A widespread, a sort of a “final argument” against conductors, rubbed preferentially to our faces by orchestral musicians half joking, half seriously: baton makes no sound.
The bon mot is true by not being true, being a blessing and a curse for a conductor. The only musician not making any sound (okay, many of them sniffle, gurgle or even sing quite intensively while conducting, but this is not necessarily a part of the artistic performance), still, he is the one who receives the most of the celebration (or derision) after a concert.
Why is that? What exactly does a conductor do onstage? And what does he do at the rehearsal? Why is he strolling along the street with a score in his hands? What happens if he flubs? What is the similarity between football and orchestral playing? Is a conductor really like a potato? How much does a tuba player practice? (Indeed, how much?) What should you do about contemporary music? Should opera houses be blown up or built up? Why is music the most perfect artistic form?
This blog is about these questions and more. This blog is about these questions and more. I’m not sure I can always give exact answers, but that’s not the purpose: I want our slightly enchanted world to be open to those who “just” sit down at a concert and want to have a good time, because at the end of the day it’s all (the concert hall, the orchestra, the instrument, practicing, the composer) for them, the audience. And we musicians, especially the conductor, are the eccentric kind, wanting to deliver as much as possible of the wonder that music brings to our lives.
Well, this is the reason why this blog has come to light.
Of course, one question remains: should a musician try to write at all? It’s a challenge that can go either way, nevertheless, uncertainty is soon dispelled by the teaching of an eternal optimist:
“No business without risk.”
(Fülig Jimmy)
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Author: Máté Hámori
