The month of January holds some big programs for us here at the Oregon Symphony. This week we begin with rehearsals for next weekend’s classical series 6 concerts under Resident conductor Gregory Vajda, which includes Bartók’s complete score to his ballet-pantomime The Miraculous Mandarin, and Paul Dukas’ Sorcerer’s Apprentice. Next week Carlos Kalmar returns to conduct classical 7, which includes one of the most difficult modern scores I’ve had the “pleasure” to look at by Scottish composer James MacMillan – The Confession of Isobel Gowdie, along with the complete incidental music to A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Felix Mendelssohn. Finally, at the end of the month comes classical 8 (with Gregory Vajda back on the podium) with Schumann’s Fourth Symphony (not too difficult) and the formidably difficult Chamber Symphony by John Adams.
Phew!
The Bartók is a work that hasn’t been done in Portland for close to 30 years, so it’s not in the fingers of the orchestra, and that makes for a lot more wood-shedding work for most of us who haven’t done it anywhere else, either. Plus, it’s usually a bit steeper of a learning curve in rehearsals since there isn’t that “collective unconscious” knowledge that come with a piece that the orchestra has played many times (which can help you through a piece even if you haven’t had experience with it before – it’s one of those strange phenomena where you’re learning almost by osmosis on the fly). In addition to all of that, it’s not an easy piece even if you have done it before.
The Dukas is a piece that has been done thrice before in my tenure with the orchestra, but in my experience with it here it’s been a piece that has not been given polished performances, and it really demands a lot out of the orchestra. I’d put it in a convenient cubbyhole with works like Ravel’s La Valse, which are audience-accessible pieces which are also very much virtuosic orchestral showpieces which place a lot of varying demands on the orchestra.
The MacMillan is written for a viola which should have an added E-string of the violin – a lot of it strays way into the upper positions on the A-string, and there is no dearth of notes. Much of it is written with divisi string parts, so you have two or more different lines going in each string section at the same time, so there’s less to hold on to in terms of keeping your place, while the textures get quite thick, making listening to what’s going on and relating it to what your part should be doing even more challenging.
The Adams is written for a complement of 15 instruments, with one of each string instrument, so even though I’m not scheduled to play the performances (principal violist Joël Belgique gets that honor) as assistant principal I’m required to have the part ready to go in case the principal is unable to perform for any reason. So I have to learn a very difficult, exposed and complicated part to performance level (or as close as possible), but I won’t have the advantage of having played in a rehearsal. So if Joël gets sick (knock on wood), I’ll have to read the part cold in performance. Gulp!
So, what’s the point of all this kvetching? I’m not that fond of practicing orchestra music. I’ll admit it. Some people love practicing. They use it as therapy, calisthenics, whatever. I just see it as a necessary evil in order to be prepared. If I’m working on a recital program or chamber music, or just doing some remedial scale and étude work, then practicing can be quite enjoyable. I’m working on subtle gradations of sound, volume, pitch, phrasing – the basic building blocks of music.
If it’s an orchestra part, it’s a bit different. I’m just learning notes, trying to get them to a level where I can reproduce what’s on the page without screwing up. If I can add any more to it, it’s gravy – but honestly, I’m going to wait for the conductor to tell me what to do with what’s not on the page. They’ll tell me (or more realistically, we in the string section) how they want a passage phrased, or what they want brought out a bit more, or hidden in the texture. I’m sure that I’m violating a basic code of conduct of the orchestral musician by copping to this, but I think it’s pretty true of a lot of people in my line of work. It’s also part of what makes life as an orchestral musician so demanding and frustrating. You spend years practicing your art by yourself, controlling every aspect of your interpretations of solo works, and even in orchestral excerpts for auditions.
Then, you win a job in an orchestra and find that most of that responsibility has been taken over by whoever is waving their arms in front of you that week. Sometimes it’s sublime – a great conductor can make some remarkably satisfying interpretations and performances come into being, and then you don’t mind following what they want, because you’re in the hands of a master. Add to that the fact that some conductors allow you some latitude to express yourself a bit more and it can be a wonderful experience. But then a hack comes in and you just wish you were dead because you can’t break out of a boring and inadequate interpretation and performance, and on top of it all, the orchestra probably isn’t playing up to par, either.
This month’s concerts will most likely prove to be wonderful, enjoyable concerts for both the audience and orchestra, but it still is an awful lot of meat to be ground into sausage here on the home front.