The profession, past and present, musical chairs

George Szell

Of late I have been reading Michael Charry's biography, George Szell: A Life of Music.  As the conductor, who did remake the Cleveland Orchestra into the finest ensemble of its day, is regarded as one of the old school tyrants of the podium, it is interesting to read a text revealing very little of this side of the man.  Szell's Wikipedia article notes:

"Szell's rehearsals were legendary for their intensity. Absolute perfection was demanded from every player. Musicians would be dismissed on the spot for making too many mistakes or simply questioning Szell's authority. Although Szell was not alone in this practice — Toscanini was nothing if not dictatorial — such firings would not happen today: musicians' unions are much stronger now than they were then. If Szell heard a player practicing backstage before a concert and did not like what he heard, he would not hesitate to berate the musician and give detailed notes on how the music should be played, despite the concert being minutes away. Szell’s autocratic style extended to giving suggestions to the Severance Hall janitorial staff on mopping technique and what brand of toilet paper to use in the restrooms." (Donald Rosenberg: The Cleveland Orchestra Story: Second to None)

Of course, very little of this view of the dictatorial taskmaster is present in the Charry biography (nb: Charry was one of Szell's apprentice conductors).  So what is one to believe?  The wranglings of the critics or the near-adulation of one who was really there?

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Riccardo Muti

Riccardo Muti has now become firmly ensconced at the helm of the Chicago Symphony and apparently he is experiencing a much better adjustment to the orchestra than his first go-around in the United States: as Eugene Ormandy's replacement at the Philadelphia.  Of course, Philadelphia had known only two music directors from 1912 to 1980!  (Ormandy and Leopold Stokowski)  But it was readily apparent that Muti intentionally set out to change that orchestra, which was renowned for the luster of its string sound, brought about originally by Stokowski's preference for free-bowing.  Muti also was seen in his earlier days as a rather aristocratic podium presence and many felt that he turned the once-great ensemble into just another generically-sounding American orchestra.  Muti had a major falling out with La Scala in 2003, but he had apparently twice been courted by the New York Philharmonic, which he spurned by signing with the CSO in 2008.  All signs are that he has mellowed with age (he turned 70 in July) and is making wonderful music--and wooing important contributors--in America's "Second City."

Barenboim

Muti's predecessor once removed, Daniel Barenboim, has just been named music director of La Scala.  Barenboim, himself 69, is also the general music director of the Berlin State Opera, in addition to other lesser posts.  To say I have no love lost for Barenboim the person would be an understatement; the fact that he fathered two children with his mistress while his wife--cellist Jacqueline DuPre--was dying of multiple sclerosis, remains among the most incorrigible acts I can imagine.  I attended too many performances of the CSO in which he just seemed to go through the motions; it was painfully obvious that he did not desire to assume the myriad duties of an American music director, which--rightly or not--includes schmoozing with the supporters of the ensemble.  As a musician he has no time for consideration of performance practice or adherence to the score; rather, he is a conductor bound by subjective tradition instead of objective truth.  Donald Peck, former principal flutist with the CSO noted in his book The Right Place at the Right Time that the "Danny" they got as a music director was not the "Danny" who had appeared so many times as guest conductor.  Others have noted his arrogance and aloofness while finding inconsistencies within his interpretations of the score.

It is not difficult, in this case, to separate the man from the musician.  I find his music to be as cold and emotionless as his early personal life.  One can never separate ones personal attributes and integrity from the music that one makes, for, as Munch has stated in so many words, Conducting is a sacred trust.