by: Robert Angus
Concertgoers' expectations today are vastly different from those of their parents 20 years ago, says the new music director of the New York Philharmonic--and high-quality sound and video recordings have a lot to do with it.
"Back then, the average concertgoer was content to see the conductor and the first row of violins, with the rest of the orchestra incognito. But that was before technology told him that a lot of interesting things were going on back there," Kurt Masur explains, leaning back in his chair in a lounge backstage at the Gewandhaus concert hall in Leipzig, where he's been conducting since 1970. in September of this year, Masur, a genial bear of a man, began his service as music director of not just one, but two of the world's great orchestras-the Philharmonic in New York and the 210-year-old Gewandhaus Orchestra in Leipzig, in what was East Germany.
Masur, who has nearly 100 recordings to his credit, mostly with the Leipzig Orchestra, believes that low-cost, readily available recordings have made today's audiences familiar with a much wider range of music than ever before. And he believes that the steady development of recording technology--high fidelity in the late 1940s, stereo in the 1950s, and the digital recording of the 1980s--has enabled listeners to hear things in the music that earlier generations may have missed, such as the musicality of a contrabass that in analog days was reproduced as little more than bass percussion, or a solo flute that was once lost in an orchestral climax.
"People are used to hearing those details at home, and when they come to the concert hall, they want to see the musicians and the instruments that make those sounds," Masur says, warming to his subject. "It's something like the beginning of the movies. The first films were silent. Then a piano player was added, changing the division between sight and sound. Movie producers found that music could help create a mood, or highlight the action, or advance the story. That changed the expectation of the audience, and by the end of the silent era you found serious composers writing music to accompany silent films, a practice that expanded with the coming of sound. Audiences were getting more sophisticated with each improvement. Now you have theaters where the sound completely envelops the moviegoer and puts the audience into the action.
"Audiences are better educated, generally, than those of 20 years ago, perhaps because people are forced to have a high degree of technical knowledge in their jobs or professions, and they don't check that at the door when they leave the office. When they come to a concert, they want to understand what is happening and how, to take part in the technical aspects of music making. Today's audiences are no longer content to close their eyes and let the music wash over them."
The trick, Masur admits, is to enable his listeners to do that without making changes in the music and how the audience hears it. Shortly after he assumed the conductorship of the Leipzig orchestra, plans were announced for a Gewandhaus to replace the "new" one built in 1884 and bombed into oblivion 60 years later, toward the end of World War II. Since the War, the Gewandhaus Orchestra had performed in the Congress Hall a quarter of a mile away. That hall, built for meetings and exhibitions, never seemed quite right, acoustically, as a concert auditorium.
From the beginning, the authorities invited Maestro Masur and the members of the orchestra to participate actively in planning for the new building.
The result, the third Gewandhaus, opened to critical acclaim in 1981. Its eggshell construction, a sort of late 20th-century version of a Roman amphitheater, allows most listeners to look down on the orchestra from the terraced balconies that surround it. Risers at the back of the stage make it possible for the brass, percussion, and string bass sections to be seen by listeners on the main floor as well. Masur takes immense pride in the eggshell design, a sort of building within a building that isolates the chamber from the noise of streetcars and other traffic passing by outside, all too evident in the lobbies that grace the front of the building. It is, he notes, perfectly suited to the making of recordings; virtually al, of the orchestra's sessions have been held there over the past 10 years.
Musician input didn't stop in the planning stage. The architect created a 1:20 scale model of what the new auditorium would look like, complete with seats and other fixtures, in which it was possible to make acoustic tests.
Orchestra members suggested raising the roof to increase reverberation time to 2.1 seconds. They also pressed for "sound-neutral" seats-comfortable units that have the same acoustical properties whether or not someone is sitting in them. The proportion of sound-reflective to sound-absorbent materials used in the seats varies depending on their locations throughout the Gewandhaus. "We learned lessons from Avery Fisher Hall," an orchestra spokesperson added.
Explaining his egg metaphor, Masur says, "We have only to adjust the sound for the middle of the egg. If it is right there, then it is right throughout the hall." The acoustics are so good, in fact, that the late Leonard Bernstein reportedly complained that he could hear players at the back of the orchestra turning the pages of their music as they played, and it was distracting him.
Kurt Masur was born on July 18, 1927 in Brieg, Silesia, now part of Poland. His first musical training was at the keyboard.
Attending the Collegium Musicum of Leipzig, he studied cello, percussion, and conducting. After graduation he was appointed orchestra coach at the Halle County Theatre, followed by positions as Kapellmeister at the opera theaters in Erfurt and Leipzig. In 1955, he became a conductor of the Dresden Philharmonic and in 1958 returned to opera as the general director of music at the Mecklenburg State Theatre.
Two years later, he was named senior director of music at the Komische Oper in East Berlin, a post that brought him to the attention of international audiences when the Komische Oper toured parts of Western Europe, Japan, and elsewhere.
In 1967, Masur moved to the Dresden Philharmonic as chief conductor, a post he held until 1972. His United States debut came with the Cleveland Orchestra in 1974, the same year he first toured America with the Gewandhaus Orchestra. In 1987, he took the Gewandhaus Orchestra on an extensive tour that included the United Kingdom, the United States, Japan, and China.
On October 9, 1989, Leipzigers assembled in the city's two main churches--the Thomaskirche, where Bach played the organ, and the Nikolaikirche--for a candlelight vigil protesting the Communist government.
During the evening, more than 200,000 people spilled out of the churches and marched to the Augustusplatz, across the street from the Gewandhaus.
Standing in its magnificent glass foyer, Masur had a dramatic view of history being made outside. He opened the doors of the concert hall to the marchers and, together with religious leaders, a prominent theater director, and even three secretaries of the Communist Party, served as a moral focus for the peaceful revolution.
"In a way," he said, "I was only carrying on those principles that I try to uphold when I conduct: Beethoven's hope in the 'Choral' Symphony was exactly for that which was happening all over Eastern Europe." Mentioned frequently as a candidate for president of the free transitional government, he declined the honor and today refuses to discuss politics when interviewed.
Other topics that are off limits include the relative merits of the Gewandhaus, which Masur helped to create, and Avery Fisher Hall, where he has been busy making improvements in the acoustics. He does acknowledge that he "will try to make some small corrections" to make the concert experience more attractive to the Lincoln Center audience.
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Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4.
Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra; Kurt Masur, conductor.
Eterna 3 29, 068, CD; 42:33.
The recent appointments of Kurt Masur to the New York Philharmonic, Wolfgang Sawallisch to the Philadelphia Orchestra, and Daniel Barenboim to the Chicago Symphony bode well for music making in those cities. These are conductors whose careers have been shaped more by musical opportunities than commercial ones.
They bring a "middle European" style of playing that favors traditional orchestral balances, unforced dynamics, and, above all, delineation of musical structure.
While the orchestra personnel will certainly appreciate this, it remains to be seen whether the ticket buying public is ready for so great a change from what has gone before. One wonders, too, how record companies may regard the disappearance of fast-track superstars from these three podiums. Gunther Breest, head of Sony Classical, stated in an interview with Martin Bernheimer for the Los Angeles Times ("A Tokyo, New York, Hamburg Connection," April 22, 1990) that he considered Masur "not good enough" for his label. This judgment might better read "not fast enough" or "not loud enough," considering Masur's predecessor at the helm of the Philharmonic. We may not know for several years whether the trend is a permanent one.
Masur's recording of the Tchaikovsky Fourth reflects the values stated above. The music is rationally paced throughout; the opening fanfare is appropriately dramatic-not the apocalyptic affair many conductors make of it.
Likewise, the last movement has drive and urgency with no trace of frenzy. The essential lyricism of the writing is given its due, and sectional contrasts are never overdrawn.
The recording may seem a little distant over low-resolution stereo systems and, in my opinion, could have benefited from slightly more contribution from accent microphones. However, over a high end system, there is nothing problematic at all. There is a sense of correct hall ambience, and the "Row M" perspective may be appreciated by listeners sated with the excesses that plague too much current recording.
-John Eargle
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above: From the beginning, Masur and orchestra members actively participated in the planning of the Gewandhaus.
"In most halls, musicians must adjust to the acoustical properties of the hall," Masur observes. "They don't have to do that in the Gewandhaus. Because the sound is so even and because every member of the orchestra can hear what every other member of the orchestra is doing, there is a comfortable feeling about playing in it. Because they can hear so well, they can play without a conductor." He concedes that's not the case at Avery Fisher. "There, you can't hear all of the other musicians. Because the acoustic situation is not so natural, the orchestra's players don't feel so comfortable." One possible solution to the problem is to rearrange the seating; Masur says he's working on it.
"The Gewandhaus--by the way, the name means 'the hall of the clothes merchants'--started out as a guild house some 250 years ago, and eventually the merchants hired musicians to play concerts. The Gewandhaus Orchestra thus was the only one in Europe founded by rich citizens rather than maintained by a single patron." Masur is perfectly willing to talk about his plans for the New York Philharmonic. Is the idea of conducting a nearly 150 year-old orchestra whose permanent conductors have included Leopold Damrosch, Leopold's son Walter, Gustav Mahler, Arturo Toscanini, and his good friend, the late Leonard Bernstein, intimidating? Not for a man whose present orchestra can trace its history back to November 25, 1781 and whose spot on the podium has been occupied by Felix Mendelssohn, Johannes Brahms, Bruno Walter, and Václav Neumann. One of Masur's goals is to take the orchestra out of Avery Fisher Hall to play to audiences not used to listening to classical music; children in the New York metropolitan area, for example. "If we reach them early enough with music, we can enrich their lives," he says, his eyes gleaming. "It's very important that very young people learn to sing, to like music. Then later they can learn to like different kinds. If every orchestra were to take part in an outreach program in its community, if the record companies would cooperate, we eventually could reach everybody. In the summertime, we can reach a lot of people outdoors.
They can't enjoy the same musical experience as in a concert hall, but many of those listeners otherwise would never venture into Avery Fisher Hall." Kurt Masur talks about the possibility of putting smaller musical ensembles in helicopters "and travelling to where the people are" when the weather is nice, or performing chamber works in shopping malls. A generation weaned on rock isn't necessarily lost to classical music, he believes. In Leipzig, for example, someone surveyed patrons of the city's discos to discover that 25% also appreciated organ music.
"As they get older, they like being surrounded by sound and pushed in new directions. Whether it's disco or the classics, they're now looking for quality, characteristics Masur finds in American young people as well. "The freshest audiences are on the West Coast-perhaps because they haven't heard it all before. They're looking for new experiences and are willing to try new music." In Europe, Masur has earned a reputation as a champion of music of the Romantic period, particularly of composers like Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms, and Bruch, all of whom had strong connections to the Gewandhaus. Does this mean that Philharmonic programs will shy away from more adventurous or more contemporary fare? "I firmly believe that today's music students have a great deal to learn from Mendelssohn and Schumann.
Both of them are very much underestimated, in my opinion. Schumann, for example, really knew how strings should sound. Mendelssohn created the role of the conductor as we know it today Before him, the orchestra played by itself. Both men fought for the musical life of Leipzig.
"Nonetheless, there are some outstanding American composers whose work deserves to be better known. I'd like to bring unknown pieces worth being heard to the audiences in New York, along with some of the better known but neglected works of the 19th century. I'd like to arrange exchange programs which would let young conductors from America perform in Leipzig, and young German conductors appear with the Philharmonic.
Because I'll be resident with both orchestras for the next five years, I believe that I have a chance to build bridges that will benefit not only the musicians but also their audiences." Besides exploring music that is new and unfamiliar to them, Masur finds today's young listeners delving into the musical past. 'Throughout the 1960s, the 1970s, and the 1980s, people bought only what was new, looking for recordings with the highest technical standards.
Now they're finding that contemporary conductors are not the last word on musical interpretation. They're rediscovering Toscanini and Bruno Walter, largely with the help of recordings which may lack the ultimate in sound quality but have a great deal to say musically." The post of music director of the New York Philharmonic is the sort of thing that young conductors only dream about and older conductors contemplate killing for. Masur got the job almost without his knowledge. The Orchestra's search committee, which included a number of its musicians, voted to ask the Maestro from Leipzig to take the job, without checking to see if he was available. When a delegation visited Masur in Salzburg to tell him, "He was nearly knocked off his chair," his friend Peter Gurtler remembers.
"He really didn't want to leave Leipzig, and he accepted only on the condition that he could continue as music director at the Gewandhaus." When the time came to leave for New York, members of the Gewandhaus ensemble presented Kurt Masur with a framed poster containing the opinion of one of his predecessors about the Philharmonic. "A miserable orchestra," Mahler called it. Masur, joining in the joke, assured his colleagues that times have changed--but he won't say what happened to the poster.
(source: Audio magazine, Dec. 1991)
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Also see:
The Audio Interview: Tom Frost--Master Producer (Apr. 1991)