The orchestral conductor - a
useless drone? by Arthur Butterworth
Whatever one’s vocation
or daily employment it is often a
matter of curiosity to wonder what
exactly other people do for a living.
For example,do you know what a slodger
does ? Or what a jobber used to do?
Most people have a vague idea about
music in general :they know the popular
tunes that are commonplace and familiar,
but for the most part unless you can
claim to have a lively personal interest;
have sung in a choir, played in a
brass band, or are of that exquisitely
elitist kind of person - well brought
up and all that - and were taken to
proper concerts from an early age,
maybe your ideas about professional
musicians are a bit vague. By "proper"
concerts I mean of course, not just
any old music hall rough and tumble
with beery sing-songs or maudlin,
sentimental ballads (and least of
all pop), but chamber music; opera
or symphony concerts; that kind of
rarefied music posh town-dwelling
people go to, very often just because
it pays to be seen in fashionable
society. However, most normal people,
whether they have cultural pretensions
or not, like a good, memorable tune
even if they could not name its creator
- the composer, that is. Mozart? Oh
yes, heard of him; and Beethoven too
maybe. Bach? - well not quite so sure.
Brahms? Some dreary German wasn’t
he? Tschaikowsky? - (who? - say that
again!) oh yes, now I remember, all
those sentimental ballet tunes that
little girls love so much, wasn’t
he Russian or something? And so it
goes on.
Orchestras grew
up in the 18th century,
more or less. Wealthy aristocrats
had their own private little bands
(as orchestras were, and still are,
colloquially known). The musicians
were usually part of the domestic
staff: coachmen, grooms, gardeners,
footmen, estate workers and so on;
but rarely if ever girls and women
- the maids and cooks - part of the
musical establishment. Such musicians
being in domestic employ were virtually
slaves to the prince, duke, count,
archbishop, baron or whatever, on
whose estate or in whose service they
were employed. This was almost exclusively
in mainland Europe. English aristocrats
and the landed gentry generally being
interested only in yobbo outdoor things
such as hunting, shooting and fishing,
or gambling and cards of an evening;
they were not known for their intellectual
or cultural pursuits as the more refined
and cultured Germans were. Orchestras
were usually small: a few strings
- violins, violas, cellos and the
odd double bass; perhaps a tiny ensemble
of wind players: flute, oboes, - later
a pair of the new-fangled clarinets
- a bassoon or two, certainly a couple
of horns enlisted from the hunting
field, similarly a pair of trumpets
and a drummer, or more precisely a
timpanist, for he played what we used
to call in our rustic way the "kettle
drums"; always a pair, never
used singly, and in later times sometimes
even three; such basic rhythm instruments
all handled by one player. So where
did the conductor come in all this
?
Well, he didn’t.
Those early symphonies by Haydn, Mozart
and Beethoven managed quite well without
this present-day prima donna. How?…Orchestras
were led by the principal violinist
(hence the present-day residual term
"leader") but he had to
share the responsibility with the
keyboard player who took it upon himself
to direct the singers and to lord
it over the instrumentalists too.
It can’t have been a happy state of
affairs; rather like having two women
in a kitchen - it never works. However,
as the 19th century wore
on, things began to get complicated:
composers wrote more complex music;
concerts were no longer just for private
entertainment or a duke or his aristocratic
circle; public performances became
more widespread; opera houses and
concert halls got bigger, catering
for a more popular appeal (hence the
Henry Wood Proms of today). To ensure
control of an even bigger group of
performers someone else was needed;
not just a mere fiddle player, who
now and then stopped playing so he
could waggle his bow in the air to
try to keep all the others in time
together, but some other more elevated
personage whose sole function would
be to beat time and bring everybody
else to heel, and not just rush ahead
- or drag behind. So came into being
the "conductor". Who was
the first of this remarkable breed?
A bit difficult to say. Some say it
was the now unknown composer, Spohr,
others that it was really Mendelssohn
(he of "Wedding March" fame).
Whoever it was has a lot to answer
for. Since the mid 19th century concerts
have almost invariably had a conductor,
although some small, elite ensemble
manage effectively without this musical
parasite who so often gets in the
way of the musicians who actually
make the sounds. So what does he really
do? (apart from earning VAST fees
for deigning to appear at the concert).
Originally little more than a musical
traffic policeman before the invention
of traffic lights: making sure that
the various intertwining lines of
music do not collide. What now? This
should still be the basic job but
many conductors, professional and
amateur alike could not conduct a
bus, (not even an empty one). His
function still needs to be essentially
to keep the pulse - the beat - going;
to signal start and stop. But there
is more to it than that. He is supposed
to be the composer’s interpreter,
to mould the way the music is performed;
shaping its phrasing in the same way
a good actor can express the printed
word of the playwright. There are
even some celebrated names among the
conducting fraternity - even British
- (can YOU think of half a dozen well-known
names ?) Oh! they did and still do
exist, though amongst professional
and even good amateur players even
such distinguished personages are
more often than not to be criticised.
Conductors are on a par with sergeant-majors,
headmasters, major-generals, foremen,
chief executives, trade union bosses,
field-marshals, cabinet ministers,
admirals, presidents, chancellors,
prime ministers; and nowadays hospital
matrons (for there is a growing number
of women conductors - so you can imagine
what that must be like) One has to
be as wary of a conductor as one would
of a banana republic head of state,
for he or she can be fussy, temperamental,
often emotionally disturbed, capricious,
immensely self-confident, totally
infallible, and above all liking the
sound of his or her own voice. This
is understandable, for coming to think
of it they utter not a sound at the
public performance; they leave that
to the real musicians: the players
(or the singers in opera or choral
works). The conductor merely indicates
what others should or should not do;
thus he can never play or sing a wrong
note, although he can cause chaos
beyond belief if his technique with
the baton goes astray - like an air-traffic
controller calling in two planes to
land at the same time. He is perhaps
like a cox in the Oxford & Cambridge
boat race: exhorting the crews to
exert themselves beyond endurance,
yet doing nothing very much himself
other than shouting himself hoarse,
which conductors do at rehearsal,
making up for the enforced silence
at the public performance. Perhaps
the boat race has something to commend
it: for when the race is over they
throw the the cox in the river. What
a good idea! - we could learn something
from that.
Arthur Butterworth
