Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending a live performance of the Dvorak Cello Concerto, right here in downtown. In the past I have enjoyed the recordings of this particular visiting soloist, and this would be my first Columbus Symphony concert. I had a clear objective in listening to this performance: what would he, the soloist, do with the piece? Puzzlingly, I found myself not drawn to this type of performance, which led me to this next topic: showy performance, versus veritable difficulty.
Having attended the concert with fellow musicians, each of us voiced our immediate verdict at the intermission. I had much to say, but I realized I was having a hard time tracing the cause of my reactions. I knew I was being harsh, but why?
I started to question virtuosity. At what point do the histrionics of a performer start to negatively affect the perception of the performance? I clearly remember the first time this was an issue for me, as an audience member. It was a performance of Ravel's Tzigane, given by Joshua Bell and the Seattle Symphony. Until that point I had greatly enjoyed a few recordings by Bell, but seeing as how this was the pre-YouTube era, I had never seen him perform. I was completely distracted by near back-bends paired with extreme facial expressions, and I left the performance shocked. Is this what is takes to give a convincing performance? I wondered. I now understand that this is a style of performance that exists on a sliding scale all the way from gentle rocking to violent tornado, though with varying artistic results. Yet in my opinion the ultimate reason Bell's style is popular, and his concerts are well-attended, is that the artistic performance is still there. It can be hard to see visually, but there is ingenuity and creative risk in the recordings. Perhaps one can outweigh the other.
In this performance of the Dvorak there was a fair amount of physical showmanship, but that itself is not what bothered me. It was the fact that this virtuosic energy was applied towards the "simpler" aspects of the concerto (whipping the bow dramatically at the ends of phrases, or indulging in technically-straightforward melodies), while the difficult, virtuosic passages of the concerto where not pristine. Now I am by no means saying that 1) the best performance is one without any mistake, and we should therefore be practicing perfection or 2) I myself could at this very moment execute these beastly passages better. These are both noxious ideals pervading many reviewers of live performance, especially in this age of digital enhancement. My concern is that the virtuosic energy of the performance was in the wrong place. If the passages built to show off the soloist are serving their purpose, showing the mastery of the soloist, then trying to make the rest of the concerto seem more difficult isn't going to average out the performance.
This also runs up against the issue of virtuosic writing - that is, compositions suited for virtuosos. What is the difference between a work built purely to showcase the extremes of a soloist (a virtuosic vehicle) and one that is difficult, but also happens to have some very, very difficult writing - serious music? This is the essence of showy versus difficult -- what is in service of the musical work, and what is in service of, well, showing-off? Generally a work can be easily categorized by examining the orchestral accompaniment. A work such as the Prokofiev Symphonie Concertante for Cello and Orchestra, one that utilizes the cello and orchestra with equal vigor is firmly in the "difficult" category. A Paganini Violin Concerto that focuses primarily on the acrobatics of the violin is therefore more of a "showy" nature. While "showy" has a negative connotation, in this context it is simply a fact. It is a showy piece!
So what kind of work is the Dvorak Cello Concerto? I believe it is of the "difficult" category, for a few reasons. One, it begins with an involved orchestra introduction that lasts approximately 3 minutes, introducing not one but all of the major themes before the solo has a chance at them. Also, other single instruments of the orchestra are featured prominently: french horn, clarinet, and the concertmaster are some of the most important voices in this work. If the objective is to feature the solo line, then any attention drawn away from it would only hinder this goal -- which does not seem to be of concern in this case, with the solo cello line frequently taking a backseat to other voices in the orchestra. The last clue, is the type of virtuosic passages. The virtuosity required for this concerto is very unforgiving -- frequently the most difficult passages are sometimes accompaniamental in nature. For instance, there is a dreaded bit that dominates the second page of the International Edition solo part, that begins after the the cello states the pastoral second theme about 6 minutes into the first movement. It is delicate, finicky, and doesn't scream "LOOK AT ME!"Granted, the infamous line of technical writing that comes a little later in the development section certainly does demand attention, ending with quite an exit.
All of this is to say that the concerto itself is not built for the sole purpose of "showing off", but rather to be a musical work demanding considerable artistry. There are moments to be a virtuoso, and moments to be an artist -- and the two and blurred well in this concerto. This is where the energy - my energy - must go.
I think a study of Lang Lang is appropriate here. I've seen performances of his that were all show and no soul. But tonight's encore after the Prokofiev was all soul with a minimum of additional show. He's clearly a virtuoso with technique to spare. He's also clearly a deep musician with a specific artistic message he infuses into most of his performances.
ReplyDeleteIt is my opinion that the combination of the two produce the best performances. A physical movement can indicate to an audience what they should be listening to -- if they haven't studied the score, the help is appreciated. Also, it's just marketing: as a species, we react stronger to visual cues than audible ones. Why not add a visual cue about the emotion conveyed in the music to drive the point home? The showmanship enhances the reception of the art.
We tend to associate sincere art or "real" musicianship with soaring melodies or angsty harmonic progressions. I think that's shortsighted. Effective musicianship is any musical statement that evokes an emotional response in an audience, and there's no reason to discriminate against virtuosity. From that perspective, it's even arguable that the technical flourish at the end of a first movement that causes an audience to clap at the "wrong" time is more effective than the tender interlude that preceded it.
Great post, Elisabeth! Something I've thought about: there have been times when I've been so annoyed by the "histrionics" that you mention, to the point that I literally can't hear the music. It's been shocking to experiment with shutting my eyes during such a performance. I wonder what that would have been like at this concert, especially given that you enjoyed his recording. Also, I think that phenomenon makes a great case for blind auditions behind a screen!
ReplyDeleteHello Elisabeth,
ReplyDeleteThank you for your invitation to your blog. Although it has taken me a while to respond, the topic that you've chosen deserves adequate time in order to succinctly address the issue. Does my answer reflect that notion....maybe not, but I will do my best to provide more than a cursory answer.
I think the opinion on the matter greatly depends on the predisposition of the individual, each of which has its own merits that shouldn't lead to some polaric divide amongst musicians. As musicians, specifically classically trained musicians, it is understandable that excessive moment would distract us. Surely, movement itself isn't frowned upon, the gentle sway coupled with the (insert here) facial expression, but the eccentric back bending, bow whips, and the far peer into the heavens often leave our concert experience unfulfilled. These distract us from analyzing that theme, appreciating the form, and feeling an intimate connection with an individual (the composer) that left our world centuries ago. It's akin to a religious experience.
On the other hand, using our rationale to justify the performer’s actions may also influence our negative concert experience. Choosing where to expend virtuosic energy is just as subjective for everyone as the term virtuosic energy. Is it a heightened focus to easily sweep over technical passages? On the flip side some would call that robotic. Is virtuosic energy something one calls on in order to show technical mastery? Then where does the display of the artist’s humanity unfold? (Side note: writing things like this always make me sound like a critical snob, but if I was talking to you in person Elisabeth you would know the inflictions in my voice would indicate a sincere confusion with nothing but the upmost respect for your opinion) Despite how exaggerated histrionics may seem, they are often quite esoteric to the individual. A physical expression of how they feel the music. The singing of Glenn Gould, the head shake of Steven Isserlis, or the audible breathing of Zuill Bailey…huh huh. I don’t think the performer decides “I’m gonna feel the music at bar 86 instead of those crazy rising 6ths and octaves leading to a rosalia sequence right before the return of the first theme that seemingly modulates into the second theme in the Trombones.”
Also, I think defining difficult vs virtuosic based on orchestral accompaniment is a disposition reserved for an instrument with a wealth of solo repertoire. As a bassist, none of my concertos would be difficult by those standards, as well as, many other (non main stream) solo instruments. Many of those instruments have perhaps one or maybe even no major composers who constructed solo works for their instruments; therefore, the intricacies between the orchestra and soloist are not as developed as Dvorak or Prokofiev. Just by the nature of the double bass, many of the concertos are quite acrobatic, but the acrobatics are a means to an end especially if one wants to carry a melody (only two semitones within a hand position). Still, with those acrobatics everything looks showier than it often sounds, but I’m not screaming for attention.
Just to be clear, too much of anything is a bad thing, but the movements of most artist is a genuine connection to the music. It is that very reasons other audience members, non-classical musicians, choose to see an artist because in the long run most people don’t care if it is virtuosic vs difficult. I don’t think most audiences will remember someone nailing a hard passage on page 3. Instead what most will remember is everyone sharing a moment in time and space where a genuine connection to the music was made with the soloist at the helm.
Anonymous (a.k.a Ian)