Good-Bye Time

Knowing when to politely bow out is a difficult thing to know, especially for performing artists. Dancers usually have enough physical problems preventing them from continuing a daily routine at an early age, so they gracefully exit, either to start a second career as a teacher of dance, or graduate to a completely different field. Singers normally know when their vocal chords no longer function as they once did, or their reduced lung capacity cannot sustain the high notes as long as before. Sometimes they continue singing past their retirement point, having become celebrities like the trio of men we all know; only one of them being in decent vocal shape. Conductors can become respected and honored sources of knowledge and tradition, or they burn out like a dwarf star, and have little or nothing to give. Even in the first case they are seldom a true inspiration to an orchestra, although an ensemble can play wonderfully well for someone whose knowledge and style the players admire. With instrumentalists aging is a touchy subject, and although there have been some wonderful pianists up there in years, most other seniors playing should have waved good-bye to their audiences long ago. Yet the last two decades has seen woodwind and string players enjoying their star status but torturing true music lovers by their performances, hardly reminiscent of the playing in their prime.

Today's New York Times has a review of a famed chamber ensemble giving their farewell performances. The Vermeer Quartet has been in the spotlight for almost forty years, and instead of an individual bowing out and being replaced by another, a common scenario, they decided to end while still on top. The Vermeer has left enough wonderful recordings behind for us to enjoy them for decades to come, and their concerts surely will live on listeners' memories. The sound and style of a quartet is usually a product of years of hard labor, ironing out stylistic differences and reaching a common understanding of how music should be interpreted; no easy task. Keeping the name but having different personnel is controversial. I personally feel that if one person in a piano trio or two in a quartet, sometimes one (in case of the first violinist), are new, the group should adopt a different name. Keeping a well-known and established trade mark is great for marketing but fooling the audience. Many would disagree with my opinion.

Regrettably some incredible artists perish while still young. This past week I have been listening to recordings of two such violinists. Ginette Neveu was only 30 years old when the plane carrying her and her brother (her accompanist), crashed into a mountain in the Azores. What an amazing musician she was! She played with more balls than most male violinists, especially today. Her Ravel Tzigane is surprisingly slow, yet in complete accordance with the composer's wishes; today we seem to think that the fastest performance is the best. A real find was to listen to Viennese-born Ossy Renardy's early recordings of Sarasate's gems, performed at the age of 18. This violinist would have become a household name and as great an anyone, had he not been killed in a car accident in 1953. Both violinists died on their way to work: Neveu on her way to a tour in the U.S. and Renardy (originally Reich) driving a car to play a concert.

Today's news tells us about the death of a great Russian musician, Mstislav Rostropovich, at the age of 80. There had been rumors for many months that his health problems had become unmanageable, but nevertheless such news makes one sad. A genuine product of the Soviet Union's music training machine, he represented both the good and bad of that system. The first performances I heard in my youth were not exactly to my liking. The harsh attacks on the then-not-so-common steel strings were a far cry from the refined sound of Pablo Casals and others. One heard complaints that Slava prevented other Soviet cellists from achieving his star status, and the cellist was eager to push his wife, Galina Vishnevskaya, into the same international fame he was enjoying. Westerners always admired the top Soviet instrumentalists, but singing was a different story: being compared to a Russian soprano was hardly a compliment. Times changed, as did both Mr. Rostropovich's style and my taste. I no longer had trouble enjoying his playing and, while working with him on numerous occasions, his tremendous creative energy. Even if one didn't agree with his interpretation, it never left anyone cold. In his later years a new Rostropovich gradually emerged: gone was all the harshness of the Soviet era and instead one was allowed to peek inside this artist's tender soul. As a result of the Cold War, our government rushed to place him in charge of the National Symphony, after the Soviets kicked him out. It served well as a political move, even if he didn't fulfill all the expectations with his baton. I had a nickname for him: the 'National Semiconductor'. He himself admitted that when he played the cello, he suffered but the audience enjoyed; when conducting he enjoyed and the listeners suffered. Yet he was able to make many orchestras sound great in Russian repertoire as a guest conductor, especially where people weren't used to such radiating musical energy and know-how on the podium. I miss his dogs: a little pooch would follow him on the stage for rehearsals. At least one of them knew all the repertoire and would get up when the piece was nearing its end.

Life continues and great personalities live on in people's memories. Of course I will always remember fondly this extraordinary man and musician who kissed me many times on the cheeks in front of a packed audience. May he enjoy making music for and with the angels.

Mass Killings

People are still feeling numb about yesterday's shooting on a Virginia college campus. 32 victims before a suicide is a large number, yet unfortunately everyday news in certain parts of the world. I am somewhat surprised that there has been less written about this incident resembling a suicide bombing in many ways. In both cases an individual knows that he will not survive but wants to take as many innocent lives as possible with him. In this writer's eyes a human life has absolutely the same value in Iraq or Darfur as it does in this country, although it is easier to pretend that the distant horror exists only on the television screen.

We love our guns, and even after yesterday's bloodbath some prominent politicians, not to mention the firearm lobbyists, tout gun ownership as a way to increase safety. According to them, if faculty and other students had carried handguns with them, the shooter might have been killed before he shot so many; never mind the bullet proof vest he was wearing. This is one type of logic, but the world's opinion doesn't agree with it. Even the Australian PM John Howard, usually sympathetic to anything we Americans do, blames our lax gun laws and easy access to firearms for this tragedy and the overall shockingly high number of gun-related deaths in the United States. The laws in Britain regarding weapons are so strict that the country's Olympic pistol shooting team is barred from practicing in its own country. The British published some interesting statistics: the population of England and Wales is 55 million, yet the number of deaths from shootings was just 46 last year. In New York City proper, with a population of 8 million, at least 579 victims died from the same cause. Doing a little bit of math tells us that the likelihood of any of us dying as a victim of a shooting is 83 times higher on this side of the Atlantic. Let these politicians explain this fact; while they are at it, perhaps they will also tell us why matters in Iraq are going so well.

Other than target practice in sports, the sole purpose of firearms is to kill. Yes, hunting is killing, too. Some consider it a sport, and sometimes it is done to curb an animal population that the ecosystem is not able to support (although it hasn't been offered as a solution to this planet's human population crisis). Mainly weapons are used as a means to threaten other people, and to pull the trigger if necessary, or sometimes just for the thrill of it. This applies to the military, law enforcement, criminals, and just ordinary citizens who feel threatened or are in a rage. A flying frying pan might be replaced by a different kind of a projectile, a bullet. In the troubled Middle East people have found it easier to use plastic or other explosives in car bombs or suicide belts. An Iraqi person, wanting to cause similar destruction as the Korean student in Virginia, doesn't even have to know how to load or aim a gun or disable the safety latch in a pistol. Pulling a string or pressing a button is all it takes. What makes them terrorists and the student in Virginia not? The intention in both cases is the same: take as many lives as possible along with your own. If suicide vests were on display at a local gun dealer, perhaps Cho Seung-Hui would have opted to purchase one and march to a crowded dining hall.

Australia used to have similar gun laws to ours, but after a madman went on a terrible shooting spree in Tasmania little over a decade ago, resulting in 35 deaths, they were changed, to the vocal opposition of many. If people down under have seen the light, and our closest neighbors in Canada have done the same, how many more tragedies is it going to take for the tide to turn here? We are too obsessed by our war against drugs (which is going about as well as the 'the other' war in Iraq and Afghanistan) to see the real threats to us and the generations following. Finally people are beginning to understand that the warming climate is a reality, and it doesn't just mean more pleasant winters but rather extreme weather events all over the globe. Scientists have warned us about this for decades but we seem to hear only what we want to.

As I mentioned the war on drugs, would someone be able to explain why cannabis (including marijuana) is a Schedule I drug, but PCP, cocaine and meth are listed as Schedule II, together with oxycodone and morphine, according the 1970 Controlled Substances Act? I have witnessed crazed behavior by people on PCP and can't understand why it would have any medical use. Marijuana is proven to bring relief to pain, as has another Schedule I drug, heroin. The latter is widely used in the rest of the world, to successfully alleviate the often horrendous pain cancer patients suffer from. You might ask what the difference between the two classifications is. In the eyes of the law, it is a lesser crime in this country to be in possession of PCP or meth than cannabis. No wonder our prisons are bulging. Killers are often treated more leniently by our legal system than those poor souls who are substance abusers and in need of help, not punishment. Go figure.

Clearly No Wire

Earthlink did it again, now having been Earth-No-Link for five days. The company also provides us with one phone line, which went dead five days ago and obviously the dsl connection with it. I have been on the phone to India and the Philippines again, trying to understand sometimes very heavy accents. It seems to me that with the increased demand for outsourcing customer and tech support, language skill requirements have been lowered. Normally I teach students whose parents come from many different countries and I'm comfortable communicating with them even when a native might have trouble. Being a foreigner has its benefits: understanding other immigrants is easy.

So, after telling the first two people (in different countries, based on the accents) that the problem was local in origin, and that they would have to contact their contractor here in Seattle, Washington, the United States, the phone came back to life after 12 hours. No dsl though, and I was back on the phone between students and playing. At some point on Friday the dsl light on the modem lit up and the activity light blinked, both to disappear then altogether. This would happen again repeatedly. I had seen this problem earlier when Earthlink first became our phone/long distance/internet provider and knew the reason: our house is too far from the central office to handle the kind of speed (6 mbps) they had initially promised. I told the tech rep to contact their people here (Covad?) to have it lowered. This was on Friday and the person on the phone said that this problem would be taken care of on Saturday morning. Of course this didn't happen and due to the busy weekend, and knowing that nothing would happen on Sunday, I called back this morning, Monday, to inquire how the issue was progressing. Again, the representatives seemed more interested about my father's middle name and my mother's maiden name than in solving the problem. I have been promised now that I should have a dsl connection in two days, making it an interruption of a week.

For a while I was able to connect to a neighbor's unsecured wireless network, but then got kicked out, probably by their firewall. I had to come up with another solution and was able to establish a connection using my Cingular 3G phone as a wireless broadband modem (it isn't quite as straight forward as it sounds). Early in the weekend, while my daughter was having her guitar lesson, I quickly drove to the nearest shopping mall where I had seen a Clearwire booth. When the company initially started service in Seattle I had been interested, but due to our location on the 'wrong' side of the big Queen Anne hill, their signal didn't reach us. Sure enough they've adding antennas and I found out that our address is now being served by no less than three transmitters. I quickly took care of the paperwork, got the rather big but lightweight antenna and was on time to pick my little one up from her lesson.

Back at home I set up the antenna (it requires to be powered) and connected it to a computer and – bingo – I was online. My wireless router was set to connect with Earthlink's PPPOE settings and I didn't want to alter them, so we were down to two computers, one using Clearwire and the other my cell phone. Printing and other network problems existed, however, so after this morning's call I reset the Linksys router, connected the Clearwire cable, renamed the wireless network and gave it a strong password, and we are back in business. When I hear back from the Earthlink people, I'm going to find out if we are stuck in a long term contract or if we can terminate the account. However, getting a second phone line with unlimited long distance would cost almost as much, so we might for the time being keep things as they are but not use the dsl, unless we decide to hook it up to a single non-essential computer, as a backup.

I have read a lot of pro and con opinions regarding Clearwire. Obviously many people have had trouble, but equally many have loved the service. I belong in the second group. At least in my case nothing could have been easier to set up. I get a download speed of over 1600 kbps; upload speed is slow, around 300, but since I'm not running a business server, it will do. What they have managed to do is to provide the first truly simple broadband connection. There is no software to install, no settings to worry about; in other words anybody could set it up. That can't be said of any dsl or cable provider. Also, although I haven't done the actual math, they seem to be priced lower than the competition, especially if you stick with the slower connection offered, plenty fast enough for most needs.

And I didn't forget to ask them about an important issue: their customer service and support. They used to be overseas but now they are located back here, in Las Vegas. It didn't hurt that the sales person at Northgate mall was as pleasant and helpful as I've ever encountered.

Look Ma, no wires!

Diamonds from the Deep

We all know that life doesn't treat people in a fair manner. In the arts and in music particularly, this is quite evident. Those who shamelessly promote themselves often get noticed when the quiet and modest ones remain hidden, even if they are more able than the exhibitionists.

Every so often I go and hear a school, other youth or community-based orchestra play, to keep track of what is taking place locally. Although the level of groups varies greatly, they have one thing in common: the musicians, young and old, seem to enjoy what they are doing. It is easy to forgive a slightly messy passage or not-quite-perfect intonation if behind it there is a warm smile and an effort coming from the heart. It is a stark contrast to the often dour expression of a burnt-out professional whose technical execution may be closer to perfection but whose soul is not in it.

The reason for my 50-mile excursion this afternoon was to hear a native Seattleite violinist play the Vaughan Williams "Lark Ascending" with a community group in one of our more distant 'burbs'. Adrianna Hulscher can normally be found deep in the pit, playing in the Pacific Northwest Ballet's capable orchestra. I brought my fourteen-year-old nightingale of a daughter, and a gifted violinist herself, along to have a young pair of ears listening, in addition to my dinosaur ones. Miss Hulscher is the total opposite of her "look-at-me, ain't I sexy" colleagues, with their tight outfits aimed at seducing some members of an audience. Refreshingly, she has no need to focus attention to anything but her playing. It is hard to name many local violinists who could match her intonation and beauty of tone. Granted, she could come out a little bit more and play as if the audience was part of the performance, but hopefully this will develop with more solo opportunities. It is a pleasure to hear natural and musical phrasing, not having to witness a bizarre dance act in front of listeners.

A bit more than a week ago I helped out a few times in PNB's "Carmina Burana", every measure of which I know by heart. Orff was an interesting composer: his music is never too deep but full of catchy tunes and unexpected rhythms which are hard to get out of one's mind. The company has presented the work often, so it is no wonder everything went smoothly with minimal rehearsal time with the orchestra. Stewart Kershaw did a decent job conducting; the only thing missing were the children in the third part. Women's voices can never duplicate the sound of young singers, but logistics dictate that children cannot be working night after night.

A major problem arose with the sudden illness of the soprano soloist. Help was closer than anyone could imagine: a young pianist from the pit got ready with a few hours notice and brought the house down with her glorious singing. People might have known that Christina Siemens sings in addition to her job as a rehearsal pianist, but I don't think many had an idea how fabulous she is. A beautiful young woman, she has a voice to match her looks, with faultless intonation. Every one of her colleagues in the pit seemed to be anxiously awaiting her appearance, towards the end of the lengthy work. The following week the regular soprano, a fine singer, was well enough to return and Ms. Siemens was back in the pit, this time a heroine.

Sometimes one discovers the finest diamonds unexpectedly. Who would have thought that a pit orchestra was hiding such treasures! Perhaps there are more that will be discovered in due time.

About a month ago I played the same Burana (they sell ibuprofen by that name in Europe!) downtown with my own group, Rainier Symphony, in a fine concert and to an enthusiastic response. We also performed the Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony in that program. It has some notoriously tricky passages which almost never go faultlessly. I've come home from many performances unhappy, shaking my head. It is ironic that it took a group of dedicated and enthusiastic music lovers to get it right, perhaps not a 100% but 99% will do fine.

In photos: Ralph Vaughan Williams and Carl Orff

Plagued

The Jewish Passover (Pesach) and the Christian Easter are interconnected, although due to the different calendar system they don’t always fall during the same time period. The Last Supper is generally thought to have been a Passover Seder, although some scholars place it a night before. Nevertheless, this year we are celebrating both festivals during the same week. Every Christian ought to either experience the Seder, an increasingly common practice, or at least study all the meaningful symbolism behind it. We had quite a few of our non-Jewish friends over and had the most wonderful Seder ever, enjoyed by all of those present. It was a pleasure seeing our two young daughters splitting the duties of a ceremonial leader: there is a difference when something is forced upon our children or when they want to discover it on their own as part of their heritage.

Typical to the Jewish people, there is a variety of interpretations of the words and symbolism, and even the restrictions on foods allowed differ greatly between the two main groups, the Sephardim and Ashkenazim. In addition to that, even some truly orthodox groups in Israel differ from the mainstream. No wonder Israel has such a large number of political parties, as interestingly do the Finns.

The ten plagues inflicted upon the Pharaoh and his Egyptians, in order to let the Hebrews leave with their families and possessions, are also subject to many interpretations. Usually they are listed as Blood, Frogs, Lice, Beasts, Blight, Boils, Hail, Locusts, Darkness and Striking of the First-Born. Some of these sound very benign in today’s world and we have to find a more fitting meaning for the present time. The river of blood could be a senseless war where the blood of innocent victims flows like a river. Today’s Iraq would well be an example of that. Frogs or amphibians can have an easily understood meaning as the enclosed picture exhibits. Lice, in some translations fleas or gnats, are symbolic to anything parasitic, such as people. Blight in this context refers to disease and death of cattle; mad cow? Boils could be an indication of an incurable disease, perhaps a pox during ancient times and AIDS today. Hail with fire can be an indication of an environmental disasters, caused by global warming. An attack by swarms of locusts still cause a complete loss of crops, and even leaves from trees are eaten by these insects, yet it is easy to see as symbol for famine, all too common with our overpopulated world. Darkness today would mean terribly polluted skies that plague much of the heavily populated areas of Asia, not to mention the Los Angeles smog. It could also be a warning about a nuclear winter or a large meteorite hitting the Earth. The final terrifying plague could, at least in my mind, be a promise of a new fatal disease that could overwhelm the world. In ancient times the firstborn child had special privileges and was considered more important than other children, thus the wording. In today’s world all children are equally important and such a horrifying disease would not choose its victims as selectively as the Haggadah story tells.

But of course the main idea behind the Passover story is freedom from slavery, which for each of us can have a different meaning. We can be suffering in a hostile workplace, a bad relationship, poverty or sickness. The story teaches us not to give up hope, even when odds seem against us. We have to watch out for the Pharaoh or Laban the Aramean, supposedly even more evil. They may well be hiding among us, pretending to be one of the Hebrews.

Today is Good Friday, a dark day for Christians (Finns call it Long Friday). Like the Jews found freedom, Christians did also, although in a slightly different manner, just two days later, on Easter. But this quest to be free from slavery is not the property of those religions, it is universal and applies to all people. Let us hope we don’t have to go through our ten plagues before we and our leaders see the truth. We have suffered enough.

Blizzard, part two

By the morning the snow had started to melt and I was able to find my car, although the night before it resembled a snow statue. After brushing it clean I drove to the Conservatory and continued from there to Naantali, a town known for its beauty in the summer time. The Finnish President has an official summer home there, and there is also the Moomin World, named after the troll-like characters of the favorite author of Finnish children (and grown-ups as well), Tove Jansson. The town also features a big international music festival during the summer. Last summer I was invited to play the Schnittke concerto for two violins and piano with my wife Marjorie and Ralf Gothóni as part of the Northwest Chamber Orchestra’s planned tour. It obviously irked some influential people in our town, to the point that they made sure the orchestra folded right before the two scheduled tours.

Naantali in the winter time is a quiet place, although it has a famous spa which was featured in the New York Times not long ago. The reason for my visit was to see my uncle, my late mother’s younger brother, and his wife of 60 years. Uncle Jaakko had been a very successful businessman, with factories all over the globe, including China. He had patented a self-closing fire-proof door for ships and his company was busy filling orders. In time he retired and left the firm to his son, my cousin. I don’t know if the illness runs in that side of the family, but my uncle suffers from early Alzheimer’s, the same dreadful disease that finally killed my mother. At this point he is still doing well and is a pleasure to talk to, but my aunt told me about his visual hallucinations which had really scared her. He was seeing people in the house and asking his wife who they were. Such hallucinations are not that rare, although more often people hear things rather than see them. Thankfully my uncle’s neurologist was able to prescribe a brand new drug, something we don’t yet have access to, which took care of the problem instantly. I spent a lovely afternoon with my family and was sad to leave, knowing that the next time we’d meet, life for them wouldn’t be the same.

Off to the freeway towards Helsinki and some enjoyable driving at 140 km/h (87 mph). That was slightly above the speed limit, but I figured I was safe as there were others driving as fast. The radio was on again and in addition to political discussion about the election where the Conservatives (National Coalition Party) unexpectedly won 10 seats, there was a lengthy program about the situation with media control in today’s Russia. It seems that under Vladimir Putin, Russia resembles the old Soviet Union more and more in the way the government limits freedom of speech. It also silences, with the help of thugs, those who want to speak their mind and write about it, often resorting to murder. It is said that Russia is even more dangerous a country for journalists than Iraq. What Putin and the Kremlin wants is a Russian version of our Fox News as the only source of information available. Of course it would be more difficult to control the internet, although some experts predict Russia might follow in China’s footsteps. Quite a few correspondents stationed in Moscow were interviewed, but every one of them was extremely careful with what they said, probably as a result of fear. The most meaningful information came from outside Russia, from experts in that country’s affairs.

After the collapse of the Soviet Union some shrewd people became incredibly rich almost overnight. None of the wealth was created by honest means and thus it is understandable that the wealthy class continues to use the services of bodyguards. Honesty has never been highly valued in the Russian society. It is often considered a sign of weakness, and people have had to accept a dishonest lifestyle simply to survive. Western-style democracy is as foreign to the people as it is to the Iraqis, and perhaps deep down, people welcome another strongman to lead the country.

After the fall of communism next door, Finland wanted to ‘rescue’ the remaining native population from Ingria, who are closely related to Karelian and Finnish people. Any person who could prove to be at least one quarter of that ethnicity was allowed to come ‘home’, to the land of their people. My countrymen had expected perhaps a few thousand immigrants but the number swelled many times higher. Finally the offer needed to be withdrawn. Documents were easy to forge or to buy in the black market. Now Finland is filled with Russian-speaking people, many of whom have as much Finnish blood in them as I have African. Traditionally we Finns don’t actively take part in religious life; only 2% attend services regularly. This is also more or less the case with other religions. Some 90% of the Finnish Jews have intermarried and don’t see anything wrong with it, as religion is not an important issue. Interestingly, the recent Russian arrivals have greatly increased the number of practicing Jews in Finland and the Chabad movement is having a jolly good time with these newcomers. Clearly, true Ingrian people would have been Christians, so something doesn’t add up. Of course some other Russians have been allowed to immigrate, so perhaps some of them have Jewish roots.

Darkness finally fell and the sleet and rain slowly ended. After driving over 500 miles in rather challenging weather I was soon safely back at my brother’s house, ready for a long return flight via Copenhagen the next morning.

As a footnote, the victorious Finnish ‘Conservatives’ are so far to the left that they make Ted Kennedy seem like Pat Buchanan. And I love the fact that a candidate for the Green Party, Jyrki Kasvi (“George Plant”), had written a web page, part of his re-election campaign, in Klingon for us Star Trek fans.

Moomintroll and Snufkin fishing

Blizzard, part one

My secret wish of having to drive in a winter storm soon become a reality. On Sunday morning March 18th I said good-bye to my father, who was in great spirits and had no trouble recognizing me. We talked a couple of hours and then it was time for him to use his wheelchair to go to eat lunch. Naturally it was a somewhat sad moment for me, but seeing how well he was taken care of made me feel good and at ease.

So, I checked out of my hotel, had a bite to eat there and won a freshly baked loaf of bread in a scratch-it lottery ticket I got with my bill. At first the weather was ideal for driving, with lots of sunshine, brightness of which was amplified by a fresh coat of snow everywhere. Soon the skies turned dark, however, and I was in a hurry to find a gas station to fill the tank of the Renault. This is when I discovered as an unpleasant surprise that most pumps were automatic, working either with a credit card or €10 and €20 bills. They wouldn’t accept any of the numerous credit cards I tried and then it became clear to me that most European cards come with an ‘intelligent’ microchip and require a PIN number stored in it. Luckily I had taken out enough euros from my Bank of America checking account using an ATM in Kouvola, and was able to fill the car with €40 ($53) worth of 95-octane gasoline. Fuel is expensive in Europe, as that paid for only a little more than a half of the tank. It is a bit strange that we Americans haven’t added that extra safety feature into our plastic money. New European passports also come with an embedded microchip which makes them far harder to forge.

Soon a powerful snow storm started and the next few hours I was driving on a two-lane highway under complete white-out conditions. I could only see the tire marks of one car that was a few hundred feet ahead of me and even they sometimes disappeared as a result of a gale-force wind and blowing snow. My brother’s car radio is always on and I was listening to many interesting programs. This was Election Day in the country and politics were talked about, but my attention was grabbed by a couple of other programs, first of which I’ll tell about here.

The Sibelius Academy in Helsinki is celebrating its 125th year. For an hour I listened to a program about its history, which of course parallels the history of Finnish music. The institution is the largest one of its kind in Scandinavia, with about 1,700 students. Universities in the European system don’t offer instrumental or vocal instruction and only produce musicologists; the rest is left for conservatories. What really interested me (some of which I had forgotten) was how even in the early years, when Helsinki hardly counted as an international metropolis, there were bitter musical ‘wars’ taking place. Unlike in many American cities, there has always been room for more than one strong personality, not just one individual trying to be ‘Mr. Music’, a dictator in this field. For a long time there were two competing music schools in Helsinki, one of which concentrated on the ‘important’ instruments (piano, violin, cello) and voice, and the other, run by a well-known conductor, offered an ‘orchestra school’ where all orchestral instruments were taught. Also, the orchestra scene was never a monopoly: even today Helsinki has three full-time professional orchestras and there is a chamber orchestra, Tapiola Sinfonietta, just a few miles to the west of Helsinki’s borders.

Just about every musical figure in Finland has gone through the conservatory in Helsinki, which changed names a couple times after the fusion of the before mentioned two schools, ending up honoring Finland’s most famous composer Jean Sibelius, himself a former student in the early days. Based on the many interviews in the program, the most beloved director of the Sibelius Academy was Taneli Kuusisto, a composer, organist, but above all, a wonderful human being. His son, Ilkka Kuusisto, is a well-known musical figure for his own accomplishments and the two grandsons, Jaakko and Pekka Kuusisto, are excellent concert violinists who finished their training in Bloomington, Indiana. Taneli Kuusisto was always a great supporter of mine and in many ways responsible for my choosing music as my profession. I don’t know whether I should be thankful to him or blame him: perhaps my contributions to the society would have been greater as a scientist or a doctor. Later, he didn’t hesitate to offer me a position as a teacher in the same institution when I was just 20; many of my students were older than I was. I taught there for seven years, during many of which I flew in from another city every week to teach a couple full days.

That other city, Pori, was my destination that day. I wanted to visit old students there and see how the city had grown. The music school there is now known as the Palmgren Conservatory, named after a composer from than area. They have a fabulous location which I toured the next day with a former student who is now in charge of the conservatory, at least for the time being. Decades ago when I was teaching violin, viola and chamber music there, and also conducting their small but rather good chamber orchestra, the school occupied a humble old building and there was always a shortage of space. Now they have three floors with seemingly endless number of large rooms for teaching, a lecture hall, recording studios and a nice auditorium. Any school in our country would be envious of such a facility. They have about 870 students, most of who are pre-college but about 10% are enrolled in a department for a professional degree. I asked about the cost of the tuition and my guide looked at me puzzled. “Studying is free, of course, as the law mandates.” Not only that, but in higher education students get a monthly stipend from the government for living expenses. No wonder the country is able to produce great instrumentalists, singers, conductors and composers; the same is true in academic fields where Finland truly excels.

Another former student has been the concertmaster for the city’s professional Pori Sinfonietta for two decades. For a time I was involved with the orchestra, well over 30 years ago, but at that time they didn’t have a hall of their own. I was taken late at night to marvel at their new home. Not only is the hall impressive and probably sounds good as it has only 688 seats (the city has a population of 80,000) and this brings the kind of intimacy to music which is often totally absent in American gigantic concert barns. But the most amazing thing to see was the all the space musicians had for themselves backstage on two levels: dressing rooms, practice rooms and other spaces big enough for even the largest sectionals. They also have a large pit and produce a few operas every season.

Even in this paradise of a workplace there is trouble brewing. Musicians, no matter where they are, seem never to be satisfied, and the group has had some rough times with personality clashes. Behind it all is a familiar story: the person on the podium who has put his own interests ahead of the orchestra, almost destroying the latter in the process. My student and colleague there told me she is tired of being the lightning rod which a concertmaster so often is, and she wants to step aside. The city has agreed to that, but will not lower her pay. Finnish people may have their faults but they respect one’s rights and dignity. Our society here should learn from such honorable principles, although I have my doubts it ever will.

And yes, driving fast in a blizzard is exciting.

Photos:
Veikko Talvi 3/18/07
Jean Sibelius

Finnish Line

Although I rarely eat red meat, every time I visit my home country, Finland, I temporarily turn into a carnivore. Perhaps it is the way they raise their livestock (they roam free and are certainly not corn-fed), but whatever the reason the meat is superior to what even the fanciest restaurant in the States serve. Finland was never thought to be a country of culinary delights, but the meals I've had in the past few days have been immaculately tasty and beautifully presented. Who would expect to find a first-rate Spanish restaurant in this small city? 'Olé' has been in business for 25 years and makes the tastiest French fries I've eaten anywhere. Back at home I don't usually look forward to eating out. Part of it has to do with the phony 'Is everything all right?' questions in hopes of larger tips. This culture doesn't believe in them: whatever the bill is what you pay. The same is true with other things as well. Like in Japan, a taxi driver here would probably be insulted if you tried to tip him. That profession is highly regarded in this society and the drivers are proud owners of their usually diesel powered luxury cars, made by Mercedes and Volvo.

It is also refreshing to be able to read totally neutral news and intelligent analysis of world affairs. The story of our government's desire to place missiles in former Iron Curtain countries, now NATO members, is followed by reactions from other NATO countries and of course Russia. It is easy to understand the latter's concerns. After all, we almost started WW III because of the missiles going to Cuba, a similar distance to mainland USA as these would be to mother Russia. If Iran is the threat, why not place such weapons in Greece and Turkey, both NATO countries and far closer to Tehran?

My brother has kindly given me one of his cars to use. I had forgotten how comfortable French cars can be, although I have owned several when they were still available in the States. The Renault's radio has been set to automatically lock into the strongest signal of the Finnish Broadcasting Company's channel 1 which sends only serious programmes of music, other culture and information, with no commercials. Today they've had a lot of music by Aulis Sallinen, plus a lengthy and well done interview of him. Last night there was a live broadcast of a concert of Finnish contemporary music, with the composers interviewed before and during intermission. And much of the country listens to it, not just a few as would be the case across the ocean.

It is sad to see an aging parent lose his short term memory. Two days ago my almost 96-year-old father was very much aware of my presence but tonight he was in his own world, probably some seven decades in the past, and seemed very tired. I will try to go there early in the morning tomorrow, as that is the best time for him. But I'm grateful for the system that takes such good care of him, only charging a set percentage of his pension, as is the case with everyone in a similar situation. Of course the largest cities may have a shortage of available space for the aging population and at times are forced to place them in surrounding communities, but all in all the system is something Americans can only dream of.

Al Gore would agree with the opinion poll here (parlamentary elections are taking place tomorrow) according to which majority of people, by a very large margin, think that global warming is a much greater global threat than terrorism. The proof is in the numbers: statistically winter in Helsinki lasts an average of 120 days but this year it was only 40, one third of normal. Sure enough it was snowing all of today but it wasn't cold enough for the white stuff to stick. I'm hoping for a cold night so that I can enjoy driving in slippery conditions across the country, fun for a Finn, to visit my one remaining uncle plus former students from three decades ago, most of whom have done well indeed in this difficult field.

I shall report back once I return. This wonderful Finnish Nokia N800 internet tablet was not designed for writing lengthy novels, so I'm stuck tapping with a pointer or a finger which it automatically recognises and provides a larger on-screen keyboard. Those Finns are smart; I'm proud to be one of them.

photo: view from hotel window in Kouvola 6:30 AM

Yahrzeit

A special contribution to the blog:


I’m searching through last year’s calendar as I receive news of Mark Paben’s death. Mark Paben, the indomitable spirit behind Northwest Chamber Orchestra, former Board President, is dead at age fifty-one. The coincidence of Mark’s death and the anniversary of Northwest Chamber Orchestra’s final concert, March 5, 2006 gives me chills. As my friend Yuriy says quoting a Russian proverb, “Man plans but God decides.”

Who was Mark Paben to me? For a brief period I believed him to be one of my closest and dearest friends. I turned to him whenever I sought advice. After all, Mark was an accomplished bankruptcy attorney from a high profile law firm, pianist, and patron of the arts. He seemed to know anyone who was anybody in the field of music, locally and abroad. Tall, with boyish good looks and enough charm to go around, he towered over everyone in a crowd. My mother adored him. “So you’re the one,” she’d say looking up at him. “You’re the Mark my Margie raves about.” Mark and I would sign our emails M&M.

Under Mark’s guidance, NWCO board meetings were an experience not to be missed, like a dare-devil roller coaster ride. “Park your broom,” he snapped at one woman concerned enough about finances as to question the practicality of hiring a European music director. We all laughed. Under Mark’s leadership, the Northwest Chamber Orchestra would claw its way to fame and fortune. We took comfort in knowing our president’s expertise was bankruptcy law.

When Mark Paben suggested the orchestra begin hiring only youthful and attractive musicians during a round of auditions, naively I thought him wise. “This orchestra needs eye candy,” he said. “You know, Margie, it’s the whole package we’re selling. You’ve got to look good these days. And besides, young musicians are malleable, not stuck in their ways.”

There was no stipulation for seating in the chamber orchestra contract. Mark insisted that less attractive orchestra players, in his eyes, be moved to spots inside the orchestra, where they’d be less visible to audience members.

Mark Paben had a whole repertoire of impersonations up his sleeve. He did a fabulous executive director imitation down to the habitual nail picking. His impersonation of the public relations person was uncanny. “Doesn’t she just look like she emerged from a complete hysterectomy?” he’d ask, laughing. The woman was promptly dismissed; she didn’t look the part.

Mark used various code names for those who got in his way. I remember some of the more colorful: “Alopecia Woman” along with “Eating Machine”. One man was nicknamed “Teeth Rotator” and of course, “Ben Gay”. Ben Gay was the legendary violinist who could and would play everything.

The last time I had an exchange with Mark Paben was at our dress rehearsal for the Miriam Fried concert during a lunch break. So thrilled to find him in the foyer I grabbed his arm and shouted, “Mark!” After all, he owed me a lunch, and a promise was a promise. But Mark Paben looked right past me, as if I no longer existed. “You scared me,” he said, and walked away in a huff.

His bizarre reaction lingered with me, and I felt distraught. “That’s just his way,” offered one woman as consolation. “He cares too much.” But two days later, immediately following the Fried concert, my eyes spotted him sitting with an ex-board member at a Spanish restaurant on First and Union. Once again, I was invisible to him. I knew in my heart, the two were plotting the lethal injection for NWCO.

Later that evening, an ominous email from Mark Paben mysteriously appeared in my mailbox. “Pack up and leave town,” it stated. Life is funny, isn’t it? I never thought he’d be the one leaving so soon.

A Jewish tradition tells us to light a candle on the anniversary of the death we mourn (Yahrzeit). I will light a flame for my cherished chamber orchestra, and at the same time, remember Mark Paben; may he finally find peace.


posted by Marjorie Kransberg-Talvi

God's Soup Kitchen

A friend recently told about her gratifying time working in a soup kitchen. A former student just wrote that she is going to spend her spring break helping to build housing in New Orleans. These are wonderful and rewarding deeds that bring joy and happiness to both the giver and the recipient. But should there be a need for them in the first place, in a rich country such as ours?

Someone commented, not long ago, that in his opinion, based on my writings I don’t really understand the American way. Quite the contrary, I understand it all too well after living here for over 30 years. When I criticize something in our society, it is because I also know how other Western countries have handled these issues, as I have lived there and continue to follow this progress. No system is perfect, and due to human nature, there will unfortunately always be people ready to cheat the system, at the expense of others.

Every human life should be equally important, and I'm not expressing communist ideas when I feel that the system should take care of the less fortunate. Bad luck or an illness without health insurance can put almost anyone in a terrible position. Today’s New York Times tells about the growing middle class of uninsured. As an example a 50-year-old real estate agent is interviewed. She has had breast cancer and can’t find affordable insurance for herself, unless you consider over $27,000 per year with a $5,000 deductible as such. Many people are stuck in jobs they hate simply because of the fear of losing benefits, mainly health insurance. As I know from experience, a sadistic employer can use this as a threat against an employee, or as a punishment for speaking out. This is especially effective if the person’s health is failing, perhaps as a result of working too hard for too long, or in a dangerous environment such as a mine or factory.

There is no denying that many people are addicted to drugs, but why are alcoholics free to run for president and smokers able to sue tobacco companies, yet other ‘users’ are sent to jail? There have been times during the last century when today’s ‘recreational’ drugs have been legal and other periods when alcohol was prohibited. Nobody can deny that tobacco kills, even inhaling second-hand smoke, yet no politician is suggesting laws to make smoking or selling cigarettes a punishable offence. If drug addiction was seen as an illness instead of crime, our prison population, the world’s highest, would plummet. If the government would help these people with their problem, perhaps the need for supporting a habit with criminal activities wouldn’t exist, at least in today’s magnitude. Take care of people’s mental health needs and you’d be surprised how the number of homeless will shrink, and also add to the decline of our inmate population.

A few nights ago I watched a disturbing Anderson Cooper/CNN special on Christianity. The program focused on some rather extreme evangelical movements where people are divided simply into believers (of their kind) and non-believers (everyone else). Many of these people blindly support Israel and want to destroy its neighbors. Is this done for the love of the Jewish people? Not really. They interpret the Bible in such a way that Jerusalem has to be in hands of Israelites, God’s chosen people, in preparation for Christ’s second coming and the end of this world as we know it. Do the Jews get to enter heaven with these righteous Christians? Of course not, unless they have converted.

When a person is born Muslim, he or she will most likely remain as one, and often obey God’s will in the way their religion teaches. The same is true with every faith. Many people from the Far East have become devout Christians in recent decades, but one must remember that their heritage has taught them a form of life philosophy in Buddhism, Confucianism and other such religions. Having a God to worship is new for many of them, and perhaps an easier way of life than their inheritance would demand. And there is nothing forbidding them to mix both the newly discovered faith with the old philosophy of living ethically.

Yesterday’s NY Times Magazine has a fascinating cover story by Robin Marantz Henig, titled “Darwin’s God” or “Why Do We Believe? – How evolutionary science explains the faith in God.” The article goes back in time and tries to come up with explanations to why humans developed this need in the first place, a belief in a Supreme Being. Why do we worry so much about an afterlife? There is an interesting comment by Jesse Bering, a psychologist who conducted studies on how children’s view of God changes with age: “A large part of any relationship takes place in our minds, so it’s natural for it to continue much as before after the other person’s death. It is easy to forget that your sister is dead when you reach for the phone to call her, since your relationship was based so much on memory and imagined conversations even when she was alive.”

Back to the issue of taking care of our brothers and sisters, whatever ethnicity and religion they may be. Six billion humans is a large number, yet shouldn’t every one of them be entitled to the same fundamental right of a good or decent life as a son or daughter of today’s American socialite? For the time being, relying on volunteers in soup kitchens may be necessary for our society to survive, but wouldn’t it be nice if we could dedicate our time for more meaningful dialogue between people, instead of just feeding the hungry and yet avoiding their eyes on the sidewalk the next day?

What They Don't Want You to Know

It is interesting how in this country, which prides itself as the model of freedom for the rest of the world to follow, media often tells us a story with a slant, and then refuses to correct the faulty information. How often has the press declared someone guilty of a crime or a bad deed, and then when he/she has been found innocent, the rebuttal is to be found hidden somewhere in a hard-to-find spot near the end of a section, or is conveniently missing. We seem to have an odd censorship practice at work, with elements of propaganda attached to it. Certain institutions, starting with the government and ending with non-profits, are able to have stories published that make certain groups or individuals look bad, or deflect interest from really negative news to something else, often a trivial matter.

Terrible news from Iraq and Afghanistan were conveniently put on back burner when a former stripper died. For many days Anna Nicole Smith’s death was the main topic even on CNN news, Larry King Live and Anderson Cooper. People die unexpectedly every day. What made this Playboy centerfold’s story more worthy than that of a 12-year-old boy who died of a toothache? Only the Washington Post and some minor publications bothered telling his tragic story, although it spread overseas, further making our way of life seem ridiculous. His mom had lost Medicaid and had no other coverage, and couldn’t afford to pay $80 to have the son’s tooth extracted. The bacteria spread to his brain, resulting in his all-too-early death. Poor Deamonte became a Deadmonte. Was this story too revealing of an example how upside-down this country’s values are? With the money spent on creating the mess in Iraq, much of it having simply disappeared, every single person could have first rate medical care for probably many decades. It is all a question of priorities. If my wife and I can afford to give free lessons to some students who couldn’t afford to study otherwise, wouldn’t there have been a dentist willing to extract that tooth for nothing?

I can’t help but think back to the horrors of 9/11 and the scary days following it. I still find it very strange that our Vice President Cheney was taken underground to be protected at any cost, and nobody knew about his whereabouts, yet George W. Bush himself was allowed back in the White House, after zigzagging across the country’s military bases on Air Force One for a day. Does this tell the true story of who really holds the power in the administration? What about the even greater mystery of the deadly anthrax attacks by mail that followed just a couple days later? The country was led to believe we were attacked by chemical and biological weapons. When it later became evident that the anthrax, based on its ‘signature’, only could have come from our government’s laboratories, a scapegoat, Dr. Stephen Hatfill, was quickly named. Of course there was no evidence and he had to be freed, but that again was not a front page news item. Five and half years later this topic has conveniently been swept under a rug in the mainstream media, although one would think pursuing the matter would be of utmost importance to our national security. Independent sources, such as this one, of course continue their search for the truth.

About a half year ago many colleagues of mine in this city were accused of workplace terrorism, attacking some coworkers’ instruments, slashing their tires and threatening them with hidden razor blades et cetera. The local media gave a lot of space for these accusations, as the ‘victims’ had gone to their friends in the press. With the help of the internet these stories spread, making the Seattle musicians look like a bunch of adolescent hooligans, instead of serious and respectable artists. A private investigator was hired, by both the musicians and their employer, but he came back with absolutely no evidence of wrongdoing. Of course the media should have cleared the defamed musicians and told about the findings, but to my knowledge that never happened. So, perhaps intentionally, these colleagues of mine still appear guilty in the public eye, and whatever they will say in the future will not be taken as seriously as it should, as they have been discredited by these false accusations.

It is amazing how a local media tries to protect some affluent members of the community. Not long ago, the Los Angeles Times wrote a series of long and well-researched articles about the questionable global investments of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Although I see a possible personal bias in the story, many facts presented are indisputably true. One of the local dailies reprinted a shortened version of the initial L.A. Times story, but the other one supposedly didn’t (I don’t read either, so I can’t be sure).

Wouldn’t it be great if we had access to completely neutral and unbiased press, which would give equal space to both sides in case of a dispute, and would honor the common law principle of “innocent until proven guilty?” Also, it would be a pleasure to read good news, nice articles about nice people, instead of becoming anxious by seeing nothing but stories of horror and evil. Or is it true that one can, sadly enough, reverse the saying “no news is good news” and admit that “good news is no news?”

Grey Papon

Some bad people manage to hide their past and resurface as important figures someplace else where people haven’t bothered to check their history. A convicted felon may reappear as a respected violin dealer (there have been several), a musician moves to a new city and boasts about his/her former employment, without mentioning that he/she in fact had to leave. In business and politics, some people seem to be able to commit terrible deeds, and after a disgraceful exit, they pop up in charge of another leadership position, either with the government or private sector.

Last week brought news of the death of one successful and powerful con man, Maurice Papon. He had held a senior position in the Vichy regime, arresting and sending 1,560 Jews to Darcy interment camp, near Paris. From there these victims were transported to Auschwitz and other concentration camps and thus to death. After the war Papon managed to hide his past so well that French presidents, including Charles de Gaulle and Valery Giscard D’Estaing, named him into important positions, including the police chief of Paris and the budget minister. He was awarded the Order of Commander of the Legion of Honor medal by de Gaulle, and was even in charge of the company that built the supersonic Corcorde. It wasn’t until 1980s when evidence about his Nazi collaboration past came to light. Finally in 1997 he was convicted for his war crimes after a six-month trial, the longest in France’s history, and sentenced to ten years in prison. However, he was released on medical grounds in 2002, having served only three years. This angered many who felt that he shouldn’t have been freed. The head of the Union of Jewish students said that “Papon could die quietly - that was not the case for all those he sent to their deaths”

Papon’s defense argument throughout his trial was that he was only following orders, the same excuse we have heard over and over again. Adolf Eichmann was also proud of this and showed no remorse for what he had done. Even when it became obvious that Germany was rapidly losing the war and Heinrich Himmler ordered to stop the ‘Final Solution’ of exterminating the Jewish population of Europe and to destroy all the documents relating to this, Eichmann did not obey and continued his deadly work in Hungary. With luck and help, from among others some members of the Roman Catholic Church, he was able to avoid capture and eventually immigrate to Argentina. Israeli agents kidnapped him there in 1960 and brought him back to Israel. The trial in Jerusalem was broadcast live and the accused was found guilty on all counts and hanged in 1962, the only time Israel has used the death penalty in a civil case.

This excuse to kill and destroy due to orders given by superiors happens all the time. Some people end up in law enforcement or the military field because of their burning desire to wear a gun and use it. Often the question for such people is which side of the law they should be on. Crime usually pays far better, but there is always the risk of getting caught. Working on the ‘good’ side means less money but being able to legally take aim at a human target under the right circumstances. There are policemen and soldiers who unfortunately don’t think twice before shooting innocent and unarmed people. This is time of war, or war on terror, and human lives are not particularly valuable. But destroying lives can also happen in different ways: a foreman or a middle ranking executive can fire people, or stop hiring them in case of a temporary setup, knowing in many cases that they are endangering a person’s ability to earn a living. Yet these people with this power seem to have no conscience, and they seldom question if executing the orders of their own superiors is the right thing to do. What goes on in a soldier’s head, or a policeman’s, when they empty their gun on a woman, child, old man or just an unarmed civilian posing no threat to them or anyone else? Is that going to haunt him later in life, or is he a true sociopath with no conscience? What about a modern-day ‘Ronald Eichmann’ in the civilian sector, knowing that he has done something terribly wrong? Is he also without a conscience or will he wake up one night feeling pain and remorse for what he did?

We all remember the commercials for Grey Poupon. What does that have to do with the also grey 96-year-old Monsieur Papon or a Nazi official? Well, one was about mustard and the other, among other horrors, mustard gas, effects of which they experimented on their helpless victims. The subject brings me to the fact that I know people, especially in the music field who, in spite of the image portrayed in the media, simply can’t cut the mustard.

More on Pitch and Intonation

Some people are born with a natural sense of musical intonation, a few with perfect or absolute pitch, and others with an ear that even without training can tell if music they hear is in tune. For most, this is a skill that can be developed, either through careful listening while practicing on an instrument, or with the help of a dedicated teacher. Then there are those who are simply tone deaf. Strangely, people in all these categories sometimes end up in the field of music.

Having perfect pitch is both a blessing and a curse. It works as a parlor trick to amaze people by having someone press different keys on the piano and instantly being able to tell what note it is, or hearing a foghorn of a ship or ferry and say that it is a “C”. I’ve found it a curse when I’ve had to play with an organ tuned to A=435, or to listen to ‘authentic’ performances a quarter tone flat, as I hear notes but they make no sense. It is similar to hearing a language that sounds familiar but none of the words are understandable. For a Finn, listening to Hungarian is like that; yet to an outsider the languages may sound quite similar, both being members of the same linguistic family. Luckily, as enough people with perfect pitch have had problems with the ‘baroque’ tuning, the standard seems to have come down to A=415, a semitone flat and fully acceptable to us, even if seemingly transposed down a half step.

A pianist needs not to worry about intonation, and even those who have an excellent sense of intervals and pitch in general, get used to the fully tempered scale where everything is a little out of tune. Often a violinist, who also plays the piano, wants to play music as he hears it on the keyboard, and sounds strangely out of tune to another string player. The ear is adaptable: what is a ‘natural’ scale in Western music is not so for many other cultures and their instruments. Unless introduced to our music early on, our system of whole and semitones might seem very foreign to them. Those of us studying world music are well aware of this, evident for example on the different tuning systems of the gamelan.

The ear is also faulty: when we hear a perfect octave, fifth or fourth, they actually are not so. Before the invention of electronic devices that showed the sound wave frequency, piano tuning was an art form. Everyone in that profession knew the fact that if you started on a note in the middle and tuned the piano in perfect octaves up and down, the top and the bottom were far apart, although mathematically they should have matched. Every cellist and violist is aware that they need to tune their lowest string, a “C”, a little bit higher, especially if the music calls for a long note on that open string. Only three perfects fifths are needed for this. The phenomenon probably happens because nature avoids all types of perfect harmonies, as every scientist knows. An immaculate sounding octave is slightly more that 1:2, and none of the ‘perfect’ intervals are just that.

Just like a string’s natural harmonics, brass instruments work on the overtone system, and a good musician realizes when he has to compensate to match other instruments in an ensemble. Even on the violin (or any other string instrument without frets), after teaching a student to play faultlessly in tune, when it comes to playing chords, all the previous rules have to be tossed into a waste basket. A major sixth that sounds ever so sweet appears out of tune when the notes are played separately: the top note is a bit flat. In a string quartet players need to adjust constantly, especially those in charge of the inner voices, to achieve perfect harmonies. This can take years to achieve; then all that goes out the window when playing together with a wind or brass instrument. A clarinet’s ‘perfect’ intonation doesn’t match that of strings, and it is evident when playing a quintet for that combination, such as the masterpiece by Brahms. In a symphony orchestra perfect intonation in the strings is not all that important: sixteen violinists interpreting the same note slightly differently usually create a ‘rich’ sound. No wonder orchestra strings players’ sense of pitch suffers over time.

What happens to all the people without an ear who end up in music? If spoon fed from early age, they may learn to play the violin by simply remembering where to place their fingers. It is common to find singers who are in the business simply because of their capable vocal cords, yet are incapable of reading music or hearing intervals, not to mention counting. Many accompanists have become ‘vocal coaches’ even if they can’t sing themselves. They just hammer out songs and opera arias repeatedly on the piano, and the singer learns her/his repertoire by imitation. A pianist can be tone deaf as long as he has some sense of rhythm. Some ability to read music helps. But being able to type doesn’t make for a great writer! Strangely, some ‘intonation challenged’ people even end up on the podium: one cannot beat time out of tune. These limitations become evident when a conductor tries to fix a blatantly dissonant chord in the brass, and tells an individual to raise his pitch when it should be lowered and vice versa. Often these musicians are able to fix the problem themselves, just by listening to each other more carefully, and the satisfied conductor happily takes the credit for it. But then, blessed are the ignorant.

“Intonation” © Jurgen Gorg

Of Nostalgia and Purity

Growing up I tried to get my hands on every recording by notable violinists ever made. There were very few reissues of old recordings, but my French trained teacher Arno Granroth had an amazing collection of old 78s which I then transferred to tape. In the process I even learned how to eliminate much of the hiss and other surface noise of those discs, many of which were quite worn out from decades of listening. Perhaps the most amazing recording was the one young Jacques Thibaud made of two then-popular pieces, d’Ambrosio’s 'Canzonetta' and Gabriel-Marie’s 'La Cinquantaine'. This was made before the vacuum tube and amplification were available, and the violinist stood inches from the microphone, accompanied by a brass band, the only combination loud enough to be picked up by the same mike.

Since he was still playing in spite of his advanced age, I often heard Mischa Elman’s recordings on the radio, and naturally bought anything of his available at my favorite record store in Helsinki, Westerlund. As he played somewhat slower than most ‘hot’ names of that time, Elman’s playing was considered old-fashioned by many. In the Tchaikovsky violin concerto first movement he suddenly takes a much slower tempo, exactly in half speed, in a passage where everyone needs to slow down somewhat. This hardly can be because he wasn’t able to play it faster, but probably because the composer had wanted that. Elman was the oldest of Auer’s students and likely the first one to play the piece. What impressed me the most in his artistry was the impeccable intonation and sense of style, not to mention the big tone that was evident even on recordings. He was still performing in the early 1960s and it is said that even then no other living violinist could produce such a powerful, focused sound on the G-string.

Luckily by now most of the old recordings have been reissued on compact disks. One can actually witness the development of violin playing from Sarasate and Ysaÿe to modern violinists. Listening to historical recordings should be made mandatory for anyone taking the violin seriously, just like knowing art history and examining paintings by master painters is essential to an art student, even if he or she ends up filling the canvas with squares and circles, or cow dung like in the famous exhibit in New York some years ago. Great many releases feature Elman, from concertos to Jewish pieces and Fritz Kreisler’s little jewels. Of the latter, it is interesting how Elman treats 'Preludium and Allegro' and 'Sicilienne and Rigaudon' as if they were late baroque pieces by Pugnani and Francoeur. After the violinist learned these miniature masterpieces, it would take a couple decades before Kreisler would admit that they were actually his own creations.

Earlier this morning I gave a student the Kreisler arrangement of Dvořák’s 'Slavonic Dance' in e minor to learn. Of this piece, Elman’s recording has always been my favorite. It is quite slow, but immaculate in style and the intonation in the difficult double stops is simply breathtaking. We call it intonation, but in my native Finnish the term is musical cleanliness or purity, a far better description. This brings me to another topic: How is it possible that master fiddlers of the past with gut strings, or even gut core strings, such as Pirastro Eudoxa or Kaplan Golden Spiral, were able to play so well in tune? These strings would always drop in pitch and the soloist would turn his back to the audience during every tutti to tune them back up again. I particularly remember Zino Francescatti playing the Sibelius concerto and at the end of the slow movement the high natural harmonic shocked every listener for being a half step flat, yet everything else, double stops included, had been absolutely faultless. Before the introduction of Dominants and other synthetic core strings that keep the pitch stable, a violinist had to constantly adjust to the pitch discrepancies. A few people, namely soloists from the Soviet Union, used all-steel strings, but that was an exception.

In this country, on the East Coast, a terrible habit was formed some time in the middle of last century. A famous teacher, who wasn’t playing any more, decided that the students, who were playing solos with orchestra, would have to tune sharp to the orchestra’s pitch. That way they would either sound somewhat sharp (which many ‘knowledgeable’ critics praise for being in tune), or if they happen to play a bit flat, it would sound just right. This practice stuck, and today it is hard to find a violinist who tunes correctly and yet plays with excellent intonation. To listeners and orchestra musicians this sends a message that one shouldn’t care about the agreed pitch, especially after they read rave reviews of the performance. Naturally the string players, especially the first violins who can hear the soloist well, intuitively start adjusting their own pitch to match the star, yet most of the orchestra continues in the agreed-upon one. Even young students are encouraged by their fame-seeking teachers to tune sharp, in addition to doing the ‘right moves’ in front of an audience. Gone are the days when the soloist would stand there proudly and let his or her playing do the dancing. Instead a young teenager tunes his/her violin to 445 or above, yet manages to play flat, and tries to do choreographed dance even in a slow, deep and noble piece. Such teaching preferences will simply destroy a young ear and make music with its phrasing, tone and other truly important factors secondary to a cheap vaudeville act.