By David Amos
SAN DIEGO–The ones of us who are passionate about classical music are a pretty odd group, whether we realize it or not. The music we hear has to be played “just so”, to fit our very narrow parameters of what we consider good taste and proper interpretation, to comply with the vision of the composer. There is nothing wrong with that. After all, we have in our hands a very refined art form.
But, let’s imagine for a few minutes if our concepts and expectations are not what we think they should be. Let us travel on a time machine to concert halls of the past, to hear music we know so well, as these works were played for the first time, supposedly in the presence and in the hands of the composer. We are there just to observe, attend, and not intervene in any way.
In spite of all that has been written, we know so little about performance practices of the past. The subtleties, standards, the protocol. Were audiences as serious and quiet as we are today? (Leave aside the recent debates about noisy concert goers).
When we return from our imaginary trip, knowledgeable enthusiasts and musicologists would have many questions to ask us: How did the audience behave? How were they dressed? Was the music given full attention, or used for background entertainment or was conversation permissible? Were the performances of, say, a Haydn symphony as precise as we expect today?
More specifically, others may ask: What were the lengths of the notes? Was the intonation (if the music was played in tune or not) as accurate as it usually is today? What were the tempos? Slower or faster than that we are used to hearing?
In Baroque times, approximately from 1680 to 1750, music was highly embellished. In other words, the written notes were only the basic indication, and the tradition of the time required the musicians and singers to add, or “ornament” the melodies with important, additional notes. We debate today as to what extent the ornamentations digressed from the written notation we inherited.
Were the dynamics (the softs and the louds) improvised during the performance, or was everything played in the same volume? Was the music played in a vibrant, dynamic way, or did it sound like a dreadful imitation of a sewing machine? There has been a lot of research on this, but nothing could substitute the experience of hearing the “real thing”, which, unfortunately, technology and physics will not allow us at this time.
How were the all-important rehearsals different from today?
All we can do today is recreate what we think was the way it was done. We do our best by relying on tradition, what sounds tasteful and good to us, through musicological research, writings of the time, manuscripts, and other investigative tools. And our own creative, artistic imagination.
There is an often-told story about conductor Arturo Toscanini. He was approached by a scholar-musician who told Toscanini that he had the “correct” interpretation of a particular Beethoven symphony, because, according to him, Beethoven passed the information to his pupil Carl Czerny, who in turn passed it along to the next two generations, who eventually passed it to this man.
But, Maestro Toscanini, never at a loss for words, answered back that he had a far more direct line to Beethoven for the correct interpretation of the music. He simply picked up the orchestral score of that symphony and pointed to it.
Think of the cantillation which we find in the reading of the Torah during services. Are we properly chanting all the tropes which are found on top of the letters? My guess is that we are. It has been painstakingly transferred from generation to generation.
This is why proper investigative tools can give us a clearer picture to better understand how people used to do different things, and if we are following the composer’s intentions.
But, might it better for us to make up our own reality and perform music in a way which pleases us and our audiences, as opposed to trying to duplicate the original sound? In some not so subtle ways, we are doing this already.
Nevertheless, here we have the continuing argument of the performance of music with the original, ancient instruments versus the modern ones. Personally, I prefer to hear a Haydn piano sonata on a modern Steinway piano than on an early, crude pianoforte. Granted there are certain shadings that can only be heard and appreciated in the period instruments, but for good or for bad, we are creatures of habit, and earlier in our lives we form certain artistic prejudices, preferences, likes and dislikes.
Was Mozart really a brat, as he was portrayed in the film Amadeus? Were Beethoven Bach, Mozart, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Brahms or so many others wonderful conversationalists as people and historians portray them, or crashing bores and/or unbearable boors? We know, for instance, a lot about Wagner!
Some of them are documented as having a witty sense of humor. For some reason, these trivial matters ignite my imagination.
What would some of us have given to be in Paris in 1913, at the Theatre de Champs Elises, during the tumultuous premiere of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring? There was an actual riot and fistfights among members of the audience. The cautious and disgusted composer had to flee from a back door.
It is also intriguing for us to transport ourselves the other way, to see and hear how music which we know today will be played by future generations and even in centuries from now.
But, I suppose what really matters is that we have these musical treasures today, readily at our disposal, and they enrich our lives time after time.
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Amos is conductor of the Tifereth Israel Community Orchestra and has been a guest conductor of orchestras all over the world.