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A historic letter from Isaac Stern to Henryk Szeryng offers fascinating insight into his thoughts about raising a violin prodigy ​​ Yesterday I uploaded a video documentary about Ilona Fehér, the Hungarian-born Israeli violin pedagogue who taught players such Pinchas Zukerman, Shlomo Mintz and Shmuel Ashkenasi. In the film one hears the young Shlomo Mintz talk and play. We are reminded of his phenomenal sound at that age but he also talks about the pressure that Fehér put him under, telling him before his breakthrough concert, standing in for Itzhak Perlman, that he had to play at least as well as Perlman – no pressure there! She herself admits how she often made him cry. Seeing Mintz on such fine form reminded me of a letter I came across a couple of years ago when I visited the wonderful archives of the Library of Congress. It’s a letter from Isaac Stern to Henryk Szeryng, who had shown an interest in the young Mintz, then aged 15, and was about to teach him in masterclasses. The letter, which I transcribe below, is fascinating for several reasons. Firstly, you see the powerful Stern-machine in action – he was known for making and breaking musical careers, and here he discusses recommending Mintz to Sol Hurok, one of the leading impresarios of the era. And yet you also see the philosophy and care behind his approach, and the way he tries to protect his young protégé against what he saw as dangerous adulation, and to guide his education to include ‘music history, chamber music and general knowledge’. He also credits Fehér for her commitment to Mintz. Anyway, it’s a fascinating snapshot from a different era: ‘I have recently received word that you heard a young violinist, a protégé of ours, of the America-Israel Cultural Foundation in Israel, Shlomo Mintz. I was told you were very much impressed with his talent and performance and that you invited him and his father for a two week stay of study in your masterclass in Geneva. ’I am delighted to learn that you felt so strongly about the young man whom I first heard four years ago when he was only ten. Of course, I immediately became interested in him and his work and made arrangements at once for a special scholarship from the America-Israel Cultural Foundation. Ever since, he and his family have been the responsibility of the foundation and plans for his development have been arranged most carefully including his eventual training abroad, probably in the United States. ‘I last heard him play in February of this year as part of a recital and also at great length at the Orchestra House. I also had long discussions with his parents and his excellent teacher Ilona Fehér who has given more unstintingly of her time and attention, five to six days a week, than anyone I have ever heard of. There has been a great deal of publicity about him in Israel and already word of him has reached to the United States and I have spoken about him at length to Mr Hurok and Walter Crude. To both of them I have indicated he certainly would be available to the Hurok office but that I felt he was at least a year or two away from the beginnings of any professional exploitation. 'He should continue his studies and particularly widen them in terms of music history, chamber music and general knowledge' ’I would be enormously grateful if you would let me know what you think of him and if you could help me in continuing his path that has been so carefully prepared over these years. That is, that he should continue his studies and particularly widen them in terms of music history, chamber music and general knowledge because he is an extremely bright boy with a good head. All the remarks and expectations that have already been aroused in Israel must of necessity create an effect on such a young person, even though he seems healthy and outwardly cool. But you know what people are like and how they tend to exaggerate without knowing the enormous dangers and pitfalls that really go into the making of a career. Only those of us who’ve been through it, in every facet of it, really know what it’s all about. 'I really have something of a problem in this respect to convince people to be careful of the values of this kind of adulation at too early a stage in life' ‘Most of all, I would appreciate it if you would see that he does not appear unduly as a soloist either privately or publicly during his stay in Geneva. He can learn a great deal from you and the experience of being in another country, hearing other young people; watching you work with others and learning to expand his curiosity and hear other standards can be of inestimable value to him. The adulation and the praise he gets as an extraordinarily talented youngster has already been there and I really have something of a problem in this respect to convince people to be careful of the values of this kind of adulation at too early a stage in life. I have devoted, personally, as much time to this young man this young boy over these last four years as I did in the past to Pinchas Zukerman, Itzhak Perlman and Miriam Fried and others. Fortunately, it seems that all the advice turned out well and they have been launched happily into successful and useful lives of fine music-makers and nothing could please me more. ’I know that I can count on your care in this case and I appeal to you as a colleague to watch over the young man and see that he gains the most of his time but that it goes to his talents and not to his head.’ #blog #stern #violin #view

An exhibition at Dulwich Picture Gallery will replace a classic painting with a Chinese fake and ask visitors to spot the copy. What can the violin world learn from this experiment? A challenging exhibition at the Dulwich Picture Gallery in February will replace a classic painting with a copy, faked in China, asking visitors to work out which is the odd one out. This seems to be the equivalent of the sort of blind test we have seen in recent years in the string world. The press release describes the project: ‘Made in China: A Doug Fishbone Project’ (10 February – 26 July 2015), will see one of the paintings in Dulwich’s collection removed from its frame and replaced with a replica, the identity of which will be concealed. Conceptual artist Doug Fishbone has selected the work and commissioned a replica from one of China’s numerous exporters of handmade oil paintings. In a Gallery context it is entirely plausible that such a replica, presented as an original, be taken as such without question - where then does a painting’s identity, value and authorship reside?’ These are interesting questions, with interesting comparisons in the string world. For example, if there were a fake Strad hanging in a gallery among other genuine Strads, one would hope that violin experts would be able to spot it, as art experts would spot the Chinese painting. And yet, in the past, good fakes, and even unwitting copies, have made it past the experts into the auction market, so it’s possible it might get by. Also, these days, there are close calls that are decided by scientific means such as dendrochronology, which I imagine is the same with art, so in this respect, those seeing instruments or paintings hanging up would be at a disadvantage. While modern instrument making in China is improving at a phenomenal rate, with Chinese makers consistently winning prizes in international competitions, the real copyists are still in Europe and America (and yes, there is a difference between copying and faking, but only in intention, not in execution). One reason for this might be that until relatively recently, Chinese makers saw few great stringed instruments. I remember when I was with The Strad at violin trade shows in Frankfurt and Cremona how the Chinese visitors would pore over the instrument posters and buy them in bulk. But even having a poster of an instrument with all its vital statistics is not a substitute for working with one in one’s hands and taking its top off (as it were). Is it possible to absorb the fine points of a whole cultural tradition at such a far remove? We might expect experts to know the difference, but would we really expect punters to? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a really nicely done Strad copy and the real thing – for all the thousands of violins I must have seen while I was editor of The Strad. I would certainly feel more confident listening to the difference, although in reality, during various blind tests I took part in I was often right, but sometimes glaringly wrong. Does the Bach Chaconne played on a fake Strad create the same feelings in me as the Bach Chaconne played on a real Strad? The obvious answer to this is that if it’s played by the same player, it probably does. And I’d wager that if I had seen a copy of the 1669 Rembrandt self-portrait that made me cry when I first saw it, rather than the original, I would still have been moved by it. All of which indicates that on one level the value has nothing to do with being real or fake. Except that if I had known beforehand, or found out after, that either was fake, it would have altered my memory of the experience for the worse, so clearly there is something about the integrity of an experience that requires the cause of our experience to be felt to be genuine. So the gallery’s questions, ‘Where then does a painting’s identity, value and authorship reside?’ are also apt for the violin world, and we can try to pick them apart. One might want value to correlate to its functional qualities as a sound machine and the quality of its manufacture, and maybe its history. And yet we know that in the violin world, experts care little about the sound that instruments make – value is much more to do with markets, scarcity and branding. Indeed, if an instrument is rebranded as by one maker instead of another, its value can topple, or multiply. Even authorship is ambiguous. We know that Stradivarius didn’t actually make every part of his instruments but supervised his workshop with an eagle eye. Indeed many makers today either have apprentices, or supervise assistants. So does that mean they’re not the actual authors of the instruments? In one sense, they are not, and yet as long as they’re in control of the vision and the quality control, maybe they are (and certainly for selling purposes). And if a maker today copies a Strad (and most makers copy Strads on a daily basis) to within an inch of its life, as is fairly possible now using accurate measurements, scans, wood density tests and the like, then is it their instrument or is it Strad’s? With every care towards authenticity, their conceptions, perceptions and experience are all being used in interpreting this data. And their own quirks and habits, however subliminal, may or may not exhibit themselves in the instrument. So it can never really be identified as a Strad. So, lots of questions, and it’ll be interesting to see how the Dulwich experiment stimulates the discussion. Maybe they should hold a blind test of five Strads and a copy in the gallery, to see if people can tell. I’m not sure I could. Could you? #blog #fake #art #view

Today's classical music business may be competitive and tough, but there are also more opportunities than ever. Success lies in knowing who you are, as Ariane Todes explains Last year I was invited to Birmingham Conservatoire by the Head of Strings there, Louise Lansdown, to talk to the string students about life beyond music education – to help them think about their futures in positive and realistic ways. In preparation for my talk, I sent the students a survey to fill out which asked them about their behaviour around practice, concerts and lessons, and also about their hopes, fears and expectations. Some of what I said was tailored to those thoughts, but much of it is universal, I think, so I thought it might make useful reading for a general audience. I’ve kept in some of the quotes that came from interviews from The Strad (where I was editor at the time) by way of inspiration. I’ve pruned some of the more detailed and sensitive data, and I’ve kept the short-hand bullet-point format of my talk, but added notes where required, in italics. Summary of students' fears based on survey results Being good enough technically Lack of jobs Job insecurity Confidence Physical health Buying an instrument Finding the right people to play chamber music with Audition competition Frustration at not using skills Not knowing how to make a living Which of these are in your control? It’s important to fix the things you can fix, accept the things you can’t, and to know the difference between the two, Who are you? I remember Raphael Wallfisch describing what made Gregor Piatigorsky such a great teacher He said that Piatigorsky helped students understand what was good about their own playing So often it’s the other way round with teachers, and the focus becomes a negative and critical one Once you really understand what you do well, it can inform how you can develop in anything you do I think it also transmits itself to the people around you It becomes part of your unique identity, which is important The importance of story People love a good story As human beings we’re hardwired to process information best through story telling We remember facts, information, morality through the stories that are handed down to us. Whether it’s the Bible, myths, Hollywood films, we have this rich imagination that latches on to narratives It’s what truly great players achieve with they’re playing – great story telling Think about it in your playing Also think about it when you’re writing your biographies Going back to what I discussed earlier, something that makes you unique Take into account the medium and how people interact with that medium. Whether it’s a website, Facebook profile, programme note, exhibition blurb, sale listing – the format, length and tone all need to be appropriate Today’s music world It’s tough out there – there’s less money around Barely a day goes by that there’s some miserable news story about a European or US orchestra BUT It’s exciting in many ways There are more and more ways to explore music You can be watching a player on YouTube, or booking a ticket to their concert, within seconds of someone recommending it You can crowd fund your own projects People are more open-minded to different styles of music Things can happen very quickly – an unknown can put a YouTube video up one day and have a record contract within months The world is increasingly international – which means more competition but more opportunities There are fantastic players – you go to any of the top competitions and most of the finalists are superb On the other hand, you can probably count on the fingers of a couple of hands the truly great ones On the plus side, you don’t have to be a top-class player these days to make a good career There are plenty of good but not brilliant players who develop nice little careers for themselves They find a niche – whether it’s a certain style, or way of presenting themselves, setting up a festival, or a particular repertoire This is an age where having a niche is a very strong position They slowly but surely build up their own following, whether using a PR person, or using Facebook and YouTube, just by being strategic and persistent They communicate regularly and well about what they do They have a story to tell You might complain that it’s not fair that some people with less talent do better than others who have more. Get over it! Zoë Keating on the younger generation ‘I’m impressed not only by their technological abilities but also by their self-awareness, which is something I never had. Young musicians seem very sure of what they’re doing and why they’re doing it, and more and more are realising that they will have to create their own opportunities and jobs… I strongly believe that when you’re starting out you have to live as cheaply as possible so you can take artistic risks. It’s a real killer to have all your artistic decisions tainted by money concerns’ DaXun Zhang on adapting ‘It’s important to be able to learn new skills and to adapt to the fast-changing world. Knowing one thing is not enough any more. Ten years ago I didn’t think I’d be doing what I am doing today and ten years from now I might be doing something different. The best we can do is to keep learning and to be prepared when opportunities come knocking on the door’ The importance of having goals (In my survey, only 46% of the students answered the question about their long-term goals, so it was important to stress this) A ten-year study, conducted by researchers from the Universities of Melbourne and New South Wales in Australia, has found that while sustained instrumental practice is key to achieving high levels of ability, long-term musical ambitions are equally important They followed the musical progress over a ten-year period from 1997 onwards of 157 young instrumentalists aged between seven and nine Those who envisioned an adult career in music from a young age were found to be better players at the study’s conclusion than those who did not – even if they had practised as much as their peers. Research conclusions: ‘Previous research showed a clear relationship between accumulated practice and achievement, which was apparent in the result. But in addition, it appears that the level of commitment the children expressed before learning commenced interacted significantly with this linear relationship’ Summary of students’ priorities (This was a collation of the general principles behind the many specific points behind the survey answers) Getting notes right Having a style Communicate the music to the audience Good intonation Good sound Finding own interpretation Understanding of structure and harmonies (one person answered this way) Knowing the background of the piece (one person answered this way) Gary Hoffman on knowing the composer (In the question about their priorities, not one of the students answered anything to do with the composer and their intentions, so it was important to say something about this) ‘As one matures one starts to see an organic element not just in this piece but in Brahms’s whole output, and other artistic endeavours that might relate to it, whether it’s a painting, or one’s experience… Brahms loved the mountains so when one goes hiking, one starts to see some of the things that influenced his writing and that he’s trying to articulate. The more we’re able to draw on these experiences and make connections, whether or not they’re exactly what the composer thought, the richer picture we have to offer… I always encourage players to get to know and perform as much of this music as possible and to be influenced by other artistic disciplines that can help to feed one and open one’s mind’ Steven Isserlis on music theory ‘Giving classes in many schools around the world, I have found time and again that, even if students take theory and harmony classes, they don’t think to relate what they have learnt there to the work they’re interpreting; nor are they taught to do so… Many is the time that I’ve asked a student to point out to me the three main subjects of the Brahms sonata that they’ve just played. An embarrassed silence ensues’ Christoph Poppen on practice ‘When I was young, I was completely focused on practising my violin. Looking back, I would tell myself not to focus too much on the violin repertoire, when I could have learnt more about symphonic works or opera, for example. I would read more scores, music literature nd piano parts. So, rather than playing for eight hours a day, I would have done well to devote seven to the violin and taken one hour to broaden my musical horizons in other ways. I try to explain this principle to my students, but invariably they don’t see the point – the violin is always at the centre of their world’ Steven Isserlis on other people’s recordings ‘As a general rule, one should try to avoid listening to recordings of a work one is studying… Too many people churn out carbon copies of the recordings they hear, instead of engaging directly with the composer through the score… Paradoxically, the more an interpreter studies the composer’s markings, the more different that interpreter’s performance will sound from anyone else’s’ Mikhael Kopelman on breadth ‘What would I tell my younger self? That an early experience of playing chamber music is priceless, especially the repertoire for string quartet, whatever musical field I was going to choose. I was almost 30 when I joined the Borodin Quartet as first violinist, and I had to learn around 20 pieces in my first year. I quickly saw a refinement in my playing, not just in terms of intonation but also in using varieties of colour, vibrato, bow pressure and distribution. I believe it has helped me to grow and become a better musician… I would also broaden my knowledge of symphonic, operatic and piano repertoire. One of my teachers advised me to listen to great singers of the early 20th century, such as Gigli, Caruso and Di Stefano, to learn how to sing on a stringed instrument. If you understand that, it can become your natural voice. Helena Rathbone on good health ‘I wish I could tell my younger self how important it is to be aware of how we use our bodies, both in playing our instruments and in everyday life. When we’re young, if nothing’s wrong, it seems like there’s no reason to worry. But being a musician means making tough demands on our bodies. Playing in itself is very physical, and we often do it for hours every day, for weeks on end. Then there are the factors that touring presents, such as lugging suitcases, or sitting for hours on planes and buses… I’ve had no serious problems physically, but I know I have a weak lower back. I’d like to keep playing for a long time yet and I’m sure that stretching and strengthening exercises would have been a good idea from a younger age. So come on, youngsters – don’t be afraid of taking time out of the practice room and jumping around in the fresh air!’ Hartmut Rohde on singing ‘I have learnt to take more risks and become 101 per cent confident in exaggeration (rather than 99 per cent). When I started my career, I began to trust in my technique and let the inner voice of the piece come out as if I were submerged in it. Looking back, I would say (and I recommend this to my students) that every etude or little isolated technique has to be played with free and full emotion… I would also tell my younger self to learn singing, to listen very attentively to operas, and to be interested in different languages and the lives that they represent. Once you experience how a piece represents your own life, you might feel deeply touched, and this will come across in your performance. As life continues, this becomes more and more fulfilling – just give yourself time for it to happen’ Stephanie Chase on character 'I would tell myself to listen to the great vocalists to learn about portamento, how to develop greater expression in sustained notes, and to acquire better awareness of phrasing. I would also absorb the idea, historically embraced by so many celebrated composers and musicians, of the natural expression of music, to be more mindful of the characters of sound and the accents of music (as in basic dynamics, fortepianos, sforzandos, swells, vibrato, and the like). I would also strive to understand their contexts, with the goal of arriving at a naturally expressive and uncontrived interpretation… Most importantly, I would tell myself that despite a number of inherent difficulties, being a musical artist is a profound privilege. We learn from other artists and interpret music by an astonishing number of composers. In today’s world the opportunity for this kind of collaborative and informed self-expression, which can be quite intimate feels increasingly rare' Biographies (One of things that annoys me most going to concerts and competitions, and when I was editor of The Strad receiving information about young players, is the amount of badly written, boring, boring, boring biographies out there. This applies from student and competition level right up to the top of the business. Long lists of which orchestras they’ve played with, which competitions they’ve won, and most annoying for me – whose masterclasses they’ve attended, as if that says anything about their playing! I understand that there’s an industry formula that means that people are afraid to try something different, and it’s hard to do something different in an interesting, classy way, and to keep it up to date. I don’t think I’ve seen a good solution to this yet, but I’d like to see more people trying to tell their story in an interesting way, and I’d be happy to help anyone who is looking to do something more meaningful with their biography. End of rant.) Story telling (What is your musical story? What were the key moments of your musical life that changed you, or performances that had special meaning for you?) What is unique about you? (What is your speciality or passion as a musician? What projects have you done? What gets you worked up?) Up to date Instrument maker (People tend only want to mention this if they have a Strad, which creates a vicious circle in which audiences think only Strads matter, so musicians only mention Strads. Do you have a modern instrument? Then talk about it – say who made it and how you found it. An old French or German instrument? Talk about its history and its sound. Audiences will start to understand that there are great instruments out there other than classic Cremonese ones) Not just a list (Honestly, people really don’t care which orchestras you’ve worked with. Yes, if you’ve worked with some really top ones, then mention them, but if that’s surrounded by ten other names, people aren’t even going to notice it – quality trumps quantity) Tailor it (Don’t be lazy and assume that the same biography works for every single concert and CD release. Understand your specific audience) Photo (This is a whole topic in itself, but make sure you have something that you're happy to see plastered around the internet for all eternity. That might make you think twice about anything that seems 'fun' or 'clever' at the time) Approaching the media Story – there has to be some angle to it New – it has to be recent, fresh, different, and you have to be able to explain why it’s fresh and special Relevant – tailor it to the readership Concise – don’t offer screeds of text: most editors just don’t have time! Top tip: don’t ever tell an editor they should write about you – from experience, I can say that’s the most counter-productive thing to do! Be nice No-brainer if you want to be hired again Neville Marriner describing his audition process: ‘When you listen to a player, you know within two minutes if they can play the instrument or not. Then you put him or her in the ensemble for a trial period and see whether they have a chamber instinct and whether their basic sound gels with the rest of the orchestra. If not, they simply won’t be invited again. The final test is to take them on tour and see if they are bearable as personalities and fit in socially’ Conclusions 1) Know thyself Being a musician begins with you. Knowing and being able to articulate why you love music, and why you must make a life of it, are the first steps to convincing the world that you are in the business to stay. Understanding how you stack up in the music world, and knowing what you have yet to learn, is equally important. If you are tougher on yourself than others are, you’ll be ready for anything 2) Be an artist There are many musicians, but few real artists. True artists remake and replenish themselves perpetually. Decide what you need in order honestly to call yourself an artist and go get it. Study the people you consider to be great artists and emulate them. And not just musicians: spend a day as Mendelssohn, Picasso or Charlie Chaplin. Put yourselves in their heads and you’ll see the world differently 3) Keep learning Artists never stop absorbing knowledge and ideas that enrich their minds. Read, listen, watch, ask questions and surround yourself with interesting people. Don’t discount unconventional sources of knowledge. People who are constantly learning are the most interesting, always changing and always growing. Be one of them 4) Work on your performance Don’t be afraid to compare your performance to your own ideal. Tape yourself on your mobile phone. Video yourself. Ask your friends for honest opinions. Listen and watch those musicians you admire most. Ask to play for the best musicians you know. You will only show yourself to be more dedicated than others. Be relentless in your determination to improve. (I'd also add that it doesn't matter how brilliantly you play in your room or in your lessons if you haven't developed a good stage presence) 5) Careers are not made in isolation A good musical life is founded on good relationships. Your friends, colleagues, mentors and industry contacts should be a large, ever-growing and well-maintained group. It will likely be one of these people who opens opportunities for you, recommends you, or shares a new idea that changes your life. Your musical family should be large and international! 6) Keep open about your future Keep an open mind as to the variety of ways you could be a musician. Visualise different possibilities. There are many 7) Ask not what the industry can do for you Everyone who works in the arts industry faces enormous challenges on a day-to-day basis. The best thing a musician can do for them is to offer solutions, not present problems. These people appreciate all your ideas about programming, creative ways to appeal to the public, and the help you can offer to run their organisations more powerfully. Ask yourself what you can do for them 8) Lead by example The ideas and ideals of an artist are often beyond the comprehension of most around them. As a rule, the most effective way to stand out and to be happy is to live the life you believe in. Inspire others through your own work, and opportunities will surely come your way 9) Give back It is never too soon to begin sharing your experience, knowledge and inspiration with those poised to become classical music listeners, supporters and practitioners in the near and far futures. As an artist and a musician, you always have something to share [End of presentation] I think my views have developed further since then, specifically in relation to communicating with audiences editorially both online and through the media, so I will write more on that soon. I'd be interested to know what you think of this, and if you feel I've missed anything out, so please comment! And if you would like me to have this sort of conversation with any of your students, then please contact me here. #article #blog #view

For violinists, playing the mandolin offers instant rewards and benefits, but some challenges, too. I asked for advice from the best in the world – Chris Thile I love playing the violin. Of course I do. But there’s always been a tiny part of me that wanted to play something more (how shall I put it?) hip. At the height of a Beatles obsession, I even bought a guitar and a ‘Teach Yourself the Beatles’ video, and stopped its frames it until I had learnt Blackbird. Then the guitar went back in its case and was never heard again. The chord structures were too complex and the switch between scales on violin and guitar too confusing. Then one day I learnt that the mandolin has the same tuning as the violin. In need of musical inspiration and diversity, I went to a guitar shop and purchased one of the cheapest mandolins I could find. Playing it was an instant joy, as I found myself able to reel off violin music that I’d played for decades. That’s the kind of work ratio I like. It may not have sounded perfect, but I was captivated by the sound. As I got to know the instrument better, I realised that not only did I have a head start on the mandolin, but that I could also feed what I was learning back to my violin playing. Along the way I asked advice from Chris Thile, one of the world’s leading mandolin players, inspired by his feats of virtuosity, both classical and folk. Starting off The easy thing about taking up the mandolin is that the left hand seems to know what it is doing. On the other hand, there is the other hand – which in my case was in chaos. Where to put it? Rest it or let it hover? How to hold the pick? According to Thile my confusion was not surprising: ‘One of the main problems of being a mandolin player is that there is no generally accepted standard of technique,’ he admits. He goes on to explain the first moves: ‘You should attempt to play as anatomically correctly as possible. Start with the pick, hold out your right hand totally relaxed, not anticipating the pick being placed. Then insert the pick and grasp it with as little movement as possible, so that you’re changing yourself as little as you can. Allow your right hand to flop over the strings and see where that gets you. My wrist – or rather the heel of my palm – rests just behind the bridge. You’re trying to get as far up as you can without muting the string, because the sweet spot is where the fingerboard ends.’ With no muscle memories associated with plucking the strings at first I couldn’t even gauge where they were without looking so I had to watch them. According to Thile this initial sense of disorientation is to be expected: ‘The thing that translates the best is the left hand, so all your attention needs to go in figuring out the pick initially. That’s where all the technical problems of being a mandolin player come from.’ For me Kreutzer Study no.7 worked well for familiarising myself with the distances between strings and gaining control. Thile is also a fan of violin scale books: his use of Galamian and Flesch systems may account for his ability to scamper around the fretboard. Sound Thile’s sound is notable for its softness and liquidity – a far cry from the brash, twangy noise one associates with the mandolin, what he calls the ‘pointy, high-end sound of lovers on a gondola’. He suggests an exercise for making a nice tone: ‘A great thing to practise for both hands is to take a note, say an E on the D string, and go back and forth with the right hand with as little tension as possible, making sure you’re never choking that note. You should be able to sustain that note for two or three minutes without getting tired.’ One of the shifts in perception that I’ve found as a violinist playing the mandolin is in the production of sound from being seemingly under the ear to existing in the space in front of you. It seems easier to be objective about the sound that comes out of the mandolin because of this distance, and it’s useful to try to bring this objectivity, and the process of exploring sound possibilities, back to the violin. Tuning It would be nice to think that because the mandolin has frets it’s easy to play in tune. However, if your finger is not exactly on the right spot the sound is muffled, so you have to be absolutely accurate. Again, this is a useful conception to bring back to the violin – you’re either in tune or you sound horrible. Tuning the instrument is certainly not for the faint of heart, though, with its double set of strings. I’ve often found myself turning a peg with no discernible difference in pitch only to discover that the string next to the one I’m tuning is two tones sharper. Again, this is a matter of practice – and patience. Repertoire Instinctively, before even trying folk music, the first thing I played was Bach. Playing Bach sonatas and partitas on the mandolin is revelatory. No longer do you struggle with the voicing of chords – on the mandolin everything makes sense. In the slow movements you get beautiful ringing chords, but never at the expense of the timing of phrases as is often the case when negotiating with the bow. In the fast passages notes hang in the air, pointing the harmonies in a totally fresh way. To witness how Bach can be invigorated on the mandolin, watch Thile on YouTube playing the Gigue from the D minor Partita or the Prelude to the E major Partita. The delicacy and freshness of the sound is ear-opening, the subtlety exquisite. Thile explains the advantages of playing Bach on the mandolin: ‘When you hear Szeryng or Grumiaux play the four-part chords there’s a lot of force required to play all four strings. Or you can play them as broken chords, which makes a pleasing sound but changes the rhythm. For the mandolin these are as natural as pie, so all of a sudden you can completely reinterpret Bach. Some of the big four-part chord sections can be the more tender and delicate moments of the pieces instead of always being the big climax. Playing the mandolin will help your Bach, just because of being able to play the music completely as written, without having to break chords. It won’t be as rewarding in the slow movements, but even those have a certain frailty that’s appealing.’ I haven’t yet acquired quite the stamina for some of the more contortionist four-part chords on the mandolin, but after even a short time trying, coming back to playing them on the violin seems remarkably comfortable. As Thile confirms, there’s also much excitement to be had in exploring other violin repertoire: ‘At one point I learnt the Beethoven Violin Concerto, and the Barber Concerto is great on the mandolin, particularly the last-movement moto perpetuo.’ I’ve also found that taking orchestral parts I’m learning on to the mandolin is an effective way of bedding them in. Somehow the fresh approach, a different type of listening, helps to circumvent some of the bad habits that I have when practising the violin. For fast passages I also wonder whether having the visual cue of the frets is an added stimulus to the memory. Strength My main concern about learning the mandolin was that the force required for chords and using the right hand might cause tension. Thile is clear that you have to be free. He says, as no doubt a violin teacher would, ‘The less you restrict the movement of each joint, from the shoulder to the last knuckle on your first finger, the more freedom of motion from all of those joints you will have.’ According to Thile, the extra strength required to hold down mandolin strings is balanced by the more natural hold. He explains, ‘There’s a big stress release when you’re approaching the instrument straight on instead of twisted, once your hand gets familiar with it, as far as not having to rotate your arm and wrist to get to the violin fingerboard. The difference in force is made up for by the slightly more anatomically natural approach.’ Extra strength is required, though, Thile admits, but getting a nice sound is more about follow-through than sheer power: ‘It’s not the beginning of the note that’s the problem, it’s the end. Violinists are not used to the amount of force that you have to sustain to make a pleasing sound.’ Thile offers some advice for avoiding left-hand tension: ‘If you supplement the force that you use with your first and fourth fingers with a little bit of force from the thumb on the other side of the neck, it takes some of the heat off. Try to spread the strain throughout your hand evenly. It’s a matter of building slowly. The strength and ease will come. Initially it feels like it’s going to be impossible to have near the dexterity that you can have on the violin but that’s not the case.’ Paradoxically, my fear of developing tension problems has made me so self-conscious about monitoring strain that I have brought this vigilance back to the violin and become more aware of any tension there. That (and not practising as much as I should do) have meant that I have yet to have any stress problems, although the skin of my fingertips has hardened slightly. Conclusion Having spent most of my life looking down the fingerboard of a violin, I still feel self-conscious playing the mandolin. And I don’t think I’ll be performing the last movement of the Barber Violin Concerto or virtuoso folk riffs on it any time soon. But even just fiddling around has given me great pleasure with relatively little effort. Transferring the transferable skills I didn’t even realise I had has offered me new ways to think about my violin playing. I heartily recommend the mandolin to anyone who’s up for a new challenge. This article was first published in The Strad, April 2009. #article #mandolin #bach #interview #view

Jazz violinist Regina Carter, interviewed here, offers some advice on exploring the genre Transcribing ‘If it’s not your language you have to do a lot of listening and transcribing – not necessarily writing it down, but listening and playing it back. Then tape yourself playing it, because it’s not just about the notes: the notes are the least important of what you’re transcribing. Are you phrasing like they phrase and breathing when they breathe? Are you using their vibrato? It’s really difficult for string players to let go of vibrato, so either slow it down or get rid of it completely and try to sound as much like that language as possible.’ How to break away from eight-bar phrases ‘It’s hard. Just listen to players and see how they cross that barline, how they approach their soloing and the statement they’re making. Be mindful and pay attention to not starting on the one or ending on the four. It was something I really had to work on because it’s so easy to play on those barlines and uncomfortable to go across them. I really think about it when I’m improvising. What is it I’m trying to say? Try not to stay within these barlines because then you’re just saying short sentences, so try saying extended sentences. I pay attention to what’s going on around me in the band and to work off what they’re doing. That’s always part of the process.’ Improvisation ‘If you start on the paper it’s difficult not to have the paper there. Try to improvise and come up with your own story. You have to start small and simple. I always like to start with the blues, because even if we think we don’t know it, we hear it. Or modal tunes that don’t have a lot of chord changes. Just play and get comfortable.’ Experimenting ‘Be open stylistically and don’t box yourself in as a player. Discover all the types of music out there, whatever your main language is going to be. Do a lot of listening. The more styles that we’re open to the more opportunities will present themselves. Don’t think of yourself as a violinist but as a medium for the music to flow through. Don’t say, “You can’t do that on the violin.” Say, “How am I going to do that?”’ We have four copies of Southern Comfort, released by Sony Music Masterworks, to give away. To win one, sign up to the Elbow Music newsletter, like our Facebook page or follow us on Twitter. Closing date 31 January. Photo: David Katzenstein #blog

2014 was another busy year on the London concert scene. Here (in chronological order) are my favourite concerts of the many I went to, and one I hope to forget (but not for the obvious reasons) The Best Gary Hoffman Brahms recital, Wigmore Hall, January When I interviewed Hoffman for The Strad in advance of this concert, he explained his identification with the great composer: ‘There’s something about Brahms and what he reveals in his music that makes me feel a great sense of well-being. There’s nothing arrogant in it. There’s a lot of doubt in the music and in the man, and a reticence to reveal everything, yet in the end he wants to. It seems to resonate with me and I’m sure a lot of people feel that.’ It wasn’t surprising, therefore, that Hoffman’s performance, with pianist David Selig, came with such authority and his usual sincerity and lack of show. Expressing the full range of Brahms’s sentiments, whether well-being or doubt, the performance never verged into sentimental and Hoffman’s beautiful Amati sounded wonderful. It was an added bonus to hear my favourite violin sonata, the G major, in a cello arrangement that works surprisingly well. Debussy Quartet and Circa performing Opus, Barbican Theatre, February The Debussy Quartet players may not have been throwing their bodies around the stage of the Barbican Theatre like bouncy balls, hula hoops or darts, as the acrobats of the Circa troop were wont, but their feat of memorising three Shostakovich quartets, and even performing them blindfolded, was astonishing on its own terms. The choreography, by turns explosive, expressive or simple, worked perfectly to illuminate Shostakovich’s many moods, whether savage, serene or sad. Having the quartet players centre stage and pivotal to the action meant that sound and movement were integrated brilliantly. It’s always exciting to see quartet music taken out of the context of the concert hall, and long may these sorts of projects continue to develop, although I’m not sure how they might top Opus: maybe next time the quartet players will learn to use a trapeze. Zeitfenster Festival, Radialsystem V, Berlin, April Free to wander between various listening experiences on different floors of the old warehouse that is now one of Berlin’s exciting music venues, I inevitably ended up in the room with the comfortable mattresses. But the experience of listening to music horizontally, in complete relaxation and focus, was just one of the exciting features of the ‘On the Border’ concert of the Zeitfenster festival of early music. With all defences down, the combinations of Swedish fiddling and Bach, and Baroque string ensemble with modern electronic music, made complete sense. But, of course – why wouldn’t it? Kopelman Quartet, Wigmore Hall, June The Russian players offered a model in quartet playing – sheer beauty, purity of intonation, simplicity, emotional range, and complete unanimity of sound and conception. They also proved the point made here by Christoph Richter, that eye contact itself does not lead to togetherness in chamber music: barely lifting their eyes to each other apart at from a few key points they breathed and played as one giant organism. And for violin geeks, the exquisitely flowing and powerful bowing arms of the violinists demonstrated the unsurpassed efficiency of the great Russian school of violin playing. Buskaid, Queen Elizabeth Hall, July Rosemary Nalden has been teaching violin to children in impoverished South African townships since 1992 and in 1997 she formed the Buskaid Soweto String Ensemble, which has toured the world and produced several players who have gone on to professional music careers. The group has wowed at the BBC Proms and numbers John Eliot Gardiner as a supporter, and it’s not hard to see why. Their music ranges from Rameau and Muffat to Brahms, Hubay and Karl Jenkins, as well as African Kwela and gospel music. Their techniques are impeccable, with beautifully relaxed bow holds (Nalden was an acolyte of Sheila Nelson) and a resplendent sound, even on instruments that must be fairly basic. But most remarkable is how they understand the rhythms of Baroque music, composed in a world so far away from theirs and yet so similar in intent. It may be heinous to say, but I enjoyed their Rameau more than I did William Christie’s at the Proms this year with Les Arts Florissants. Baroque music should always swing like this. Womad, Charlton Park, July Choice – at Womad, as in life, it’s a wonderful thing, but can sometimes drive you delirious. So many great artists, so little time. But the sun shone most of the weekend so I wasn’t going to complain. String discoveries for me this year were Tunisian violinist Zied Zouari and Swedish cellist Linnea Olson. Old favourites included Youssu N’Dour with his beautifully smokey timbre, and the phenomenal guitar playing of Richard Thompson. But this year it was all about collaborations and my favourites were old-time US banjo player Don Flemons and English guitarist Martin Simpson combining their respective traditions, as did Welsh harpist Catrin Finch and Senegalese kora player Seckou Keita. Read my review here. Iván Fischer and the Budapest Festival Orchestra, BBC Proms, August The orchestral playing from the Hungarians in Brahms’s Symphonies no.3 and no.4 was astonishing – the finest I’ve heard in years for its clarity, nuance, and sheer range, from classical elegance to folk drive. This was chamber music on an orchestral scale, with Fischer weaving a spell over his players and the audience alike. Their playing was only topped by their singing – the orchestra came out to sing an encore, Brahms’s Abendständchen, sending us all away with tingles down our spines and wondering whether any other orchestra in the world would dare, want or be able to pull off such a feat. Read my review here. Amsterdam Cello Biënnale, Musiekgebouw, September Wall-to-wall concerts, masterclasses, panel discussions and events given by some of the world’s finest cellists, in a beautiful city, for a whole week. The only thing that could make such a proposition any better would be to offer free breakfast. And that’s exactly what we were given before our morning Bach recital every day – freshly-squeezed orange juice, coffee and a croissant, before listening to the most purifying soul music there is to set us up for the day. Thereafter there was an overwhelming amount of cello music to listen to, but of such a vast range, including undiscovered and premiere works, in such a good atmosphere, and of such a calibre, that it didn't pall. The morning schedule was packed with inspiring masterclasses by cellists such as Laurence Lesser, Anner Bylsma, Mischa Maisky, Jean-Guihen Queyras and Frans Helmerson. Having 2CELLOS give a masterclass might have seemed a good idea at the time, and did indeed draw a full audience, but although the players both proved themselves as good cellists, they had little to say to help the students. And watching Stjepan Hauser flirt with a young female performer was possibly the most groaningly embarrassing moment of 2014 – I don’t think I’ve seen gender politics like that since accidentally watching a Benny Hill episode back in the 1970s. Having said that, while I felt the 2CELLOS' own concert itself was surprisingly lacklustre, for all the sound and fury, as if they were going through the rockstar motions, one of my favourite moments came with their performance in the closing concert with Mischa Maisky and Giovanni Sollima in AC/DC’s Thunderstruck, with their elders proving that youth doesn’t have the prerogative on passion and energy and downright musical zaniness. Before that, many other performance highlights included the moment at which the Orchestra of the 18th Century gently parted to reveal Jean-Guihen Queyras the soloist in a Haydn’s Symphony no.13, having been sitting unnoticed in the cello section up to that point. Gary Hoffman produced an intense performance of Bloch’s Prayer, and it is always wonderful to hear Natalia Gutman, even if she wasn’t on top form this time, rumour had it, suffering with back pain. On the last day Maisky so utterly inhabited the role of Don Quixote that one expected to see a horse at the side of the stage to carry him off. And indeed, by that point I think most of the audience needed to be carried off and lain down in a dark room to recover. Bruno Giuranna, Guildhall School Viola Open Day, Milton Court, November The great pedagogue and viola player (whom I interviewed here) performed Schubert’s Arpeggione Sonata to only a small audience as part of a viola day organised by Matthew Jones, but maybe that intimacy made it all the more special an event. With his impeccable playing, the 81-year-old proved that age may not be used as an excuse for bad intonation or sound quality, and the elegance, simplicity and lack of pretension of his interpretation offered a lesson to all young players. Maybe promoters will also learn that age, and its correlated wisdom, is something to be cherished and valued in performers such as Giuranna, and to pay them a little more attention. Bellowhead, Shepherd’s Bush Empire, November I thought my favourite band had ‘jumped the shark’ with their latest CD, Revival, their sound verging on poppy, over-produced and clean, their arrangements suddenly a little conventional. After seven years of full-hearted and committed groupiedom, having been thunderstruck by their concert in the Floral Hall of the Royal Opera House in 2007, I was about to turn my back and sadly move on. Nothing lasts forever, does it? Out of sheer habit I booked to see them at Shepherd’s Bush Empire and the raucously ensuing evening reminded me of what I fell for in the first place: the massive excitement they generate as a live band, the specific talents of each member, the wildly inventive arrangements that bring to life the rich historic songs of the English folk tradition, and the sheer force and originality of their sound and personality. I may remain sceptical about future CD releases, but I won’t be able to help myself book tickets to their next London gig. And the truth remains: moshing to London Town or New York Girls with complete abandon is one of the great joys of life. London Music Masters Bridge Project, Royal Festival Hall, November We’re told to despair about young children, their attention spans and their interest in classical music. So to see nearly a hundred young ones on stage at the Royal Festival Hall, all of them rapt with attention, many of them excitedly brandishing violins, brings a lump to the throat. These were the young students from Lambeth schools who are being supported by the Bridge Project in learning the violin and engaging in music. The highlight of the performance of string tunes and group pieces, some accompanied by members of the London Philharmonic Orchestra, was their imagining of the Sibelius Violin Concerto, full of poetic images such as zombies, dragons, cobwebs and skeletons, an interpretation with which I’m sure the composer would have identified. Regina Carter, Queen Elizabeth Hall, December I interviewed the American jazz violinist ahead of her visit to the London Jazz Festival – the article will go online in the next couple of weeks – and spent the week beforehand looping her new Southern Comfort CD, the basis for her concert. So I may have been predisposed to liking the music – much of it based on the folk songs her grandfather grew up listening to. But live she is even more impressive – she has fantastic chops that find their way right the way round the instrument, discovering sound qualities, moods and effects that most classical players couldn’t even begin to imagine. She’s a charismatic performer, but humble and generous with her incredibly talented band. The Queen Elizabeth Hall was woefully underfull for the concert, though – Carter deserves a huge following. Sign up to Elbow Music newsletters to make sure you see my interview with her. Honourable mentions Salsa Celtica, Rich Mix, March Hilary Hahn, Wigmore Hall, May Classical Kicks, Ronnie Scott, July Samy Bishai, Vortex, September Daniil Trifonov, Royal Festival Hall, September Joshua Bell, Academy of St Martin in the Fields, Cadogan Hall, October The Most Disappointing Kyung-Wha Chung, Royal Festival Hall I was so looking forwards to this concert. It felt as if every violinist of a certain age in London was – certainly most of the classical music industry turned out to see the legendary violinist. I was a fan of Chung as a child, I’d interviewed her here, spending an interesting hour with her freely discussing her career, the pressures on female soloists, how she has tried to find happiness. I was willing her comeback to be a success, despite being aware of the phenomenal pressure she was under. As ever, the greater the expectation, the worse the disillusionment. For me, the now-famous incident after the first movement of the Mozart sonata in which she chastised a young child (forever to be known as ‘coughgate’) which was Twittered around the world by the next morning, was the least of the problems. Maybe it was lucky for her that it overshadowed the more fundamental and upsetting one – she didn’t play very well. She didn’t play badly – she made a beautiful sound generally, if not very varied and there was a strong spirit to her performance. In her Franck Sonata there were glimpses of the player she had been, although this was not an issue of age. I would have forgiven her intonation lapses, especially in the light of her finger problem, and I could even overlook her outburst at the child and put it down to nerves and high expectations. If only I had had some sense that she was trying to communicate the music, or that she was even observing the most basic musical logic. But I found it difficult to follow her phrasing or understand the architecture of the music. This came to a head with Bach’s Chaconne, which made absolutely no musical sense to me. Some people defended it as an old-fashioned performance style and, again, I wouldn’t have minded that, but it still doesn’t explain the jumpy incoherence and counter-intuitive phrasing that robbed poor Bach of all meaning. Looking back at my interview with her for clues, I had noted the same thing in the way she communicates, sparking in different directions, although in conversation she usually came back to the point. More ominously, she had told me, ‘I train students to play with the conviction that they can do it, that they’re the best. I had this too. My mother and sister would say, “You’re the best, go out and do it.” So I’d say, “Okay, I’m the best.”’ And in a way that’s what this performance felt like – Chung trying to prove this about herself, rather than genuinely caring for the music with humility and humanity. Which, ironically, was the same way she dealt with the coughing child. That said, no one deserves the online roasting Chung received across the world, mostly by people who weren't at the concert, in an example of the way news sadly works now, in the hysterical race for clickbait. #blog #review #view

This year, my first as a freelance writer and journalist, I've had the privilege to meet some amazing musicians during my assignments for various magazines and websites. Even as an amateur violinist, hearing their insights has changed the way I approach music, or at least made me think carefully, and I hope you find them useful or stimulating. Follow the links for more details, and if you disagree with any of them please add your comments at the end! 1) Playing on the bar line as a group is not as important as musical intention and flow I heard this twice recently. In his masterclass at the Amsterdam Biënnale Jean-Guihen Queyras explained to one student: ‘You and the pianist shouldn’t be too civilised with one and other – you can be in conflict with the timing. Sometimes it’s important not to be together vertically. We learn rules – that we have to play together, that there are bar lines. But great artists try to push the bar lines, to look for space.’ Similarly, when I interviewed Gary Hoffman, he explained how students often like the flow they find in old recordings but are afraid to emulate it because it means they won't be playing together. He advises them: ‘You have to be willing to make a choice in life and to pay the price. And paying the price for having that kind of freedom and flow is perhaps not being together. It doesn’t bother you because the musical intention and message so overrides it that you don’t notice it and even if you do, it doesn’t bother you.’ 2) Sometimes in chamber music rehearsals, the less you say, the better David Waterman explained this in my interview with him for ChamberStudio: ‘As you get older as a group there’s less talking and more playing, because more happens just through listening, responding and thinking. The less said the better. If you’re playing through a new piece, you might notice things – someone’s phrasing or vibrato – but you wouldn’t say anything. A lot gets cleared up by the person noticing for themselves, which is much better.’ 3) Strong eye contact in chamber groups does not necessarily lead to good ensemble Christoph Richter explained why not in his ChamberStudio interview: ‘Many groups rely too heavily on their eyes for ensemble. If I’m trying to play together with the first violinist and I look at them for a cue, we will not be together. If I try to catch the moment the bow moves on the string by sight I will be too late, or too early because I anticipate it.’ 4) When playing late Beethoven quartets it helps to understand the extent of the composer's deafness When I spoke to Eugene Drucker for Southbank Centre’s blog, the Emerson Quartet’s first violinist explained how the circumstances of the great composer's hearing affected masterpieces such as the Grosse Fuge: ‘He was able to imagine extra musical dimensions. In the musical space that he contemplated, the statements of the subject and counter-subject could unfold without getting in each other’s way, as they would for the rest of us hearing them within the range of a string quartet. Beethoven could imagine extra pockets in the way that string theorists can imagine extra dimensions of the universe beyond the three spacial dimensions we’re used to.’ 5) Ultimately, a player’s sound comes from their own imagination, not from their instrument James Ehnes explained this when I interviewed him for Cozio.com: ‘The sound is only ever going to be what the player wants. If the player can’t come up with that sonic ideal then the violin’s never going to make it happen. That’s the mark of a great instrument: when a player looks for a sound, or a million different sounds, sooner or later with a great instrument they’re going to find a way to work it out. It might be difficult and awkward, but it’ll be there. There are some things that are more difficult to do on my violin, but I’ve yet to have an idea in my mind of what sound I’m trying to make that I haven’t sooner or later figured out how to make.’ 6) You can tell a lot about a player by trying their instrument When I interviewed her for Cozio.com, cellist Natalie Clein explained her theory that it’s possible to sense the quality of a player in the instrument they’ve played: 'I can feel if someone good or bad has played my cello even for five minutes. If someone good has played the instrument it feels fresh.' 7) We have to know how to end things One of the many things I learnt on Burton Kaplan’s Magic Mountain Practice Retreat is that knowing how to end a piece or movement, or even a phrase, is vital and informs how you actually play the whole piece: ‘We’re so preoccupied by "this moment" or "this detail" that people are dumb about how to create closure in a phrase, and it’s not taught. We can do it in language and everyone gets it... The way you create closure is you elongate and increase the expectation of the penultimate, most tense, moment. That makes us need the end so when you produce the end we feel fulfillment, but you need to generate the need for closure. Do it with time and tone – picking the pitches. We like a struggle. We experience the contradiction of expecting one thing and getting another and feel fulfilled at the end.' 8) For violinists, the amount of weight applied in both hands needs to be independent Vadim Gluzman explained this in his Cozio.com interview, referring to his ‘Auer’ Stradivari but applying the principle to all instruments: ‘We shouldn’t be applying the same weight in both hands – it’s unnecessary and often it damages the quality of sound.’ 9) Moving around when you play does not make you a better performer This view is shared both by Christoph Richter, who told me for his ChamberStudio interview, ‘Players should move naturally – this can be more or less, but nobody should learn choreography…We should be careful that we produce musicians and not show stars,’ and by Gary Hoffman, who explained how he once experimented as a young man: ‘I started making faces and throwing my body around and exaggerating everything. I played as fast as I could, as loud as I could, whacking the instrument, trying to elicit a response…It was an explosion. Like nothing before…I felt horrible. I hated it, so I never did it again.’ 10) Intonation is negotiable When I spoke to him for ChamberStudio, Ralph Kirshbaum explained the importance of intonation, but also how people hear pitch differently: ‘When you’re playing with someone else, how far do you push a tritone in terms of the tension it’s going to create in resolving to the next chord? People hear that differently; they hear leading tones differently…That’s chamber music… You have to make an adjustment. You can’t just sit there and say, “You have to play it the way I play it!”’ 11) The quickest way to improve your chamber group is to work on intonation Christoph Richter’s top advice for speedy improvement as a group was this: ‘If you’re behind in learning a piece, or playing with people who don’t know each other well, an emergency measure is to give yourself a few hours to work on intonation. The tones of the players melt together and you sound more together... Start a rehearsal session with a Bach chorale. A lot of established groups do this and it’s fantastic for intonation, voice leading, sound, and understanding harmony.' 12) Good teaching can make you play worse David Waterman explained this phenomenon: ‘Some of the most fundamental, far-reaching teaching does not result in people immediately thinking, “Wow, yes, of course, that’s fantastic.” Very often it makes everyone play worse. It’s so basic that people question everything they’re doing and realise they don’t have the technique. You’ve opened their ears and it sounds worse.’ 13) Baroque composers might not actually approve of historical performance practice Mischa Maisky said at his Amsterdam Cello Biënnale masterclass: ‘If Tourte had invented the modern bow a hundred years earlier, Bach would have been the first to use it. I think Bach is turning in his grave that we’re going back 300 years in our playing.’ 14) Understanding how each key has a different colour and different musical and even psychological implications can improve your playing Christoph Richter described this: ‘If you play in a string quartet it’s important to find a sound as four people in F major, for example, not just a prototype sound.’ This led me to investigate his recommended source, Schubart’s 1784 guide, which includes references such as, ‘B flat major – cheerful love, clear conscience, hope, aspiration for a better world.’ 15) Bach is spoken music, rather than sung Anner Bylsma explained this at the Amsterdam Cello Biënnale, and in a manifesto that he left lying around the venue: ‘It is a “Klangrede”. Separate notes are syllables; slurs are too, but they also give emphasis and sometimes help to avoid undesirable glissandi.’ In conversation, he went further into his views: 'When you play Bach you shouldn’t speak about yourself too much – you should speak about us all. It’s like you’re a minister in a small church. You know and love everyone because that’s your duty (and maybe you do). You speak about mankind and love and fate and god and death – all of these things. But you do not speak about your own headache. You will not say, “I had such a horrible fight with my wife.” Play in a way pertaining to us all.’ 16) Talent always shines through This was the optimistic view taken by pianist Barry Douglas when I interviewed him about music competitions for Gramophone. He explained: 'The audience always knows real talent. You can’t manufacture that. I know audiences get criticised because they like popular music or romantic melodies, but if someone comes and plays a mean Schoenberg, even if the audience doesn’t warm to the particular music, they know it’s great. Somehow they smell it and that’s what counts.' #blog #articles #view

Competitions are a vital part of the classical music world, whether you like it or not. They offer many benefits to players and to the music community, but there is room for improvement and maybe even for a whole new model. Key people offer their perspectives Music competitions are much in the news these days, particularly over at Slipped Disc, where Norman Lebrecht is doing excellent work to expose irregularities in some of the less salubrious organisations and their results. He’s doing vital work to shine a spotlight on contests and the people who don’t seem to realise either that what they’re doing is wrong, or that it matters in the wider world. It still baffles me what people think they can get away with in their own bailiwicks, and if growing exposure of the web changes this then it’s a good thing. There is, however, danger in throwing out the baby with the bathwater. I’ve written an article in this month’s Gramophone magazine about how a growing number of music competitions are offering practical prizes such as recordings to their winners. While I was researching this I ended up speaking to various people, including Barry Douglas, Barry Shiffman, Kyung Wha Chung and Lewis Kaplan, all with different perspectives and fascinating views born of a great deal of experience, and as I didn’t have space for them all in the article, I’ve compiled their testimonies below. What emerges is a more complex narrative than the standard ‘competitions are corrupt and antithetical to art’ one. There are many good things about competitions – they motivate students, they create interest in classical music, they offer a route into the music business. Let’s not forget that going generations back, many of the finest players have won (or not won) competitions. Gidon Kremer, Leonidas Kavakos, Pinchas Zukerman, Itzhak Perlman, Ginette Neveu, David Oistrakh, Salvatore Accardo, Gary Hoffman, and Kyung Wha Chung were all prizewinners in their time, disproving the idea that competitions do not produce great artists. However, what also emerges here, from competition director and competitor alike, is the need to make sure that contests are run fairly and that they focus on the good things of music-making and provide musicians with enough support. For Barry Shiffman, executive director of the Banff International String Quartet Competition, having a good voting system, based on sound mathematical algorithms, is vital to this, especially as it is sometimes the voting system itself that causes the problems. Several people mention the possibilities for corruption and how having teachers in the jury can cause problems. Shiffman argues that the World Federation of International Music Competitions must play a greater part in monitoring competitions. (Incidentally, I see that the organisation is currently recruiting a Secretary General with the remit of 'Providing visionary and strategic leadership and management for the WFIMC.') Barry Douglas and Pavel Kolesnikov both argue for a more human way of running competitions and of supporting the young artists – both winners and non-winners – afterwards. To me, this is the key. Some of the competitions I went to in my time as editor of The Strad were already going this way – the Menuhin and Indianapolis competitions, for example, where the post-competition support is strong, and the event itself is more of a festival. 'Maybe there’s an entirely new model possible, where the subjective nature of the art can be recognised without compromising standards' But maybe there’s an entirely new model possible, where the subjective nature of the art can be recognised without compromising standards, and where there can be genuine conversations about music, led by the people who know the most, but involving audiences, too. One of the most interesting competitions I saw was actually a violin making competition run by the British Violin Makers Association, as part of the Genius of the Violin Festival back in 2004, held in conjunction with the Menuhin Violin Competition. Rather than having judges give points towards one first prize winner, they were all allowed to select their own personal favourite instruments. There was complete transparency around these choices, with all the prize winners celebrated. Inevitably there were clusters around certain makers, which led to some sense of objective 'winners', but there was a constructive atmosphere and plenty of discussion about the art of violin making. I wonder if there’s a similar model that could work for performance. I know I would love to hear how each juror – whether they’re a player, teacher or someone in the music business – interprets performances and the technical aspects of violin playing. This would also engage audiences and young players in the process and be absolutely fascinating. And if it brings to mind, dare I say it, Simon Cowell and X-Factor, then maybe there is something we can learn from the success of that format. If it can work for largely talentless non-musicians, imagine what it might do for youngsters with the levels of talent and commitment that most classical music competitors demonstrate! Anyway, here are the testimonies. Let me know your views in the comment section. The competition director – Barry Shiffman Executive Director of the Banff International String Quartet Competition and Artistic Director of the Centre’s Summer Music Programs, violinist, viola player, teacher, jury member and former winner of Banff Competition in 1992 as member of the St Lawrence Quartet Not all competitions are the same ‘There’s a significant difference among competitions. There are competitions that make a meaningful difference in young musicians’ lives and there are events that are fun for the week, but have no lasting impact. It’s very important to differentiate between those that are involved in career development in a meaningful way and those that are not. Those that are can have a stunning effect on the winner. A route to engagements ‘The model from 60 years ago was that if you won one of a few competitions and were then picked up by one of the elite managements who were able to put you into concert rotation, then off you went. Those days are long over. One can’t rely on commercial management picking up the winner because of the changed marketplace. The result is that competitions take on a role that used to be done by the Sol Huroks of the day. With competitions like Banff, Honens, Indianapolis or Van Cliburn, there’s a huge effort put into the relationship with concert presenters. Their trust in the competition leads them to pre-engage the winner, whoever it is going to be. A competition’s success record leads to them offering engagements and that’s fantastic. ‘I was in the St Lawrence quartet in 1992 when the quartet won in Banff. We had a small handful of possibilities, the most significant of which was to be presented in Paris, at the Opéra Bastille. Many other concert presenters from Europe came to hear that and pretty much overnight we had a career across Europe. Something like that opens up doors. Everyone’s a winner ‘It’s important to look not just at the effects on the winning quartet. If there are ten quartets at Banff there’s definitely more than one group that could win the competition in terms of their level of artistry so we have to accept that we better be doing more than identifying one group and throwing everything at that group. There has to be a tangible benefit for everyone who comes to competitions. It’s important that nobody leaves feeling they didn’t get something positive out of it. That’s why we don’t eliminate anyone until the night before the final round. ‘The benefits are also in creating a festival-like experience for the audience so that you’re creating a market for the music that you are promoting. The hundreds of people who come go back to their towns inspired by what they’ve heard. They get more involved in their local chamber music organisations and they often engage quartets they’ve heard. The result is that little concert series pop up as a result and it creates a market for our winners, which is hugely important. ‘As a teacher, I tell my kids that if they’re going there just to win the competition they’re going to be disappointed. Their statistical chance of winning is next to zero' It’s not the winning that matters ‘As a teacher, I tell my kids that if they’re going there just to win the competition they’re going to be disappointed. Their statistical chance of winning is next to zero. There better be other reasons for them to do it. I like to ask them who won the last major competition – they can never answer. So I say, ‘You’re in the field, and if you and I don’t know who won then that means it doesn’t matter.’ It’s not about that any more – it must be about more than that. Competitions are extraordinary goals for young people. They inspire a type of work ethic that is very useful. The science behind it ‘At Banff we employ mathematicians to put together algorithms that protect the voting system from undue influence, which allows us to remove votes of jurors who have significant relations with competitors. Indianapolis, Banff and Honens are all models of integrity in terms of voting procedures. The many competitions that have not properly consulted with mathematicians to put together the voting systems do not always give the results the jury wanted. You can take the same votes from a jury and using a different mathematical system, you get different winners. It’s not as easy as just tallying up the votes. 'Glenn Gould probably would not have done well at the Tchaikovsky Competition' ‘Voting systems affect the type of winner you come up with. Sometimes they can eliminate the votes that were more polarising, and those are often for the more unusual performers, so you end up with the more conservative playing approach, which wasn’t rejected by jurors but wasn’t stunningly loved either. It’s quite possible that the more idiosyncratic and highly stylised performer may not have wide appeal either to the public or to the jury. Glenn Gould probably would not have done well at the Tchaikovsky Competition. The middle of the pack can have more weight because of the lack of sophisticated voting. That’s why numbers are important. There are some competitions that still remove the highest and lowest votes, which doesn’t work, because it promotes the middle of the pack. ‘So the nuance behind voting systems is significant. I would like to get to the point where there are the accepted and approved professional voting systems. There is a lot of discussion at the World Federation of International Music Competitions, of which Banff is a member, about how we can take a stronger role in sanctioning different systems that guarantee fairness. It’s not only that some competitions that don’t employ such standards are looking to skew results, but I think they often don’t understand the implications. The future ‘My concern is around the need for a more judicious oversight of voting procedures. Let’s get the Federation of International Competitions to mandate more aggressively a series of requirements. If these are not met the competition is not sanctioned. We are moving in that direction but I’d like to see us moving a little quicker. It’s a matter of getting its members to promote the adoption of these sorts of guidelines. Many of these competitions are a staff of one. Indianapolis, Banff, Van Cliburn are big, but many don’t have the resources to put into everything that’s required, so that’s where the World Federation can take a more involved role.’ The past winner – Barry Douglas Pianist, winner of the Tchaikovsky Competition in 1986, juror Benefits vs pressures ‘I was building up my career slowly and steadily, but winning something like the Tchaikovsky Competition is of vast importance. People invite you if they know that they’ll get an audience and you’ll be in the news because you’ve won. But it brings vast pressures. There are certain musicians who can handle it and others who can’t. The problem these days is the lack of repertoire of many of the musicians who get thrown into the limelight. They’re far too young and inexperienced and they’re learning as they go along. ‘A lot of people can handle this and do well but many come apart. It’s sad when their day in the limelight is finished because they were probably very talented. I understand how competitions need to have success to keep their name alive and keep a high level of publicity but musicians are often very fragile beings. They need time to mature and discover, and to make mistakes. You can’t be playing at Carnegie Hall and Berlin’s Philharmonie all the time. You don’t want to make mistakes there. You want to make them in a backwater first, to be really well prepared. The pressure is astronomical. Have a little humanity ‘Competitions should take responsibility, and the big ones do. There are many good human faces, people with soul and integrity, but there are some competitions where they cut competitors loose. The young players have all signed contracts in the application form. They have to promise to do the gigs, because the competition is setting these things up and they can’t let the orchestras and festivals down. That’s the way it should be, but if you get a young musician who suddenly has 50 engagements in the first year and they start to feel a little wobbly, they can’t cancel without a really good medical reason. I understand that’s the business side of things, but when they’re starting out it’s tough. 'The organisers don’t know who is going to win and it could be someone who’s ready to do a hundred engagements in two years or someone who can only handle ten' ‘I understand why competitions have to exist. They are really interesting for audiences, they are a great way to discover new talent and provide a wonderful opportunity for the winners, if they’re ready for it. I’d like to see much more flexibility with the engagements, so that there’s a strategy. The problem is that the organisers don’t know who is going to win and it could be someone who’s ready to do a hundred engagements in two years or someone who can only handle ten in the first year because they agonise over everything. There should be more flexibility, understanding and humanity. Teaching mafias ‘It’s useful to have teachers on competition juries as long as they’re not connected to the applicants. The problem is that there are teaching mafias around the world, and they all go to each others’ competitions. There are many fine, honourable teachers who sit on juries, so I’m not branding them all, but there are teaching mafias who support each others’ students and I think that’s a crime. ‘You need performers, too, because performers know what it’s like to be on stage. The only problem is if they’re inflexible as people they may say, ‘My way is the only way to play that.’ You get that and it’s a bore when you meet someone like that. Life is not like that – everyone’s going to play differently. 'Good talent always shines through – the audience always knows real talent. You can’t manufacture that' Talent always shines through ‘My advice to students is not to get too het up about competitions, whether you win or lose. Good talent always shines through – the audience always knows real talent. You can’t manufacture that. I know audiences get criticised because they like popular music or romantic melodies, but if someone comes and plays a mean Schoenberg, even if the audience doesn’t warm to the particular music, they know it’s great. Somehow they smell it and that’s what counts. Music is a language that if you communicate to the audience. That’s what we all want – to go out and have a nice evening and listen to great music. The future ‘The organising committees have to have a mission statement and a modus operandi. This has been going on for years. We’re all human and people make choices for different reasons. You have to stamp on collusion and make sure the rules are watertight. The past winner – Kyung Wha Chung Winner of the Leventritt Competition in 1967, violinist, teacher ‘Competitions can be a good thing. They give you a chance to stand out and to get yourself engagements and a chance to be heard. You have to be at the right place at the right time, also meeting the right musicians, the right sponsor, the right management. When it works it offers you a chance, but otherwise it doesn’t mean you’re not as good as the player who won.’ The juror – Lewis Kaplan Violinist, teacher and jury member for several international competitions High hopes ‘Students today are remarkably sophisticated. They don’t have illusions but they have high hopes. They can not but be aware that statistically if you take all the major competitions every year, how many first prize winners, let alone second or third, are going to have a major career? You’d have to be stupid not to realise that. Many students have told me that the reason they enter a competition is that they have no choice. Their only hope is to enter the competition and hope something will happen. They have tuition to pay and they’re hopeful that a cash prize will help them out of a financial dilemma. But they’re quite realistic about the possibilities. Finding consistency ‘In the first rounds of a competition you will frequently hear one, two or three players who are outstanding, some that are very good and a few who have no possibility. As the process develops through the semis and the finals it becomes clearer to a degree, but it can also become more blurred. For example, in the first round they play great Bach and superb Paganini; the second round they play a mediocre Mozart concerto; the third round they play a Brahms Concerto that was not as good as their Bach and Paganini, but better than their Mozart. And the reverse happens with someone else. 'Inevitably most of the jurors give it to the person who doesn’t make mistakes, really socks it out and has some sex appeal or audience appeal' ‘The most frustrating things about being on a jury is that inevitably most of the jurors give it to the person who doesn’t make mistakes, really socks it out and has some sex appeal or audience appeal, and that’s the winner. I don’t think they go deeper into who plays beautifully but also has a great soul. Dishonest juries ‘I’ve seen all sorts of dishonest things happen on juries. No matter how hard the administration tries there are still things that go on which are very difficult to stop. Of course in any of the major competitions you can’t vote for your own students, but there is a certain quid pro quo. ‘I can’t vote for my student but you can; you can’t vote for your student, but I can.’ Teachers have their lives at stake. They have a parental love for the student and it’s also going to be good for their career if their student wins, so how can they possibly be objective. I do feel that I was completely honest which is why I’ve been asked back many times. Socrates said it first ‘There is too much focus on sterile perfection in performance. I came across an article that Socrates wrote about competitions 2,500 years ago and nothing has changed. He said that in music competitions, which were held in conjunction with athletic competitions, the ones who won were always the people who just had technique and nothing was given to a deeper understanding of the art. He totally blamed the teachers for only teaching technique. He said one should have just enough technique to express what one wants to say and that’s all. Nothing has changed. 'If you really believe what you’re doing your chances are better than if you win a competition' The future ‘The world is changing faster than it has ever changed in history. This presents opportunities and the days of ‘I’ll make my debut and if I have a good review I’ll have a good career’ are over. Students should use their imaginations and go and do what ever they feel they want to do. But whatever they do, they must do it on the highest level. This is no longer my world, it is their world and they have to dream. They have to come up with their own ideas and it’s going to be a long hard struggle out there. Isn’t that the alternative to competitions? If you really believe what you’re doing your chances are better than if you win a competition.’ The recent winner – Pavel Kolesnikov Pianist, winner of the Honens International Piano Competition in 2012 Audience participation ‘Careerwise, winning the Honens Competition has changed my life completely. I was given numerous and truly wonderful opportunities. I have played concerts regularly for almost two years. Being on stage is a unique experience and as performing artists we are very limited in our development without an audience. Only through interaction with the audience can we really learn the communicative aspect of music. I received from Honens a generous share of invaluable experience, a very intense and important lesson. ‘It makes me very sad to see quite often how little support and interest talented young musicians receive from the professional music business. It seems to me that it is one of the major problems of the musical world now. I suspect that my life at the moment would have been very different without Honens. 'For young musicians a competition is the most realistic way to earn money, but the price is high' ‘”The Best” doesn’t exist in art’ ‘In my opinion, the concept of a competition is not fruitful in the field of art, and it can even be dangerous. “The Best” doesn't exist in art, and elimination, which is in the nature of any competition, is not right either. To cultivate a creative environment and artistic development one has to support variety. This may sound idealistic, and indeed it is very far away from the reality. What we see today is that most competitions hardly pursue artistic goals. For young musicians a competition is the most realistic way to earn money, but the price is high. Competing creates terrible, unnatural stress, frustration, and, sadly, artistic compromises. ‘Music competitions have become a significant part of musical life, but the way they work is still imperfect and sometimes damaging. We all have to work hard to reorganise their structure gradually, bringing them to accordance with their initial function – to help young musicians on their artistic way. The world of competitions, regular participants and juries is so separated from the world of concert halls and the miracles of true art. The future ‘Competitions need to put masks on their faces and wait for these masks to become their real physiognomies. They need to pretend to be something different in order to get rid of a competitive spirit and to create a normal, healthier atmosphere. It might make them less attractive to the audience, but if we care about the ecology of our planet, although sometimes it is difficult, unpleasant and expensive, why don’t we care about the “ecology” of music? It would certainly bring some positive changes. Another big step is in adopting the idea that the most important thing is not the competition itself, but what happens after. The recent winner – Benjamin Baker Violinist, winner of the Windsor International String Competition 2013, winner of the Royal Philharmonic Society Emily Anderson Prize, runner-up in the Postacchini International Violin Competition 2012 A growth business ‘Competitions serve two purposes. They offer great exposure and a chance to separate yourself from the herd. When you’re a young musician you want to show what you’re made of and competitions are a great way to do that, however tough they may be. And from the personal development side, you have to prepare a big programme and perform under pressure, so there’s a lot of growth that can come out of it. I’ve learnt a huge amount from the competition experiences I’ve had. ‘Windsor was probably the biggest competition I’ve done well in and the best set up. The many parts of the prize meant that it helped develop my career. There are so many competitions now and so many competition winners so having wins on your CV doesn’t necessarily get you much in terms of work and concerts. I made my debut with the Philharmonia Orchestra in the Windsor Festival six months later, which was a huge moment for me and gave me an exposure to a whole different audience and another chance for me to prove myself. The CD was the most useful part in a way. 'When you’re young it’s important to show what you want to say, to show what your music making is about' Just be yourself ‘The best advice to players entering competitions is to be yourself. It’s so easy with so many fantastic recordings that we get fixated on playing right, with perfect intonation, never making a scratch or a wrong not. That is a pursuit of excellence we will be following our whole lives, but when you’re young it’s important to show what you want to say, to show what your music making is about. If you can do that in the tough environment that is a competition then when it comes to recitals and chamber music concerts that individuality will come out much richer because you’ve been strong enough to display it in such a harsh situation. Opportunity knocks ‘I use competitions to challenge myself. I don’t think I’ve entered any competition with the aim of walking away with first prize because music is not a mathematical process where you can say “he got it right” or “she got it wrong”. I’ve always taken opportunities to test myself and challenge myself further. I think for all the criticism of competitions, if people approach them right they can be very useful.’ Read my blog in defence of competitions #blog #competitions #violin #article #view

An 1802 biography of Bach offers timeless insights into the art of teaching, as well as revealing the composer's own pedagogical techniques I’ve just been dipping into the biography of J.S. Bach written by Johann Nikolaus Forkel, by way of research for the booklet notes of Gil Shaham’s new Sonatas and Partitas CD. Written in 1802, with direct input from Johann Sebastian's sons Carl Philip Emmanuel and Wilhelm Friedemann, the text is short on the sort of detail we relish these days (and scant on tittle-tattle compared with the new documentary, Written by Mrs Bach). Nevertheless, Forkel offers some fascinating insights into the art of teaching, including the level of self-knowledge required, and specifically into Bach’s own teaching techniques: ‘It not infrequently happens that talented composers and players are incapable of imparting their skill to others. Either they have never troubled to probe the mechanism of their own facility, or, through the excellence of their instructors, have taken the short cut to proficiency and allowed their teacher and not their own judgment to decide how a thing should be done. Such people are useless to instruct beginners. True, they may succeed in teaching the rudiments of technique, assuming that they have been properly taught themselves. But they are certainly unqualified to teach in the full sense of the word. There is, in fact, only one way to become a good teacher, and that is to have gone through the discipline of self-instruction, a path along which the beginner may go astray a thousand times before attaining to perfection. For it is just this stumbling effort that reveals the dimensions of the art. The man who has adventured it learns the obstacles that obstruct his path, and how to surmount them. To be sure, it is a lengthy method. But if a man has patience to persevere he will reap a sure reward after an alluring pilgrimage. No musician ever founded a school of his own who has not followed such a course, and to his experience his teaching has owed its distinctive character. 'This is so with Bach, who, only gradually discovering his full stature, was thirty years old before unremitting application raised him above the difficulties of his art. But he reaped his reward. Self-discipline set him on the fairest and most alluring path that it has ever been given to a musician to tread. 'To teach well a man needs to have a full mind. He must have discovered how to meet and have overcome the obstacles in his own path before he can be successful in teaching others how to avoid them. Bach united both qualities. Hence, as a teacher he was the most instructive, clear, and definite that has ever been. In every branch of his art he produced a band of pupils who followed in his footsteps, without, however, equalling his achievement.’ As for the technical aspects of playing, we only learn about how Bach taught clavier, but I’m sure there are many of us who have experienced his sort of ‘back to basics for six months’ education on the violin. Forkel continues: ‘First of all let me show how he taught the Clavier. To begin with, his pupils were made to acquire the special touch of which I have already spoken. To that end for months together he made them practise nothing but simple exercises for the fingers of both hands, at the same time emphasising the need for clearness and distinctness. He kept them at these exercises for from six to twelve months, unless he found his pupils losing heart, in which case he so far met them as to write short studies which incorporated a particular exercise. Of this kind are the Six Little Preludes for Beginners, and the Fifteen Two-part Inventions, both of which Bach wrote during the lesson for a particular pupil and afterwards improved into beautiful and expressive compositions. Besides this finger practice, either in regular exercises or in pieces composed for the purpose, Bach introduced his pupils to the use of the various ornaments in both hands. 'Not until this stage was reached did Bach allow his pupils to practise his own larger works, so admirably calculated, as he knew, to develop their powers. In order to lessen their difficulty, it was his excellent habit to play over to them the pieces they were to study, with the remark, “That's how it ought to sound.” It would be difficult to exaggerate the helpfulness of this method. The pupil's interest was roused by hearing the piece properly played. But that was not the sole result. Without the help thus given the pupil could only hope to overcome the difficulties of the piece after considerable effort, and would find it much less easy to realise a proper rendering of it. As it was, he received at once an ideal to aim at and was taught how to surmount the difficulties the piece presented. Many a young performer, still imperfect after a year's practice, probably would master his music in a month if he once had it played over to him.’ I suppose in the days before recording equipment, having this sort of ideal performance in one’s head would have to serve as the best possibility – especially if it was Bach setting the example! #blog #bach #pedagogy #view

Charlie Chaplin was one of the most expressive and popular communicators ever. What can string players learn from his art? Light and heavy Chaplin’s original concept for his tramp costume was of contradiction: tight jacket, baggy trousers; small hat, big shoes. His movements carry this contradiction too. Watch any chase scene (The Vagabond, The Circus, on skates in The Rink) and you see him as light as air, graceful and smooth. Even when he is making a cocktail in The Rink, there is not one extraneous movement, not one inefficient jerk, just as with any good string technique. Yet he is simultaneously weighed down by those ridiculously large shoes. This combination of lightness and weight is something great string players achieve. Watch Heifetz, for example, and you see his left hand moving absolutely smoothly, without glitch, yet there’s colossal force into the string as he articulates the notes. Any good bow arm combines this sense of lightness with sheer power. Perfect imperfectionism Chaplin was a notorious perfectionist and would shoot scenes hundreds of times to get them right. But he wasn’t seeking pure perfection, as he explained in 1921: ‘I want every bit rehearsed thoroughly, all the technical details worked out very carefully. Then, when all those bits of business have been gone through thoroughly, I say, “Now we’ll act it.” But I don’t want perfection of detail in the acting. I’d hate a picture that was perfect – it would seem machine made. I want the human touch, so that you love the picture for its imperfections.’ What we watch is essentially improvisation within a carefully structured, rigorously rehearsed plan, which leads to its communicative power and dynamic energy. No one should go into a performance knowing exactly how they will play. Endless nuance Classical music is similar to silent movies in expressing complex thoughts and feelings without words. In merely a look and a posture Chaplin could articulate depths of emotion (the final scene of City Lights and a bar-room scene in Gold Rush for example). A great player looks for such nuance and inflection in a phrase. From the sublime to the ridiculous Chaplin’s early films are kinetic and malevolent, and although they’re often very funny, he only really hit his stride when he started combining comic energy with more sympathetic aspects. He was supreme in switching contrasting emotions in an instant, whether an admiring look at a girl being undermined by a belch (The Immigrant) or a look of paternal love turning to disgust when he realises he’s wiped his hand in the child’s pee (The Kid). There are plenty of opportunities for such contrasts in string repertoire – Haydn string quartets, for example, switch from the sublime to the ridiculous in the bat of an eyelid and it’s interesting to bear Chaplin in mind when playing them. The father of invention Chaplin never repeats a gag exactly the same way – he’s forever playing with your expectations. If you think someone’s going to sit on a chair that’s being pulled away for the second time they won’t (The Circus); if you think Chaplin wouldn’t touch a door that’s too hot for the second time, he will (Dough and Dynamite). Similarly, great musicians find different ways to explore a repeated melody. The burden of history It is inconceivable that Chaplin could have existed without his apprenticeship in the music halls, during which he learnt the technical tricks of his trade. In his autobiography he analyses in detail the strengths and weaknesses of the great actors and vaudeville stars of his time and clearly knew his art back to front. It’s essential for any player to understand the tradition they are taking on and to listen to the great players who went before. This was first printed in The Strad, December 2008. Read my article about Charlie Chaplin's lifelong passion for the violin here. #blog #violin #chaplin #view

Anner Bylsma has some advice for players who want to express their own feelings through music While I was at the Amsterdam Cello Biënnale last month I only managed to get a few minutes with Anner Bylsma, after one of the panel discussions. During the session he’d made a passing comment about the fact that the cellists at the festival all got on well and demonstrated different musical personalities (which is true) but that violinists tend to be much more egotistical. Afterwards I asked him to elaborate, and this is what he said: ‘In the 1600s people began to think of men as being more important than gods. It starts with the Italian scientists such as Galileo. Opera and the violin came at the same time. The Italian violinists were so taken in by their own image that they swooned and fell to the floor. There is a book by Francois Raguenet in which he mentions a description of Corelli saying that when Corelli played, his countenance became distorted, he rocked his body to and fro and his eyes were like balls of fire. The violin and cello are instruments on which you can fulfill your own feelings, but I’m not happy when people talk about themselves – it’s boring. 'When you play Bach you shouldn’t speak about yourself too much – you should speak about us all. It’s like you’re a minister in a small church. You know and love everyone because that’s your duty (and maybe you do). You speak about mankind and love and fate and god and death – all of these things. But you do not speak about your own headache. You will not say, “I had such a horrible fight with my wife.” Play in a way pertaining to us all.’ Read Anner Bylsma's Bach manifesto Anner Bylma performs Bach #blogs #cello #bylsma #interview

I just came across this lovely BBC documentary about Casals. I could do without seeing the researcher, Robert Baldock, playing Bach and making coffee, but there is some lovely film of Casals teaching and playing, and walking around the square in Prades, his adopted home town and where he set up his festival. There are also charming interviews with some of the legends of another era, whom one rarely sees speak, such as Zara Nelsova, Alexander Schneider (‘I was a cook – I only played the violin on the side’) and Mieczyslaw Horszowski. Yehudi Menuhin and Bernard Greenhouse also offer their insights into Casals. Casals talks about his philosophy: ‘I am a simple man. I don’t like complications. The same in music. I like what is natural, to read what the music demands and I try to do my best. The same in life. For me, this is civilisation.’ Menuhin has some interesting insight into the origins of this philosophy (which might sound a little patronising these days): ‘There was within him the wisdom, wiliness, secrecy and the conviction of the rural folk. He came from that stock, from a very small village, and that strength of mind, that sense of purpose, of knowing what he came for, that sense of continuity of obligation to the land, to the work, to the harvest, to the planting. The basics of his life were organic, they were solidly organic. He never lost that contact. He built on that with the security of a man who knows his purpose.’ Menuhin remembers what it was like to perform with him: ‘Playing with Casals was an extraordinary musical experience. He always reminded me of a jeweller: meticulous and precise and looking for the tiniest elements. That is the way musical interpretation is built up. You have to envision the grand, the complete, the global, to see the great lines, the whole structure, but then when you’re putting it together you have to be aware of the smallest details.’ Greenhouse remembers a metaphor Casals used in a masterclass on the Beethoven C major Cello Sonata: ‘There’s a beautiful phrase and I couldn’t do exactly what he wanted. Finally he said, “In the fall the leaves fall off the trees but they don’t fall straight down, they fall with a gentle caressing motion to the ground. Now you must make your phrase sound like that.” It immediately opened up a picture of how he wanted that phrase to sound.’ For all the simplicity and humility, different contributors make the point that Casals knew exactly his importance in the world – there was no false modesty or humility, and this extended to his fees – he charged much more than comparable stars of the age. But when you hear him play the Schubert First Piano Trio slow movement theme, or when you see the footage of him aged 95 at the United Nations in New York passionately advocating peace in front of a rapt audience and then playing his Song of the Birds, it’s hard to begrudge him anything. Anyway, if you have an hour spare, watch and enjoy: #blog #playing #casals #view