Friday, January 21, 2022

 

SATURDAY, MAY 14, 2011

The Heifetz Syndrome


It’s difficult to admit the mistakes one has made or even worse, mistakes that were made repeatedly. I’ve made a few but in the case of this article I’ll limit my words to what I call the “Heifetz Syndrome”; thank God we learn with time, the greatest teacher of all!

Joshua Heifetz is the name of perhaps the most famous violinist of all time, who, in his lifetime, recorded virtually every major work written for violin. Further, Joshua Heifetz had, and frankly still has, the reputation of being a cold player, a master technition, a perfectionist, but a cold musician. Quite simply, that’s wrong, very wrong!

I once heard a concert of the Los Angeles Philharmonic with Joshua Heifetz playing the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto in 1955 when I was 17 years old and indeed it was perfect. Because it was perfect and because the chronic indoctrination and chatter of that time, I accepted that it must have been a cold performance even though I was very moved by it; I was young and too easily accepting of what I was told.

About ten years later I listened to a Heifetz recording of the Tzigane by Ravel, a virtuoso piece with strong Hungarian, French and Gypsy flavours. Of course, the playing was perfect but it was also passionate, fiery and with enormous rhythmic energy. Recently, in preparation for this article, I listened to many other recordings of the Ravel Tzigane, which although great, frankly, did not compare to Heifetz recording. That Heifetz was cold could not have further from the truth, Heifetz was a was a warm, expressive and passionate musician. Sadly, the technical perfection that was part of Heifetz, the complete musician, served to distract from his extraordinary musicality.

Recently, just by chance, I uncovered an old live recording, probably a radio recording, hidden away in an unlikely cyber-corner of my computer, of Mahler’s 6th Symphony with the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Claudio Abbado that I believe was made in 1972. It was an absolutely superb performance, but one of the most outstanding aspects of it was the extraordinary horn playing of the solo horn player Henry Sigismonte; it was sensitive, and heroic, powerful and delicate. It was also perfect!

Now it’s time for an uncomfortable true confession; at the time I thought it was cold playing.

As well as being the solo horn player of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Henry Sigismonte, who sadly passed away in 1989 at the early age of 53, was one of the main horn players in the Hollywood studios; probably everyone has heard Henry in films, television, recordings and most likely in advertisements. Perfection was a required quality of those who were successful in the Hollywood studios and Henry was certainly both a successful and a perfect player. Why, how, I could have allowed myself to not hear his abundant beauty and artistry? I was experienced enough in 1973 to not be confused by the “Heifetz Syndrome”.

Composer Gunther Schuller, tells the story: Once while driving over the Austrian Alps, he listened to the Vienna Philharmonic playing a profound and beautiful performance of the Beethoven Pastoral Symphony. As the story goes it had all the magic and beauty of that pastoral countryside. Several years later, while driving back to New York City on the New Jersey Turnpike, he was listening to a performance of the same symphony but this time it was a poor performance that had absolutely none if the sonic imagery of the one he remembered in Austria. It was the same recording!

Beauty is, certainly, in the eyes (or ears) of the beholder but in music it is the responsibility the listener to keep our vision as clear as possible; it's tragic if a bad day or a bad road trip can changes our perceptions to the degree of missing greatness.

Henry, Bravissimo.

republished January 21, 2022, in Oaxaca, Mexico

This blog is being republished as a prerequisite for a new blog. COMPARISONS
to be published in the next days .

Wednesday, January 12, 2022

Codas


Corona virus, with it’s accompanying postponements, cancellations, quarantines  and isolation requirements, has not only left us with the frustrations caused by the necessary disruptions of our regular lives, but hidden in all the inconveniences it has left us with an unplanned plentiful gift of free time and the possibility of using that free time in positive and creative ways. 


Through the last year we have seen huge increases in personal videos;  masterclasses, lectures, interviews, mixed media, demonstrations, exhibits, personal announcements and extraordinary opportunities for listening. Many of these videos are beautifully produced and some have offered us great vehicles for both learning and entertainment, Personally, as a symphony musician for 35 years of my life and one who has avoided symphonic music since leaving my orchestra life in 1990, I am surprised to find myself not only enjoying listening again, but listening  from a new and fresher prospective, the time off from playing has changed me from listening as  performer to listening as a listener, it’s very different from chronically taking note of the ensemble, the intonation, balance , tone quality and other aspects in a brass section. Music needs a performer, creator and a listener to exist.


As an enthusiastic listener I have developed a new appreciation for form and in the study of form, I have become fascinated with codas. Why would an 83 year old retired symphony musician become fascinated with codas? We see codas in our musical lives as a common and frequent occasion. It seems all codas are unique, from a short virtuoso flurry in a work by Schubert or an extended developed and powerful coda in a Mahler symphony, which can appear so powerful and coherent that it could almost stand on it own as a complete work.


The coda of the first symphony built on the interval of a descending 4th which is prevalent through out the whole symphony but developed in to a powerful and triumphant fanfare appropriate for crossing the legendary rainbow bridge into another world. 


The 2nd symphony, The Resurrection Symphony, also develops previous themes and brilliantly compresses the finish to a fortissimo unison note of the whole orchestra with the strength of a clap of thunder from a close distance, leaving the listener stunned.


The coda of Mahler’s 9th symphony (The Adagio coda) is quite different than symphonies 1 and 2. The four note chromatic themes used to create a 10 minute poco a poco diminuendo morendo which results in one of the most beautiful and dramatic moments in all music. During the final four notes the listener is nearly unable to  distinguish where the music actually ends. The result is the long period of silence before any sounds come from the audience. This musical silence is one of the most powerful and amazing moments in symphonic music.

 

Carlo Maria Giulni “My friends, do not confuse dynamic and intensity” 


Roger Bobo, January 12, 2022, Oaxaca, Mexico