David writes-
“These are not at all terribly profound questions, but are among the gazillion necessary ones for us who want the fun of standing on the podium. (And they happen to be among the ones that are bugging me right now.) ”

Note the bit about “bugging me right now…”

I can confidently report that David has done Beethoven 3 many times before. He and I both taught the work this summer at the Rose City Intl Conductor’s Workshop in Portland, and that experience alone opens up so many quesitons for the teachers. You would think that after all that immersion so recently, we would be pretty much saturated with the piece, but these are questions that are bugging David “right now,” by which I assume they’re at least unsettled and probably new since then. I’ve conducted the piece four times in the last year and taught it at RCICW, heard it played, argued with other conductors about it, and there are plenty of new ideas in David’s post for me.

I’d just reiterate- if you ask a question about a score and it leads to a new question, it was probably a good question. If you ask a question and it leads to a dead end, maybe back up and re-ask the question differently.

David, thanks as always for contributing!!!!!!

Ken

Ken’s critical points only glance, however, toward a sometimes problem of young conductors (and maybe old ones, too). In saying that “conducting is just what you get to do for fun as a reward for the studying,” he (or his first conducting teacher whom he’s quoting) is trying to reverse common thinking, something I sometimes see with aspiring conductors. Often, they are in love with the act of conducting–the waving the arms, the making things happen, the alleged power, the being in front, whatever–but aren’t really in love with music. Or, if they do genuinely love music, they aren’t necessarily interested in music, desperate to understanding how and why it works (or why it doesn’t), and they often have few clues as to how to try to find out. And the asking questions, the asking ‘why,’ can be thought of as an annoying barrier between them and what they really want to do–conduct.

Why are there eight or nine instances of five-measure groups in the slow movement of the Eroica, how did these irregular groups get to be that way, and what is their large-scale rhythmic impact?

Or, why does LvB have four instruments, including 2 horns, play the C natural, but only one instrument (the bassoon, in its weakest register) play an F, in the half-dimished chord of m. 60 of the same movement. Bad orchestration? Certainly possible with LvB. No choices because of the horns? Maybe. Voice leading? Also possible. Regardless, what do you do about it, since it sounds pretty horrendous if left to its own devices.

Or, why is the return in m.105 of the music from the beginning of the movement now marked piano, not pianissimo, but both times marked sotto voce. Hmm. Editorial sloth? Maybe. Meaningful? Possibly. But, why?

Or why does the cadence in measure 8 swing through the subdominant, instead of the possibly more expected dominant? Is it forshadowing anything?

Or why does LvB mark the quarter note in m. 20 with a wedge accent? Most orchestras (conductors) sustain this chord like they’re shaking their collective fists. But is this what LvB meant? (And just how would that insistent sostenuto have sounded with gut strings and a different bow, anyway?)

These are not at all terribly profound questions, but are among the gazillion necessary ones for us who want the fun of standing on the podium. (And they happen to be among the ones that are bugging me right now.)

Ken is absolutely right. “Why” is the answer. Before that, however, we need a desire to notice. Sometimes I think that observation is the first charge of any of us who want to conduct.

David Hoose