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NYT: Breaking Conductors' Down by Gesture and Body Part
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Frank Forman
Apr 15, 2012, 5:55:54 AM4/15/12
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I have wanted this for a very long time. Click the URL for images. I have
seen two conductors-at-work vidoes, in order to get a feel for how the
gestures of conductors translate into sound. Because of time delay, they
are quite difficult to follow. This was not so much the case for
Mravinsky. I was quite exhausted after following him, more than with any
of the others.
Breaking Conductors' Down by Gesture and Body Part
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/08/arts/music/breaking-conductors-down-by-gesture-and-body-part.html
The Maestro's Mojo
By DANIEL J. WAKIN
ARMS carve the air. A hand closes as if to pull taffy. An index
finger shoots out. The torso leans in, leans back. And somehow,
music pours forth--precisely coordinated and emotionally
expressive--in response to this mysterious podium dance.
Concertgoers, who train their ears on the orchestra, inevitably fix
their eyes on the conductor. But even the most experienced listener
may not be aware of the subtle and deep connection between a
conductor's symphony of movements and the music emanating from the
players.
So in an attempt to understand what is going on, we interviewed
seven conductors as they passed through New York in recent seasons
with an eye to breaking them down into body parts--like that
poster in the butcher shop with dotted lines to show the different
cuts of meat--left hand, right hand, face, eyes, lungs and, most
elusive, brain.
The conductor's fundamental goal is to bring a written score to
life, through study, personality and musical formation. But he or
she makes music's meaning clear through body motion.
"If you imagine trying to talk to somebody in a totally foreign
language, and you wanted to express something to that person without
the use of language, how would you do that?" the British conductor
Harry Bicket said. "That's really what you're doing."
Every baseball pitcher has a different motion, but all pitchers want
to retire the batter. Similarly, every conductor employs a singular
style, but all want to elicit as great a performance as possible. So
our breakdown has inherent generalizations.
In the end it must be remembered that the art of conducting is more
than just semaphore. It is a two-step between body and soul, between
physical gesture and musical personality. The greatest technician
can produce flabby performances. The most inscrutable stick waver
can produce transcendence.
"You can do everything right and be of no interest at all," said
James Conlon, the music director of the Los Angeles Opera. "And you
can be baffling and effective."
RIGHT HAND
Traditionally (for right-handers, at least), the right hand holds
the baton and keeps the beat. It controls tempo--faster here,
slower there--and indicates how many beats occur in a measure. The
baton usually signals the beginning of a measure with a downward
motion (the downbeat). An upward movement prepares for the downbeat.
Conducting manuals say the upbeat and downbeat should take the same
amount of time, and that interval should equal the length of the
beat. "The upbeat is the preparation for any event," said Alan
Gilbert, the music director of the New York Philharmonic.
Setting the right tempo for a musical passage is critical. No less
an authority than the composer Richard Wagner, also one of the first
modern conductors, said the "whole duty of a conductor is comprised
in his ability always to indicate the right tempo." Yet a conductor
is not a black-coat-and-tails-wearing metronome. "One of the big
misconceptions of what conductors do is they stand there and beat
time," Mr. Bicket said. "Most orchestras don't need anyone to keep
time."
But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the downbeat
--how abrupt, how delicate--tells the orchestra what kind of
sound character to produce. The baton can smooth out choppy phrases
by moving through the beat in a more sweeping way. A more horizontal
motion can create a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the
former director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
Juilliard School. A downward stroke that imitates a violin bowing
movement, Mr. Bicket said, can color the attack. Even when beating
time through long-held notes, Mr. Gilbert said, the conductor should
be trying to communicate the sound quality through the movement of
the baton.
A predecessor of Mr. DePreist's at Juilliard, the conducting master
Jean Morel, taught that the right hand and wrist should be
"thoroughly self-sufficient," said Mr. Conlon, a Morel student; it
should "do everything--time, expression, articulation, character
--so that you could then apply the left hand and withhold it at
will."
Xian Zhang, a master of sculpturing musical line with her baton,
demonstrated this while rehearsing Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante for
Violin and Viola with a student orchestra at the Juilliard School.
Her stick movement closely matched the music's character, turning
delicate for gentle passages, small for accompanying strings, larger
for a horn and oboe melody. Her arm strokes grew broad at vigorous
lines. Sometimes the uplift of her baton seemed literally to draw
out the sounds.
Some conductors prefer at times, or all the time, not to use a
baton. Yannick Nézet-Séguin, who becomes the music director of the
Philadelphia Orchestra in September, is one. His training came
mostly with choirs, for which batons are rarely used.
"Basically the hands are there to describe a certain space of the
sound and to shape that imaginary material," Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
That imaginary body of sound sits in front of the conductor, between
the chest and the hands, he added. "It's easier when there is
nothing in one hand." He started using a baton when he began
guest-conducting at major orchestras, because they were more used to
it.
Valery Gergiev is another conductor who often does not use a baton.
His technique was on display at a rehearsal of the London Symphony
Orchestra at Avery Fisher Hall in preparation for a performance of
Mahler's Symphony No. 3.
Mr. Gergiev sat in a chair, generally immobile. Almost all the
action came from his right hand, which was often flat, with thumb
parallel, like an alligator's jaws. His left hand did little but was
used occasionally to point and to cut chords off. Mr. Gergiev
doesn't so much beat time with his right hand as waggle his fingers
in character with the music. His fingers were usually outstretched,
palms down, and his wrist cocked upward at face level. Sometimes he
formed an O.K. circle with his thumb and forefinger, and waggled the
other three fingers. As the tempo sped up, his wrist tended to
become floppier.
In an interview Mr. Gergiev suggested that waggling his hand, which
he called a habit, might have derived from playing the piano. "I'm a
pianist, and sometimes I 'play' texture," he said.
A baton can work against a singing sound, he added. "Most difficult
in conducting is to make the orchestra sing, and this is where both
hands have to basically help wind or string players sing." Hitting
the air with a stick, he said, is like fencing: "I don't think it
helps the sound."
LEFT HAND
The left hand, having turned over rhythmic duties to the right,
serves a far more elastic purpose. Crudely put, if the right hand
sketches the outlines of the painting, the left fills in the colors
and textures. The right hand creates the chocolate shell of a
bonbon, and the left hand fashions the filling. Its main practical
use is to give cues to sections or individual players about when to
enter and when to cut off, often with a pointed index finger. A
pulling in of the left hand and a closing of the thumb and fingers
can cause a phrase to taper away. A quick downward cupping clips off
the sound.
Mr. DePreist ran through the sometimes inexplicable left-hand
practices of others: William Steinberg would rub his fingers
together, as in the universal symbol for money. Antal Dorati would
make jabbing motions, as if he were "keeping a ball of sound up and
floating." Eugene Ormandy often kept his left hand curled around the
lapel of his tailcoat while the Philadelphia Orchestra, Mr. DePreist
noted, produced "torrents of sounds."
Mr. Nézet-Séguin is one of the more physically expressive
conductors, perhaps, he said, because of his small stature. His left
hand is in constant motion. He tries to keep it sideways to the
orchestra, he said, so the heel of his hand will not seem a symbolic
barrier to the musicians.
At another Juilliard rehearsal Mr. Nézet-Séguin indicated entrances
by making an O.K. circle or flicking open his index finger, for a
lighter attack. A rising index finger with each beat indicated more
volume. At loud chords, he cupped his hand upward. A downward cupped
hand called for a sustained line. Pounding martial chords yielded a
fist. A flat hand, palm downward, called for smoothness. Repeated
entrances came with pistol shot motions.
Mr. Gilbert notes that professional musicians do not have to be told
when in the measure to come in. He often prepares for a cue by
looking at a player ahead of time, to establish a connection and to
build energy. The purpose of a cue "is to have people join in at the
right time in the right way, in the flow," Mr. Gilbert said.
FACE
After the arms the most important part of the conductor's arsenal is
the face. "I feel as if my face is singing with the music," Mr.
Nézet-Séguin said. Engaging the musicians with a look can relax and
encourage them. On the other hand, some conductors, like Fritz
Reiner, kept their expressions unchanging, and his recordings are
"completely electrifying," Mr. Bicket said. Remaining without
expression can be helpful for musician morale.
"To editorialize facially your displeasure or your frustration is
not helpful to anybody," Mr. Bicket said. Yet raised eyebrows can be
subtle conveyors of dissatisfaction. The face becomes all the more
important when the hands are otherwise occupied, as when a conductor
simultaneously plays a keyboard, a common practice of early-music
specialists like Mr. Bicket.
The eyes themselves "are the most important in all of conducting,"
Ms. Zhang said. "The eyes should be the most telling in musical
intent. The eyes are the window of the heart. They show how you feel
about the music."
A squint, for example, can convey a distant quality to the music,
Mr. DePreist said. One trick to creating a good orchestral sound is
to look at the players in the back of the string section. "You're
getting them in the game," Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
Mr. Gergiev uses the same technique with a back bencher, he said:
"Looking at him means I am interested in him. If I'm interested in
him, that means he is interested in me. Correct? Everything I do, I
try to do relying on expression and visual contact."
Sometimes it is just as important not to look at the musicians,
especially during major solos. "That's a big part of the unspoken
conducting secrets," Ms. Zhang said. It can keep the player from
being nervous. And then there is the rare case of the conductor who
leads with closed eyes and produces great performances, as Herbert
von Karajan often did.
Leonard Bernstein was one of the most physically expressive
conductors in modern times, which sometimes earned him the scorn of
critics. But he was also capable of conducting with the subtlest of
facial expressions, as evidenced by a classic YouTube video in which
his eyebrows dance, lips purse and eyes widen.
BACK
Mr. Nézet-Séguin said he became conscious of back posture by
watching videotapes of Karajan. Mr. Nézet-Séguin was working at the
time with Carlo Maria Giulini. "The main difference of their sound
was due to their human attitudes, which was expressed by the back,"
he said. Karajan's basic posture was "very proud, shoulders back and
in command."
"You're expecting things to come to you," he added. The quality
could be cold, majestic, aloof, marbled.
But the lanky Giulini would lean forward as soon as the music
started, "a gesture of going toward the people, giving them
something, serving," Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
"It's a body language which is very telling," he added, and
connected to Giulini's warm interpretations.
Ms. Zhang pushes forward to achieve more intensity from the
orchestra. Sometimes she leans back to have the musicians play
softer. Or she leans forward to cover the sound, she said, "like
putting out a fire."
LUNGS
Conductors often speak of the importance of breathing: of inhaling
in time to an upbeat to prepare for an entrance, much the way a
singer draws a breath before starting. "The strings have to be
encouraged to breathe" as well as the winds, Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
"It makes the whole thing more natural."
For Mr. Bicket breathing as conducting is a necessity. If his hands
are otherwise occupied playing a harpsichord or an organ, his cue
for entrances often comes with an audible breath. The nature of that
breath can affect the playing. A sharp intake creates a harder-edged
sound.
BRAIN
In the interviews the conductors made it clear that for them body
movements take a back seat to mental preparation and musical ideas
residing in another body part, the brain. Conductors have to be
"somewhat unaware" of what they are doing with their bodies, Mr.
Nézet-Séguin said.
Giulini taught that "the clarity of a gesture comes from the clarity
of your mind," he added. Confusion comes from that split second of
hesitation, when the mind is deciding what gesture to show.
Ms. Zhang uses a technique adopted from her mentor, Lorin Maazel: "a
mental projection." A clear mental image of the sound you want to
hear makes for a clear entrance. Mentally projecting the pulse and
the sound, she added, "leads one's own hands."
As Mr. Conlon put it: "You can discuss gesture and physical
comportment endlessly, but ultimately some intangible, charismatic
element trumps it all. Nobody has ever bottled it. To which I say,
'Thank God.' "
seen two conductors-at-work vidoes, in order to get a feel for how the
gestures of conductors translate into sound. Because of time delay, they
are quite difficult to follow. This was not so much the case for
Mravinsky. I was quite exhausted after following him, more than with any
of the others.
Breaking Conductors' Down by Gesture and Body Part
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/08/arts/music/breaking-conductors-down-by-gesture-and-body-part.html
The Maestro's Mojo
By DANIEL J. WAKIN
ARMS carve the air. A hand closes as if to pull taffy. An index
finger shoots out. The torso leans in, leans back. And somehow,
music pours forth--precisely coordinated and emotionally
expressive--in response to this mysterious podium dance.
Concertgoers, who train their ears on the orchestra, inevitably fix
their eyes on the conductor. But even the most experienced listener
may not be aware of the subtle and deep connection between a
conductor's symphony of movements and the music emanating from the
players.
So in an attempt to understand what is going on, we interviewed
seven conductors as they passed through New York in recent seasons
with an eye to breaking them down into body parts--like that
poster in the butcher shop with dotted lines to show the different
cuts of meat--left hand, right hand, face, eyes, lungs and, most
elusive, brain.
The conductor's fundamental goal is to bring a written score to
life, through study, personality and musical formation. But he or
she makes music's meaning clear through body motion.
"If you imagine trying to talk to somebody in a totally foreign
language, and you wanted to express something to that person without
the use of language, how would you do that?" the British conductor
Harry Bicket said. "That's really what you're doing."
Every baseball pitcher has a different motion, but all pitchers want
to retire the batter. Similarly, every conductor employs a singular
style, but all want to elicit as great a performance as possible. So
our breakdown has inherent generalizations.
In the end it must be remembered that the art of conducting is more
than just semaphore. It is a two-step between body and soul, between
physical gesture and musical personality. The greatest technician
can produce flabby performances. The most inscrutable stick waver
can produce transcendence.
"You can do everything right and be of no interest at all," said
James Conlon, the music director of the Los Angeles Opera. "And you
can be baffling and effective."
RIGHT HAND
Traditionally (for right-handers, at least), the right hand holds
the baton and keeps the beat. It controls tempo--faster here,
slower there--and indicates how many beats occur in a measure. The
baton usually signals the beginning of a measure with a downward
motion (the downbeat). An upward movement prepares for the downbeat.
Conducting manuals say the upbeat and downbeat should take the same
amount of time, and that interval should equal the length of the
beat. "The upbeat is the preparation for any event," said Alan
Gilbert, the music director of the New York Philharmonic.
Setting the right tempo for a musical passage is critical. No less
an authority than the composer Richard Wagner, also one of the first
modern conductors, said the "whole duty of a conductor is comprised
in his ability always to indicate the right tempo." Yet a conductor
is not a black-coat-and-tails-wearing metronome. "One of the big
misconceptions of what conductors do is they stand there and beat
time," Mr. Bicket said. "Most orchestras don't need anyone to keep
time."
But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the downbeat
--how abrupt, how delicate--tells the orchestra what kind of
sound character to produce. The baton can smooth out choppy phrases
by moving through the beat in a more sweeping way. A more horizontal
motion can create a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the
former director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
Juilliard School. A downward stroke that imitates a violin bowing
movement, Mr. Bicket said, can color the attack. Even when beating
time through long-held notes, Mr. Gilbert said, the conductor should
be trying to communicate the sound quality through the movement of
the baton.
A predecessor of Mr. DePreist's at Juilliard, the conducting master
Jean Morel, taught that the right hand and wrist should be
"thoroughly self-sufficient," said Mr. Conlon, a Morel student; it
should "do everything--time, expression, articulation, character
--so that you could then apply the left hand and withhold it at
will."
Xian Zhang, a master of sculpturing musical line with her baton,
demonstrated this while rehearsing Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante for
Violin and Viola with a student orchestra at the Juilliard School.
Her stick movement closely matched the music's character, turning
delicate for gentle passages, small for accompanying strings, larger
for a horn and oboe melody. Her arm strokes grew broad at vigorous
lines. Sometimes the uplift of her baton seemed literally to draw
out the sounds.
Some conductors prefer at times, or all the time, not to use a
baton. Yannick Nézet-Séguin, who becomes the music director of the
Philadelphia Orchestra in September, is one. His training came
mostly with choirs, for which batons are rarely used.
"Basically the hands are there to describe a certain space of the
sound and to shape that imaginary material," Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
That imaginary body of sound sits in front of the conductor, between
the chest and the hands, he added. "It's easier when there is
nothing in one hand." He started using a baton when he began
guest-conducting at major orchestras, because they were more used to
it.
Valery Gergiev is another conductor who often does not use a baton.
His technique was on display at a rehearsal of the London Symphony
Orchestra at Avery Fisher Hall in preparation for a performance of
Mahler's Symphony No. 3.
Mr. Gergiev sat in a chair, generally immobile. Almost all the
action came from his right hand, which was often flat, with thumb
parallel, like an alligator's jaws. His left hand did little but was
used occasionally to point and to cut chords off. Mr. Gergiev
doesn't so much beat time with his right hand as waggle his fingers
in character with the music. His fingers were usually outstretched,
palms down, and his wrist cocked upward at face level. Sometimes he
formed an O.K. circle with his thumb and forefinger, and waggled the
other three fingers. As the tempo sped up, his wrist tended to
become floppier.
In an interview Mr. Gergiev suggested that waggling his hand, which
he called a habit, might have derived from playing the piano. "I'm a
pianist, and sometimes I 'play' texture," he said.
A baton can work against a singing sound, he added. "Most difficult
in conducting is to make the orchestra sing, and this is where both
hands have to basically help wind or string players sing." Hitting
the air with a stick, he said, is like fencing: "I don't think it
helps the sound."
LEFT HAND
The left hand, having turned over rhythmic duties to the right,
serves a far more elastic purpose. Crudely put, if the right hand
sketches the outlines of the painting, the left fills in the colors
and textures. The right hand creates the chocolate shell of a
bonbon, and the left hand fashions the filling. Its main practical
use is to give cues to sections or individual players about when to
enter and when to cut off, often with a pointed index finger. A
pulling in of the left hand and a closing of the thumb and fingers
can cause a phrase to taper away. A quick downward cupping clips off
the sound.
Mr. DePreist ran through the sometimes inexplicable left-hand
practices of others: William Steinberg would rub his fingers
together, as in the universal symbol for money. Antal Dorati would
make jabbing motions, as if he were "keeping a ball of sound up and
floating." Eugene Ormandy often kept his left hand curled around the
lapel of his tailcoat while the Philadelphia Orchestra, Mr. DePreist
noted, produced "torrents of sounds."
Mr. Nézet-Séguin is one of the more physically expressive
conductors, perhaps, he said, because of his small stature. His left
hand is in constant motion. He tries to keep it sideways to the
orchestra, he said, so the heel of his hand will not seem a symbolic
barrier to the musicians.
At another Juilliard rehearsal Mr. Nézet-Séguin indicated entrances
by making an O.K. circle or flicking open his index finger, for a
lighter attack. A rising index finger with each beat indicated more
volume. At loud chords, he cupped his hand upward. A downward cupped
hand called for a sustained line. Pounding martial chords yielded a
fist. A flat hand, palm downward, called for smoothness. Repeated
entrances came with pistol shot motions.
Mr. Gilbert notes that professional musicians do not have to be told
when in the measure to come in. He often prepares for a cue by
looking at a player ahead of time, to establish a connection and to
build energy. The purpose of a cue "is to have people join in at the
right time in the right way, in the flow," Mr. Gilbert said.
FACE
After the arms the most important part of the conductor's arsenal is
the face. "I feel as if my face is singing with the music," Mr.
Nézet-Séguin said. Engaging the musicians with a look can relax and
encourage them. On the other hand, some conductors, like Fritz
Reiner, kept their expressions unchanging, and his recordings are
"completely electrifying," Mr. Bicket said. Remaining without
expression can be helpful for musician morale.
"To editorialize facially your displeasure or your frustration is
not helpful to anybody," Mr. Bicket said. Yet raised eyebrows can be
subtle conveyors of dissatisfaction. The face becomes all the more
important when the hands are otherwise occupied, as when a conductor
simultaneously plays a keyboard, a common practice of early-music
specialists like Mr. Bicket.
The eyes themselves "are the most important in all of conducting,"
Ms. Zhang said. "The eyes should be the most telling in musical
intent. The eyes are the window of the heart. They show how you feel
about the music."
A squint, for example, can convey a distant quality to the music,
Mr. DePreist said. One trick to creating a good orchestral sound is
to look at the players in the back of the string section. "You're
getting them in the game," Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
Mr. Gergiev uses the same technique with a back bencher, he said:
"Looking at him means I am interested in him. If I'm interested in
him, that means he is interested in me. Correct? Everything I do, I
try to do relying on expression and visual contact."
Sometimes it is just as important not to look at the musicians,
especially during major solos. "That's a big part of the unspoken
conducting secrets," Ms. Zhang said. It can keep the player from
being nervous. And then there is the rare case of the conductor who
leads with closed eyes and produces great performances, as Herbert
von Karajan often did.
Leonard Bernstein was one of the most physically expressive
conductors in modern times, which sometimes earned him the scorn of
critics. But he was also capable of conducting with the subtlest of
facial expressions, as evidenced by a classic YouTube video in which
his eyebrows dance, lips purse and eyes widen.
BACK
Mr. Nézet-Séguin said he became conscious of back posture by
watching videotapes of Karajan. Mr. Nézet-Séguin was working at the
time with Carlo Maria Giulini. "The main difference of their sound
was due to their human attitudes, which was expressed by the back,"
he said. Karajan's basic posture was "very proud, shoulders back and
in command."
"You're expecting things to come to you," he added. The quality
could be cold, majestic, aloof, marbled.
But the lanky Giulini would lean forward as soon as the music
started, "a gesture of going toward the people, giving them
something, serving," Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
"It's a body language which is very telling," he added, and
connected to Giulini's warm interpretations.
Ms. Zhang pushes forward to achieve more intensity from the
orchestra. Sometimes she leans back to have the musicians play
softer. Or she leans forward to cover the sound, she said, "like
putting out a fire."
LUNGS
Conductors often speak of the importance of breathing: of inhaling
in time to an upbeat to prepare for an entrance, much the way a
singer draws a breath before starting. "The strings have to be
encouraged to breathe" as well as the winds, Mr. Nézet-Séguin said.
"It makes the whole thing more natural."
For Mr. Bicket breathing as conducting is a necessity. If his hands
are otherwise occupied playing a harpsichord or an organ, his cue
for entrances often comes with an audible breath. The nature of that
breath can affect the playing. A sharp intake creates a harder-edged
sound.
BRAIN
In the interviews the conductors made it clear that for them body
movements take a back seat to mental preparation and musical ideas
residing in another body part, the brain. Conductors have to be
"somewhat unaware" of what they are doing with their bodies, Mr.
Nézet-Séguin said.
Giulini taught that "the clarity of a gesture comes from the clarity
of your mind," he added. Confusion comes from that split second of
hesitation, when the mind is deciding what gesture to show.
Ms. Zhang uses a technique adopted from her mentor, Lorin Maazel: "a
mental projection." A clear mental image of the sound you want to
hear makes for a clear entrance. Mentally projecting the pulse and
the sound, she added, "leads one's own hands."
As Mr. Conlon put it: "You can discuss gesture and physical
comportment endlessly, but ultimately some intangible, charismatic
element trumps it all. Nobody has ever bottled it. To which I say,
'Thank God.' "
William Sommerwerck
Apr 15, 2012, 9:11:43 AM4/15/12
to
I don't understand. Few conductors have feathers.
> Concertgoers, who train their ears on the orchestra, inevitably
> fix their eyes on the conductor. But even the most-experienced
surprising the orchestra with gestural requests for unexpected actions, left
me puzzled.
I'd always assumed the interpretation had been worked out /during
rehearsal/, and -- other than setting the desired tempo, and making sure
that players came in at the right moment -- the conductor's gestures were
simply a reminder of what had already been agreed on. If I were a conductor,
I would not expect /any/ orchestra or player to be able to deviate -- on my
command -- and play differently.
> But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the
> downbeat -- how abrupt, how delicate -- tells the orchestra
> Concertgoers, who train their ears on the orchestra, inevitably
> listener may not be aware of the subtle and deep connection
> between a conductor's symphony of movements and the music
> emanating from the players.
The recent discussion of conducting, especially the bits about conductors
> between a conductor's symphony of movements and the music
> emanating from the players.
surprising the orchestra with gestural requests for unexpected actions, left
me puzzled.
I'd always assumed the interpretation had been worked out /during
rehearsal/, and -- other than setting the desired tempo, and making sure
that players came in at the right moment -- the conductor's gestures were
simply a reminder of what had already been agreed on. If I were a conductor,
I would not expect /any/ orchestra or player to be able to deviate -- on my
command -- and play differently.
> But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the
> what kind of sound character to produce. The baton can
> smooth out choppy phrases by moving through the beat in
> a more sweeping way. A more horizontal motion can create
> a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the former
> director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
> Juilliard School.
And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
> smooth out choppy phrases by moving through the beat in
> a more sweeping way. A more horizontal motion can create
> a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the former
> director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
> Juilliard School.
M forever
Apr 15, 2012, 11:35:53 AM4/15/12
to
On Apr 15, 9:11 am, "William Sommerwerck" <grizzledgee...@comcast.net>
wrote:
> I'd always assumed the interpretation had been worked out /during
> rehearsal/, and -- other than setting the desired tempo, and making sure
> that players came in at the right moment -- the conductor's gestures were
> simply a reminder of what had already been agreed on.
That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
> If I were a conductor,
> I would not expect /any/ orchestra or player to be able to deviate -- on my
> command -- and play differently.
That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
> > But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the
> > downbeat -- how abrupt, how delicate -- tells the orchestra
> > what kind of sound character to produce. The baton can
> > smooth out choppy phrases by moving through the beat in
> > a more sweeping way. A more horizontal motion can create
> > a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the former
> > director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
> > Juilliard School.
>
> And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually something
I would have thought should be obvious even to the untrained but
intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though. That's because you
know nothing about music and music making. And I am not even talking
about reading music and other technical aspects of that. You don't
even get what many untrained music lovers easily get simply by
listening and observing carefully.
wrote:
> I don't understand. Few conductors have feathers.
>
> > Concertgoers, who train their ears on the orchestra, inevitably
> > fix their eyes on the conductor. But even the most-experienced
> > listener may not be aware of the subtle and deep connection
> > between a conductor's symphony of movements and the music
> > emanating from the players.
>
> The recent discussion of conducting, especially the bits about conductors
> surprising the orchestra with gestural requests for unexpected actions, left
> me puzzled.
That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
>
> > Concertgoers, who train their ears on the orchestra, inevitably
> > fix their eyes on the conductor. But even the most-experienced
> > listener may not be aware of the subtle and deep connection
> > between a conductor's symphony of movements and the music
> > emanating from the players.
>
> The recent discussion of conducting, especially the bits about conductors
> surprising the orchestra with gestural requests for unexpected actions, left
> me puzzled.
> I'd always assumed the interpretation had been worked out /during
> rehearsal/, and -- other than setting the desired tempo, and making sure
> that players came in at the right moment -- the conductor's gestures were
> simply a reminder of what had already been agreed on.
> If I were a conductor,
> I would not expect /any/ orchestra or player to be able to deviate -- on my
> command -- and play differently.
> > But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the
> > downbeat -- how abrupt, how delicate -- tells the orchestra
> > what kind of sound character to produce. The baton can
> > smooth out choppy phrases by moving through the beat in
> > a more sweeping way. A more horizontal motion can create
> > a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the former
> > director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
> > Juilliard School.
>
> And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
I would have thought should be obvious even to the untrained but
intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though. That's because you
know nothing about music and music making. And I am not even talking
about reading music and other technical aspects of that. You don't
even get what many untrained music lovers easily get simply by
listening and observing carefully.
William Sommerwerck
Apr 15, 2012, 11:59:31 AM4/15/12
to
>> And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
> Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually
> something I would have thought should be obvious even to the
> untrained but intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though.
> That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
> And I am not even talking about reading music and other technical
> aspects of that. You don't even get what many untrained music
> lovers easily get simply by listening and observing carefully.
Your response reminds me of Billy Wilder's remark that people think actors
> Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually
> something I would have thought should be obvious even to the
> untrained but intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though.
> That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
> And I am not even talking about reading music and other technical
> aspects of that. You don't even get what many untrained music
> lovers easily get simply by listening and observing carefully.
make up their lines as they go along. I suppose you do, too.
The closest I ever came to this sort of event was when I was recording the
Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. One of the woodwinds started playing too
fast, and everyone else speeded up to keep pace. The conductor was unable to
do anything to slow them down. (Which raises the question of why /nobody/
seemed to paying attention to the conductor, before or after.) Of course,
this is at the macro level; it has nothing to do with subtlety of
performance.
Mark S
Apr 15, 2012, 11:59:56 AM4/15/12
to
On Apr 15, 6:11 am, "William Sommerwerck" <grizzledgee...@comcast.net>
wrote:
>
experience.
I spent two summers as a choral scholar at the Blossom Festival School
of the Cleveland Orchestra in 1974-5. We performed a concert under the
direction of Richard Westenburg that included Bach's "Jesu, meine
Freude" motet. Westenburg drilled us pretty relentlessly as he had a
very specific idea of how he wanted the piece to go. One of his
"touches" was a long fermata followed by an equally long silence on
and after the final bar of the penultimate movement. We rehearsed that
gesture over and over again. He tried out different lengths of silence
to determine which one worked best for him.
Before the concert, Westenburg gave us the usual pep talk in which he
opined that the beauty of live performance was that things could
happen spontaneously, and that we should be ready to "chuck the
playbook" if the spirit so moved him. Sure enough, we got to the end
of the 10th movement of the "Jesu" ("So nun der Geist"), and in place
of the long-held fermata and the grand pause we had so diligently
practiced, Westenburg conducted the fermata in strict tempo and segued
directly to the final chorale without missing a beat. Many of us were
caught off guard - especially the orchestra players, who hadn't been
in on the pep talk - and it took us the first bar of the chorale to
get it together.
After we got past the initial shock, I'd have to say that the
rendition of that final chorale was laced with a feeling of unease and
even terror (at the prospect that we all realize the performance had
very nearly come apart!). In the green room post-performance,
Westenburg shrugged off the near-disaster and informed us that the
final chorale had just the right touch of uncertainty that he wished
to convey about whether Jesu really was our "Freude."
Conductors. Go figure.
wrote:
>
> The recent discussion of conducting, especially the bits about conductors
> surprising the orchestra with gestural requests for unexpected actions, left
> me puzzled.
>
> I'd always assumed the interpretation had been worked out /during
> rehearsal/, and -- other than setting the desired tempo, and making sure
> that players came in at the right moment -- the conductor's gestures were
> simply a reminder of what had already been agreed on. If I were a conductor,
> I would not expect /any/ orchestra or player to be able to deviate -- on my
> command -- and play differently.
You assumed incorrectly. Let me give you an example from personal
> surprising the orchestra with gestural requests for unexpected actions, left
> me puzzled.
>
> I'd always assumed the interpretation had been worked out /during
> rehearsal/, and -- other than setting the desired tempo, and making sure
> that players came in at the right moment -- the conductor's gestures were
> simply a reminder of what had already been agreed on. If I were a conductor,
> I would not expect /any/ orchestra or player to be able to deviate -- on my
> command -- and play differently.
experience.
I spent two summers as a choral scholar at the Blossom Festival School
of the Cleveland Orchestra in 1974-5. We performed a concert under the
direction of Richard Westenburg that included Bach's "Jesu, meine
Freude" motet. Westenburg drilled us pretty relentlessly as he had a
very specific idea of how he wanted the piece to go. One of his
"touches" was a long fermata followed by an equally long silence on
and after the final bar of the penultimate movement. We rehearsed that
gesture over and over again. He tried out different lengths of silence
to determine which one worked best for him.
Before the concert, Westenburg gave us the usual pep talk in which he
opined that the beauty of live performance was that things could
happen spontaneously, and that we should be ready to "chuck the
playbook" if the spirit so moved him. Sure enough, we got to the end
of the 10th movement of the "Jesu" ("So nun der Geist"), and in place
of the long-held fermata and the grand pause we had so diligently
practiced, Westenburg conducted the fermata in strict tempo and segued
directly to the final chorale without missing a beat. Many of us were
caught off guard - especially the orchestra players, who hadn't been
in on the pep talk - and it took us the first bar of the chorale to
get it together.
After we got past the initial shock, I'd have to say that the
rendition of that final chorale was laced with a feeling of unease and
even terror (at the prospect that we all realize the performance had
very nearly come apart!). In the green room post-performance,
Westenburg shrugged off the near-disaster and informed us that the
final chorale had just the right touch of uncertainty that he wished
to convey about whether Jesu really was our "Freude."
Conductors. Go figure.
William Sommerwerck
Apr 15, 2012, 12:16:11 PM4/15/12
to
> Before the concert, Westenburg gave us the usual pep talk in which
> he opined that the beauty of live performance was that things could
> happen spontaneously, and that we should be ready to "chuck the
> playbook" if the spirit so moved him. Sure enough, we got to the end
> of the 10th movement of the "Jesu" ("So nun der Geist"), and in place
> of the long-held fermata and the grand pause we had so diligently
> practiced, Westenburg conducted the fermata in strict tempo and
> segued directly to the final chorale without missing a beat. Many
> of us were caught off guard -- especially the orchestra players, who
> he opined that the beauty of live performance was that things could
> happen spontaneously, and that we should be ready to "chuck the
> playbook" if the spirit so moved him. Sure enough, we got to the end
> of the 10th movement of the "Jesu" ("So nun der Geist"), and in place
> of the long-held fermata and the grand pause we had so diligently
> practiced, Westenburg conducted the fermata in strict tempo and
> segued directly to the final chorale without missing a beat. Many
> hadn't been in on the pep talk - and it took us the first bar of the
> chorale to get it together.
> After we got past the initial shock, I'd have to say that the
> rendition of that final chorale was laced with a feeling of unease and
> even terror (at the prospect that we all realize the performance had
> very nearly come apart!). In the green room post-performance,
> Westenburg shrugged off the near-disaster and informed us that the
> final chorale had just the right touch of uncertainty that he wished
> to convey about whether Jesu really was our "Freude."
"I MEANT to do that!"
> chorale to get it together.
> After we got past the initial shock, I'd have to say that the
> rendition of that final chorale was laced with a feeling of unease and
> even terror (at the prospect that we all realize the performance had
> very nearly come apart!). In the green room post-performance,
> Westenburg shrugged off the near-disaster and informed us that the
> final chorale had just the right touch of uncertainty that he wished
> to convey about whether Jesu really was our "Freude."
> Conductors. Go figure.
You've convinced me that conductors do such things. But does it ever
actually work?
Gerard
Apr 15, 2012, 12:19:20 PM4/15/12
to
William Sommerwerck <grizzle...@comcast.net> typed:
It's a nice story. But it works only when they want uncertainty. Most of the
time they don't.
time they don't.
M forever
Apr 15, 2012, 12:26:25 PM4/15/12
to
On Apr 15, 11:59 am, "William Sommerwerck"
come up with?
> I suppose you do, too.
No, I know that they usually work (mostly) from screenplays. I also
know that you have written screenplays yourself and that you also deem
yourself an expert on movies, as on so many other things, and that
nobody is interested in your screenplays.
> The closest I ever came to this sort of event was when I was recording the
> Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. One of the woodwinds started playing too
> fast, and everyone else speeded up to keep pace. The conductor was unable to
> do anything to slow them down. (Which raises the question of why /nobody/
> seemed to paying attention to the conductor, before or after.) Of course,
> this is at the macro level; it has nothing to do with subtlety of
> performance.
That has nothing to do with what can happen (more or less)
spontaneously in orchestral performances, when players and/or the
conductors give certain impulses. That episode sounds like nothing but
incompetence, not spontaneous music making.
<grizzledgee...@comcast.net> wrote:
> >> And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
> > Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually
> > something I would have thought should be obvious even to the
> > untrained but intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though.
> > That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
> > And I am not even talking about reading music and other technical
> > aspects of that. You don't even get what many untrained music
> > lovers easily get simply by listening and observing carefully.
>
> Your response reminds me of Billy Wilder's remark that people think actors
> make up their lines as they go along.
How so? That has nothing to do with what I said. Is that all you can
> >> And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
> > Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually
> > something I would have thought should be obvious even to the
> > untrained but intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though.
> > That's because you know nothing about music and music making.
> > And I am not even talking about reading music and other technical
> > aspects of that. You don't even get what many untrained music
> > lovers easily get simply by listening and observing carefully.
>
> Your response reminds me of Billy Wilder's remark that people think actors
> make up their lines as they go along.
come up with?
> I suppose you do, too.
know that you have written screenplays yourself and that you also deem
yourself an expert on movies, as on so many other things, and that
nobody is interested in your screenplays.
> The closest I ever came to this sort of event was when I was recording the
> Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. One of the woodwinds started playing too
> fast, and everyone else speeded up to keep pace. The conductor was unable to
> do anything to slow them down. (Which raises the question of why /nobody/
> seemed to paying attention to the conductor, before or after.) Of course,
> this is at the macro level; it has nothing to do with subtlety of
> performance.
spontaneously in orchestral performances, when players and/or the
conductors give certain impulses. That episode sounds like nothing but
incompetence, not spontaneous music making.
Mark S
Apr 15, 2012, 12:44:48 PM4/15/12
to
On Apr 15, 9:19 am, "Gerard" <ghen-nospam_drik...@hotmail.com> wrote:
>
> > You've convinced me that conductors do such things. But does it ever
> > actually work?
>
> It's a nice story. But it works only when they want uncertainty. Most of the
> time they don't.
How would you know? When's the last time you were involved in a live
>
> > You've convinced me that conductors do such things. But does it ever
> > actually work?
>
> It's a nice story. But it works only when they want uncertainty. Most of the
> time they don't.
performance as a musician?
If nothing else, Westenburg taught all of us young-uns a valuable
lesson about performing music.
Most college-age musicians don't really know all that much about
performing music. Their experience has been in high school choirs and
orchestras and church settings, where the music teacher/conductor
often presents themselves as a be-all-and-end-all dictator when it
comes to performing. You get to college, and you're torn between the
fact that you're in a situation where you can actually learn what you
need to learn about music in a way that gives you specific ideas about
how a certain piece goes (historic perspective, music fundamentals,
etc), and an emerging realization that you as a performing musician
actually have some say in how things will go in performance that isn't
always apparent on the printed page.
Westenburg's monkey wrench in the gears was a great real-life lesson.
Had we been more astute or experienced, we would have sensed something
was up when he beat time through that final bar, something he had
never done in rehearsal. But we weren't, so most of missed the cue he
was throwing us that said, "hey, this is one of those spontaneous
things I mentioned to you all pre-concert." But that's all part of
living and learning about music through direct experience. I can
assure you that after that performance, I was on my toes in a way that
I hadn't been before, and in a way that has stayed with me for decades.
Mark
Apr 15, 2012, 12:56:24 PM4/15/12
to
On Apr 15, 11:35 am, M forever <ms1...@gmail.com> wrote:
> On Apr 15, 9:11 am, "William Sommerwerck" <grizzledgee...@comcast.net>
> wrote:
>
> ...
> On Apr 15, 9:11 am, "William Sommerwerck" <grizzledgee...@comcast.net>
> wrote:
>
> > And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
>
> Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually something
> I would have thought should be obvious even to the untrained but
> intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though. That's because you
> know nothing about music and music making. And I am not even talking
> about reading music and other technical aspects of that. You don't
> even get what many untrained music lovers easily get simply by
> listening and observing carefully.
Observing what? Just the performances? Or performances plus
>
> Sometimes they are, sometimes they are not. That's actually something
> I would have thought should be obvious even to the untrained but
> intelligent observer. Obviously not to you though. That's because you
> know nothing about music and music making. And I am not even talking
> about reading music and other technical aspects of that. You don't
> even get what many untrained music lovers easily get simply by
> listening and observing carefully.
rehearsals?
Mark S
Apr 15, 2012, 1:16:33 PM4/15/12
to
CharlesSmith
Apr 15, 2012, 1:20:28 PM4/15/12
to
Charles
Mark
Apr 15, 2012, 1:40:47 PM4/15/12
to
extreme example. If the moral of the story is, "Be ready for
anything"--if this was a "monkey wrench"--then it seems to me that the
example supports Sommerwerck's point, rather than refuting it. It's
the exception that proves the rule. The question is whether
conductors make subtler interpretive decisions during performances
that *don't* leave the performers shaking their heads.
Mark DeBellis
Message has been deleted
Message has been deleted
Message has been deleted
Mark
Apr 15, 2012, 2:11:34 PM4/15/12
to
explained as life lessons either.
Mark
Apr 15, 2012, 2:15:06 PM4/15/12
to
Sorry about the multiple postings. I see what I was doing.
Mark S
Apr 15, 2012, 2:39:51 PM4/15/12
to
subtle form that adds juice to a performance without leaving the
musicians shaking their heads. Mine was an extreme example, but not if
one considers the situation, which was an educational forum as much as
it was a performing forum. A more-subtle version may have gone right
over our heads. We were - after all - a bunch of 18-22 year old kids
who were loaded for bear and who thought we had life pretty much
figured out because we had taken Philosophy 101 (well, we had signed
up for the course, but we missed most of the classes for one reason or
another. But I digress...).
The point is that nothing ever goes exactly in performance the way it
was prepared in rehearsal, even if those changes are minute. That's
the beauty and challenge of performing live.
Walter Bushell
Apr 15, 2012, 2:43:44 PM4/15/12
to
In article <jmehcv$dl9$1...@dont-email.me>,
Problem is that for example the tubas may be playing a beat or two in
front of the rest of the orchestra playing to be on time by the time
the sound emerges from the bell.
Different problems with each instrument.
--
This space unintentionally left blank.
front of the rest of the orchestra playing to be on time by the time
the sound emerges from the bell.
Different problems with each instrument.
--
This space unintentionally left blank.
Mark
Apr 15, 2012, 1:41:48 PM4/15/12
to
EvelynVogtGamble(Divamanque)
Apr 15, 2012, 3:41:47 PM4/15/12
to
William Sommerwerck wrote:
>
>> But the baton can also shape the sound. The nature of the
>> downbeat -- how abrupt, how delicate -- tells the orchestra
>> what kind of sound character to produce. The baton can
>> smooth out choppy phrases by moving through the beat in
>> a more sweeping way. A more horizontal motion can create
>> a more lyrical quality, said James DePreist, the former
>> director of orchestral and conducting studies at the
>> Juilliard School.
>
> And these are decided /during the performance/? You're kidding.
>
were in rehearsal - suppose for example one of your first chair people
is suddenly taken ill, or there is a last minute change in the scheduled
soloist? Even the nature and dynamic of the audience may not be what
the conductor anticipated during rehearsal. (It's true my performance
experiences have been vocal rather than instrumental, but I can't see
where that would make much difference in the conductor's responsibilities.)
>
EvelynVogtGamble(Divamanque)
Apr 15, 2012, 3:49:48 PM4/15/12
to
William Sommerwerck wrote:
> The closest I ever came to this sort of event was when I was recording the
> Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. One of the woodwinds started playing too
> fast, and everyone else speeded up to keep pace. The conductor was unable to
> do anything to slow them down. (Which raises the question of why /nobody/
> seemed to paying attention to the conductor, before or after.) Of course,
> this is at the macro level; it has nothing to do with subtlety of
> performance.
>
performing in concert! (Although one may also wonder how professional
the orchestra was?) I do remember an amateur Elijah performance where
the chorus and the soloists had a difference of opinion about tempo -
half the chorus followed the soloists and half followed the conductor.
(Excruciating!)
>
EvelynVogtGamble(Divamanque)
Apr 15, 2012, 3:54:57 PM4/15/12
to
William Sommerwerck wrote:
> You've convinced me that conductors do such things. But does it ever
> actually work?
>
certain amount of chutzpah on the part of the conductor, unless he/she
is VERY familiar with the orchestra.)
>
Gerard
Apr 15, 2012, 4:18:08 PM4/15/12
to
Mark S <markst...@yahoo.com> typed:
Conductors tell about their work. There's no need to be involved in a live
performance as a musician to understand what they tell.
> On Apr 15, 9:19 am, "Gerard" <ghen-nospam_drik...@hotmail.com> wrote:
>
> >
> > > You've convinced me that conductors do such things. But does it
> > > ever actually work?
> >
> > It's a nice story. But it works only when they want uncertainty.
> > Most of the time they don't.
>
> How would you know? When's the last time you were involved in a live
> performance as a musician?
Why do you ask BS questions?
>
> >
> > > You've convinced me that conductors do such things. But does it
> > > ever actually work?
> >
> > It's a nice story. But it works only when they want uncertainty.
> > Most of the time they don't.
>
> How would you know? When's the last time you were involved in a live
> performance as a musician?
Conductors tell about their work. There's no need to be involved in a live
performance as a musician to understand what they tell.
William Sommerwerck
Apr 15, 2012, 4:36:29 PM4/15/12
to
>> The closest I ever came to this sort of event was when I was recording
>> the Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. One of the woodwinds started
>> playing too fast, and everyone else speeded up to keep pace. The
>> conductor was unable to do anything to slow them down. (Which
>> raises the question of why /nobody/ seemed to paying attention to
>> the conductor, before or after.) Of course, this is at the macro level;
>> it has nothing to do with subtlety of performance.
> A conductor who cannot control his/her orchestra should not be
> performing in concert! (Although one may also wonder how professional
> the orchestra was?)
The OSoP comprised under-30 musicians. Their performances were consistently
>> the Orchestra Society of Philadelphia. One of the woodwinds started
>> playing too fast, and everyone else speeded up to keep pace. The
>> conductor was unable to do anything to slow them down. (Which
>> raises the question of why /nobody/ seemed to paying attention to
>> the conductor, before or after.) Of course, this is at the macro level;
>> it has nothing to do with subtlety of performance.
> A conductor who cannot control his/her orchestra should not be
> performing in concert! (Although one may also wonder how professional
> the orchestra was?)
good. Whether they were "professional" is a matter of judgment.
> I do remember an amateur "Elijah" performance where the chorus and
> followed the soloists and half followed the conductor. (Excruciating!)
No doubt Ives would have loved it.
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