Essentials in Conducting Part 3

In the case of a hold (_fermata_), the movement for the cut-off depends upon the nature of what follows. If the tone to be prolonged forms the end of a phrase or section, the baton is brought down vigorously as at the end of a composition; but if the hold occurs at the end of a phrase in such a way as not to form a decided closing point, or if it occurs in the midst of the phrase itself, the cut-off is not nearly so p.r.o.nounced, and the conductor must exercise care to move his baton in such a direction as to insure its being ready to give a clear signal for the attack of the tone following the hold.

Thus, with a hold on the third beat, [music notation] the cut-off would probably be toward the right and upward, this movement then serving also as a preliminary for the fourth beat to follow.

[Sidenote: THE ATTACK IN READING NEW MUSIC]

For working in rehearsal it is convenient to use some such exclamation as "Ready--Sing," or "Ready--Play," in order that amateur musicians may be enabled to attack the first chord promptly, even in reading new music. In this case the word "Ready" comes just before the preliminary movement; the word "Sing" or "Play" being coincident with the actual preliminary movement. In preparing for a public performance, however, the conductor should be careful not to use these words so much in rehearsing that his musicians will have difficulty in making their attacks without hearing them.

[Sidenote: LENGTH OF THE STROKE]

The length and general character of the baton movement depend upon the emotional quality of the music being conducted. A bright, snappy _Scherzo_ in rapid tempo will demand a short, vigorous beat, with almost no elaboration of back-stroke; while for a slow and stately _Choral_, a long, flowing beat with a highly-elaborated back-stroke will be appropriate. The first beat of the phrase in any kind of music is usually longer and more prominent, in order that the various divisions of the design may be clearly marked. It is in the length of the stroke that the greatest diversity in time beating will occur in the case of various individual conductors, and it is neither possible nor advisable to give specific directions to the amateur. Suffice it to say, that if he understands clearly the foregoing principles of handling the baton, and if his musical feeling is genuine, there will be little difficulty at this point.

[Sidenote: NON-MEASURED MUSIC]

The directions for beating time thus far given have, of course, referred exclusively to what is termed "measured music," _i.e._, music in which the rhythm consists of groups of regularly s.p.a.ced beats, the size and general characteristics of the group depending upon the number and position of the accents in each measure. There exists, however, a certain amount of non-measured vocal music, and a word concerning the most common varieties (recitative and Anglican chant) will perhaps be in order before closing our discussion of beating time.

[Sidenote: RECITATIVE]

In conducting the accompaniment of a vocal solo of the recitative style, and particularly that variety referred to as _recitativo secco_, the most important baton movement is a down-beat after each bar. The conductor usually follows the soloist through the group of words found between two bars with the conventional baton movements, but this does not imply regularly s.p.a.ced pulses as in the case of measured music, and the beats do not correspond in any way to those of the ordinary measure of rhythmic music. They merely enable the accompanying players to tell at approximately what point in the measure the singer is at any given time, the up-beat at the end of the group giving warning of the near approach of the next group.

[Sidenote: THE ANGLICAN CHANT]

In the case of the Anglican chant, it should be noted that there are two parts to each verse: one, a reciting portion in which there is no measured rhythm; the other, a rhythmic portion in which the pulses occur as in measured music. In the reciting portion of the chant, the rhythm is that of ordinary prose speech, punctuation marks being observed as in conventional language reading. This makes it far more difficult to keep the singers together, and in order to secure uniformity, some conductors give a slight movement of the baton for each syllable; others depend upon a down-beat at the beginning of each measure together with the lip movements made by the conductor himself and followed minutely by the chorus.

The beginning of the second part of the chant is indicated by printing its first syllable in italics, by placing an accent mark over it, or by some other similar device. This syllable is then regarded as the first accented tone of the metrical division of the chant, and, beginning with it, the conductor beats time as in ordinary measured music. If no other syllable follows the accented one before a bar occurs, it is understood that the accented syllable is to be held for two beats, _i.e._, a measure's duration. Final _ed_ is always p.r.o.nounced as a separate syllable.

The most important thing for an amateur to learn about conducting the Anglican chant is that before he can successfully direct others in singing this type of choral music, he must himself practically memorize each chant. The amateur should perhaps also be warned not to have the words of the first part of the chant recited too rapidly. All too frequently there is so much hurrying that only a few of the most prominent words are distinguishable, most of the connecting words being entirely lost. A more deliberate style of chanting than that in ordinary use would be much more in keeping with the idea of dignified worship. Before asking the choir to sing a new chant, it is often well to have the members _recite_ it, thus emphasizing the fact that the meaning of the text must be brought out in the singing. In inaugurating chanting in churches where this form of music has not previously formed a part of the service, it will be well to have both choir and congregation sing the melody in unison for a considerable period before attempting to chant in parts.

[Sidenote: THE NECESSITY OF PRACTICE IN HANDLING THE BATON]

Now that we have laid down the principles upon the basis of which our prospective conductor is to beat time, let us warn him once more that here, as in other things, it is intelligent practice that makes perfect, and that if he is to learn to handle the baton successfully, and particularly if he is to learn to do it so well that he need never give the slightest thought to his baton while actually conducting, hours of practice in beating time will be necessary. This practising should sometimes take place before a mirror, or better still, in the presence of some critical friend, so that a graceful rather than a grotesque style of handling the baton may result; it should also be done with the metronome clicking or with some one playing the piano much of the time, in order that the habit of maintaining an absolutely steady, even tempo may evolve. The phonograph may also be utilized for this purpose, and may well become an indispensable factor in training conductors in the future, it being possible in this way to study the elements of interpretation as well as to practise beating time.

[Sidenote: BATON TECHNIQUE NOT SUFFICIENT FOR SUCCESS IN CONDUCTING]

It must not be imagined that if one is fortunate enough to acquire the style of handling the baton which we have been advocating one will at once achieve success as a conductor. The factors of musical scholarship, personal magnetism, _et cetera_, mentioned in preceding pages, must still const.i.tute the real foundation of conducting. But granting the presence of these other factors of endowment and preparation, one may often achieve a higher degree of success if one has developed also a well-defined and easily-followed beat. It is for this reason that the technique of time beating is worthy of some degree of serious investigation and of a reasonable amount of time spent in practice upon it.

CHAPTER IV

INTERPRETATION IN CONDUCTING

INTRODUCTORY

[Sidenote: THE CONDUCTOR AS INTERPRETER]

Interpretation from the standpoint of the conductor differs from interpretation in singing and playing in that the conductor must necessarily convey ideas or emotions to his audience through an intermediary, _viz._, the orchestra or chorus. He furthermore labors under the disadvantage of having to stand with his back (certainly the least expressive part of man's physique) to the audience. The pianist, singer, and violinist, on the other hand, face their audiences; and because they themselves actually do the performing, are able to work much more directly upon the minds and emotions of their hearers. For this reason, interpretation must be studied by the conductor from a twofold basis:

1. From the standpoint of the expressive rendition of music in general.

2. From the standpoint of securing the expressive rendition of music from a group of players or singers.

We shall devote this and the three following chapters to a discussion of these two phases of interpretation.

[Sidenote: INTERPRETATION AND EXPRESSION]

The word _interpret_, as ordinarily used means "to explain,"--"to elucidate,"--"to make clear the meaning of," and this same definition of the word applies to music as well, the conductor or performer "making clear" to the audience the message given him by the composer.

It should be noted at once, however, that interpretation in music is merely the process or means for securing the larger thing called _expression_, and in discussing this larger thing, the activity of two persons is always a.s.sumed; one is the composer, the other the performer. Which of these two is the more important personage has been for many decades a much mooted question among concert-goers.

Considered from an intellectual standpoint, there is no doubt whatever concerning the supremacy of the composer; but when viewed in the light of actual box office experience, on an evening when Caruso or some other popular idol has been slated to appear, and cannot do so because of indisposition, it would seem as if the performer were still as far above the composer as he was in the days of eighteenth-century opera in Italy.

It is the composer's function to write music of such a character that when well performed it will occasion an emotional reaction on the part of performer and listener. Granting this type of music, it is the function of the performer or conductor to so interpret the music that an appropriate emotional reaction will actually ensue. A recent writer calls the performer a _messenger_ from the composer to the audience, and states[8] that--

As a messenger is accountable to both sender and recipient of his message, so is the interpretative artist in a position of twofold trust and, therefore, of _twofold responsibility_. The sender of his message--creative genius--is behind him; before him sits an expectant and confiding audience, the sovereign addressee. The interpretative artist has, therefore, first to enter into the _spirit_ of his message; to penetrate its ultimate meaning; to read in, as well as between, the lines. And then he has to train and develop his faculties of delivery, of vital production, to such a degree as to enable him to fix his message decisively, and with no danger of being misunderstood, in the mind of his auditor.

[Footnote 8: Constantin von Sternberg, _Ethics and Esthetics of Piano Playing_, p. 10.]

This conception of the conductor's task demands from him two things:

1. A careful, painstaking study of the work to be performed, so as to become thoroughly familiar with its content and to discover its true emotional significance.

2. Such display of emotion in his conducting as will arouse a sympathetic response, first on the part of orchestra and chorus, and then in turn in the audience.

[Sidenote: EMOTION IN INTERPRETATION]

Real interpretation, then, requires, on the part of the conductor, just as in the case of the actor, a display of emotion. Coldness and self-restraint will not suffice, for these represent merely the intellectual aspect of the art, and music is primarily a language of the emotions. This difference const.i.tutes the dividing line between performances that merely arouse our judicial comment "That was exceedingly well done"; and those on the other hand that thrill us, carry us off our feet, sweep us altogether out of our environment so that for the moment we forget where we are, lose sight temporarily of our petty cares and grievances, and are permitted to live for a little while in an altogether different world--the world not of things and ambitions and cares, but of ecstasy. Such performances and such an att.i.tude on the part of the listener are all too rare in these days of smug intellectualism and hypersophistication, and we venture to a.s.sert that this is at least partly due to the fact that many present-day conductors are intellectual rather than emotional in their att.i.tude.

It is this faculty of displaying emotion, of entirely submerging himself in the work being performed, that gives the veteran choral conductor Tomlins his phenomenal hold on chorus and audience. In a performance of choral works recently directed by this conductor, the listener was made to feel at one moment the joy of springtime, with roses blooming and lovers wooing, as a light, tuneful chorus in waltz movement was being performed; then in a trice, one was whisked over to the heart of Russia, and made to see, as though they were actually present, a gang of boatmen as they toiled along the bank of the Volga with the tow-rope over their shoulders, tugging away at a barge which moved slowly up from the distance, past a clump of trees, and then gradually disappeared around a bend in the river; and in yet another moment, one was thrilled through and through with religious fervor in response to the grandeur and majestic stateliness of the Mendelssohn Motet, _Judge Me, oh G.o.d_.

It was interpretation of this type too that gave the actor-singer Wullner such a tremendous hold upon his audiences a few years ago, this artist achieving a veritable triumph by the tremendous sincerity and vividness of his dramatic impersonations in singing German _Lieder_, in spite of the fact that he possessed a voice of only average quality.

It was an emotional response of this character that the Greek philosophers must have been thinking of when they characterized drama as a "purge for the soul"; and surely it must still be good for human beings to forget themselves occasionally and to become merged in this fashion in the wave of emotion felt by performer and fellow-listener in response to the message of the composer.

It is emotion of this type also that the great composers have sought to arouse through their n.o.blest compositions. Handel is said to have replied, when congratulated upon the excellence of the entertainment afforded by the _Messiah_, "I am sorry if I have only entertained them; I hoped to do them good." An English writer, in quoting this incident, adds:[9]

What Handel tried to do ... by wedding fine music to an inspiring text, Beethoven succeeded in doing through instruments alone ... for never have instruments--no matter how pleasing they were in the past--been capable of stirring the inmost feelings as they have done since the beginning of the nineteenth century.

[Footnote 9: C.F.A. Williams, _The Rhythm of Modern Music_, p. 13.]

There is danger, of course, here as everywhere, that one may go too far; and it is entirely conceivable that both soloist and conductor might go to such extremes in their display of emotion that the music would be entirely distorted, losing what is after all its main _raison d'etre_, _viz._, the element of beauty. But there seems at present to be no especial danger that such an event will occur; the tendency seems rather to be toward overemphasizing intellectualism in music, and toward turning our art into a science.[10] The thing that we should like to convince the prospective conductor of is that real interpretation--_i.e._, genuinely expressive musical performance--demands an actual display of emotion on the part of the conductor if the ideal sort of reaction is to be aroused in the audience.

[Footnote 10: This danger is especially insidious just now in our college and high school courses in the _appreciation of music_.

Instructors in such courses are often so zealous in causing pupils to understand the _machinery_ involved in the construction and rendition of music that they sometimes forget to emphasize sufficiently the product resulting from all this machinery, _viz._, _beauty_. The idea of these courses is most excellent, and in time those in charge of them will doubtless realize that the hearing of actual music in the cla.s.sroom is more valuable to students than learning a ma.s.s of facts about it; and that if a choice were necessary between a course in which there was opportunity for hearing a great deal of music without any comment, and one on the other hand in which there was a great deal of comment without any music, the former would be infinitely preferable. But such a choice is not necessary; and the ideal course in the Appreciation of Music is one in which the student has opportunity for hearing a great deal of music with appropriate comments by the instructor.]

In order to interpret a musical work, then, the conductor himself must first study it so as to discover what the composer intended to express. Having become thoroughly permeated with the composer's message, he may then by instinctive imitation arouse in his chorus or orchestra so strong a reflection of this mood that they will perform the work in the correct spirit, the audience in turn catching its essential significance, and each listener in his own way responding to the composer's message.

[Sidenote: DEFINITION OF INTERPRETATION]

Musical interpretation consists thus in impressing upon the listener the essential character of the music by emphasizing the important elements and subordinating the unimportant ones; by indicating in a clear-cut and unmistakable way the phrasing, and through skilful phrasing making evident the design of the composition as a whole; and in general by so manipulating one's musical forces that the hearer will not only continue to be interested in the performance, but will feel or understand the basic significance of the work being performed; will catch and remember the important things in it, will not have his attention distracted by comparatively unimportant details, and will thus have delivered to him the real spirit of the composer's message.