When More Becomes Less
Yesterday morning I was sitting out on our deck enjoying my morning espresso and basking in the pleasantness of Indian summer.
Afterward, instead of going to my computer to pound out an email to you, I began flipping through recent issues of Strad and Strings magazines – they do have my ads in them so I figure I owe it to myself to glance through them once in a while.
In any case, I happened on an interview with some up and coming fiddler I’ve never heard of who was responding to the question, ‘What makes your playing stand out amongst all the other gifted young players around today?’
‘I have sworn to myself to make every note I play have meaning,’ was the reply.’
I had to chuckle when I read this. It reminded me of something that happened on a record session – yes, I do mean Record Session – many moons ago.
I was part of a string section ‘sweetening’ an album coming out of A&M; Records, back when Herb Alpert still owned the Label. The concertmaster, bless his heart, was a rather inept young fellow somehow connected – by blood, ethnicity, or some other means – to Herb Alpert himself.
Well, after one play-back this young kid comes back in the room and says, ‘They’d like us to play with more feeling. Make every note a melody.’
There we were, playing goose eggs – a.k.a. whole notes – and our concertmaster – I’m using the term rather loosely here – wants us to make of each a Melody!
I can tell you, a few of us almost lost our lunch on that one.
But let’s get a little more serious here and talk about real music. Or at least music with more to work with than whole notes.
Before writing this I was working through the Bach Chaccone. Believe it or not, I’ve heard many violinists, I call them ‘good students’, who fall into the trap of trying to do TOO much with this work.
I think part of the problem is that we’ve all grown up with the idea that this piece of music is such a masterpiece that every note must be monumental and epic. It’s like they think they must hit a home run with every note.
Pretty soon the listener is numb.
You’ve got to give people a break. Let them relax and feel the effortless flow of notes. There’s plenty of time and room in the Bach Chaconne for heavy hitting. The challenge is more how to keep from beating it to death, not how to put more passion into it.
Last week I watched the film footage of Milstein playing it on his last public concert. An 82 year old man playing through that 15 minute ball-breaker – excuse my French – as if it were water. Yes, there was plenty of passion, but his economy of movement was what astonished me, as a relatively informed viewer.
So, let this be a lesson to you. Be careful not to over-indulge your emotions. Few enjoy listening to a player who’s just using the music to exorcise their personal demons. Do that in the Psychiatrists office.
Great music making is nuanced, patient, clever, articulate, effortless, virtuosic, intelligent, AND passionate.
If you want to become the master of More, become first the master of Less.
All the best,
Clayton Haslop
P.S. And the best way to do what I have just suggested is by acquiring clean, pure, efficient, and faultless fundamentals. You’ll find it all in Kreutzer for Violin Mastery.