Saturday 23 October 2004

Well, it was an enjoyable few days playing for Mackerras. As we left the Usher Hall stage on Thursday night (you can hear the concert on Radio 3 on Monday) I said to a few players 'that was good fun' and everyone responded the same way: 'yeah, he's great isn't he?'. Part of the reason that he's so popular with players (apart from basic things like knowing the music very well and being very clear to watch) is that he doesn't bring his ego onstage. All of his physical movements are devoted to getting the job done: he knows exactly what information the players need to get the results that he wants, and there's no irrelevant showmanship added for the benefit of the audience. Musicians appreciate this: the conductor's on their side too. If we ever got around the legal minefield that would be setting up a 'conductorwatch' website, I think his score would be unusually high.

Friday night wasn't quite so much fun, as we were playing in Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, one of the most energy-sapping, vile, ugly, unwelcoming public buildings constructed in the last 100 years. I had a bit of a problem onstage in that I knew how most of the music went by then, so I didn't have to read it all. What to look at instead? Sir C was being economical and probably wouldn't appreciate me staring at him when he wasn't doing much, and everyone else seemed to have their heads buried in the part in front of them. It feels good to give your eyes a rest by focusing in the distance on the hall's back wall, but that looks dreadful to the audience, as though you've got bored with what's happening on the stage and are looking for something else to catch your attention. Because of where I was sitting, between the wind and the cellos, no-one was really in my eyeline, so it felt a bit lonely - I wanted to make music with someone and nobody would play. Ah, blame it on the building. 

Incidentally, the reason that it's so easy to memorise Mozart quickly, is that the musical lines almost always follow their natural course. They do what you would expect in a very organic kind of way - the film composer Don Davis once told me that the same is true of John Williams and, believe it or not, Carl Stalling. Haydn's music is the opposite in that it continually upsets your expectations. Of the two, I much prefer playing Haydn, but it's much more difficult to bring off. In loose-tongued moments I've been known to suggest that any unmusical idiot can play Mozart, because all you have to do is follow his instructions - it's like walking down a hill, it just happens.

Michael Macdonald brought my harmonium back this morning, with its bellows patched, and a bit squeaky until the leather wears in. Hooray. So I've had all the reeds out to soak them in meths while its lungs gradually come back to life. There's a fair bit of tweaking still to go, but I think it might sound rather good once it's all done ...