Kenneth Woods- A View From the Podium

Margaret….

How can you not love Margaret, even when she makes you crazy?

A woman of so many talents, even she can’t keep track of them.

Mortal enemy of deadlines everywhere.

Creative and sophisticated graphic artist- she does most of our posters and brochures.

Accomplished and respected composer- we premiered a beautiful work of hers in 2005.

Jazz ensemble director and arranger.

Chair of music department, Blue Mountain Community College

Possibly most abrasive sounding speaking voice in the world.

Fiddler.

Accordion player.

Pianist.

Pendleton native- mom is a local piano teacher. Moved back from Cali to look after poorly grandmother and stayed. We’re glad.

Free spirit- even a law unto herself.

Once emailed me to say that next year, she would be “the good Margaret.”

Honest, all the time and true to herself.

Incapable of not talking.

Generous in every sense.

Doctor of Musical Arts in theory and composition

One of the ten funniest people I know.

Did I mention? mortal enemy of deadlines everywhere….

Second clarinet, Oregon East Symphony

A view from the podium oes

I think I’m falling in love….

Strangely, the object of my affection is a dead Austrian who is one of the most misunderstood figures in music history. Boring, stuffy, old fashioned, a relic from music history class, dry, academic, fussy and even quaint- he’s been called all of these, but to me, he is one beautiful music writin’ man.

You know I’m talking about Haydn.

I’ve written about Haydn before, but the thrill of getting to work on yet another symphony, this time number 92, has once again got me thinking that he is the man for our times.

Literally every time I’ve gotten to know a work of his well enough to see some of the genius in it (we mortals never get wise enough to see all the genius in even one work of Haydn), there is a part of me that can’t help but think “this is it. This is his masterpiece. Nobody could equal this, even him.” But then you pull out any other of the 104 symphonies or the 83 string quartets or the 13 masses or the 126 baryton trios, and they’re all miracles. Everyone tells me the operas are his great failure, but I can’t believe it anymore. I’m almost scared to look at them…

First, let me be clear- Haydn is, without doubt, the coolest of all the classical composers. Let’s be clear- cool does not mean trendy, cool speaks to someone who is able to make the impossible look effortless, the terrifyingly dangerous look matter of fact. Cool is the assassin so smooth you don’t feel the knife going in and you thank him for his time when he’s done. Cool is the man who does it his way, no matter what anyone else thinks, knowing full well we’ll be copying him next year.

Go… listen to Symphony no. 92 (Oxford). If you don’t know it, you might find it refreshing, playful, exciting. Maybe you’ll find it a little low key after that Schnitke disc you were listening to earlier.

Go ahead, put some Brahms or that Xenakis or that same Schnitke back on. Notice anything. Maybe you’re a new music guy? Take four hours and pull out all your Boulez and Ferneyhough. Overdose on Messiaen. Indulge in Webern.

Now play the Haydn again- notice the angular lines? The sudden, crazy shifts of mood and harmony? Hear the jokes.?

Leave it alone for a day, then grab a score. Your library will have all the Haydn symphonies- they’re the ones nobody checks out and nobody opens…..

It’s so simple, even your rusty score reading is fine- look, it’s a G major symphony and he starts out with a nice G major triad in closed, root position. No doublings- three notes, three sections, just root, third, fifth. Good old Papa Haydn. Three-four time, three times the G major chord. No inflection, no motion, no way of even telling what the meter is.

“I prefer Pops to Papa,” the man says.  “Sounds cooler.” Bars 2-4, five voices instead of three. Completely contrapuntal instead of homophonic. Unusual touches- a two bar swell up and down in the first violins- not typical Haydn…..

“There is no typical Haydn,” says Pops, “part of my genius is making you believe in the nice, fatherly classical Papa H who never existed. I’m the Easter Bunny and the Grim Reaper all in one. I make you think you live in a safe, sane world, then play with you, purely for my own pleasure, and you thank me for the ride at the end, knowing full well you can never go back to your mundane rituals again…”

Five voices and we don’t know who’s got the main line. Is it the firsts with their swell, the seconds with their descending line in the rhythm of dotted quarter and three eighth notes, the violas with their luscious octave leap and scale up (more or less the inversion of the 2nds), or the cellos with their majestic arpeggio?

Suddenly, there’s a half cadence and we’ve had a nice, square four bar phrase. ”This guy’s not so bad, I can take him,” you think.

Pops just smiles.

Second phrase. Same four bar construction in the dominant, but starting with the 7^th on top, not that there’s anything wrong with that. See, it’s just like music history class- good old question and answer rhetoric. Eight bars. Nice and square…

Now something new- something very new. We’ve had perfectly homophonic writing and totally contrapuntal writing, now he gives the melody, not really even a melody- just an elegant turn, to the first violins while the rest of the string secion accompanies homophonically. That’s texture number three, and it lasts only two bars.Bar 11- what’s this? So far we’ve had all three accidentals in the piece, in this bar nearly every note is chromatic. We’ve moved from simple G major triads into something slippery, bizarre….. And it only lasts one bar…

Bar 12- the knife is already in and you can’t feel it. Suddenly everyone drops out but the seconds. That’s texture number four- a single note played by a single section. It’s D, the dominant, and the first note of the first bar of the piece (do you think that’s on purpose? Pops is inscrutable. He’s not saying anything, yet)

You’re sweating and Pops is just smiling at you. You start grabbing at straws- “I know, it’s the dominant! It’s the dominant! You’ve got to land there to set up the beginning of the exposition in the tonic. See, I was paying attention in analysis class. We’re nearly ready for the exposition”

The cold steel of the assassin’s blade tickles the wall of your heart. Bar 13 and the 2nds land on the downbeat still on the D and the cellos enter below on E flat- it’s the most shocking event in the symphony. That’s texture number 5, and they’re lasting less than a bar each time. An eighth note later the firsts are in on G, which would sound comforting but for the outrageous dissonance below them. They’re playing the same rhythm as the seconds the bar before….”My god,” you gasp, “it’s a point of imitation.” Even as you recognize this, you see the 2nds falling slowing away from the D in half steps..”Oh Christ,” you say, “Oh my sweet lord… it’s the first violin melody from bar 11 in augmentation.” How much can he do in one bar? Beethoven never made me feel this way.

Bar 14, and you’re looking at  big H- he’s strangely beautiful, standing their so serene and still, smoking his cigar.

You have no idea what’s coming. The cellos and basses fall off from their E-flat to D, good old, safe D, then on the second eight of the bar we hear what is surely yet another point of imitation of the second violin repeated pitches in the violas, but something’s wrong. There’s something new here. Woodwinds! He’s held them back all this time, yet there they are, and what are they playing? E-flat in the flutes against the cello D. E-flat? E-flat?

“I never knew,” you plead, “I never understood the truth.”

Bar 15 and in come the horns, the bassoons- there is a subito forte in the middle of the bar, the first loud music in the piece, then, just a few beats later, a diminished chord and silence. You wait.

Piano again. First violins stroke a plaintive falling tritone, while beneath them cellos and basses are glowering on their e-flat, e-flat, e-flat. A descending chromatic scale- you’re spent now, you can’t imagine what’s coming next, but you see the double bar ahead. One last falling diminished seventh, from b-flat to c-sharp. Everything is spiky, arid and static. It’s like a savage, arctic landscape.

“Jesus,” you say, aware you can no longer feel your legs, “how the f*ck is he getting to G major from this?”

Silence. A fermata. We wait.

Double bar- Allegro spiritoso, and here we are in G major, wait, what’s that? He’s starting on a V7 chord!

Pops is laughing at you now- it’s not an innocent laugh.

The first violins fall down the scale from the 7^th, dotted quarter and three eighth notes. The second violin material from bar 2.

There’s more, but you can’t take it now. Go on, get your Mahler records out, listen to your Strauss. Maybe Gotterdammerung will calm your nerves. Pops can wait. Never in a hurry, but always right on time. When you get your breath back, there’s more. Much more.

c. 2007 Kenneth Woods

A view from the podium, Favorite posts, Haydn

Think of the pianist and the piano…..

I never thought I could be too sympathetic to instrumentalists who never have to worry about intonation.:)  However, I’ve learned some valuable and humbling lessons in the last few years. From 1991-2002, every single concert, recital and gig I did as a cellist, I played on the same cello- my rather tasty Italian instrument made in the 1630’s.

Since I moved to the UK and since travel with a cello has become more difficult, sometimes even impossible, I’ve only done a small percentage of my playing work on my proper cello. It’s not easy switching axes, and it’s not easy going to a gig and not knowing what you’re going to be playing three days later in public.

Think of the pianist and the piano….

Think of the frustration of constantly having to adjust to pianos with uneven action, sticky keys, a harsh sound, a dead high end or a muddy bass. One week you may have the perfect instrument, the next week you’re playing on something that is barely useable. You might play the same program three days in a row on three vastly different instruments. How do you cope? Does the audience for the concert with the worst piano get nothing out of the event?

I’ve always tried to separate my job as conductor into two parts-  the pianist and piano technician. Part of my job is to tune the piano- to raise the standard of playing, but when I go onstage as the “pianist,” I’ve got to make the performance transcend the limitations of the instrument.

There are many facets of performance for which difficult performance conditions are no excuse. Rhythmic precision, dynamics, care with phrasing, balance, articulation and intensity are things that we should always expect to be as good as possible no matter what the situation. Whether it’s me choosing the right tempo, or a violinist really playing every accent on the page, these are things that we can get right no matter where we are or who we’re working with. I think of this whole aspect of performance preparation as “getting the picture right.” This is the work of the pianist.

However, it’s one thing to say, “this is the best I can do with this piano today,” and another to say that this piano is acceptable, lets not worry about it. If you’re not constantly pushing the technical envelope, you’re failing in your job. Let me clear- the Oregon East Symphony is not a place where we accept the various standards of technical ability among the musicians, it’s a place where we try as hard as possible to transcend them.

David Stabler’s piece in the Oregonian pointed out that part of what makes the Oregon East Symphony unusual and challenging is the huge range of levels of ability. It’s a piano that plays very well in some registers, for instance, with the exception of maybe one player who was in for the first time and didn’t seem to know what to expect, we had a really first-class brass section for the Mahler, but is less secure in others- we had one guest principal for a concert this year who came very highly recommended but was a disaster. For the Mahler, our string count suffered from the logistical difficulties caused by the fire and a number of conflicts with other orchestras- think of a piano where one whole register is underpowered, but another is quite nice.

It’s not been unusual in the last couple of years to go straight from the OES to the BBC here in Cardiff to an orchestra that is capable of sight-reading at or near CD quality. My very first gig with them was a recording of La Mer 24 hours after getting home from Pendleton- we were rolling tape fifteen minutes after I shook the concertmaster’s hand for the first time. It’s easy to be seduced by the shear beauty of the sound of a great orchestra, so much so that you may forget to listen to the picture. I’ve heard many a concert by great orchestras where the picture was, well, awful- not together, no dynamic range, no attention to detail, so sweep. Because the musicians are so marvelous, they continue making agreeable sounds even when the picture is far from agreeable. Perverse as it sounds, a great piano can sometimes lull one into painting a rather dull picture in the concert. 

So, getting the picture right, whether it’s a youth orchestra or a major orchestra or a weird hybrid like the OES is never a given.

I rehearse basically the same way everywhere I go, regardless of the technical standard- I try to get the picture right, and I try to get the piano working as perfectly as I can in the time I’ve got.

However, my role in this is only part of the equation, because in this metaphor, the piano is not the orchestra, but the whole performing situation including the hall, the rehearsal schedule, the budget and me, and the pianist is not just me, but every musician on stage.

When orchestras really work well, whether it’s the Berlin Phil or the Island City Municipal High Modernist Sight-Reading Orchestra for Retired Roto-Rooter Operators, it’s because everyone is focused on getting the picture right and on tuning the piano. Even in the greatest orchestras, there are technical frustrations (sometimes, perhaps even often, perhaps even most of the time, the sticky key on the keyboard of life is the conductor), which we work on, day in, day out, with bloody-minded tenacity, but we’ve got to remember the picture as well. Orchestra musicians can do a lot to make up for a conductor who doesn’t get it , and a good conductor can do a lot to take an orchestra beyond their previous understanding of a piece, but when both sides are working on both issues, and nobody is making excuses, things work pretty well.

When you’re the pianist, play the damn piano. When you’re the technician, sort it out.

A view from the podium, Music and Media, Nuts and bolts, Performing Life

From the Oregonian-

“At 38, Woods looks like a younger, dark-haired William Hurt, only not as depressed.”

Not as depressed? Not as depressed?!?!?!? Tell me who looks less depressed….?

K

A view from the podium

Well nothing gets your inbox hopping like having your picture on the font page of the Sunday edition of the state-wide paper.

The Oregonian ran a huge feature article by their senior music critic, David Stabler, on the Oregon East Symphony’s performance of Mahler 1 two weeks ago. We’d known the story was coming- David and Stephanie Yao, the photographer, had been out for most of the week doing endless interviews and photo-shoots. You can read the article “Round-Up the unusual suspects: Two months after a disastrous fire guts its offices, Pendleton’s unlikely symphony orchestra gives Mahler the ride of his life”  here, and see the video/multimedia piece, which is brilliantly done, here.

In addition to hearing from friends, I’ve had a few requests for comments or clarifications on the piece, which, in the new world of horizontal media, I’m happy to make here.

First, let me say how much it meant to the organization that David and Stephanie put so much into this story and that the editors of the Oregonian thought we were important enough to merit such huge coverage. For a couple of years now, orchestra and musicians coming through town have been telling us that they sense something special is happening in Pendleton- hopefully this also causes a couple of light-bulbs to go on in Pendleton itself that important changes are afoot in their town. I know David had wanted to cover even more ground in the story- it must be very difficult working with editors. I’m glad I don’t have one here.

My one disappointment, and I’m sure this is a reflection of how things got edited in the end, is that there was not as much of a focus on the long-term, local members of the orchestra as there could have been. It’s actually made me feel that I should maybe make a new feature here- “who’s playing.” Something that would give me a chance to highlight the unique musical lives of some of the key musicians I work with in all my orchestras. Stay tuned this week, and I’ll see what I can do….

One factual error- Cheryl Marier has been the orchestra’s principal oboist for 20 years, not 2. She’s been board president twice and was our executive director for four years, during which she gave up her medical practice to run the orchestra. She’s one of the many amazing and inspiring people in the orchestra. She also delivered our current executive director’s baby this year- what other orchestra could that happen in. Also, I don’t wear a watch- I looked at the official rehearsal clock. For the record, we had 21 violins, 6 violas, 6 cellos and four basses in the final concert. That’s far from ideal, but we were fighting a number of scheduling conflicts. The horn player who came only to the concert was not exactly sight-reading- he’s played the piece many times, just not with us, and he was playing sixth horn. The piece is written for 7 horns, but most orchestras use an assistant or bumper to take over or double bits of the first part.

Life’s work

One quote from me is shortened to the point that the meaning of what I said could be misconstrued to be the opposite of what I intended…. Here’s what ran in the story-

Woods… says he plans to stick around. “It’s really important the orchestra get better. It’s my life’s work. I’m doing this not just as a stepping stone.”

What I meant, and this is significant, is that it’s really important to me the orchestra continues to get better. It’s one thing working with a small orchestra for a couple of years when you’re young and trying to build your resume- you can overlook certain things and fight your way through others. Seven years in, I’ve seen people’s lives changed by the orchestra, but I’ve also had friends and colleagues die, get divorced and go through all sorts of intense changes and challenges. At 38, I’m very acutely aware that I am no longer just getting started, learning the ropes, I’m out in the world, doing my life’s work. That means I’ve got to believe in what I’m doing. That applies to every orchestra I work with and every project I’m involved in, not just OES. I’m wise enough now to recognize the value of what I’ve found in Pendleton, but if I ever feel that we’re not continuing to improve or if I feel that I’m getting bored or dis-spirited musically, then it’s time to leave and continue my life’s work elsewhere. When David quotes me as saying “I’m not doing this as a stepping stone,” that’s right- my work with the OES has to be worth it on its own merits, but, again, Pendleton is not my life’s work, my life’s work is just that- the totality of my professional life, and Pendleton is a valuable and important part of it, and always will be, whether I stay for one more year or thirty. All the good things that are happening in Pendleton are happening because we’ve put the focus on the music- if we take the focus off the music and start looking at this as simply a human interest story, all of that will disappear overnight.

The big questions

David’s piece also brings up interesting important questions about how we rehearse and what makes musicians feel the way they do about the orchestra, and I’m going to try to tackle those as honestly as I can in my next posts.

David’s piece also brings up interesting important questions about how we rehearse and what makes musicians feel the way they do about the orchestra, and I’m going to try to tackle those as honestly as I can in my next posts.

 c. 2007 Kenneth Woods 

A view from the podium, Music and Media, Performing Life

Here is an interesting email exchange with a young conductor (not “quasi” that I can tell) in the Philippines. I love this aspect of the internet.

Offered here, typos corrected where found (mostly mine as my message was written in great haste),  for general interest….

Dear Mr. Woods,

I am a 23 year-old quasi-conductor from the Philippines (I say “quasi” because I really conduct the school orchestra where I teach – nothing professional). I’ve been an avid follower of your blog for about a year now, and I must say that I feel most fortunate to have finally found a conductor who blogs regularly, giving people like me a much-needed closer look at this rather poorly-understood profession (it’s certainly poorly-understood where I come from). I would like to inquire how you deal with any piece calling for both an orchestra and a choir. Who do you conduct when? When faced with a piece like, say, anything from Handel’s Messiah, how do you manage to guide both groups when similar voices rarely double? In all my attempts to conduct such pieces, one ensemble tends to get neglected – it’s either the orchestra or the choir. How do you pull both together?And given such intensely-contrapuntal works, how on earth does one like yourself go about with studying the score?I understand your time is limited. Any reply from you would be greatly, greatly appreciated.

Thank you. GTI

Dear GTI Thanks very much for your message. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get back to you. You raise some very good points, and I wish there were easy and neat answers to all of them, but I’m afraid the real answer is trial and error, experience, preparation and self-assessment.Where to direct one’s energy and who to cue are certainly issues in almost all repertoire, and especially so in very contrapuntal pieces. More often than not, when doing choral/orchestral works, I tend to err on the side of sticking with the singers. They’re likely to be that little bit more insecure than instrumentalists because they don’t have the security of a physical reference point that one has on an instrument, and they have to deal with text (and they’re farther away). One thing that is important to remember is that singers not only need help getting started, but also finishing- much more so than instrumentalists. A choir can’t place a final consonant unless you show them where it is, and that’s an important part of making the language intelligible to the audience.That said, you should never look at the orchestra as simply accompanimental. The main thing is that need to be constantly making tiny adjustments in your focus and your energy. You can’t afford to get stuck just conducting the sopranos or the trombones.  It’s just like driving- you don’t just set out for another town and just turn at all the junctions. You’re constantly, intuitively adjusting to all the minute changes in the road. You feel the violins are a little too soft, give them an eyebrow, you feel the basses are late, click the point of the stick nice and crisply in their direction. Perhaps you sense someone is a little confused about counting- you need to jump to them even if you would usually be looking elsewhere.

Thanks to YouTube’s clever linking system, I’ve just come across a nice blog post about my clip of the first movement of Prokofiev 5 with the State of Mexico Symphony over at Downbeat TV. 

 This is from the blog of an 18 year-old trumpet player in Arizona (he goes by “Vive le Quebec” or “Trumpetfrog”) who points out that this video contains “some of the finest symphonic trumpet playing I’ve ever heard.” I’m glad he noticed. The principal trumpet of OSEM is a guy named John Urness. John and I were actually classmates at the University of Wisconsin in the early 90’s, and it was great to see him again in Mexico. He even played principal when I played Schelomo with the university orchestra.

I’m actually feeling like I have a pretty charmed life these days when it comes to trumpet players. We had a monster section in Pendleton for Mahler 1, the BBC NOW trumpet section is as good as they come, and I seem to be having a great run with trumpet players at various freelance gigs. As a believer in karma, I ascribe this to the fact that for some years I conducted (with infinite stoicism) an orchestra that had, among other qualities, the very worst trumpet section in the history of humanity. I was never in a position to do anything about it (i.e. fire one of them), so I’ve rarely felt more relieved than when the principal informed us he/she was resigning. Talk about regime change! I felt like I’d just come out of a faith healing… “Praise be…. all my prob’ems and suff’rin’s done been washed away!”

VlQ also mentions the recorded sound, saying “The audio on it was clearly recorded right on stage, and as you might discover it’s quite a different experience to hear it on stage from in the audience.” He’s not entirely right. Even today, there is a tendency to record classical music for TV differently than for radio or CD, in that the directors like the ear to follow the eye, and they’re recording with a view to the sound being played back on a TV speaker (though this has changed a lot with the popularity of home-entertainment systems). This means that there is often some use of close micing and quite a bit of knob twiddling, bringing up the flute when the flute is on camera. I’m quite against this, but actually they did very little of that on this occasion, partly because the camera work was not as carefully scripted as at a BBC recording. Part of what VlQ is hearing, I think, is just that it is not a very deep hall- the main stereo pair was about ten feet above and behind my head. 

Anyway, the thing I like most about his post is that he sets us right alongside Placido Domingo. 

c. 2007 Kenneth Woods 

A view from the podium, Performing Life

Alex Ross has a post today that sums up what I’ve been saying for years- all intellectually honest investigators of the health of classical music know about hundreds of these quotes, but Alex has put the case forward as simply and concisely as possible.

Next time you’re having the argument, send them here.

A view from the podium

One of the pervasive questions of modern musical life is “why don’t you play more contemporary music?”

Frequently heard reasons for this include a limited audience for new music, the extra time and energy needed to prepare new works, the challenges of working in non-standard instrumental configurations, the expense of renting music under copyright, lousy attitudes among conductors, and the sense that some people just think Strauss is more fun.

To this list, I can now add a new, even more compelling reason—

“We ain’t got no instruments.”

Allow me to explain. Every eighteen months or so, I get the privilege of conducting the Contemporary Music Ensemble of Wales. They’re an astounding group, and do the most challenging and fascinating repertoire you can imagine. Working with them gives me the chance to do music that stretches me technically in a way that nothing else I do regularly really does. It’s like driving a new Ferrari on the world’s most treacherous course evey once in a while.

Our next concert was going to be recorded by Radio 3 for their contemporary music show, Hear and Now. The program included works by Xenakis, Mefano, Brown and a premiere by the ensemble’s long-time artistic director, Gordon Downie. I’ve been looking at the scores for some time now- the Mefano is FIERCE. It is open-form, but also incredibly dense and complex and the performance instructions are a bit contradictory, even given my so-so French. The Xenakis (“Akrata”) is stunning- not as hard for me, but nasty for the players.

Anyway, the concert/recording was to be September 26^th. Here’s the thing: CMEW is totally independently run from the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, but that doesn’t mean the two groups aren’t inter-dependent. The principal players of BBC NOW, along with pianist Ian Pace, form the backbone of CMEW. BBC NOW is on tour in Prague the week before our CMEW program.

We knew this all along, but only now found out that it’s not possible to get the truck with all the instruments on it back from Prague and through customs in time for the first rehearsal.

Literally, we ain’t got no instruments.

So, September 26^th it isn’t. Stay tuned for more information- it’s funded and the broadcast is already scheduled, so it is definitely happening.

A view from the podium, Announcements and reviews, Performing Life

People often ask me “what’s the best thing about being a conductor?” 

Is it the screaming girls, the unfettered power, the great music you do on outdoor gigs, the constant praise and flattery, the almost unlimited vacation time, the glamorous air travel, the way “normal” people look at you when you tell them what you do for a living, or the fact that your “instrument” is a 14” long stick of wood that costs about ten bucks instead of hundreds of thousands? 

Well, as the wise man said in Spinal Tap “it’s sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, but if I had enough sex and drugs, I could probably do without the rock ‘n’ roll.” 

Actually, the real best thing about being a conductor is getting little presents on stage at the ends of concerts.  To be honest, after all these years, I’m still not sure why we get them sometimes and sometimes not. Walter Weller didn’t get anything from BBC NOW at his concert on Friday, but the soloist, Steven Isserlis, did. On the other hand, the conductor the week before did get a bottle. Music directors almost never get them, but guest conductors usually do. 

I tend to prefer a bottle to flowers, not because I’m a guy and don’t like flowers, but because in all likelihood I’m going to be on a plane less than twelve hours after the concert, and won’t get to enjoy the flowers for long and it seems a waste of money.  For men (and perhaps this is sore point with women), the bottle has become the gift of choice these days. I’m not picky- it’s just nice when people think of you. Red wine, champagne, white are all good choices, although Rosé is maybe a bit girly for me. If you really liked working with me, a nice single malt scotch is always a treat. I’ve never been given any kind of beer- a fancy bottle of a Belgian beer is not a bad idea. I’m kind of surprised nobody’s ever given me coffee beans, but I have occasionally gotten interesting little local doodads, which I always love.  The funniest one I ever got was a bottle of “wine” that I had just seen at the supermarket that afternoon on sale for two pounds (for my American readers, the cheapest bottle of wine in Britain is at least three pounds). I guess they loved the Shostakovich!

One piece of advice- I know the six year old is cute, but if they’re going to take ten minutes of encouraging them to take those flowers out onstage while the audience keeps clapping feebly, better leave it to a grown up. 

Of course the best present is always a return invitation….

Seriously, it’s the screaming girls.

c. 2007 Kenneth Woods

A view from the podium

BBC Radio 3 is re-running my performance of the Haydn and Telemann trumpet concerti with Philippe Schartz and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales this Sunday, May 27^th, at 5 PM on Discovering Music.

The Haydn Trumpet Concerto on one rehearsal may not be one of those projects one looks forward to for months like a Mahler symphony or a recording of a world premiere, but I have very fond memories of this concert- the orchestra and I were feeling very simpatico about Haydn’s style that day, and Philippe, the orchestra’s solo trumpet and former solo trumpet of the Mahler Chamber Orchestra, played great and also offered his own insights on the instruments and the pieces with charm and wit.

Stephen Johnson is the erudite and engaging host.

Here’s the blurb from the Radio 3 website

Haydn Trumpet Concerto Sunday 27 May 2007 17:00-18:00 (Radio 3) Sunday 27 May 2007 17:00-18:00 (Radio 3)Stephen Johnson takes the trumpet concerto as his subject, journeying from the baroque with a concerto by Telemann, to Haydn’s ground breaking masterpiece. Soloist Philippe Schartz at one point even ventures to play an original keyed bugle, the instrument that inspired Haydn to put pen to paper. The BBC NOW is conducted by Kenneth Woods. Sunday 27 May 2007 17:00-18:00 (Radio 3)Stephen Johnson takes the trumpet concerto as his subject, journeying from the baroque with a concerto by Telemann, to Haydn’s ground breaking masterpiece. Soloist Philippe Schartz at one point even ventures to play an original keyed bugle, the instrument that inspired Haydn to put pen to paper. The BBC NOW is conducted by Kenneth Woods. If you’re busy, or can’t wait that long to hear it, the show is actually archived on the Radio 3 website and can be heard here. 

A view from the podium, Announcements and reviews, Haydn

There are many reasons we don’t do reviews here at Vftp….

First and foremost, there’s the whole pot/kettle or glass houses issue.

Second, I don’t want to write a glowing assessment of one conductor only to run into an old mentor or friend who then asks me why I haven’t told the world about his bitchin’ Brahms.

So, it’s taken something for me to write here about a concert I just went to. Please, for my sake, don’t call it a review.  

Walter Weller is one of those guys who has been around a long time, and had a rich and successful career. He’s managed to get to my idea of a perfect musical life- going around conducting Bruckner symphonies with great orchestras for a living. I’ve seen him maybe 10 times over the last seven years or so, and everything I’ve seen him do has been memorable and masterful, but I think he’s getting even better…

He’s an annual visitor to the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, where he’s much beloved by the players. Last night, he conducted a Bruckner-free evening, which culminated in the very, very best live performance of Dvorak 9 I ever expect to hear.

From beginning to end, the performance perfectly balanced an all-encompassing sense of architecture with and endless stream of surprises, nuances and distinctive turns. This is a piece I’ve conducted many times (always from memory, it’s a party piece for me), and played many, many more times and heard many, many, many more times, and yet time and time again last night there was something there I had never heard. Almost without fail, just as soon as I heard the new detail, I could immediately see why he had done it. That’s insight- when you can keep even the most experienced listener off balance, and yet have everything you do be grounded in a structural plan. Nothing is tacked on the outside of the music- every detail comes from the inside of the musical argument.

Just in the first 2 notes of the last movement (the ubiquitous “Jaws” motive), he got from the strings about 5 different surprises in the articulation, envelope, color, vibrancy, development and release of the sound, and this was typical of the whole performance. The range of colors and dynamics seemed absolutely endless, and the end of the finale was one of those concert moments where there seems to be no limit whatsoever to the power of the orchestra’s sound.

This was the kind of music making that comes from a life’s experience, from decades and decades of study, an all-consuming love of music, and a complete depth of musical and human culture. As the world hunts for the next great, young conductor, maybe we should be asking ourselves if those three words (great, young, conductor)  can actually follow each other in that order?

Coming just days after conducting a concert where I felt quite good about my own work (and where I certainly got lots of nice, ego-stoking positive feedback), it was absolutely refreshing to come away from a concert feeling completely challenged and inspired. I feel like I’ll be spending the next few years (or decades) trying to learn to study scores at that level. Walter Weller is a better conductor than me. I can live with that. He’s better than you, too. He’s better than anyone who’s won a “big job” this year- if you would argue that after seeing him last night, you don’t know enough about music to participate in the conversation.

I’m kicking myself for not watching his rehearsals this week. Interestingly, Sue tells me that he lets nothing slide, basically cleans up all the old, interpolated markings in their music, and gets them to play what the composer wrote on the page, listen for sound and watch. His three most often heard quotes are “Ja… ja, ja, ja..” “zo, now you know all ov my zecrets…” and, just before a run through, “okay… letz vind out.” He also seems to let them out early more often than anyone. Note, he doesn’t work on gazillions of little details, and when he conducts, you don’t see him showing gazillions of fiddly details, yet they’re there. That’s zen conducting, that’s mental powers.

I constantly find myself saying stupid things like “you never hear a real orchestra sound anymore,” and getting dirty looks and comments like “oh come on, they sound really good.” That sound last night- that’s a real orchestra sound. That’s szchouhm. You can still hear it here, on planet earth, for how much longer, I don’t know. It is different, but it is not just different. It is better. It is a richer, more sophisticated, more honest, more profound and more rewarding way of making music. These days we talk about “old school” music making as if it were a sauce anybody could slather on the music. “Would you like your Beethoven with “old school” or “new school” sauce?” The fact is, the difference is more like “teaching school” and “never been to school.” (note, I’m talking about almost everyone here, not just HIP-sters.). What we heard last night wasn’t just turn on the vibrato and play warm, it was a meticulous attention to detail- thousands and thousands of details, made to seem natural, organic and spontaneous. It’s the difference between five or six distinctive bow strokes and colors and an infinite variety. Message to conductors everywhere- being better at your job makes life better for everyone. Study hard.

Anyway, if I ran an orchestra in American and was looking for a conductor, I know who I’d call.

By the way, I don’t know any of his recordings, or if any of them capture what he can do live. Who cares- get to a concert. That’s where music really happens, anyway. 

Of course, the really sad thing is that many music lovers who read this have no idea who I’m talking about. To the best of my knowledge, he’s never been mentioned by a big-time writer or mentioner in the USA as a potential MD of a major orchestra…. Here’s his bio.

Charles Noble has a very interesting post on conductors and conducting- specifically, it is a list of ten things conductors would be wise to keep in mind when they get in front of an orchestra, which includes this week’s Quote of the Week-
 

“…this is not the time to beat as though one is folding egg whites while listening to Prelude to Afternoon of a Faun by Debussy.”

I found his post both encouraging and slightly depressing.

Encouraging, because I agree completely with everything he says, except for this-
 

3-                 If we’re playing a tricky ensemble passage but it’s a bit too loud and there are some agogic accents, don’t stop and berate us – we’re doing this to hear each other and to play together. If, on the other hand, you’re interested in a undifferentiated wash of indistinct sound, please continue with whatever you were about to tell us.

I understand what Charles is getting at, but I actually believe very strongly that phrasing is almost always the solution to rhythmic problems. *  Playing against the musical character with lots of false accents tends to make things worse. In the short term, you might avoid a train wreck, but every time you do it that way it gets less likely you’ll every make the thing sound effortlessly together. Also, balance has a big role to play in fixing ensemble problems, and playing something too loud only makes things worse. Chances are, in the unlikely event that the violas are playing too loud, they are doing so because they can’t hear themselves because someone else is playing too loud.  As long as one section is playing out of balance, there will be another section that can’t hear what they need to in order to play together. That said, I don’t thing berating is ever the solution. Let me re-phrase that- berating is never the solution.  In my experience, if the conductor is really combing a clear sense of pulse with an unmistakeable sense of musical shape, you almost never need to resort to the too-loud/accented system of ensemble triage. If it is really a problem, better to simply tackle the rhythmic issue from a totally technical standpoint, that is sort out the problem once and for all, rather than playing it wrong in context. Still, if it’s the Oregon Symph doing what Charles describes, my advice is just keep going and it will probably be fine the second time.

Slightly depressing, because I can’t believe there is a conductor on earth who doesn’t understand and agree with everything Charles is laying out here. Everything he says (except possibly no. 3) is %100 bare minimum, basic, common sense good practice. Surely there can’t be anyone making a living at this who doesn’t know this and work according to the principles Charles so clearly lays out.

Okay, wait a minute…. I did make my living as an orchestral cellist for more than half of my life. I take it back.

So the truly depressing question is…. Who hires these turkeys? Karajan might not be availble for every concert, but someone competant and knowledgeable is. I know so many gifted, caring, inspiring, competent, respectful, efficient, musical, professional and agreeable conductors who are totally dedicated to music. I could give you a long list, but I don’t want to lose work to them. Trust me, they’re out there. Musicians should never have to see a fraud.

* One of Ken’s laws of conducting is that you can be musical but not clear and still have the orchestra play together, and be better and tighter than if you are clear and not musical. If you are clear and musical, it should be fab. On the other hand, if you are not clear and are “musical,” everyone is out of luck….. (actually the correct descrption of everyone’s state when a conductor is “musical” rather than musical is the past tense of a word that rhymes with luck).

c. 2007 Kenneth Woods
 

A view from the podium, Nuts and bolts

I’ve had a couple of friendly nags for a report on my last trip to Pendleton to conduct Mahler 1 with the OES.

What do you say about a 10 day trip with 16 rehearsals and 6 concerts with two different orchestras rehearsing or performing in 8 different venues? What do you say about a week when your orchestra decides to buy and build a new hall? What do you say about a week when you order a new mobile recording set up for your final concert that never shows up? What do you say about a week when you find out one of your new flautists parents own a recording studio and will bring their gear and record the concert for free? What do you say when you’ve seen your oldest possessions rotted, burned and coated with mould? What do you say when you’ve had two reporters watching your orchestra’s every move for the last five days? How do you paint a picture of some of the kindest and most dedicated people in the world? How do you describe how irritating it is dealing with flakes and weasels? How can I explain just how exciting it is to meet new friends while working on such fantastic music? How do I tell you how sad it is to watch an old friend crumble under the stress of repeated personal tragedies?

One day you’re taking a cello in for an expensive refit that makes it sound like crap. A few weeks later, you find out the new guy in the violins is a wonderful violin maker who fixes everything that’s been torturning you for just $20.  

I found a lost guitar and lost an iPod. I had my picture taken about 2,000 times. I did four long interviews for two newspapers. I discovered a new coffee house, and walked through the wreckage of my now-burned favourite coffee roaster.

I heard what happens when a great brass player conks. Not pretty- thankfully, it was just in a rehearsal. He too had been the victim of an instrument repair gone wrong and ended up swapping instruments with a colleague.

I went through the whole weekend terrified that one guest player in a prominent seat was going to completely collapse- they’d obviously been struggling with issues for ages. They held up, barely, but that is the most stressful thing of all for a conductor- when you really don’t know what’s going to happen when it is someone’s turn to play.

I helped set up mics and schlepp platforms. I drove a giant pickup truck.

I recorded a cool podcast with the youth orchestra that will come out soon.

We had someone sight-read the 6^th horn part to Mahler 1 in the concert. Don’t ask why. He nailed it. The guy next to him told him he was the loudest horn player he’d ever heard. Cool. He’s the one in the middle of the top row (Erik). On his left (your right) is Ed, who is also our rehearsal conductor. Center of lower row (RED hair) is Michelle, our Exec Dir, next to her are Peter, our principal, and Rebekah, who rocks. They all rock.

The orchestra took over the town. There were musicians in every bar, restaurant and shop. I told one friend it was starting to feel like a festival and he corrected me- “dude, it is a festival.” A great deal of beer was consumed. A great deal of food was eaten. Tom spent 6 days cooking for the reception after the concert.

We postponed a brass sectional for 10 minutes because it took 70 minutes for a local joint to make 5 sandwiches.

I asked the trumpets to “make it greasier,” and told the strings they had to be acidic when the music is Hassidic. We worked on the “voice of god” sound in the low brass.

I got called a bastard by one of my best friends. She got a “damn right he is” from another one of my best friends, and I’m not mad at either of them (this is because I still don’t think they really mean it).

I was told I was a miserable slave driver and way too nice within 6 minutes.

Number of times the local paper published the date and time of the concert- 3. Number of dates and times published- 3.

Number of correct combinations of date and time- 0.

5 violin players told me they either filled up or cried outright when the horns stood up in the concert. I did, too. Does this picture make you emotional? Maybe you need the sound track….

At 7:52 on Saturday night, just in the midst of a rehearsal of the 3^rd mvt. (figure 10), the orchestra made the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard them make. It’s a funny feeling when you know you’ll never top something that almost nobody heard.

I was both sad yet encouraged to hear two new musicians express how they feel like most of their musical life lacks meaning and passion, which they found in Pendleton. We talk too much about economics and not enough about why we do this- our first constituency ought to be our fellow musicians. When we have a chance to do what we love, audiences can hear and feel the difference, and that’s what they want more than anything in concert- that physical, tangible tingle. Maybe it’s good to remember that much as we prize our relationship with the community, it is their privilege to listen. Our first duty is to each other.

There was a great three-hour bluegrass jam session at the party after the concert, complete with bass banjo, accordion and the world’s champion fiddler. 

A big thank you to Saul Cline at the Tacoma Symphony for helping us find some last-minute extras.

Thanks Michelle, Christina and Phyllis for weathering the storm.

Cheryl- sorry I missed city council! Just remember, wise words sometimes fall on deaf ears.

Clint- thanks for donating the music.

John- thanks for the schlepping, the setting up, the tearing down, and for coaching your colleagues in the percussion section.

I’m really glad everyone practiced.

To our last minute newbies- thanks for taking a chance on a gig that involved eight hours in a car to work with an orchestra and conductor you had never heard of for about half what you’d make at home. Hope it was worth it.

To our long-term veterans, regulars and friends- what a wild, bizarre, cool, depressing, exhilarating, crazy, stressful, relaxing, inspiring, exhausting, dramatic, pedestrian and fun trip we’ve found ourselves on.

I think it was  a pretty hot concert. By Sunday, the whole fire thing seemed like a bad dream that was quickly fading from everyone’s memory.

We’ll try to post some audio highlights next week, if possible.

UPDATE-

Suzanne tells me I’ve gone noticeably more gray this month. Ain’t that life.

 Also, a nice comment on Rebecca’s blog here 

c. 2007 Kenneth Woods

Photos by Will Perkinson.

A view from the podium, Mahler, Performing Life

My recent broadcast of the Nielsen Flute Concerto with Sharon Bezaly and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales for Discovering Music on Radio 3 has now been made available in the Discovering Music Archive  (RealPlayer required) for anyone wanting to hear it again.

Here’s the info from the Radio 3 website…