Richard Pennycuick wrote:

>OTOH, I seem to remember when Klemperer's tempos became slower and slower,
>reviewers fell over themselves to find appropriate superlatives.

Part of that was Klemperer's presence.  In the early sixties he did the
Beethoven cycle with the Philadelphia Orchestra.  He was a very sick man
then, and he could barely move.  The orchestra outdid itself.  They became
a large chamber group.  What better way to pay the highest respect to this
man of music? I have never heard them play better, before or since.  It was
magic.  He stood on the podium, held up by a railing, with music in front
of him, unable to hold his baton without tremors, unable to turn the pages
of the score without putting down his baton.  Yet the music lived.  It was
Beethoven with all of the joy I have ever experienced!

But that was a very special case. I'd like to discuss the more general.

It isn't just the tempo of a piece of music that matters, but what the
conductor does with it.  A certain local conductor of a major symphony
orchestra with its summer home at Tanglewood managed to ruin Mahler Third
for me - not just because the tempo he chose for the Andante movement was
too slow, (although it was!) but because he started out subdividing the
opening harp tones.  Two finger bounces per eighth note!  Talk about
overkill and self-indulgence.

He continued to break things up with excess body movements, ruining
long melody lines with his jibbering hands and facial mugging, hair
tossing, and weird contortions.  He'd make a big ritard, then forget to
return to the original tempo, bogging down like a worn-out old fashioned
windup wristwatch.  By the end of the movement, we all needed to stretch,
yawn and scratch our many itches.

On the other hand, I heard the Bernstein super-slow Tchaikovsky Sick
Symphony, and wept buckets.  He managed to touch something profound.
It was a very intense experience and it amazed me because I thought I
really KNEW that piece, and to tell the truth, I thought I was much too
sophisticated to let it get to me.  Shocking!  He made it seem brand new.
He knew how to sustain the lines, how to get gorgeous sound, how to keep a
steady life-pulse and how to build tension.  After a few moments, one was
unaware of the tempo.  Outside time stopped, and all that mattered was the
heart of the music.

It's not the kind of experience I'd seek out frequently, but it was
memorable and genuine for me!  Bernstein was called "self-indulgent" by
the critics, and I still don't know why, since it seemed to touch everyone
involved.  Bernstein certainly could draw ME into his performances.  He was
infectious, full of love for the music.  Whatever he might have been off
the podium, I believe he was always in service to the music he loved while
he was making that music, and I believe he made more people aware of
classical music in his lifetime than any twenty other performers have
been able to do, PBS notwithstanding.  He was an American treasure.

It's so easy to compare the timings on cd jewel boxes, and talk about
"tempo" but what matters to me is not the speed, but what that conductor
can bring to the music, overall.  It isn't just the tempo.  What emotions
are stirred up in the audience? How inspiring is the leadership? Which
instrumental parts are brought out? What is the texture? Are the climaxes
sensible or just stuck in there for some huge sound effect? Does the slow
tempo still pulse with a healthy heartbeat, or does it lie there like a
soggy sponge soaking the life out of everything? Does the audience feel the
intensity, or does the audience fidget and make funny throat sounds? Does
the orchestra watch or try to blot out the experience? All of these things
are indications of conducting skill.  There are so many more ingredients of
being a good conductor.  Tempo is just a small part.

Mimi Ezust <[log in to unmask]>