CHAPTER VII Interpretation in Conducting ( Concluded ) TIMBRE, PHRASING, ET CETERA IMPORTANCE OF TIMBRE IN INTERPRETATION

Having devoted considerable space to discussing the two expressional elements for which the composer is mainly responsible, let us now present briefly certain matters connected with the other six elements in our list (see p. 46). The two described as being partly controlled by composer and partly by the interpreter are timbre and phrasing, and we shall accordingly treat these first. Timbre or tone-quality is less important than either tempo or dynamics, and is obviously less under the control of the conductor. The vocalist may be induced to sing more loudly or the violinist to play more rapidly, but it is often impossible to get either to so modify his actual tone quality as to make his rendition more expressive. And yet, in spite of this difficulty, there are many passages in both choral and orchestral music in which the essential significance depends absolutely upon beauty or ugliness or plaintiveness or boldness of tone; and especially in choral music is it possible for the conductor to induce his chorus to bring out many more such effects than is usually done. A positively ugly and raspy vocal tone may convey a certain dramatic effect that no mere variation in dynamics is able to bring about, an example of this being found in the Chorus of People who sing at various points in the cantata by Dubois called The Seven Last Words of Christ. Another very short passage of the same sort is found in Stainer's Crucifixion in the scene at the cross. Mr. Coward has written more in detail upon this point than anyone else, and we may well quote his discussion of the topic "characterization."[21]

In instrumental music, timbre is also a highly potent influence in arousing emotional states, and we are all familiar with the fact that an oboe passage is often associated with the simplicity of outdoor rural life; that a melody for English horn has somehow become connected with mournful thoughts; the sound of trumpets, with martial ideas; and the grunting of the lower register of the bassoon, with comic effects. It is well known, also, that the skilful violinist can cause his instrument to sound an infinite variety of shades of color. But these means of expression are almost wholly under the control of the individual players and of the composer (as orchestrator), and cannot therefore be profitably discussed in a work on conducting.

The phrase in music is very similar to the phrase in language. In both cases, it is a thought (usually incomplete and forming a part of some larger idea) which must be slightly separated from the preceding and following phrases, that it may be correctly understood; yet must be so rendered in relation to the neighboring material as to seem an integral part of the whole. In addition, it is of course necessary to emphasize the important words in a language phrase and the most significant tones in a musical one, as well as to subordinate the comparatively unimportant parts, in such a way that the real significance of the whole may be clear. Phrasing is thus readily seen to be an extremely important factor in the expressive reading of language, since one could scarcely interpret intelligibly if he did not first of all read as a group the words that belong together as a thought; and one could certainly not convey the correct idea of the group to a listener if the most important words in it were not stressed so as to stand out more vividly than the others. Although not so readily understood because of the absence of symbolism, phrasing is quite as important an element in the expressive rendition of music as it is in the case of language. In order to interpret properly the conductor must first of all determine what tones belong together in a group; must make the individuality of these groups evident by slightly separating them, but usually not to the degree of disturbing the basic rhythmic flow; and must so manage the dynamics and tempo of each phrase as to make its content clear to the listener. Many phrases are so constructed that their proper delivery involves a gradual crescendo up to the climax (usually the highest tone) and a corresponding diminuendo from this point to the end of the phrase.

In vocal music, the matter of phrasing is comparatively simple because here the composer has, in general, adapted the melody to the phrasing of the text; and since in language we have definite ideas and concrete imagery to assist us, all that we usually need to do in studying the phrasing of vocal music is to follow carefully the phrasing of the text. But even then a warning ought perhaps to be given the young conductor regarding carelessness or ignorance on the part of singers about some of the most fundamental principles of phrasing. The most common mistakes made are:

Mistakes of this kind are made because the singer all too frequently fails to recognize the fact that the interpretation of vocal music must be based upon the meaning of the text rather than upon purely musical considerations (cf. quotation from Caruso on page 44).

A comma or rest ordinarily indicates the end of a phrase in vocal music. If, however, the phrase as marked is too long to be taken in one breath, the conductor should study it carefully for some point in it where another breath may be taken without too greatly marring the continuity of the text. Sometimes in a large chorus various sections of a division may take breath at different points, thus preserving the integrity of the phrase in certain cases where this is particularly desirable. It should be noted that when a breath is taken in the middle of a phrase or between the phrases where no rest occurs, the time for breathing must always be taken from the last note of the preceding phrase, in order that the continuity of the rhythm may not be sacrificed.

The importance of studying phrasing from the standpoint of the effective rendition of sacred music will be realized more vividly if one takes the trouble to inquire of some of the members of the congregation how well they understood the words of the anthem or solo. The replies that will ordinarily be given to such a question will probably astonish the director of the church choir; and although he will sometimes be inclined to put the blame on the ears and minds of the congregation, there is no doubt that in very many cases the difficulty may be traced to poor enunciation and faulty phrasing on the part of the singers. The following examples are reported to be authentic instances of phrasing by church choirs:

The poet had quite a different thought in mind when he penned these words, with the correct punctuation marks:

What this verse means is, of course, easily seen by inserting the correct punctuation marks:

In instrumental music we have no definite ideas and no concrete imagery to guide us; and the conductor, in company with all other students of instrumental music, will find it necessary to study his score most carefully if he is to unravel the threads that are woven together in such complex fashion in orchestral music. As implied above, phrasing in instrumental music means:

These are only general principles, however, and the details of phrasing in instrumental music cannot be treated adequately in writing because of their too great complexity. It is only through practice, reinforced by the intelligent criticism of a real musician, that skill and taste in the art of phrasing can be acquired. A few concrete suggestions are offered, and these may be of some slight help to the amateur, but they are not to be thought of as "a complete guide."

Closely connected with phrasing is rhythm, and although the rhythmic factor should perhaps theoretically belong wholly to the composer, since he is able to express his rhythmic ideas in definite notation, yet in actual practice this does not prove to be the case because the amateur player or singer so often finds that "time is hard"; and there are consequently many occasions when the rhythm indicated by the composer is wholly distorted, either because the performers are weak in their rhythmic feeling or because the conductor is careless and does not see to it that the rhythmic response of his chorus or orchestra is accurate and incisive and yet elastic.

Rhythm is the oldest of the musical elements and there is no question but that the rhythmic appeal is still the strongest of all for the majority of people. Rhythm is the spark of life in music, therefore, woe to the composer who attempts to substitute ethereal harmonies for virile rhythms as a general principle of musical construction. Mere tones, even though beautiful both in themselves and through effective combination, are meaningless, and it is only through rhythm that they become vitalized. In order to have interesting performances of choral and orchestral music the conductor must see to it that the performers play or sing all rhythmic figures correctly, that long tones are sustained for their correct duration, and that in general the musical performance be permeated by that steady throb of regular pulsation which is the foundation of all rhythmic coherence.

Modern musical rhythm is so complex in its frequent employment of syncopations, "cross accents," et cetera, that the prospective conductor must study indefatigably if he is to unravel its apparently inextricably snarled-up threads. We assume, however, that detailed study of rhythm has constituted a part of the student's work in piano, singing, et cetera, and shall therefore not attempt to treat the matter further. Let us advise the would-be conductor, however, to continue his study of rhythm and phrasing unceasingly and never to allow himself to be deluded into believing that an accurate knowledge of these things is less necessary now than formerly. It has seemed to us that some public performers of the present day were cloaking their inability to play or sing with rhythmic accuracy under a pretense of being highly artistic and flexible in their rhythmic feeling. Needless to say, the existence of such a state of affairs is to be greatly deplored and the student is admonished to make sure that he is able to perform every detail of his music with metronomic accuracy before he attempts rubato effects.

The second, third, and fourth of the elements of expression as cited in our list on page 46 belong almost wholly to the composer since he is able to indicate them precisely, and the conductor's chief concern in dealing with melody, harmony, and pitch registers will be to make certain that the composer's wishes are carried out to the letter. For this reason no attempt will be made to discuss these matters further, the topic belonging to composition rather than to conducting.

Now that we have reviewed the elements of expression somewhat fully, what of the conductor? Shall we give him a set of specific directions for making his chorus or orchestra sing or play more loudly or more rapidly or more dramatically? Our reply is—no, not any more than we should attempt to show the student of acting or oratory exactly what gestures he is to make use of in playing upon the emotions of his audience. As implied at the outset, the thing that is necessary in both cases is that the interpreter have:

Granting the presence of these two things, the actual gestures will usually take care of themselves. The conductor Altschuler remarks on this point:

We are fully in accord with this sentiment; but for the benefit of the tyro it may be well to note again that, in general, a quickening of tempo is indicated by a shorter, more vigorous stroke of the baton, whereas a slowing down in rate of speed, especially when accompanied by a letting down of emotional intensity, involves a longer, more flowing movement, with more back stroke. Louder tone is often indicated by the clenched fist, the fortissimo effect at the climacteric point often involving a strong muscular contraction in the entire body; while softer tone is frequently called for by holding the left hand out with palm down, by loosening the grip upon the baton, and by a generally relaxed condition of the entire body. Dynamic changes are also indicated to a certain extent by the amplitude of the beat and by the position of the hands. In calling for a pianissimo effect, the conductor usually gives short beats with the hands close together (if the left hand is also used), but in demanding fortissimo the beat is usually of much greater amplitude, and the hands, therefore, widely separated. For the swell (crescendo-decrescendo) the hands are usually close together at the beginning, are then gradually separated as far as possible, coming together again at the end of the decrescendo.

Changes in quality are perhaps most frequently suggested by variation in the facial expression, poise of body, et cetera, while phrasing is often indicated by a movement of the left hand (thus signaling some part to begin or stop) or by a lifting of the arms and shoulders at the breathing point, thus simulating the action of the lungs in taking breath, and causing the singers or players actually to take a breath by instinctive imitation. The manner in which the baton is grasped and manipulated is of course another way of indicating these various expressional effects, this being especially noticeable in the case of phrasing, which is perhaps most often indicated by simply raising the baton higher at the end of a phrase, thus preparing it for a longer sweep at the beginning of the following phrase. But all of these things are done in different ways by various conductors, and no set rules can therefore be formulated.

The most important point to be noted by the beginner in conducting is that one must not direct with merely the hand and arm, but must use the entire body from head to toe in communicating to his chorus or orchestra his own emotion. Facial expression, the manner of grasping the baton, the set of the shoulders, the elevation of the chest, the position of the feet, the poise of the head—all these must he indicative of the emotional tone of the music being rendered. But be sure you feel a genuine emotion which leads you to do these various things, and do not play to the audience by going through all kinds of contortions that are not prompted at all by the meaning of the music, but are called into existence entirely by the conductor's desire to have the audience think that he is a great interpreter. If the conductor does his work at any point in such a fashion that the audience watches him and is filled with marvel and admiration because of the interesting movements that he is making, instead of listening to the chorus or orchestra and being thrilled by the beautiful music that is being heard, then that conductor is retarding rather than advancing the progress of art appreciation; in short he is failing in his mission. One of the sincerest compliments that the writer has ever received came when he asked his wife whether he had conducted well at a certain public performance, and she replied that she guessed it was all right, but that she had been so absorbed in listening to the music that she had not thought of him at all!

The development of modern orchestral and operatic music has brought about a tremendous change in the prominence of the conductor, and there is no doubt but that his part in musical performance is now more important than that of any other type of interpreter, being probably second in importance only to that of the composer. From having been originally a mere time-beater, he has now come to be the interpreter par excellence; and as Weingartner remarks (op. cit., p. 9) in referring to Wagner's conducting:

It will soon be discovered by the amateur that in every case where an effect such as that described by Weingartner has been brought about, it is because the conductor has studied the music and has then made gestures which were prompted by his sympathetic response to the thought of the composer. In other words, the conducting was effective because the feeling which prompted the gestures came from within, as is always the case when an orator or an actor moves us deeply. This is what is meant by interpretation in conducting; and we can scarcely do better, in concluding our discussion of the whole matter, than to quote once more from a writer to whom we have already referred.[22]

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