Saturday, March 31, 2012

Saturday night fever: BACH! BACH! BACH!

Meet my new favourite piece: the Bach B minor Mass. I've just been to the Lucerne Easter Festival where Andras Schiff conducted it on Thursday, with his own Capella Andrea Barca and a fine line-up of soloists and choir. Two hours without a break, but I could happily have listened to it for 24. Heaven. And there were swans outside on the lake, taking off to fly towards the mountains...

I can't bring you the exact wonders of this spirited, humane, intimate and technicolour performance - no recording. But instead - although it is extremely different - here is Eugen Jochum with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, recorded in 1982. The same orchestra gave a concert last night that was equally one of those "this is what great music is really about" events - this time with Mariss Jansons and Vilde Frang. More on all of that soon, but now you know where I've been this week.

Meanwhile, this slogan is brought to us courtesy of the Monteverdi Choir & Orchestra:



Monday, March 26, 2012

How to conduct Boulez



Happy 87th Birthday, Pierre Boulez! Above, at the Lucerne Festival, the great composer-conductor helps budding maestros get to grips with his Eclat.

Unfortunately Boulez has had to withdraw from his planned appearances in London on 29 April and 8 May with the LSO - apparently he has an eye condition. Peter Eötvös will step into the breach. We wish Monsieur Boulez the speediest possible recovery.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

A funny thing happened on the way to the concert platform...

My latest piece for The Spectator's blog, Coffee House, asks why music and comedy don't mix more often - and involved a pretty fantastic trip to see Rainer Hersch's Victor Borge in an attempt to find out.

Read the whole thing here.

And have a look at this:



And this:



Rainer is at the Jermyn Street Theatre until 31st. Don't miss him!!!

A few more thoughts after the Sir Colin interview

The response to my interview with Sir Colin Davis has been fascinating to say the least. Those who have written/tweeted/blogged about it (special thanks to Boulezian and Unpredictable Inevitability) have been polarised, naturally, into those who agree with his words about the early music movement and those who don't. Though the latter have declared his words "insulting" and said they find his classical repertoire "boring" etc, there have,  to my surprise, been many more declaring themselves in full accord with him.

I have the impression his statements have been cathartic: many of us have been feeling this way for 30 years. But it needed a grand maestro to step up and speak out about some of the idiocies that have gone on in the name of "historical correctness" before anyone would take it on board.

Here's my own little journey. Back in the early to mid 1980s, as a student I found myself in places that now seem to me quite astonishing. By an odd series of coincidences I spent a lot of time in university holidays sitting, metaphorically, at the feet of people like Andras Schiff, Richard Goode, the Emerson Quartet and some experts on Schenkerian analysis in New York...



Then, come term-time, I was back in Cambridge being told that I was not allowed to play Bach on the modern piano - unless I would agree to play it with no dynamics, no pedal at all and a mode of expression only appropriate to a harpsichord. I promise this is not an exaggeration. That was rather a shock to the system, since - as you can well imagine - all I really wanted to do by then was to learn the Goldberg Variations.

Not that there was much chance to practise anything at all: so academic was the course that it involved a performance option only as one-seventh of one year of one's final degree, and the faculty seemed to believe - honest to goodness - that if you were going to play L'Ile Joyeux in your third year, there was no need for you to practise in the first two! All this accompanied by the immortal words "WE ARE NOT A CONSERVATOIRE". (Matched only by those of a London music college that I later attended for what turned out to be three weeks: "Well, we're not a university, you know - you can't just pick and choose..." Upon which, exit, pursued by a bear.)

The impression that lingered from that time was so negative, provincial, blinkered and anti-musical that it still rankles a quarter-century later. Today, though, I can recognise the good things I learned there too. These include a passion for Monteverdi (well, I already had that beforehand, but never mind); a familiarity with the Bach Cantatas that I would never otherwise have acquired; an inspirational course on German Romantic opera from Weber to Tannhauser (thank you, Prof Deathridge!); close-knit seminars on Gershwin and Schubert's Winterreise with Robin Holloway; and analysis with the late Derrick Puffett, the man who steered me - again by coincidence - towards Die tote Stadt.

Forgive the digression. In short, I found that the concentration on superficial details of instrument, articulation, lack of vibrato, etc, risked losing sight of the most important thing: the actual content of the music itself. There seemed an implicit assumption that nobody wrote music in order to express any form of emotion before about 1780. This is not to say that those superficial details of articulation, instrumentation et al are not important to some degree. They are. But they became an end in themselves - when they should have been only a beginning.

That was the 1980s for you: the era in which appearance became more important than substance. The era in which spin-doctoring, marketing and the hard-sell took over priority in place of quality content. The ingredients didn't matter, as long as you could sell it to the unsuspecting public. And all the government cutbacks at that time meant that it was far more practical - ie, cheaper - to use smaller ensembles so that you didn't have to pay so many musicians. If you could convince people that this was correct, so much the better. The giant performance of Handel's Messiah in Westminster Abbey that inspired Haydn to compose The Creation was quietly and conveniently ignored. Richard Taruskin has written much more eloquently than I can about how the HIP movement tells us more about our own time than it does about the 18th century.

But I don't believe that over time human nature has changed that much; music and its impact upon us hasn't changed that much either ("If music be the food of love, play on..." - Shakespeare); and if anyone doubts the importance of emotion in music, why don't they just listen to a bit of Monteverdi? Hear Orfeo's great aria 'Possente spirto', then try telling me its composer didn't write to express emotion and see if your ears don't turn red.

What counts most, ultimately, is authenticity of spirit. That means a full 360-degree understanding of the music's workings in terms emotional, spiritual, textual, historical, analytical, communicative, songful, expressive, harmonic, progressive, instrumental, linear, contrapuntal, technical, sonic, philosophical, inspirational and much, much more. It means acquiring the instrumental/vocal/conducting expertise to get this across without a struggle - which, as Sir Colin said, is where freedom really begins. Essentially it means fusing one's own powers as a musician with those of the composer, to empathise with a work and bring out the best in it, in a spirit that is faithful to its world.

I just listened to 30 different recordings of Schumann's 'Spring' Symphony for a piece in the April issue of BBC Music Magazine. My favourite? [drumroll]: John Eliot Gardiner with his Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique. This choice took me almost by surprise. But after listening to Bernstein, who made the slow movement sound like Mahler, Solti, who made the opening sound like Wagner, and Karajan, who just sounded like Karajan all the way through, here was a performance that sounded like - well, Schumann. (Buy the magazine to read more...)

I may be a HIP sceptic still. There is no doubt, sadly, that the movement has sometimes advanced the wrong people for the wrong reasons; it has promulgated approaches that may be radical, but that are often misleading, mistranslated or misinterpreted into going against the very grain of what it purports to do (see Sir Colin on Geminiani, or just read Leopold Mozart, to see how the words on 18th-century violin playing have been distorted for dubious ends).

It may have shaken away the Karajan-ness of Karajan, who (let's face it) was disliked for more than his music-making... But it has had the unfortunate side-effect of ghettoising the works of Bach, Haydn and Mozart so that few mainstream conductors dare touch them without applying supposedly "correct" mannerisms of phrasing, articulation and so forth - which often are not all that correct, especially when applied simply because they're a sound that's expected, rather than a concept that is properly thought through. Nothing is more dangerous than a little knowledge. I despair of ever hearing my favourite Mozart symphonies being played with any real gumption again, or without drums that sound like cornflakes packets, or without wince-worthy vibrato-less string tone - it's possible to make a good sound with no vibrato, of course, but frequently it doesn't happen. I am deeply unhappy about this: it's like being thrown into exile.

Thank almighty God that the odious phrase "authentic" was jettisoned after Rosalyn Tureck and her friends proved in the mid 1990s that there was no such thing anywhere, in any field. Still, there's also something inherently patronising in the term "Historically Informed" since it implicitly pre-supposes that everybody else is not. This is not true. The many great pianists who play Bach on the modern Steinway, Bosendorfer or Fazioli are perfectly well informed, often more so than their counterparts - they just choose to play on an instrument that can actually be heard in Alice Tully Hall. I'd defy any early music specialist to be better informed about Bach than, for instance, Angela Hewitt.

And soon I am going to Lucerne to hear Andras Schiff conduct the B minor Mass and I can't wait, because his performance of the St Matthew Passion with the Philharmonia a decade or more ago was the most inspiring, exciting performance I've yet heard of this work, shining out in technicolour with all its inner conviction, passion and spirituality.

I've often felt that too many supposedly "correct" performances are based simply on an orchestra turning off its vibrato and stringing up with gut. Bingo: two strokes and you're HIP.  On the other hand, hearing the OAE with Sir Simon Rattle doing Fidelio at Glyndebourne was simply magnificent. Besides, HIP orchestral musicians are often far better informed about the music they play, more passionately committed to their task in hand and generally more intelligent, upbeat and contributive than certain other strata of the profession who sometimes veer towards "Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die..." (Tennyson).

When HIP works, well played and deeply understood, it is fabulous. I would like to be the first to applaud JEG for his Schumann and his amazing Bach Cantatas series, which I'm potty about (I've also heard him screw up a couple of romantic operas over the years, but there is no reason why every conductor should be equally good in all repertoire, is there?). Ditto for Norrington: I'm a hundred per cent with Sir Colin on that total lack of vibrato - yowch! - and remember with sorrow an absolute carwreck of a Dvorak Cello Concerto at the RFH... Yet I've attended performances in which he's conducted Haydn's The Creation, Mozart's The Magic Flute (a Prom about 25 years ago), Schubert's Ninth and the Berlioz Symphonie fantastique - all of them thrilling, vivid and loving.

As for harpsichords, the playing of Andreas Staier has been a revelation. Just listen to the warmth, generosity and nobility of this:



Now, Staier plays equally wonderfully on a harpsichord, a fortepiano or a modern piano. And there's the rub. If the musicianship is good enough, the instrument stops mattering. Great musicianship transcends its medium. But if that great musicianship is not present, no amount of superficial "correctness" can ever replace it. So where does that leave HIP?


I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere. If there's a rapprochement taking place, if we are all starting to pull together rather than against one another, that is laudable. Chamber music playing is now being taught in Oxford (I don't know about Cambridge), while the music colleges today offer proper degrees, not just diplomas (or will do as long as they can continue to exist under the present government). Andras Schiff has recorded on early pianos and sometimes conducts from a harpsichord.



Alina Ibragimova plays solo Bach and more with inspired musicianship, great tone, yet no vibrato.



But the Emperor's New Clothes, even if they're looking a bit faded, are still being worn nonetheless. If Sir Colin's words can help to pull away the last remaining veils of illusion and refocus us on what really matters - the deep substance of the authentic musical spirit - then I'm happy to have been a channel through which he was able to do so.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Classical Revolution hits London

Classical Revolution, which started around six years ago in San Francisco and now has some 30 'chapters' across the US, Canada and Europe, is taking off in London at last. Simon Hewitt Jones is at the helm and the first event was last night at The Red Hedgehog in Highgate. There's another chance to sample the magic on Tuesday 27 March, 7pm, at The Green Carnation, Soho.

I asked Simon to tell us all about grass-roots chamber music...



JD: What IS 'Classical Revolution'? How did the idea begin and why do you think it is spreading so quickly?

SHJ: Classical Revolution began with some graduates of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music saying 'We want a different performance environment to play chamber music'. They took over a bar every Monday night for a 'Classical Jam Session'. Word spread rapidly, and soon they were doing several performances a week. It started off as an occasional event, but it soon became a fixture of the San Francisco music scene. People just liked the environment, the ambience, and how it allowed people to enjoy classical music in a different way. As more musicians passed through San Francisco and experienced the 'Classical Revolution' vibe, word spread, and before long it had started up in over 25 cities worldwide.

I first came across Classical Revolution when I was studying in Berlin, and later I played at several events in the USA. It was one of those 'wow' moments, where I just thought 'I don't know quite what's going on here, but I know I've been looking for something like this for ages'. Each event and location is different, and so are the models - it depends on who is organising it, what the local audience wants, and how that fits with the venue and the type of performers.

In London, we're starting out with a headline act, the fantastic cellist Richard Harwood (EMI Classics), and several featured artists including top performers like David Worswick (violinist from the London Symphony Orchestra), The Frolick (legendary 'Baroque-and-Roll' band), and a wide range of professionals from chamber music ensembles and major orchestras. In the local (north, west, and south London) versions of Classical Revolution, there will also be an 'Open Mic', where people can try out new pieces in front of a friendly audience, and new acts can get a foothold in the classical scene and start to build up a following. The central London (Soho) event will be a more formal 'Presentation Night'; a kind of showcase.

At the end of each evening, after the show has ended, there will be an informal 'ChamberJam', where musicians play chamber music that they know with people with whom they don't usually perform. It will be an exciting melting pot, where new collaborators and old friends can get together and play.


JD: What is different about Classical Revolution, compared to other projects that take music out of conventional concert halls - eg, Deutsche Grammophon's Yellow Lounge, the Southbank's Harmonic Series, and The Rite of Spring in a car park?

SHJ: For a start, it's been around for the best part of six years, so we know the format. But also, it's independent. Musicians always know loads of other amazing musicians and are great natural 'connectors'. By being a fairly free network, not reliant on a big label or cultural organisation, we're giving musicians an opportunity to try out different types of collaborations in a easy, low cost way. 

Plus, it's really focused on classical music first, and contemporary music second. But the biggest difference is probably the emphasis on classical chamber music, such as string quartets. You won't find big orchestral performances in the programming. It's all about the little groups, the individuals, the soloists and classical ensembles that make up the 'grass roots' of the classical music scene. It is providing an independent platform for classical 'indie' artists - somewhere to try out a new piece of repertoire in the open mic, or build up a fanbase, or launch a CD.

JD: Who is it for?

SHJ: The easy answer is 'everyone', but I think that's misleading. I think (my answer might be different after the first few shows!) we are aiming Classical Revolution London at two types of audience: 

1) People who already love classical music but want to have a choice of environments to enjoy it in. Sometimes you're in the mood for a full-blown tails-and-bow-tie evening out with a major symphony orchestra playing in a major concert hall. Other nights you want a really intimate, low-key environment in which to experience a Beethoven String Quartet at close quarters. You get a very different experience if you're on a sofa in a small room with a glass of wine, rather than sitting amid a large audience in a big auditorium. Neither is the 'right' way of doing it; they're just different.

2) People who aren't already into classical music, and who are coming to it fresh. How do we make classical music attractive to people who haven't spent several years going to classical concerts, and don't really have any preconception of what a classical music concert is about? (or perhaps have a negative preconception). This isn't an age thing - it's equally applicable to young and old people. What's important is that we're re-imagining the context in which this great music is presented, so that it feels relevant to a contemporary urban audience. Then it won't feel like a foreign or unapproachable culture to people who are new to classical music.

I'm not too worried about needing to reach out to new audiences - word of mouth will do that work if the event is good enough. But first we have to make sure we are presenting things in an exciting way, by tweaking the context and the presentation so that people who are new to it don't get scared off.

I've been saying this ever since I graduated from the Royal Academy of Music: if you meet the audience on their own terms by tweaking the context and the presentation of your work, then you can connect with them meaningfully, and ultimately take them to where you want them to be. With my own group, Fifth Quadrant, we have proved the point at countless festivals and installation performances; you use presentation techniques and popular music choices to engage the audiences and win their trust, and then offer them something more challenging. At that point, they are listening in a different way, and they trust you enough to take a chance on a new piece of music.

That's the way we create a new audience for classical music, and get rid of the stereotype that still exists in the world at large that classical is kind of 'elitist', 'stuffy' or 'dull'. Classical musicians know it's none of those things, but we have to meet people on their own terms first, before we can persuade them otherwise. Person by person, piece by piece, performance by performance. It takes a long time, but it's possible.


JD: What do you hope to achieve - and how?

SHJ: We want to create a creative platform for musicians to perform great chamber music more frequently, without the traditional 2-5 year booking periods, in a setting that's very different to a typical concert hall. By creating an informal environment, we are opening the possibility to all sorts of unique interactions and amazing musical experiences that musicians and audiences just can't get anywhere else.

JD: How does it work financially?

SHJ: We'll start off with a basic box office split (90% straight to musicians, 10% to cover operating costs) and refine it from there. The most important thing for people to understand is that MUSICIANS COST MONEY. If money doesn't come out of ticket sales and sponsors' pockets, then it comes out of musicians' goodwill. But you can't eat goodwill, or use it to pay the rent. Somehow, musicians need to be paid - and paid properly

So what we need to do is 'iterate' the club night model as rapidly as possible to find out where the value is. What value do the musicians get from taking part, what value do the audience get from the experience, what value do the organisations involved get from being associated with it? Then we need to work out how financial value supports that. Because the relation between musical and financial value is usually intangible.

Classical Revolution has a conference in Chicago next month basically to tackle this entire question. I expect lots of cultural differences here, and as the organisation is mostly based in the USA, it's going to be interesting to see how those ideas translate over into a British environment.

A final point on this - I'm thrilled that so many great musicians are getting involved and helping to make this happen in the first instance, and it's gratifying to know that the actual performers really understand the importance of initiatives like this to the whole ecosystem of classical music. But we can't trade on goodwill forever: the challenge is to make it sustainable.

JD: Why should we all get involved?

SHJ: Because there's nothing in the world quite like listening to a string quartet at close quarters, glass of wine in hand, on a sofa.

JD: Where do we book tickets / find out more / see the lineup / etc?