Мир современной музыки. Хрестоматия для чтения на английском языке. Учебно-методические материалы для студентов музыкальных вузов и факультетов

side. Neither one nor the other guarantees quality. Quality is a process of accretion, growing in both creation and creator. It is increase, a gift, good fortune, and being blessed with talent.

SZ: What part does talent play in these processes - and what is talent?

Rihm: Being blessed with talent always involves questioning rather than supplying what is already completed. The fact that I direct questions towards what already exists, towards what is coming into existence, is the talent that enables me to enquire by way of a new work (and not just through verbal activity). The work itself is the question. I believe that a potential of specific talent rests within me. Up to now perhaps I have only partially set it in motion, but when I criticize something - in myself too - I do this by way of a work and not through any verbal proclamation. It's been like that from the start. That is why I am a musician.

SZ: But you also write texts. Is that secondary?

Rihm: It's secondary. The texts are accompanying elements where perhaps I also have some talent. Forgive me for constantly talking about being blessed with talent, but things don't work without this. You can't "decide" to produce art.

SZ: You've produced a large oeuvre. Is all of that present for you, even the lesser pieces? And does what already exists continue to work on you, perhaps in dreams? Does it exert an impact?

Rihm: Yes, I know it fairly accurately. I can even recall what accompanied the writing of pieces: rooms, scents, materials ... All of that certainly still exerts an impact, but in reveries rather than dreams, in a state of semi-consciousness. That is an active knowing but I would scarcely get any further if that were all I had. Let’s say that in music, as in hardly any other art, the composer must simultaneously be both highly intellectual and highly emotional. This is a major difficulty because that is separated throughout our education, because in our educated awareness (as also propagated by the media) things are presented as either intellectual or emotional, either head or belly. People must know that pure intellectuality won't take you forward in music, just as you can't take a single step artistically solely on the basis of strength of feeling. In music the interplay of intellect and sensuality is certainly the most inextricable element.

31

SZ: How do you cope with the great curiosity of questioners - as in our conversation - about the great divide between composing music and the expectation that you can and should talk about this?

Rihm: The artist is not an expert with regard to himself - as is usually expected in questions. Perhaps after 1950 people got used to artists appearing as interpreters of their own works. I'm very skeptical about that. The creator is expected to step forward to explain his work as if he distrusted it. Or even worse: he is expected to demonstrate his innocence like someone under suspicion.

SZ: What has changed with regard to new music today? Rihm: Among other things that people have become much

more aware. I am talking about a period of thirty years. Today it's completely normal for musicians to play something new. I can remember how at the start of the seventies orchestras still had musicians born in 1920. For them new music was a counter-world which many rejected. Today's players have grown up with new music and no longer have any technical problems.

SZ: How do you evaluate the decline in receptivity to classical music and the much-feared breaking away of entire groups of the population, particularly among the young? Is there a crisis in the public for classical music?

Rihm: People behave as if there used to be a self-evident relationship between young people and works of musical art. That was not at all the case. Art was always something special, something set apart, perhaps something strange - but certainly not for collective mass consumption. We derive our criteria of success, our yardsticks of comparison, from the Pop culture which we criticize. We only talk about success when millions seek the same thing. There are so and so many people in a Pop concert and only that many at a performance by a string quartet. Differences exist and they relate to what is involved. You could at all times make more money by offering entertainment rather than high culture. That does not speak in favour of high culture or against entertainment. But today people think otherwise because money has become a democratic value and awareness of values has been distorted by only thinking in terms of figures. Populism and

32

capitalism are implemented in a kind of consumer dictatorship where the consumer is also a prisoner.

SZ: Culture and what makes it possible - money. Has something changed in society-regarding public commitment to culture, or only in terms of practice?

Rihm: Not in the commitment; only in terms of practice - because there are different priorities. Today politicians seek to be associated with popular symbols as much as possible. They play at "fear of culture", of the culture to which they perhaps inwardly incline. They thereby throw away their authority. But I don't complain about that because in my opinion complaining produces little in the way of productive energies. The only activity that releases productive energies is to make art that convinces through sheer quality and power. That is why I didn't become a politician.

W. Schreiber/Süddeutsche Zeitung

Post-reading activities

Give a short talk or write a composition characterizing a modern composer as a part of contemporary society.

33

Conductor Sergiu Celibidache

Three years ago I was visiting my friend Heinrich Scruffs holiday home. "I've got some video films of Celi - Bruckner", said Heinrich. "You must watch them". - Videos? Of Celi? The only thing I had previously unreservedly admired about him was his up-front opposition to exploitation of music by the media. These recordings - said Heinrich - were the only exception to that rule, and I would be overwhelmed by what I heard and saw. I had mainly experienced Celibidache in the sixties, profoundly admired his conducting technique, but felt rather repelled by his mannered and somewhat vain demeanour. I still remembered wonderfully balanced performances of impressionist music contrasting with interpretations of the classics that to me seemed soulless in their marionette-like precision. In addition he had neglected a conductor's noblest duty: serving the music of his own time. With regard to the Second Viennese School I could - taking into account his immersion in the French tradition - still pardon him, but why did he also ignore Olivier Messiaen? No other conductor would have been better qualified for that difficult task.

And now the old master at the peak of his maturity. The video recordings mediated a changed picture. They held me spellbound - against my will - in front of the TV screen for almost three whole days. My first reaction to this Bruckner was amazement (That can't be true). Tempi up to twice as slow as usual, the absence of any spontaneous expression or playful impulse, and almost constant dynamics over long stretches. The outcome should have been sheer boredom, but strangely just the opposite was the case. This expanded time released a new quality of listening. One directly comprehended Bruckner's macro-form through the cars and not by way of the intellect - and very much better than in normal, much faster performances. A paradox! In addition the complete stylization of all emotions through the ritualistic, almost liturgical nature of the performance resulted in a deepening of the process of listening so that it became almost contemplative.

The second reaction was thus inevitably the question of "How on earth does he achieve that?" This kind of perfection, which was no longer the circus-like perfection of the great virtuoso but that of

34

complete awareness, could only be achieved - and this was the first answer - through the number of rehearsals which Celibidache always secured despite the resistance of the entire music business. What mindless concert routines, oriented towards pure functionality and commercial profit, present as "vitality" and "spontaneity" seemed pure dilettantism compared with such a level of music-making. Of course no spontaneity is involved in normal concerts - no-one sight reads or improvises - but rather a fatal semi-consciousness. With very brilliant and well-trained orchestras, whose collective memory mixes recollections of many different interpretations of the same pieces, only many rehearsals make possible that magical unity of conductor, orchestra, and concept which achieves the greatest impact through its absolute awareness.

However, not even the most patient rehearsing - and Celibidache submitted to that drudgery until the very end - will ultimately bear fruit if not accompanied by the conductor's sovereign mastery of his own "instrument". His instrument is the "beat". The bodily infirmity displayed by these video recordings had reduced - through enforced renunciation of all externalities - this beat to a purely functional indication of pulse. Astonishingly, this beat never seemed "abstract". It was clearly the embodiment of will, according precisely with what was happening acoustically - unlike, say, Karajan who was sometimes up to an entire beat in advance. Nevertheless, it did not produce that harshness of attack which is otherwise characteristic of conductors fanatical about precision. Instead it contained great capacity for modulation in the moment of the down-beat: the highest possible degree of plasticity and differentiation.

Contemplation of the artistic means could not, however, suppress the most important question of all concerning the aesthetics. Here I had to accept another paradox. Despite the extremely individual interpretation one could not speak of "subjectivism" being the basic attitude. Quite the contrary in fact. Here was pursued, with great consistency, a way that led to something akin to "resounding architecture". The reverse of that (for me hateful) phrase about architecture being frozen music seemed to be confirmed here. Music almost becomes an object, and sound a "component of time".

35

Celibidache touched on one pole of music: form. The other opposite pole is the glowing lava of "what is happening in this moment" - the dream of all romantics.

In recent years Bruckner has provided music-lovers with a particular opportunity for experiencing how differently great interpreters can read a score. After all, the signs contained within a score are open to infinitely many readings. If one hears Gunter Wand conduct a Bruckner symphony and compares that with an interpretation by Celibidache, one sometimes thinks that this is not the same piece. Youthful, fiery, dramatic, with Wand time passes excitedly, whereas with "Celi" one can feel that Amfortas is celebrating the ceremony of the Grail. However, miraculously both extremes are possible alongside one another. What a great and mysterious business music is; what a wealth of colours and ideas slumber within a single score; and how many scores are still slumbering in composers' heads.

At the end of the third day of my intoxication with the Celi video something soberingly strange happened. In the middle of the slow movement of the 6th symphony Celi suddenly froze, arm raised and turned towards the attentive orchestral leader. The television set had gone on strike and could not be induced to resume activities. The technology Celi so loathed took its parodistic revenge on the artistic ideal of objectivation. The spell was broken. I could again devote attention to my own affairs, but there remained newly-gained respect for complete mastery now joined by sadness over a great loss.

"You Don't Become Conductor-in-Chief by Going Barefoot"

Sir Simon Rattle started his conducting career at the age of 15. After starting in Bournemouth, the man from Liverpool took over the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra in 1980. Here he stayed for 18 years, bringing the orchestra international acclaim. Rattle made his debut with the Berlin Philharmonic in 1987 and in 1999 he was chosen as Claudia Abbado's successor. He talks here to Frederik Hanssen and Christine Lemke-Matwey from the Berliner Tagesspiegel.

Der Tagesspiegel: Sir Simon, there's a lot of media commotion about your start with the Philharmonic. Do you even feel

36

like doing any more interviews? Is this the first time you've been exposed to such hype? Does it scare you?

Rattle: Of course it would if I took it seriously. If I begin to believe in this hype, please bring me back to reality with a box on the ears. But to be serious, if we make music in the way we have set out to do, that will absolutely speak for itself And if someone like me, who believes that music is primarily communication, starts to resist communication, that doesn't fit together. But 1 must remind myself time and again that I'm part of public life. When I saw myself on television for the first time, I wanted to crawl under a blanket and never come out again. Some people love cameras; I'm one of the others.

In the new Rattle biography by Nicholas Kenyan there's a lot about the conductor but nothing about the private person.

Isn't that wonderful!

Well, people are interested in what you do off the rostrum. But all one finds out is that your son Sacha plays the clarinet. There isn't even any mention of your second son's name...

What Eliott isn't in the book? Incredible! But I can assure you that I reveal my most private thoughts when I conduct. Perhaps I'm naive to hope that I can be a public musician and remain a private person in the age of the personality cult. Eliette von Karajan once said to me: "You can't cling any longer to the illusion that you have no power". Unfortunately she is right. My wife always maintains that I try to see myself as a barefooted boy with a shepherd's staff. But you don't become conductor-in-chief of the Berlin Philharmonic without wearing shoes.

You've brought to Berlin a splendid idea from your time in Birmingham. The public itself should commission new works.

It would be great if we could establish the principle here too. The idea comes from Simon Clugston, a cellist in Birmingham. He said that there should be a new work in every concert. But how do we get the money together for that? So he had the idea of a "Sound Investment Programme" where people can buy shares in a premiere performance. Those who give money meet the composer, find out how a score comes into existence, and are present for the first rehearsal. That must work in an electrifying city which was always a centre of modernism.

37

On the other hand with time moving so fast Berliners seek something they can hold onto.

Of course that's also important. No matter how much the Royal Shakespeare Company has changed during the course of its history, it still performs Shakespeare. One always wants to have certain works around. My wife, who is not a musician, is fascinated by the way in which pieces of classical music are different every time. As with Shakespeare. I like the idea that future conductors, who are now seven years old, will at some stage say to one another: You don't still want to perform like that Rattle do you? Nikolaus Harnoncourt expressed that wonderfully: You're on a ship and suddenly no longer know whether it's the ship or the beach that's moving. Only one thing is clear. You can't go back. By the way, Harnoncourt has worked more in Berlin than in Vienna. And he saved people's lives...

Whose?

Mine. And the orchestra's of course. We've learned so much from him. Of course he'll always make a few people crazy, but the splendid thing about the Philharmonic is that there isn't always complete agreement. Everyone gives of their best in a concert - but afterwards they will ask time and again: Why do we do this and not that?

Isn't it tiring to have such discussions again and again?

Yet these discussions vitalize our joint future. My task is to sow now so that many plants can grow and spread. When we have developed the right sound for Ravel's "Ma mere l'oie", we can apply that to all kinds of French music. The same is true of Haydn, of Mozart. This is a question of the basics, not of special events. For me that is what rehearsal means.

With regard to Mozart in particular that will entail an extreme change for the orchestra. After all, Daniel Barenboim, who has often done Mozart here, cultivates a tonal aesthetic reminiscent of the

Furtwängler era.

I remember coming to Berlin with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. We played the last three Mozart symphonies on historical instruments and many members of the Philharmonic came to listen to us. After the concert we discovered that only two days previously they had played the same pieces with Barenboim.

38

Nevertheless many were enthusiastic about our sound. There isn't only one way of playing Mozart.

When you say that a new foundation must he developed the Philharmonic's musicians could ask: What then are we supposed to have been doing since 1945?

I remember the Karajan orchestra well. It was an absolutely breathtaking machine - when the piece fitted into its system. But the individual aspect was lacking. The openness, the flexibility, was not so great as today. In recent years the sound has become perceptibly leaner. Claudio Abbado does not work musicians hard at rehearsals. His gifts lie elsewhere. With him ever}' concert is a unique event. When he's in good form, the concert is as good as it's possible to imagine - and even better. Orchestras constantly reflect the strengths and weaknesses of their artistic director. The only fear Karajan ever knew was the pizzicato. That remains a problem for the Philharmonic up to the present day. We've laughed a lot about that in rehearsals. Then I always say: Make things easy for yourselves. I'll give the beat and you simply do "plop". Then it works and everyone says: That really is easy.

Another legacy of the Karajan era is the competition between the Vienna and the Berlin Philharmonics. You've long worked intensively with both orchestras. At the end of September the Viennese musicians are coming to the Philharmonic at the invitation of the Berliners.

That was a completely artificial competitive situation. Whenever Karajan had difficulties with the Berliners, he invited the Viennese at his expense. But that belongs to the past. We had a very good meeting in a wine restaurant when Abbado was in Vienna on his final tour with the Berlin Philharmonic and I was performing a Beethoven cycle with the Vienna Philharmonic at the same time. I hope relations will get ever better in the years ahead, just because their two spheres are so different. The Berliners arc already in the year 2007 while in Vienna it will probably always remain 1876. I dream of conducting both orchestras on a single platform one day.

Pianist Alfred Вrendel, with whom you've been friends for a long time now, once said that he has only one criticism of you: that you squander your life on second-class composers.

39

One must remember that scarcely half a dozen composers find his favour. Today he probably wouldn't make such a statement any longer. For instance he came to a concert where I conducted Berlioz's "Romeo et Juliette". Afterwards he said to me: Many thanks but I didn't understand a single note of the music. Brendel has his own views. It's fun to bicker with him, but he's given me a great deal of orientation. And there are areas of musical history where we will never meet. Even with works that we perform together.

You are interested in so many composers, so many styles. Will there be a specific direction when you go on voyages of discovery with the Berliners?

I think it's my duty to be as many-sided as possible so that we can see where we stand. When we have worked together on a repertoire to such an extent that it has become second nature, we can throw more intensive light on specific areas. As a guest conductor you can do what you feel like. But when you are the chief conductor you must also take into account what is good for the musicians, what other conductors don't do, and what we need for our tours.

"... Meeting the Needs of the People of Today"

It is in his nature to view all the music he performs through the spectacles of today's experiences - and that distinguishes him from most other conductors. For many years now Michael Gielen has liberated the scores of Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner, and Mahler (whose flogging to death has become a competition for gramophone awards) from aesthetic stagnation through stupendous conducting. The more the Viennese classicism of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven is commercialized and their ideals of freedom and humanity evaporate in today's ruinous and ugly reality, the more truth is required of the metier of conductor.

Time and again Gielen attempts to fulfil such a claim to truth within reality. When he conducted Mahler's Sixth Symphony in Berlin's Konzerthaus1, the music sounded as if it were new and

______________

1 Konzerthaus

40