Reflections on the Mariinsky

The Mariinsky Opera of St. Petersburg (sometimes referred to by its Soviet-era name, the Kirov Opera) recently completely its nearly annual residency at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. The featured presentation was the company's joint production with the Metropolitan Opera of Sergei Prokofiev's War and Peace, inspired by Tolstoy's novel of the same title.

Like the novel, the opera is a vast, sprawling work. Unlike the novel, however, the opera was composed during World War II when the Soviet Union was fighting for its life. Consequently, during Act II of the two-act opera there is explicit invocation of Great Russian nationalism and a more veiled reference to the inspired leadership of Comrade Stalin. As artists working in the oppressive atmosphere of Stalinism learned at the risk of their lives, politics was never far removed from art.

Although the production and performances both in Washington and earlier in New York were rightly praised generally by the critics, more than one critic made reference to "provincialism" in connection with the Mariinsky's performance. The conducting of the Mariinsky's general director, Valery Gergiev, is acclaimed worldwide (he is also associate music director of the Metropolitan Opera), and the Mariinsky has nurtured a number of artists who have gone on to international careers (Anna Netrebko and Dmitri Hvorostovsky come immediately to mind), but the label still rankles. The same claim of "provincialism" was leveled at Sviatoslav Richter, one of the 20th Century's greatest pianists, when he made his first appearances in the West in the early 1960s.

Certainly during the Soviet period and even more recently, Russian artists tended to receive their training exclusively or at least primarily in Russia. Political considerations made it difficult for Soviet artists to tour in the West, so they tended to evolve performance practices and techniques not commonly heard outside Russia. Artists such as Richter, Gilels, Vishnevskaya, Reizen, and Oistrakh had a uniquely "Russian" sound, especially in the music of Russian composers. The Mariinsky Opera Orchestra, while one of the world's finest, still has a craggy, even rough-hewn quality that contrasts with the smooth sophistication of such orchestras as the Met's, the Berlin Philharmonic, or the London Symphony Orchestra (where Gergiev frequently conducts).

One of the down sides of today's international travel and universal availability of recordings is that many performers exhibit a bland perfection that leaches out individuality from their performances. It is this colorless internationalism that the critics contrast with the "provincialism" of some non-Western performers, such as Richter or the Mariinsky under Gergiev.

Performing artists today, especially of the younger generation, are exceptionally well-trained and often blessed with flawless technique. Yet in the process of attaining that technical prowess we have lost the individuality, be it provincial or otherwise, that still informs the recorded performances of great artists like Oistrakh, Gilels, or Rostropovich. Perhaps that is one reason some listeners are attracted to the astringent, disembodied, often lifeless performances on "original instruments." I say, "Bring back the provincials."

The Sound of No Hands Clapping?

Writing in the Guardian, Alex Ross cites an awkward moment for President Obama:

Last autumn, Barack Obama hosted an evening of classical music at the White House. Beforehand, he said, "Now, if any of you in the audience are newcomers to classical music, and aren't sure when to applaud, don't be nervous. Apparently, President Kennedy had the same problem. He and Jackie held several classical music events here, and more than once he started applauding when he wasn't supposed to. So the social secretary worked out a system where she'd signal him through a crack in the door. Now, fortunately, I have Michelle to tell me when to applaud. The rest of you are on your own."

Those of us steeped in the classical concert-going tradition know not to applaud between movements. It's simply not done!

But as Alex Ross points out, it wasn't always that way. Audiences applauded after each movement to show their appreciation, and sometimes even demanded the movement be repeated.

While the latter might not happen nowadays, the former is a quite natural reaction to anyone who attends concerts for any other musical genre. There the tradition is to clap after each song (or piece). And if there's a particularly good solo in the middle, it's appropriate to clap during the music as well.

This counter-intuitive convention of the concert hall is one of the perceived barriers to those that otherwise might be interested in classical music. So what's the solution?

Well, what if we went back to the earlier tradition (and the current tradition for every other genre of music) and applauded after each movement? I'm not sure, but I think it could be a good thing for at least three reasons.

1) If you had a strong positive reaction to the music, you could release it through applause, further enhancing the experience.
2) For those unfamiliar with classical music in general, the applause could provide clues as to where the ensemble was in the work, and with the help of the program newcomers could better follow the work.
3) It would lower the anxiety level of not only newcomers but seasoned concert-goers as well. Because here's a little secret: when the work's unfamiliar, it's not always evident when the work's finished, or just a section of it is.

It's a great idea, but the question always is -- who's going to do it first?

In the meantime, here's a tip for classical newcomers: when in doubt, wait for the conductor to face the audience. Or if it's a chamber music concert, watch for the players to put down their instruments and look at the audience. Better yet, just don't be the first to clap.

- Ralph

WTJU - Going off the charts

One of the things we wrestle with here at WTJU is how to strike the balance between the familiar and the unfamiliar.

Part of the challenge is that we could simply stick to the top 100 classical works, and few would be the wiser. That's the attitude of kickassclassical.com, a site that embraces the concept of Top 40 for classical music and celebrates the most familiar works (and only the most familiar works). They've even produced a fun video running down the top 10 classical works.



There's nothing wrong with that approach. Classical music as a genre isn't a familiar one to most people, so even reiterating the basics can help raise awareness of music.

We want to go farther. Classics 101 is fine, but at some point there has to be a Classics 102, and a Classics 201, 301, etc. That's what we hope to provide here at WTJU. You'll hear all of the major composers, of course, and a healthy dose of the standard repertoire. You'll also here a greater sampling of those composers' repertoires, and many composers that most people haven't heard of.

But there's a point to this. There's a piece of music that will speak directly to you. And that piece might not be in the Top 100. So by varying our playlists, you have a greater chance of hearing that one work that will go straight to your heart.

It's happened to all of the announcers here at one time or the other. We hope to share that experience with you.