The Conductor's Upper-Hand Technique
The Conductor's Upper-Hand Technique
Costume Code
Your Image
Use foreign words (several languages preferably), which you have carefully
rehearsed. Slip them in by accident or because, "There just isn't a word in
English to express the meaning so well." To play it safe, develop a British
accent ("Av a go at the shedule, lov") and forget all those strange foreign
sounds. Using solfege syllables also indicates you were trained in the old
world tradition. Very chic.
Incredible Ear
Names
Patience
Carefully time, stage and rehearse your outbursts and exits. Losing your
temper early in a rehearsal is simply bad form; you really need to rehearse
something first. Save the dramatics for when things are going well but you
feel the need for attention.
Always explode over some small detail, not a major problem. You may have
noticed something relatively minor at an earlier time. Stash it away for
the right moment, then POW, give it to them with both barrels. Some
award-winning gambits include rage over people missing from a rehearsal,
turning pages slowly, misunderstanding your pristine beat, or failing to
keep up with your suddenly faster tempo.
Of course you need to cultivate technique in the art of delivering stinging
insults. Sad to say, many conductors have no talent for this essential part
of the profession. Animal comparison were good before the war (jackass,
ostrich, and sloth come to mind), but today's maestro is better served by
reference to I.Q. and emothinal deficiency: "Where am I, in a home for the
aurally impaired?" "There must be a brain in there somewhere, you found
your way here this evening." I always like, "If you can't count the rhythm,
try to feel it at least" and "Who taught you bowing? Robin Hood?"
Reference to body parts are also trendy.
During your tirades you must threaten to quit. Of course you have no
intention of doing that, but it sends out the message that the musicians are
thoroughly dependent on you, and you're bloody well tired of taking the
blame for their stupidity.
One last thing. The very best time to lose your temper is when you're lost.
Any pretense will do. Crash the baton down hard, stomp on the podium and
nail 'em good.
False Starts
Submission Tactics
Tell an old joke everyone knows, but make yourself the source. "Toscanini
used to say to me" is always a good start. "I remember when I was a student
in Vienna" works well, too; but the all-time winner is probably, "You know
(then drop your voice to an intimate whisper and look down), I came from a
very poor family." Even if you grew up in Beverly Hills, that start will
assure your players' admiration for your outright humility and amazing
personal achievements.
Favoritism
When those principals begin to feel really important (you can tell if they
nod in agreement at what you say or laugh at your jokes too much), throw
them a curve. Skip over solo passages during rehearsals so that those hot
shots will be uneasy and timid at the concert. This allows you to "pull
them through" their solo passages, conducting every note they play,
permitting no freedom from your interpretation. Players can't be trusted to
make music without your help, but sometimes they forget that.
Auditioning
Learn a few things about each insturment so you can impress the
instrumentalist with your universal understanding of all things musical.
Use words and phrases like "purfling," "American long scrape," "bore sizes,"
and "the node of a xylophone bar," to show your smarts. Show considerable
interest in the player's instrument: "Oh yes, those post-war Czechoslovakian
horns used more copper in the alloy because of the shortage of zinc, and
this accounts for your thinner sound."
Auditions are a good time to compare the musician to a competitor, as in,
"Bridget plays so well. I wish the rest of you would try to imitate her
sound."
Being suddenly personal throws the innocent off guard: "How's your family,
Ralph?" "You studied with my old friend, Conan the Librarian, I
understand." This technique was perfected by Nazi interrogators. To
really crush an up-and-coming player, criticize his tone. If it's pretty,
say "It's lacking in character." " If it's forceful, say "It's raucous." "
If it's fat, say "It's unfocused." You get the idea.
The all-time zinger that backs a player to the wall is to criticize him
before he's played a note. "You don't seem to be playing as well this year,
Bob. Are there problems at home?" Or "Since I moved you to third, you seem
to have lost your old enthusiasm. Perhaps you don't want your contract
renewed." This get the audition off to a proper start.
Lighting
Time Management
Politics and Publicity
These points are all time-honored and foolproof. I hope, as you move into
the twilight of your conducting career, you'll look back, as I have, with
satisfying smugness for having maintained your superiority. Remember that
the conductor's score is always one to nothing. Parts are just parts.
Donna Laurence Mills (The Instrumentalist May 1988) (dean of the music
school at Chapman College in Orange, CA. He hold music degress from
Northwestern University and Eastman School of Music)
A conductor must dress the part; some prefer a disarmingly sloppy look, whle
others favor denoair continental flair. Though there are many shcools of
thought as to the best costume, here are some wardrobe necessities: a black
turtleneck or bulky sweater, deck shoes, a piece of striking jewelry (a
medallion or ring will do nicely) and expensive blazer thrown casually over
the shoulders (never put your arms in the sleeves), a towel, and an
oversized briefcase.
To establish the correct image of a conductor, it is essential that everyone
believes that you are to be rich and famous. You are the Emperor, not
Empoorer, so get a student to follow you around running errands. A foreighn
accent is a real plus, but you'll need to back it up with some reason for
having it. Two weeks in Europe will do, or a great-great-grandfather who was
Russian.
You absolutely should pretend toohave an incredible ear. Screw up your face
occasionally whether you hear anything or not. Complain about intonation.
Musicians are always paranoid about that, and you can easily convince them
that they are out of tune. (Notice how they fidget with the instrument,
blowing imaginary water out of the keys, retuning a string, or pulling and
tugging at those little slides.) Stopping for another "A" confirms your
aural superiority. One confident master conductor I know stops the
orchestra and looks at someone in the rear of the second violin section.
"Your D string is down," he says, and without question the poor soul
nervously plucks and turns while everyone watches.
Chairs are filled with clarinet, violin and trombone players. The only
resemble people when they sound bad; when they sound good it's because of
your masterful conducting. Addressing a player by name promotes a false
sense of equality. Keep musicians anonymous; don't even try to remember
their names. By putting the blame on deadlines, you can sometimes avoid
listing those space-consuming names in programs, too. No name, no
self-esteem, no problems. One name, yours, is the only one that matters.
Playing for you is all the credit the musicians need.
How lucky these musicians are to be on the same stage with you,yet they
seldom appreciate it; that's clear from the mistakes. As saintly as you
are, there's a limit; and you certainly can't allow anyone to damage your
reputation. It's a matter of honor to give them "what for" occasionally; I
mean really let 'em have it. Turn red, sputter, glower, and break batons
(keep a broken one in your brief case for such moments). Storming out of
the room is even better; it is the coup de grace of podium power.
Announce the rehearsal number and give the downbeat immediately. Don't wait
for anyone to find the place. You then have the opportunity to berate the
players and start over. It's amazing how much humiliation can be
accomplished through the false-start method.
The conductor's tools are the baton, the face, the upper torso, and the
mouth. Oh, how young conductors underestimate the mouth. To use it to the
fullest extent possible, prepare a long list of anecdotes, war stories,
jokes and reminiscnences. Nothing whittle down a player's resistance as
much as a boring story. Never hurry these magic moments. Wipe your glasses
as you speak and always begin with, "You know," then give a long pause. To
be sure your group pays attention, repeat the same story often.
Look only at your principal players when talking to a section. Ignore the
rest. When conducting, hover over the first chair people, your baton almost
grazing their temples. Stare at them during performances; emote with them.
Under no circumstances should you communicate with those in the rear.
If control seems to be slipping, call auditions. Because you are the one
who determines the audition material, you can easily throw a musician off
balance. Your manner needs to be condescending, oozing with concern, and
dripping with sincerity. You are the father figure, schoolmaster,
archangel. The suplicant presents himself to you for your blessing or
correction. As High Priest, you are guardian of musical morals, so play the
role like a champion. Raise your eyebrows often while listening, but don't
say much. A weak, patronizing smile at the end of the audition, with a
bored, matter-of-fact "Thank you," thrown in as an afterthought, will put
you in the driver's seat for some time to come.
For some reason, musicians like to fuss about needing more light. Pay no
attention to those silly complaints. The only important thing about lighting
at a concert is to make sure the conductor's every gesture and move are seen
by the audience. Tell those cry-baby musicians to learn their parts at home
so they won't need so much light. If they insist on more, put a spoltight
in their eyes at the concert. Not being able to see the conductor or the
music is one of the weakest excuses musicians give. Don't put up with it.
To frustrate would-be mutineers, make last minute changes in rehearsal
times. (This may also wreck a competitior's concert if he's asked some of
your players to help him out.) Force trombonists and percussionists to sit
through pieces they don't play in. Stop when you see the brass get ready to
play after counting out 112 bars of rest. Every few rehearsals, see that
you don't get to the tutti passage at all. You'll know you've beat them down
when they slam their horns in the cases and leave quickly. (You can bet
they'll be at a coffee shop somewhere praising your unswerving devotion to
the score after that.)
In the arena of politics and publicity, musicians are no match for you. You
know all the important people; and your touched-up, 20-year-old picture is
in the paper, on billboards, and in those brochures proclaiming your
majesty. The people who sit before you have none of that. Sure, it
irritates them to see you get all the credit. Of course they know how often
they cover up your little mistakes, but that translates into power for you.