Living musical memory

What is the exact extent of your repertoire?

My repertoire begins with music dating from the earliest times about which we know music. In the case of European music this can be dated to the 7th century AD; Eastern music goes back much further. In our programme entitled ‘Jerusalem’, we experimented by reconstructing a group of Jericho trumpets and the music they produced. This can be dated to the 2nd millennium BC.

In the case of such early music, what are the performer's points of reference?

I visited Jerusalem, and in the Orthodox quarter I became acquainted with the shofar instruments. These are large wind instruments similar to the horn which were probably used at the time of Abraham, presumably at the siege of Jericho, together with the so-called anafirs. These are giant trumpets some two metres long with a telescope-like construction. I wanted to compose something for these instruments, so first I wrote out all the notes which could be played on the various sized instruments. Then I had them play relatively simply fanfares, because it was not generally the custom to play from music during battle. As a result of the large number of musicians involved (there were forty in all), this created quite a breathtaking sound. But some of my other programmes present similarly ancient music. These are built on the oral traditions of the people of the Mediterranean and the Middle East. On these occasions, I worked with Israeli, Armenian, Moroccan, Greek and other musicians. But I also go quite far in the opposite direction. The most modern works that we play with the choir are pieces composed for us by Arvo Pärt: motets, lullabies and similar. We have also played compositions from the early 19th century by Beethoven and Arriaga with the orchestra.

Bach's Musical Offering is a mysterious work from a number of angles, and even the order of movements is ambiguous. How are you structuring the Budapest concert?

We shall commence the programme along similar lines to Bach's own time, when an aristocrat would frequently give a musician a theme to improvise upon. The Musical Offering has its origins in such an event, when Bach met Frederick the Second in Berlin in 1747. The three-part ricercar of the Musical Offering is in all likelihood very similar to that which Bach spontaneously improvised on the theme given to him by the King. For this reason, I first have the theme played on the flute (the king's own instrument), then the ricercar follows on the harpsichord. Then we hear the movements composed subsequently, movements in which Bach explores the theme in every manner possible. I have assembled them so that the first series leads towards the most modern composition, the trio sonata, while the second series heads in the ‘contrary’ direction, to the most ancient-styled work, the six-part ricercar. By doing this, we create a kind of mirror form. With the orchestration of the different canons and fugues, I aimed for the widest possible variety so that we give the listener the greatest possible experience, not just intellectually but in terms of sonority and emotion.

You have been at the forefront of early music performance for more than four decades. How do you see the future of historic performing practice?

It is very important that in recent decades early music has won its civil rights. It has become an accustomed and integral part of music life. These days no one marvels if someone plays on a wooden flute, a viola da gamba or some other ancient instrument. Early music education is now an integral part of the world's leading music academies and conservatoires. By the same token, the biggest difference I can see compared to my generation is that today's gamba students are assailed by doubts if, after graduating, they have not received a recording contract! By contrast, Pablo Casals, for example, worked on the Bach cello suites for ten years before he dared perform one. In 1965 I discovered the first Marais pieces, and then for ten straight years I practised them for eight to ten hours a day, before in 1975 I finally undertook to record them. Today's musicians want quick results with strong effects; they want clamorous success with the audience. For me, immersion through extended work was much more important. It is as though today's young musicians have less patience for research. They frequently do not understand the difference between French, Italian, English or German Baroque style. Of course, besides all the historical knowledge, the most important parameters are talent, imagination, richness of emotion, and creative playing. If that elemental musical power is absent, then no amount of important historical knowledge will help!

In recent years, you have played concerts that primarily have thematic programmes. Why do you regard these as important?

I profoundly agree with Elias Canetti who expressed it best in his work The Human Province: “Music is humanity's true and living memory because it addresses our hearts and emotions.” When we hear a troubadour song about the Béziers massacre, we sense we are there in the very centre of events. If we read in a book about the murder of twenty thousand people, then our rational minds say: “How terrible!” But when the melody is heard, we fall under its effect body and soul, with our entire sense organs. I think that the philosophical-aesthetic theories that evolved from the end of the 18th century, which talked about music as something abstract, being independent from reality, are entirely false. When we hear Beethoven's Eroica we hear the atmosphere of the era – the French revolution, the Napoleonic wars – when it was written. It is like a vision, an apparition. It leads to deeper understanding. And I strive for this with thematic programmes as well: ‘War and Peace’, ‘Erasmus’, ‘Jerusalem’, and so forth. The listener can aesthetically and emotionally experience each era of human history.
 

Many are sounding the bells of doom for European classical music. What do you think about the future of serious music?

I'm optimistic. People need music, including classical music. In my view, the problem lies with the classical music industry, which lives off major state and other sponsorship. There are a thousand times more symphony orchestra concerts than string quartet concerts because orchestras receive large amounts of funding whereas quartets do not. Meanwhile orchestras play largely old-fashioned, boring programmes with rigid, out-of-date structures. There are a few exceptions, such as the Berlin Philharmonic, who work under Simon Rattle's innovative spirit. They make live performances accessible through giant screens or the internet for the wider audience who have not yet entered a concert hall. You have to bring the music closer to people, you have to break down the walls. The training system of the conservatoires generally is stuck with the spirit of a time in which concert life was the realm of the bourgeoisie. This has to be changed with creative ideas so that we can address the broadest possible public! Early music is exceptionally appropriate for achieving this. We seeincreasing numbers of young people at our concerts. So it is my opinion that the old support system has to be changed, in the spirit of fairness and competition. The truly successful formations – for example, the early music groups – should receive more support. I regard the current situation as unfair: Baroque orchestras never receive state support, yet symphony orchestras are given hundreds of millions. We have to persuade the politicians that music must not be allowed to turn into museum pieces. We have to fill Europe's cultural heritage with life. Without the earlymusicians, what would people know of ancient, medieval and renaissance music? If we want the music of Monteverdi, Bach and others to be heard tomorrow (and it is my conviction that this is in the fundamental interest of humanity), then we have to support musicians working with these composers and not just those who play romantic and modern music. I hope we will succeed. We have to inform people of Goethe's – in my opinion profoundly true – thought: “He who does not like music does not deserve to be called a man, he who only loves it is half a man, but he who also makes music is a whole man!”

Interview by Balázs Máté, originally published in the Januar-June issue of Liszt Academy Concert Magazine.