Gustavo Dudamel vs. the Second Coming

Judging from all the recent press, Gustavo Dudamel's coming to Los Angeles as the Music Director for the Los Angeles Philharmonic is a news event equivalent to the second coming – and with greater expectations. If he doesn't conduct the world's greatest concerts, end war in the Middle East, cure AIDS, and out draw the Lakers, his first season will be considered an abject failure.

Overstatement is certainly nothing new in advertising for the arts, and since hyperbole is the expected language in ads and press releases, anything less falls flat. I know this first hand from my work in advertising for the Media City Ballet Company. "Come see a very good mid-level ballet company perform an entertaining and fairly artistic rendition of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker," becomes, "Don't miss this truly great performance of Tchaikovsky's timeless masterpiece The Nutcracker by the outstanding Media City Ballet Company."

I suppose, "Come hear the LA Phil under the direction of Gustavo Dudamel. Mr Dudamel is a very talented young conductor who should grow and mature nicely while working with the Phil," will never make it into the orchestra's advertising. Admittedly, that version may be a little too understated, but there is something to be said for lowered expectations.

Take Robert Schumann's article in Neue Zietschrift für Musik about Johannes Brahms. In hyperbole worthy of a trailer to a Hollywood blockbuster, Schumann writes:

[In a galaxy far, far away]. . . someone must and would suddenly appear destined to give ideal presentment to the highest expression of the time, who would bring us his mastership, not in process of development, but would spring forth like Minerva, fully armed from the head of Jove. And he is come, a young blood by whose cradle graces and heroes kept watch. He is called Johannes Brahms . . . He [bares] all the outward signs that proclaim to us. "This is one of the elect."

Minerva herself couldn't have lived up to such high expectations and the glowing praise really messed with Brahms' head. It is said to be one of the main reasons why he took so long to complete, and then to publish, his first symphony.

But Brahms survived and most likely Dudamel will as well. In the end, it is about the music and nothing else. If the music is true, it doesn't matter how far the truth is stretched in the press.

Conductors - Do They Matter?

Recently I was watching the "Finale du Concours international des jeunes chefs d'orchestre" on Arte TV. My wife, who likes some of the reality shows (Top Chef is one of her favorites) thought it might be similar, but for conductors instead of cooks. She was a little disappointed when she discovered that there were no fiery personality conflicts, backstabbing comments, or emotional tirades (at least that we saw).

After a few minutes she turned to me and asked, "So, how much difference does the conductor really make, anyway? Doesn't the music tell the orchestra all they need to do?" I'm sure she regretted the question as soon as it was out of her mouth because I was off and running on the first of a ten part lecture on what a conductor does and why he makes a difference.

I won't bore you with all the obvious (at least to musicians) details of tempo, phrasing, balance, blend, interpretation, and so on. But I did mention that it was also a question of inspiration and leadership, like in a business. As a businesswoman, I thought that this would be something she could relate to. A good business leader gets her workers to want to work their best for her.

So it is with a good conductor. Musicians, being human (so I'm told), don't always bring their "A" game to a performance. It isn't easy to get up for an old warhorse that one has played a thousand times. It takes a conductor to inspire them. That inspiration occurs when an orchestra feels the conductor has outstanding musical skills, a valid musical interpretation of the work, a love of the music, and great communication skills at the podium.

All those qualities were on display when Kazuki Yamada conducted the first movement of Hector Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique at the competition. The work started strong, but as the piece progressed, one sensed that the orchestra (the BBC Symphony Orchestra) felt that they were taking part in something special. As Yamada inspired them, their playing became more exciting, and that in turn seemed to inspire Yamada even more - vortex of inspiration building on itself until it became a joyous celebration of the music. I'm not a big Berlioz fan, but boy, was I sold on this performance.

The Value of Uncertainty in Music

During summer vacation I will on most mornings sit down at the piano for a few minutes and sight read (rather poorly) through some Bach. The other morning it was the "Fugue # 1 in C Major" from the Well Tempered Clavier. You can see and hear a nice playing of this work by Stephen Malinowski below.

The work starts with a fairly simple, mostly stepwise, subject. It is quickly imitated following the normal rules of a fugue exposition. No great genius here, nothing a good student of counterpoint couldn't pull off (well, OK, a really good student).

At measure 8 things start to become a bit more intriguing. The harmonic direction becomes less clear and there is a slight increase in dissonance. This tension is quickly resolved but then at measure 12 it once again becomes more dissonant and the harmonic destination less certain. What is Bach up to? Where is he taking us? It is only when we reach the resolution in measure 14 (on an A minor chord) that we understand what Bach was doing.

Bach continues in this vein for the rest of the 27 measure piece (as well as in other works in the The Well Tempered Clavier). Sections of increased tension and harmonic precariousness are followed by resolutions. It is like watching a tightrope walker who (purposely) looks like he is about to falter and plunge, only to right himself at the last second to the relief of the seat-edged crowd. It takes a certain amount of trust to experience such feats, but in the end, it is what makes the show memorable.

And so it seems in life. Times of uncertainty can make us look at things in a new light. We question, rethink, examine, and revalue things we have taken for granted.

My wife was recently laid off from Macy's after being with the company for over 20 years. We didn't feel that we were in an immediate financial crisis, but the possibility of falling into one suddenly became real. What would we do if things became truly bad? Would we lose our home? What about funding college for our kids? What could I sell to get some quick cash?

I suddenly began to have a greater appreciation of our townhouse. I put a higher value on my family and friends. I realized that I would always have music and literature, and those things took on a new importance. I became more sympathetic to those who had less. The world looked a little different. My wife has a new job now, but in an odd way, I appreciate the little side trip into uncertainty that has refreshed my outlook on life.

It would be interesting to know what happens in our brains when we become uncertain (both in life and in music). Do we experience a slight bump in epinephrine or adrenaline resulting in increased perception and energy? Is our fight or flight center alerted and put in the ready mode? And what happens at resolution? Do we get a rush of serotonin or dopamine? Are our neurons rewarded for finding a solution to our uncertainty?

Would all this help explain why music is so important to us, especially in times of stress? Do we resolve that stress vicariously through music? When Bach leads us back to harmonic safety, does that feeling of having triumphed over a crisis cross over into other aspects of our lives? Does the feeling of resolution given to us by music allow us to get up the next morning and face life's challenges with renewed hope?