One Man's Energy Is Another Man's Interpretive Watusi

Sarah's written recently about the subtle and not-so-subtle differences in the playing styles of various orchestras, and about how ingrained the performance culture of a single orchestra can become in each of that ensemble's musicians. Since most of us spend nearly all our time playing as part of only one group, we come to think of our way of playing music as How One Plays Music. Even when a major shift in leadership occurs, such as a new music director or concertmaster, the collective musical memory of the ensemble is always a major factor in shaping the sound.

Audiences and critics, too, get used to the local style that they hear week in and week out, and they tend to filter everything they hear through that familiar prism. This is why a conductor like Christoph Eschenbach, who everyone seems to agree is a brilliant man and fine musician, can be hailed as an orchestral savior in Houston, and then be greeted with what amounted to a community-wide shrug when he become music director in Philadelphia. It's not necessarily that there's anything wrong with Eschenbach, or with the Philadelphia Orchestra. It's just that the communal playing style of the orchestra didn't turn out to be a great match with the personal style of the conductor.

Another case in point that will hit a little closer to home: Osmo's down in Chicago this week, conducting the Chicago Symphony in a program of (what else?) Beethoven and Sibelius. I have it on good authority that he's been having a fine time in his debut with the Chicagoans, and the critics have said some nice things as well. But one passage from Andrew Patner's otherwise positive review in the Chicago Sun-Times struck me odd:

"[Vänskä] is clearly an individual with his own ideas. It must be difficult even for seasoned players to know what those ideas are, since he communicates in a bizarre fashion, offering a sort of interpretive Watusi with a beat that seems wrong when it is discernible."

Now, along with being pretty unnecessarily snippy, that sounds nothing like the Osmo I know (and I'm also a bit taken aback to think that there's a music critic in a major American city who doesn't seem to realize that a conductor's ideas are largely communicated in rehearsal, not through some magic twirling of the baton during the concert.) While there's no denying his physicality as a conductor (using his body to channel and direct the energy of the orchestra is one of Osmo's signatures, and he's hardly alone in this style,) I've never found it to be difficult to discern what he wants us to do, even in his first appearance with us back in 2000.

So what would seem so different to an observer in Chicago? Presumably, Patner has no prior axe to grind with Osmo, and was only passing along what he thought he saw during a performance about which he actually said many nice things. The first thing that occurs to me is that the CSO is an orchestra steeped in the highest European classical traditions, and their music directors and principal guest conductors over the decades have generally reflected that legacy. From Daniel Barenboim to Pierre Boulez to the incoming Riccardo Muti, the orchestra has usually played under conductors who, while not without flair, prefer to maintain a relatively refined podium demeanor. The music should speak for itself, says this philosophy, and the musicians (conductor included) are doing the composer a disservice if they call attention to themselves in any visual way.

So it's only natural that Osmo, who throws himself as physically into every performance as he asks his musicians to, would cut an unusual figure on Chicago's podium, and to a jaded critic who's not used to such visual stimulus, I can see how it could even seem off-putting. But I'd be very curious to know what the CSO players thought of their week with our boss (not least because they so recently let out a public cry of disappointment when the LA Philharmonic snapped up the young Venezuelan wunderkind Gustavo Dudamel, an over-the-top physical stick-waver if ever there was one, as their next music director before Chicago could offer him the job.) It's always possible that what seemed jarring to a regular concertgoer could have felt like a refreshing change to those on stage.

Or not. It's a mysterious thing, chemistry, and the audience's willingness to come along for an unfamiliar ride is probably an element of the equation that we don't consider often or carefully enough.