Tag Archive for 'rhythm'

The Way It Shouldn’t Be

We played a family oriented program this afternoon. It involved a quick rehearsal followed by an hour long pops concert. The conductor for this event is a long standing regular with us. He has established himself as our main pops conductor, with good reason. His amiable, energetic and lighthearted demeanor appeals to our pops audiences.

To give you perspective, our pops concerts usually feature a big name artist who plays with the orchestra on the second half. The first half features just the orchestra. Most of the audience comes to hear the big name act, not necessarily the orchestra. So, despite our being “featured” on the first half, most of the audience is patiently waiting for the big act. This conductor bridges that gap well. He has high energy and is comfortable chatting and joking with them between pieces.

He also has talent as a musician. He knows good phrasing, good sound and pitch when he hears it. He corrects valid problems during rehearsals. But he has a disconcerting tension in his body when he conducts. There’s an urgency about him, despite his affable exterior. His face is often contorted and impatient during performances, and his arms move in tight, insistent motions. All this contributes to a tense orchestra. Our demeanor reflects his.

The most frustrating expression of this tension and urgency are his tempos. He tends to take them too fast. Even after setting a tempo, he seems to want to “keep us on our toes” by constantly pushing the tempo forward. It’s as if it’s never fast enough. So we never settle into a rhythm, a beat. As a player, I feel like I’m being dragged on a short leash through a beautiful park, missing all the glorious scenery I am paid to notice and recreate. Perhaps he sees it as a way to keep the audience from being bored, but is that doing justice to the music or the audience?

Many musicians in my orchestra are as frustrated as I am. We don’t presume to know the best tempo for any piece. There are many valid possibilities for tempos for any particular music. That’s not the issue here. It’s whether the music is playable, and also about allowing a tempo to settle.

So, preparing for this short family concert we rehearsed a well known piece. It was very familiar, in fact. Which means we’ve also played it under some top notch conductors over the years. We know what the tempos should be. After we rehearsed is for a half hour or so, with tempos the upper edge of speed, he implored us to perform the music well despite such little rehearsal. (remember we know this music)

Then, during the concert, he pushed the tempos even more. When I tried to stabilize one accelerando to keep it sensible, he just ignored me and pushed ahead to an unplayable speed. It’s a shame he doesn’t have enough respect for us to give us the benefit of the doubt. He always says how much he loves us, but I don’t feel respect from the podium under him. I give my best, and he pushes it more.

I don’t know any conductor who would ignore the collective experience of 55 well trained, very experienced musicians. Does he remember that we have notes to play while he’s zipping away up there? Even if we get the notes at those tempos, they sound frantic with tension. I am happy to give my best, but when it’s never fast enough, I tend to give up and ignore him. I don’t think he would want that. The fact is, many big orchestras ignore their conductors to survive. The Columbus Symphony is unusual in that we really give our best and try to follow any conductor who leads us.

But we do so at a risk. The players are the ones blamed if the musical product is lacking, rarely the conductor. Who will be our advocate in this case if not we? No one. Again, I don’t question this person’s ability or validity as a musician. As I’ve said, he bridges a difficult gap with out pops audiences. But he insists on pushing us to play tempos beyond either tradition or reason. That affects our musical product.

Making music shouldn’t be a tug of war. A conductor can give urgency to a tempo without ignoring the musicians and without looking frantic. A balance of responsibility between conductor and musicians is crucial. It’s a group effort. Each knows what they’re doing. True, each may prefer differing tempos for good reasons. The musicians want playable tempos so the music sounds clear, the conductor wants to create excitement. The two meet in the middle. That’s the way music is made.

Organic Rhythm

I used to play in a woodwind quintet, the wind equivalent of a string quartet. It was a pretty decent group made up of successful freelancers from around town in Washington, DC.

During one rehearsal, we had trouble playing some passages together. The oboist complained we needed to practice with a metronome. I countered with the idea that we needed to feel the rhythm together, regardless of the metronome. We were both right. Metronomes help, but “live” rhythm is rarely ever metronomic. Like tuning, “scientific” correctness is not necessarily what sounds best. She never conceded my point.

I know a lot of musicians like her. Their goal is to play more or less like a machine: perfectly in tune with a tuner and in rhythm with the metronome. But music played like that puts me to sleep. Why have humans play at all when a computer program would be more efficient?

Great musicians can play a phrase of music with incredible rhythmic accuracy, and yet never quite match up with a metronome. Great chamber groups and even whole orchestras can do the same. It’s obviously a lot harder for the latter, but with years of experience and trust among players, a larger group can be free and stay together rhythmically.

One form of freedom is called “rubato”, which means “to steal or borrow” time from one part of the phrase to add to another. The total sum of time is the same as the metronomic phrase, but with much greater freedom. That kind of phrasing says keeps the listener interested with its unpredictable freedom. The player can then emphasize the natural tension and relaxation and explore the infinite possibilities with each repeated phrase or section of music.

Played by a great artist, a fairly conservative phrase of music, which may sound completely rhythmic to the listener, will still have subtle freedom. The allure of a great performance is how it floats and flirts with with stodgy rhythm without committing to any predictability.

In the case of chamber music, each player still has the freedom of a soloist, but has to interact conversationally with the other players.

A good orchestra will have a rigorous system of trust and hierarchy, starting with the conductors interpretation and freedom, trickling down through the various leaders of each section and on down to the lower ranks. Unfortunately, this means the lower ranks do have have much freedom at all, and have to be content following their leaders. But even in this case, each player has the responsibility to commit wholeheartedly to recreating the freedom and direction of phrasing set up by the conductor.

Knowing what rhythmic freedom to take and where to take it is the sign of a master musician. It can only be taught to a degree. The rest is experience, talent and intuition.

The Life of a Musician is…

You can’t even fart on the job. You go deaf from playing for decades among instruments as loud as a jackhammer. You are naked. You fight to control little pieces of wood which last only a few days at their peak. Then you being again. If you have a bad day, everyone knows. You sit next to the same people all the time, sometimes for 20-30 years. You are all incredibly full of yourselves, otherwise you wouldn’t be where you are, yet most of you are also insecure from years of self-deprecating thinking, “It’s just not good enough!” “I failed to play perfectly, again!” “And again”.

You wake up in the morning after practicing 6 hours the day before, and it feels like you have to start all over from the bottom, pushing up the boulder inch by inch, striving for the top of the mountain whose height disappears beyond the clouds. it seems hopeless sometimes, spending all that time for what? to play 25 or 50 notes perfectly in tune and in rhythm, when thousands of others can already do the same. What the heck are you accomplishing by doing that????? Oh yes, you can be proud of your accomplishments, especially to people who ask you “Do you get paid to do that?” Yes, I have really been asked that, more than once.

Yet you know that somewhere up the mountain, beyond the clouds, is some effervescent reward, a glass of champagne without the liquid, a feeling of speaking a language of gods, or at least understanding it deeply. If you have any sense, you are in awe of those who make great music, or if you are truly a great musician, you are humbled by your gift. But the striving to reach that reward seems disproportionate to it. It’s so ephemeral.

There’s the glow of basking in audience appreciation, but that’s usually popped moments later by the memory of the imperfections of your performance. It’s never perfect. Yet we strive and agonize for decades toward it. Perhaps it’s ego, proving your greatness, your superiority. I’d rather be a doctor or a lawyer for that. It must be the music, when we remember to listen as we play, when we notice Schubert’s exquisite melodies for the first time after playing them for 20 years. Perhaps that makes it worth it. Perhaps not.

Coming close to the sublime musical language of gods is what we all strive for. EVen a small taste is enough to keep one coming back. When we remember this, the discomfort of daily life as a performer is worth it. Until then, it’s because, because, because we always have. Obsession has its sporadic rewards.

Imagine Playing

When I was learning the Mozart Clarinet Concerto for a performance years ago, I practiced as I jogged. I heard and felt the piece in my body phrase by phrase, back-wards from the end to the beginning. This practice also helped me memorize it. While my body flowed and loosened during jogging, the beautiful music played through me. Without the instrument, I was able to idealize how I wanted it to sound when I played.

If you don’t have the sound and the music in your ear, your body won’t know how to get there, what to do. No teacher can teach a student who doesn’t hear what they want to sound like, who they want to sound like. No teacher can teach a student to love a phrase of music beautifully played by a great musician.

If you want to become a musician, listen to recordings. Fall in love with them, live them, breathe them. Go to concerts and find what you love about the music and the performance. Yearn for the satisfaction of hearing music played beautifully. Let your ear sing and play with the music as you hear it. Feel it in your body as you enjoy it.

Listen carefully. Listen critically. Watch closely, if it’s live. By critically I don’t mean finding mistakes. I mean hearing detail. How does rhythm emphasize the shape of a phrase? How is pitch used? How is vibrato used? How does the body express the music? How is tone used?

Imagine these things with your body. Imagine being that musician as they play. Become them in your mind.

When practicing, let go of your judgments. Keep the ideal in your ear. Let your body flow toward that ideal. Relax into that flow.

Now you are ready for a lesson. Now a teacher can help you learn.

Even for professionals, hearing before playing is essential.