Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Daniel Barenboim: Language and Music

Language is also of great importance in interpretation. It is impossible for a child who has been hearing French from the day he or she was born not to be influenced by its sounds when playing music. The same applies to Germans, Russians and any other nationality. The fact that in French a heavy accent is often placed at the end of words produces difficulties when trying to work out musical phrasing. There is nothing more unnatural in music than an accent at the end of a passage or a sentence. The German language, however, due to its heavy consonants, possesses a certain weight which is reflected in German music. In several ways German music is the opposite of French music. The main difficulty with German music, from the dynamic point of view, is the slowness of the build-up, of the Steigerung and the idea of allmahlich steigern which one often sees in German music scores. It is difficult to translate this: it means approximately ‘increase’ or ‘gradually increasing’. One could describe this particular difficulty in German as an almost structural one. In French music, in Debussy and Ravel, we have exactly the opposite – there it is the swiftness of the dynamics that is so difficult. It is like a sudden spark that flashes up; there is a crescendo or diminuendo in a single note, and you have to execute the dynamics as swiftly as possible. The French use a very descriptive word for this: etincelle, meaning spark. These are basic characteristics of language which are audible in the way musicians of different nationalities play. French musicians have a basic difficulty with solid rhythm, solid sound but fantastic capacity for very imaginative sound colours and swiftness. The German musician tends to possess a better sense of rhythm but probably less imagination for sound.

I consider that differences in language really do have an influence on musical performances. It has to do with the question of tempo, and the question of colour. In Latin orchestras the strings often display an ability to play thinly, lightly, which is very appropriate for a lot of music. An some German musicians, with a natural tendency towards a weightier sound, have greater difficulty with this kind of music.

The element of flair and colour, and an ability to attach as much importance to the least significant detail as to the most important, is a very French characteristic. Once cannot begin to read a Debussy score unless one knows this, and has a feeling for it. You see this characteristic in other areas of French life – the importance the French attach not only to the food but also to its presentation, for instance. They have a capacity for devoting an incredible amount of time and energy to what would seem to other people to be unimportant details, and this emerges very clearly in their music. They can do something quite out of the ordinary from sheer enthusiasm, which, at its best, is exceedingly attractive. On the other hand, with good German musicians you feel the foundation of the music in the way they play. One of their most impressive qualities is their ability to play loudly and intensely, yet never harshly.

The French brass players have serious problems with their language when they play non-French music- they have to come to terms with the fact that they are used to French (u umlaut) sounds and do not really have the ‘a, o and u’. Therefore the sound has a tendency not to be well supported.

Daniel Barenboim on Jacqueline Du Pre

Whatever I showed her, or whatever she heard, seemed to bring out something that was already in her. She had a horror of anything that was fake, or insincere, of anything artificial. She had a gift very few performers have, the gift of making you feel that she was actually composing the music as she was playing. She did not know what it was to have technical difficulties, nor what it meant to play safe. There was a sensation of pure abandon when she played and it was that quality that endeared her to her colleagues and to her audience. There was something in her playing that was completely and inevitably right – as far as tempo and dynamics were concerned. She played with a great deal of rubato, with great freedom, but it was so convincing that you felt like a mere mortal faced with somebody who possessed some kind of ethereal dimension.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Daniel Barenboim: Conducting

Conducting is as much a profession as playing an instrument. But a great part of the audience simply does not know what a conductor is doing. When an audience hears a really great orchestra like that of Chicago, Berlin or Vienna playing a repertoire piece, they often cannot tell what the conductor's contribution amounts to. ..........

When an audience hears a violinist, they see his fingers and his bow moving. But when a conductor stands in front of the orchestra, all sorts of extra-musical considerations come to the fore: personality, charisma, often blatant sex appeal, things that have nothing to do with music.

What is so difficult about conducting and what is so difficult about becoming a conductor? An instrumentalist must be able to play his instrument and to have the physical power and manual skill to manage and control his instrument. But how do you control an orchestra? An instrumentalist can always practise. Where should a conductor practise? He cannot learn the music or the notes in an abstract way. Imagine a pianist who has no piano, and who has to learn a Beethoven Sonata merely in his head. It is impossible.

The manipulation of sound is very hard to learn and particularly difficult ofr a conductor, who has no physical contact with the sound. The conductor should really know the orchestra, and what the instruments can do, how the music moves from one group to another and practically walks around the orchestra. If the first violins are the main instruments in the first eight bars, and the oboe comes later, the music moving from one to the other, you must work with the strings. A wind instrument can play alone, whereas there are sixteen first violins, each with its own individuality and this has to be organised. By organisation, I mean that each player not only plays his part as best he can, but also listens to his neighbours, trying to match their way of playing. That means, first of all, clear intonation and a similarity of attack, sound and articulation. It is the homogeneity of the group that facilitates the overall expression. This principle applies to the whole orchestra. The conductor should be able to listen to the sounds that are produced by the orchestra, as well as contribute to their precision and expression.

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One of the most important qualities required of an interpreter or of the conductor is the capacity to balance the different voices or instruments. The creation of true equilibrium means that the different voices are audible in such a way that they appear in proper perspective - all present, but some nearer than others. Each voice or instrument must be clearly articulated in itself - only then will it be in a position to relate to the others.

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A string player's bow can go in two directions- up or down. Whether one starts a certain passage up bow or down bow is important. More important still is the way the bow is distributed and the speed at which it moves. The bow has a much greater weight at the frog than at the point, where it becomes thinner and lighter, and a good string player must be able to control this difference in weight. Each part of the bow has advantages over other parts for certain types of articulation. A natural weight is produced by an attack down-bow, starting at the frog, but one can also very easily start a note at the point, up-bow because this is where it is easier to control the beginning of the sound. It is important to know how to divide this: one, two or five notes in one bow, but when does the bow change, and in what way? One must not forget that in a symphony orchestra there are usually sixteen, sometimes 14, sometimes 18 first violins. This means there are 14, 16, 18 people playing exactly the same notes at the same time. Imagine if those 16 people sitting at a table were expected , at a sign from the waiter, to lift a fork at exactly the same time, with the same speed and the same enthusiasm. This problem does not apply to the wind instruments, where each player only plays his part, the second oboe part being different from that of the first oboe. There must therefore be an element of musical organisation in order to produce the string section sound.

... ... ..
I was very fortunate too in being able to consult Jacqueline, about some of these features which interestedme enormously, and I indicate the bowings in the string parts myself to this day. If tehre are 16 first violins, that means there are eight copies of the music to be made. I usde to do them all myself, thereby learning each part in an individual way. When you think of the complexities and the amount of time spent on bowing a Mozart symphony, you can imagine how much time I spent putting together complete new bowings for the Ring cycle in Bayreuth! I have found that even very fine string players in orchestras or in chamber orchestras, or even soloists, do not think enough about bow distribution and bow speed.

If a conductor does not udnerstand the importance of the string sound, he is simply accepting a standardized way of playing. Some orchestras and conductors take the easy way out , in the sense that, if something is marked 'piano' for one of the string sections, the leader plays mezzo forte, and the rest of the section plays pianissimo. The sum of the 15 pianissimos and one or two mezzo fortes is equal to a general piano. It has the advantage that it is easier to play together, and if the leader has a particularly attractive sound, the other instruments simply provide a kind of aura round it. But I have always been against this principle. I consider it musically wrong. I think that 16 people playing expressive piano, have a completely different sound from one or two playing mezzo forte or forte and the rest playing pianissimo, just providing a cushion as it were. The latter has less quality and less intensity.

It is hard to find the right balance between the individuality of phrasing, which is necessary when an oboe or a clarinet has a solo phrase in a symphony. The individuality of phrasing a major solo, as the oboe or the clarinet have in Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, must, a few bars later, be disciplined into chord playing, where one should not be able to distinguish the individual colours of the instruments. This problem is very obvious to a pianist playing a Mozart concerto. When they piano has the main theme, it requires a very personal phrasing and articulation, with a maximum amount of imagination and fantasy. Later, when the main subject is in the orchestra, and the piano only has an ornamental, less important part, it is quite difficult to subjugate yourself. You often hear performances by people who have great individuality, and who project every note, even where their part is secondary.

Then of course there is the problem of intonation. The piano is either in tune or out of tune and it is the job of the piano tuner not the pianist to see that it is perfectly in tune. Each not the wind player plays, however, may be either too flat, perfectly in tune or too sharp. There are notes that are slightly exaggerated, sharp or flat, when one instrument is played by itself, and this can be very disturbing to the ear, but in a chord with several instruments it is simply excrutiating to the sensitve listener to hear a faulty intonation. It is essential for a conductor to detect faults of intonation, as well as faults of balance in wind playing. Certain notes may sound slightly out of tune if they are not properly balanced in the chord. The same problem arises with the brass.

The difficulty is increased when you put everything together and add timpani and percussion. In other words, you have timpani and percussion, brass, woodwind and strings, and you have to unite all these different sounds.

The main problem with the brass is, of course, the power of their instruments. A conductor must have profound knowledge of the necessary volume and 'dosage'. In other words, if the word 'crescendo' is written all over the score, it should NOT be played by the entire orchestra at the same time, since the weaker instruments will not be heard distinctly - the brass and timpani should start the crescendo later. This balancing, organising or even manipulating of the sound is essential for clarity in the orchestra. An equilibrium has to be found by the conductor between clarity and fullness of sound which can only come about when everybody is allowed to play with full intensity and volume.

There is something about the brass players which is almost frightening to a young conductor. Because of the instruments they play, these musicians are usually big, strong people who have the ability to kill any other sound by sheer volume. They can kill the woodwind and the strings - and also the conductor and the music! Lesser brass players often tend to play loudly; they lack sensitivity to what goes on within the rest of the orchestra and are therefore insensitive to the music. With classical music - Mozart and Beethoven or Schubert - they usually have a harmonic role, playing tonic and dominant whenever the melody is to be played loudly.

Before Berlioz, composers did not consciously consider the colours of the different instruments in the orchestra. Within the general framework of the orchestra, colour was never considered as an independent element per se. It was Berlioz who started thinking about it in a new way. Before Berlioz and his fellow Romantics, the timpani and trumpets, especially are often reduced to the less interesting role of playing the tonic and dominant. Owing however to the volume they produce they are inevitably in the foreground. In classical works they do not usually have much to do, and therefore their level of concentration is inevitably lower than that of the musicians who play constantly and without interruption. However, when you have good, sensitive brass players, they can through one or two notes or a difference in attack, influence the colours of the whole orchestra. For example Ravel's Daphnis and Chloe, the crescendo of the trumpets makes you feel as if the entire orchestra were suddenly set on fire by just two or three notes from the trumpets. When the sound is properly balanced, and the attack is pure and not too hard, the brightness of the instrument can communicate itself to the rest of the orchestra

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In classical music, you find the timpani in many ways having the same problem as the brass, always playing tonic and dominant, with the added danger that the classical composers did not write for chromatic timpani. They were therefore limited to two or three notes. The problem of timpani si that, played properly, they are capable of much more than simply acting as an element of emphasis and rhythm. Really good players have a certain imagination for sound - and for creating the illusion of more sustained sound - as on the piano.

Daniel Barenboim: Polyphony in music

The only really polyphonic instruments are the piano, all forms of harpsichord or clavichord, the guitar, organ and the harp. You can create an illusion of polyphony if you play Bach unaccompanied on a cello or violin, but by nature these instruments are monophonic. Music, however is polyphonic by nature, and harmony is possible only in polyphonic terms. I have often found it necessary to point out to both singers and instrumentalists the polyphonic nature of music - the relationship between the vertical and the horizontal, the horizontal being the separate lines of melody and the vertical the harmonies, the polyphony. If the relation between the horizontal and the vertical is incorrect, then the whole interpretation is incorrect.

Daniel Barenboim: Crescendo

With Beethoven you often need to build up a crescendo over a long time and if you arrive at a forte or a fortissimo too soon, the rest of the crescendo is gone. With Debussy it is often exactly the oppisite: there are sudden flashes of crescendo or diminuendo that happen very quicly - sometimes on one note only - and if you miss them you achieve only a very thick sound that simply does not suit the music.

Sunday, March 02, 2008

Daniel Barenboim: Lieder

It can be very useful for a pianist to know the Lieder literature, and to play it. First of all, the human voice isthe most direct musical instrument. When you play music that has a text, like the German Lied, you understand what hapens to the music when a vivid word or striking idea comes from the text. For instance, when the word Tod (death) is used in Schubert's songs, something unusual happens harmonically and rhythmically. It is not really important whether this something was a conscious or subconscious act on Schubert's part; the important thing is that it is special. And when you find similar petterns in Schubert's sonatas or impromptus, the experience is that much richer. In other words, there is much to be gained from dealing with different works by the same composer.

Characterisation is clearly of great importance in a Lied. When the piano plays the introduction, an interlude or a clising section, the whole atmostphere should be expressed in it. Sometimes it may be just half a bar - in Schubert's 'Gretchen am Spinnrade', the spinning wheel is first set in motion through the piano. By playing Lieder, the pianist can develop gifts of characterisation- sometimes by very small rhythmical patterns or modulations - which completely change the atmosphrere.

Another factor, which applies also to chamber music with piano and strings but is all-important to the voice, is the use of the pedal. Although the voice is independent of the piano part, as soon as there is any over-pedalling in the accompaniment, both the text and the voice are blurred. Also important is the fact that a sustained vocal line often needs a certain dryness in the piano part to compensate - as a contrast to the mellifluous legato line.

Friday, February 29, 2008

Daniel Barenboim: 3 camps of piano playing

There were basically 3 distinct camps for piano music:
1) the admirers of the virtuoso school, who had no time for either Fischer or Schnabel
2)the so-called intellectuals, who were fascinated by Schnabel's analytical capacities, as manifested in his edition of the Beethoven sonatas, and who regarded Edwin Fischer as a sensitive and vivacious but purely intuitive, improvising type of pianist
3) the Fischer camp, looked of course upon the Schnabel adherents as being far too intellectual and rational.

It was through my friendship with Sir Clifford Curzon that I became aware that a musician could combine great flair and intuition with deep thought and analysis, and that this was the essence of Schnabel. Schnabel was criticised by the purists for being too emotional, and by admirers of the intuitive approach from being too cerebral. In actual fact there is no contradiction between these two qualities

Daniel Barenboim: Communication to listener

I cannot see music as a profession but rather as a way of life. Immersion, complete concentration, is condition sine qua non for the interpreter and performer, because the conscious projection of music for the pleasure of the listener instantly changes the character of a performance. We must not permit our thoughts to wander: the best way to communicate with the listener is to communicate with ourselves, and with the music we are performing.

Daniel Barenboim: Inner Ear

No matter what instrument you play, or whether you conduct or sing, you will only produce the sound you want if you can hear it in your head a fraction of a second beforehand. This is the part of music which is impossible to teach. I could teach people how to put down their hands, how to balance the two Ds, the three Gs and the three Bs in the opening chord of Beethoven's G major concerto, that there is a register where the note has a tendency to be louder, and that the thumb has more weight than the little finger. But if a student is unable to imagine the sound before he starts to play - even if it differs from what I am trying to explain to him - he wil never produce the sound he wants. This ability to hear the sound and the phrasing you want in the inner ear is one of the most essential qualities.

Daniel Barenboim: Creating perspective on the piano

The fact that the piano is such a neutral, uninteresting instrument is precisely what enables you to create far more colours on it. The basic fact is simple - you cannot produce a single beautiful sound on the piano. By combining a wonderful Stradivarious and a great violinist, a single beautiful note can be produced by varying the colour, the intensity and the volume of the note. With the piano, the concept of beauty starts with two notes. As soon as one note is softer or louder or shorter and you are able to articulate the difference between the two notes, you can begin to create and expressive sound on the piano. If you take this to its logical, almost ridiculous conclusion, you see that one of the most important qualities required for playing the piano is an ability to create what painters call a perspective. When you look at a painting, you can see that some elements appear nearer to you and others further away. The piano works in a similar way. It creates an illusion. you can create the illusion of legato. In order to make a prtamento sound like a singer, you have to go from one note to the next without breaking it. All the great pianists of the past like Busonior Eugen d'Albert - I can only judge this from recordings - had this aiblity in one form or another.

The notes on the piano are balanced in such a way that some seem closer to the ear. It means, as I have said before, that the two hands do not represent two units, but one unit, or ten. The independence of the fingers is all-important, and I can only recommend, with great emphasis, that pianists should constantly work at the fugues from Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier.

Letter to Teacher

Dear GTJ,

I got my diploma results today. I passed! Yippee!
All that hard work finally paid off. Goodness knows how many times I felt so frustrated and almost wanted to give up. Luckily I didn't!

I finally have the satisfaction that "I can do it!". I'm glad I conquered my weakness and played a 35 minute recital without breaking down. The marathon training analogy did the trick eh!

Thank you very much for your patient guidance and support. I couldn't have done it without you.

Yours sincerely,
Nodame Pearly
*mukya!*

Daniel Barenboim: Playing in public

One of the dangers of playing in public is to be too conscious of the audience. In other words, you must not go on stage thinking you are going to impress them, nor with a strong wish to project this or that. I think the best communication between artist and audience occurs if the artist becomes unaware of the public as soon as he or she starts playing. The audience receives the strongest projection of a musical performance when the performer is concentrating solely on the music. But this, of course, is not always easy to do. I remember Rubinstein saying that he could never really work or practise if anybody was present. He told me the charming story that, even when he was in his hotel room and the waiter brought in the breakfast, he immediately and automatically started to play for the waiter. It was just not the same as playing alone!

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Daniel Barenboim: Importance of Music

This experience during the Gulf War in Israel and another, in certain ways very different one, which took place in Berlin in Nov 1989 with the dismantling of the Wall, have made me reflet on the falseness of the argument that culture is something that one can devote oneself to or afford only when 'real problems' have been solved. It is an argument very often used by politicians who, when there is a need to save money, look first at culture. These two different experiences have made it very clear to me that music can and should mean something other than what this argument presumes the attitude of the public to be.

In Israel in Feb 1991, when the sirens sounded because of the missile attacks coming from Iraq, people had to get up twice a night, put on their gas masks, go into sealed rooms and wait for 5 mins to see whether they were to survive. This put tremendous psychological pressure on the population of Israel. And yet, as soon as it was safe to do so, the Israel Philharmonic started playing two concerts a day, at 12 oclock midday and at 3 oclock in the afternoon, because it was not safe enough in the evening. Only 500 people at a time were allowed in the auditorium, and they had to bring their gas masks. There was a real need for music to be played, for the musicians to be able to play and for the audience to listen. For some, it was a way of forgetting the tension of the night before, for others it was a moment to hope, of not thinking of the next night with the inevitable alarms sounding. In every case, it was anything but a superficial form of entertainment

Daniel Barenboim: Importance of history

This sense of the importance of history was very strong in Israel. I was reminded of it when I began to study opera, where what you show on stage should relate in some way to life today. This connection between history and daily life is something I tried quite consciously to apply to operatic performances, but also to abstract music - symphonic music, piano music or chamber music - this awareness that something that was written two hundred years ago has great relevance today. This sense of Jewish history playing an active part in contemporary life helped me to realise that every great piece of music has two facets - one relating to its own period and another to eternity. And it is from this 2nd aspect that our interest in music that was composed two or three centuries ago comes.

Daniel Barenboim: Memory vs Recollection

(from A Life In Music)

I believe you need to contemplate and recollect at a distance in order to express something in music. The most passionate moment in Wagner's Tristan und Isolde, for instance, can only be expressed after a certain degree of contemplation. Contemplation and recollection are as important to a performing musician as passionate involvement. There is a clear difference in English between recollection, and remembrance or memory. In music and musical performance this is an important distinction. A young man remembers and an old man recollects. Memory is something that immediately comes to your aid, whereas recollection can only come through reflection. Recollecting is an art for which you require skill in the use of illusion. To give a simple example: the sensation of feeling homesick although you are at home. This involves recollection and has little to do with memory. This is very important and creates a lot of problems for interpreters today, since we play so much music from memory. Recollection requires individual effort. Everything in musical performance depends on the power of recollection. In other words, even if you have learned Tristan und Isolde by heart, and know it by heart, and you can feel the white-heat intensity of the music, you must be able to recollect this white heat, not just remember it, and from one performance to another add up the sum of recollections you have.

Daniel Barenboim: Practising

(from A Life In Music)

For me, learning to play the piano was as natural as learning to walk. My father had an obsession about wanting things to be natural. I was brought up on the fundamental principle that there is no division between musical and technical problems. This was an integral part of his philosophy. I was never made to practise scales or arpeggios. What was needed to develop my abilities as a pianist was done exclusively through playing the pieces themselves. A principle that was hammered into me early, andwhich I still adhere to, is never to play any note mechanically. My father's teaching was based on the belief that there are enough scales in Mozart's concertos.

I often meet musicians who try to solve certain problems in a technical, mechanical way first, and then try to add the 'musicianship', like cream on top of a cake. The two must be linked from the very beginning because the technical means used to overcome certain physical problems will influence the expression.

I always practise the technically difficult passages first- separately and slowly - so that I learn to control and phrase them. one must resist the temptation to try out the right tempo until one has perfect control at the slower tempo. I never play such passages mechanically with the intention of adding the phrasing later. A technically difficult passage needs to be played more slowly until you learn to control it - but with the right musical expression. To separate the technical from the expressive side in music is like separating the body from the soul.

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One obviously has to work, to train. But 'practising' is such an unmusical word. It is a problem of linguistics. In Hebrew, by comparison, the words art, training and faith have the same root, and I do not believe it is merely a coincidence.

All individuals have different spans of concentration. I have no strict rule myself, such as playing eight hours a day or no more than forty-five minutes. Both extremes are equally counterproductive. I never play a single note when my concentration is no longer at its height, for to do so would be to fall into the trap of playing mechanically.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Mozart Piano Sonata K576, D major



(this piece is also played by Nodame in Nodame Cantabile (Europe special)

Friday, January 11, 2008

Advice from Jim Brickman


Do you have any advice right now for aspiring musicians?
Well, I mean the best advice to any aspiring musician is to just get out there and play, and so many people say, "You know if I just lived in LA or something, I would be discovered," or something, but it's not true. It's really just getting out there. And the problem is that now with things like American Idol, people think that it's, you know, a contest rather than just getting out there and doing what you love to do. And the more you do it, whether it's a wedding or a smokey bar or whatever, you get better and better at it every day that you do it and you get better in front of people. You get more experience and it's really a matter of just getting out there. It's not who you know, it's just... working hard and showing people what you can do in any situation you can find.

When did you write your first song?
I started writing as a teenager. Most of it was imitation. It would be my melodies, but the words would be stolen or grabbed from somewhere else to try and formulate my idea at the time of what I thought a song was. I think that most people would tell you that to be a really good songwriter, you have to have grown a little bit more beyond your teenage years. If you're a songwriter, and you're a teenager, it tends to be more manufactured because it's not about anything. It's not from a place of reality or of experience; it's from a place of being a really good imitator. What I got really good at was I could imitate anything that I heard. I could play an Elton John song or a Carly Simon song, or a Beatles song. So when you start to compose -- first of all, it's not a choice, it's not a decision -- what happens is you sit there and play other people's stuff and you start going, 'I wonder what would happen if I played this instead of that or this chord. I wonder why they didn't go to that note.' It's inherent. It's the same as writing. It's very similar to what you do. You learn from reading, and you learn from imitating, and you learn stylistically how to form certain structures of the way things should be. And all of a sudden your voice takes shape.


When you perform, it looks like you're really lost in the music, even going into an altered state. What would be your ultimate "performance high"?
JB: There are many moments onstage when I forget that I'm there and get lost in the music. You have to let yourself do that to make the music real. I'm beginning to perform with orchestras, and the other night I played with the Pittsburgh Symphony. It was a performance high because it dawned on me that some of the best musicians on earth are playing my music and bringing it to life, translating it heart and soul. It was surreal. It was high. It was spiritual. It was all of those things.