.
I think music is actually fun. It’s something for everything. And just because it’s the greatest human achievement we have, that this is something everybody should be included in.
And there’s no difference in age, you know. A 70-year-old can appreciate a Beethoven symphony as much as a 17-year old.
And in education, you don’t need really any education, because it’s all here. We all have heart, we all have emotions, and we all feel expression.
I mean it’s the most simple thing.
And making classical music, it is actually a serious business, but it’s fun, too.
Classical music doesn’t mean you have to be uptight, and you have to be very strict, and you have to be old, and you have to be serious, but that you can have a lot of fun as well.
Q: I’m going to jump in here. This wasn’t planned. But we have the Internet, and we have jet travel and all these things. And you just said music, which we’ve had forever, is our greatest accomplishment. What do you mean by that?
A: Music that we’ve had forever?
Q: I mean we’ve had music as long, well maybe not as long as there’s been civilization, but it’s…
A: I think music has been from the very, very beginning of civilization. I think that music, when you define it, is rhythm arranged in time. As soon as you arrange any noise in time and give it a certain meaning it will sound to our ears as rhythm, and rhythm is music. And so I think one of the first things we did was banging on things. Our ancestors, I don’t know how long back, they were banging on things, and then I think they would sing to the gods and whatever. And singing is one of the most natural things we do. All children sing. It is only adults who refuse to sing, because they’re too embarrassed. Because they think, “I can’t. I don’t have a voice.” It’s not true. We all have vocal chords, and if we have vocal chords we can sing. And I think embarrassment, because it’s such a private thing, such an intimate means of expression, that I think we try to protect ourselves. And singing is one of the most beautiful and satisfying things that there are. And so, I think that everybody can do it. I think everybody should do it. Everybody should be taught how to do it, and I think then our society would be much better.
Q: What difference does it make how many people you have? You had hundreds of people at Carmina, and, you know, did that make a big difference in how you had to do things?
A: I think the only difference is the stress level and, I think, the energy level, that when you have that many people on stage that you’re much more aware of the fact that the miracle when you just lift your arms that 200 people do the same thing at the same time exactly the way you wanted. It’s a miracle.
About this series
•The Leadership Dialogues is a six-month series of editorial board conversations with community leaders. The purpose is to identify the qualities of leadership – in the hope the dialogues will encourage high-quality candidates to step forward and run for elected office – and allow the community-at-large to recognize and respond to positive leadership traits. The dialogues include people who exercise leadership in other arenas, such as sports and the arts, but the characteristics they describe apply to political leadership, too.
•On the Web: The complete transcripts of the monthly dialogues, along with Colin Mulvany videos of the leaders interviewed, will be available at www.spokesmanreview.com.
•Schedule: Today – Eckart Preu, music director of the Spokane Symphony. Previously: March 11 – Gary Livingston, chancellor of Community Colleges of Spokane; April 8 – King County Executive Ron Sims; May 13 – Retired Shadle Park High School coach Linda Sheridan; June 10 – North Idaho human rights activist Tony Stewart; July 8 – Mary Selecky, secretary of the Washington State Department of Health.
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The Invisible Collection
With the 100's anniversary of Hans Moldenhauer’s birth 1906 the Spokane Symphony begins an exploration of his unique music archives in search for lost treasures of music history.
Hans Moldenhauer’s passion was to show music as attempts to shape the future and to preserve the most important thing for us musicians: the best resource. We – listeners and performers – are often tempted to rely on what we think we know, what we have heard, or what we have learned. Traditions are subjective and temporary. What is never going to change – and is the ultimate source of musical information – are the primary resources of the music: the manuscripts, the sketches. In order to do the music and the composer justice we have to go back to the closest link: the score.
What is so special about a collection of old manuscripts? This collection is unique – as one of the largest private collections of music manuscripts it documents the history of Western music from the medieval period through the modern era – over 400 years of music and cultural development!
For the Spokane Symphony this is a musical adventure. Many of the works collected have never been published and have been lying dormant for decades of not centuries. Are there any lost treasures we can unearth? This collection provides us with a true once-in-a-lifetime experience: a lot of this music you can only hear here and nowhere else!
I was fascinated by the fact that all this great music was collected – of all places in the world – here in Spokane! This music then creates a special connection and relevance to this city; it allows us not only to celebrate a citizen of Spokane, but also to celebrate its musical education, intellectual and social values, and the high standards of the performing arts.
This is not a collection of the sugarplums – the famous music everybody knows. On the contrary, it was important to Hans Moldenhauer to create an encompassing collection of past, present and future without judging music history or relying on preconceived notions of what’s good or bad. He wanted to create a collection that reflects and documents the entire history of Western music, a collection that is not reserved for the common knowledge of what we know, but what we don't know. That meant to include lesser-known composers, forgotten composers, or newly emerging composers – as well as the commonly agreed great ones. In a certain sense he tried to seal the famous cracks of music history through which pieces, composers or entire stylistic movements can fall. He felt that it was his responsibility not to double efforts of sustaining the major repertoire but to extend it, to challenge our accepted perception of music history, to inspire exploration into the big unknowns of the past, to provoke rethinking of the judgment and perception of earlier generations.
More importantly, this collection goes beyond the music: it allows us a look into the lives and minds of composers: a payment receipt by Bach; a description of his compositional methods by Schoenberg, rare sketches by Beethoven, Mahler, Gershwin and Berg.
It humanizes composers and music in general: private pictures, personal letters by Handel and Brahms, and greeting cards. There are also musical curiosities: a sketch by Beethoven for the puzzle canon "Das Schweigen" ("The Silence"), or Mozart’s Fantasy for Mechanical Organ or visual notation of Aurelio de la Vega's "Magic Labyrinth".
A native of Germany, Hans Moldenhauer came to Spokane because the landscape reminded him of home. In 1942 he founded the Spokane Conservatory of Music. IN 1950 his doctors projected that he would loose his eyesight within 2 years. Two years turned into twenty, and as his eyesight progressively weakened, he engraved in his mind the order and details of every single item in his collection and he could see every single page of it with his inner eye.
There is something incredibly awe-inspiring to looking at pages of a manuscript, where a great composer put down his thoughts – so close to touch and yet so far beyond anything we can imagine. There is a visual and aesthetical beauty to a manuscript, but there is more: like in a good letter is more personal and ... in comparison to a computer print, a manuscript with all its defaults draws you back in time. It almost feels like Mozart is looking over your shoulder.
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Creation vs. Recreation
This article was written for the Stamford Advocate in September 2006.
Very often I am asked if I also compose. Like so many other things – like trying to play several instruments – I did try to compose. My experience with it was early and devastating. I was about nine years old when I decided that I should give composition a try. I loved it – up to the moment when someone actually played what I wrote on the piano. I ugliness of my creation was shocking and has subdued any compositional aspirations since then. Maybe it was also then when I decided I should rather be an interpreter of music instead of a creator? Indeed, these are two entirely different processes – like writer and actor are the two creative forces that bring a play to life, their musical counterparts – composer and performer – have to have completely different skill sets. Sometimes they come in one and the same person – in history the professions of composer, performer and leader were originally unified in one and the same person (Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Liszt for example) before they were split up little by little by the emerging new stars: virtuosos who just performed, and the brand new development of the orchestra conductor.
By nature the conductor is somewhat in the middle of it all and has one major problem: he doesn’t compose, and he doesn’t produce any “sound”! Nothing we hear is directly created by the conductor – yet he has an obvious acoustical and interpretative influence on what reaches the ear.
The processes of composing and conducting are quite different: let’s define them as “creation” and “re-creation”.
It is always interesting to me that professions that communicate emotions, philosophy and sometimes just plain great entertainment like composers and conductors are extremely solitary professions. Writing classical music is a solitary job – unlike in Jazz where several people can create music by improvisation, or “jamming” (thus making it a communal experience), here we see the lonely composer sitting at the desk writing ands struggling with the fact that “There are only twelve notes. You must treat them carefully” (Paul Hindemith). The same is true for the conductor who is never visible when he actually “works”: sitting at home studying scores trying to figure out one of the main problems – to limit the possibilities of interpreting what’s written, in terms of style, sound, phrasing, character: since the notated text is so ambiguous the possibilities of interpreting it are literally endless. That’s why I call performing re-creation and not just execution. Because of the unavoidable ambiguity of the written music many composers took up the baton themselves throughout history to conduct their own music like Brahms, Copland, Tchaikovksy, Schumann, Stravinsky – some of them were famously bad conductors.
Sometimes I imagine the relationship of conductor and composer like in the movie business: the composer writes the story, the screenplay, while the conductor is the director, bringing to life the thoughts and ideas of the story. The conductor/director oversees the hiring of performers who give the end product the audio/visual shape. Sometimes – especially in the past – the conductor/director takes the liberty to alter the story line: to cut, add, or otherwise “improve” the original idea. It is the conductor who makes the piece survive or die. Having a good cast and crew (the orchestra) is essential, and having a star (soloist) is great. Re-creation and creation don’t have to (and very often don’t) match. A good piece survives a bad interpretation, as a great performer can’t necessarily save a bad piece.
What creator and re-creator have in common is the “internal ear”. That is something that many people have many questions about. Music is silent as long as it is just written down, yet composers and conductors can “hear” it – that’s why Beethoven for example could still compose even though he was deaf and could not hear the real sounds). We hear the music internally, and try to recreate that imaginary sound in reality. The processes of composing and conducting are “silent” ones, the process of performing is to materialize the imagined sounds. And exactly there is the main challenge of recreation: to recreate the ideal sounds in our minds in reality. That’s when you – the listener – come in. You are the ultimate judge and goal of the creative process: you are the reason we compose and perform. For you all this is irrelevant. The music has to sound fresh and improvised– as if it was just – created.
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