100 Years with Leonard Bernstein (I): The Magnetism of the Maestro

Agustí Fancelli wrote in his review for El País "Leonard Bernstein or heterodoxy: he dances on the platform, shrugs his shoulders, grabs the baton with both hands as if it were a baseball bat, then turns it into a delicate violin bow or a severe cello bow, smiles, makes faces, stomps his feet. The instrumentalists follow him magnetized, responding to each gesture with the expected sensitivity, like lovers holding hands in the dark." We have no record of the event, but Schumann's First Symphony "Spring" must have sounded similar to the fantastic version leading the same orchestra, only a few months earlier, at the Musikverein in Vienna:

Bernstein's passion, that magnetism -which animates the members of the orchestra, moved by the same current- is one of the inherent traits of his artistic personality. It is evident both at the end of his career, in the eighties, and at the beginning. One of the first musical merits attributed to him was achieving that the eminent New York Philharmonic Orchestra, in low hours during the fifties, took flight again, prioritizing the spectacularity of the most complex symphonic compositions, from Beethoven to Mahler, passing through Schumann and Brahms. But even more extraordinary -out of the ordinary, literally- was his pedagogical work, deployed simultaneously and complementarily to his activity as an orchestra conductor and composer.

Bernstein made numerous efforts to bring music closer to the general public -not only to the musically trained- to make it understood that music always belongs to everyone, and incidentally to dilute the boundaries of the tacit hierarchy that separated elevated, intellectual music from popular or folk music, that is, from the "people." His love for jazz, declared in word, is confirmed in the incorporation of themes and rhythms of traditional music into his own works. Something that some of the most avant-garde composers, such as Bartók or Stravinsky, had already done.

"We don't always realize how important teachers are. Teaching is perhaps the essence of my function as a conductor"

If exciting, but somewhat brainy, his Harvard lectures on the inexplicable nature of music, titled "The Unanswered Question" (The Unanswered Question), in dialogue with the flourishing linguistics of the time and Chomsky's studies, more accessible -and no less exciting- are his television appearances. Even today, they continue to arouse admiration for Leonard Bernstein's wonderful gift as a communicator. For, managing to make musical concepts understood through images, metaphors or comparisons -all conveyed with a sense of humor and prioritizing the human aspect of musical creation- is no easy task. Some of hisTelecasts, aimed at all audiences, as well as "concerts for young people" (Young People's Concerts, from 1958 to 1972), have been reproduced in the essential volumeThe Joy of Music, which begins with an absolutely eloquent statement, which we can only reproduce: "For as long as I can remember, I have talked about music, with friends, colleagues, professors, students, and simply citizens. But in recent years I have found myself also speaking publicly, joining the long list of well-intentioned people, and yet generally doomed to failure when they have tried to explain the unique phenomenon of human reaction to organized sound. Ultimately, one must simply accept the charming fact that people enjoy listening to organized sound (certain organized sounds, at least); thatthis joy can take the form of all kinds of responses, from animal excitement to spiritual exaltation; and that individuals who can organize sounds to evoke the most exalted responses are commonly called geniuses"In another of his television appearances, Bernstein opens up -speaking from the heart, as usual, by the way- to point out how fundamental the teacher's work is: "We don't always realize how important teachers are (...) teaching is probably the noblest profession in the world: the most selfless, difficult, and honorable profession. It is also the most undervalued, underpaid, and disparaged profession (...) Teaching is perhaps the essence of my role as a conductor." Knowing how to put oneself in another's shoes, knowing what they don't understand in order to hit the key that leads them to understand, is the Socratic art par excellence, which in the case of music provides extremely tangible results, and of which we have testimonies.

ESSAY AND READINGS OF THE RITE OF SPRING

One of the most fascinating audiovisual documents preserved, despite its discreet editing -which gives it a more authentic tone, on the other hand- is the one dating from 1987, in which a Bernstein, already somewhat weathered by the passage of time, prepares a youth orchestra for the performance of a work as important and complex as theThe Rite of Spring. It takes place in the most ideal context, far from civilization (in Salzau, Schleswig-Holstein) and during a week of great intensity, which begins with mutual acquaintance; a kind of recognition, in reality, free of authoritarian formalities. Unlike otherteachers, for Bernstein, the search for interpretive beauty also required emotional proximity, promoted through contact that could become physical. At the Vienna Philharmonic, they still remember his unexpected and effusive hugs, although in the case of the youngsters, the contact is strictly musical.

"Who is the unfortunate one? You -says Bernstein, pointing at him with the baton-, okay. Coraggio! We all love you. So, that's the most important thing"

After having tested the ensemble's sound with scales he conducted with variable intensity, and congratulating the musicians -"Oh, you're wonderful!"- thus winning them over to the common cause -that is, to the commitment to interpretive excellence- Bernstein introduces them to the core or hard nucleus of the musical piece they are to tackle. "Let's see... The "The Rite of Springof Stravinsky is above all about… Sex. And reproduction. And the smells from outside. Of course. Because everything means the same, and it's about growth." A seminal work for the history of 20th-century music and culture, it narrates how the threatening component of nature seeks to be mitigated through an archaic rite: the sacrifice of a maiden is offered so that nature may be propitious, so that spring may flourish. Making boys and girls in the prime of life understand its abysmal reverse, getting them to extract disconcertingly telluric yet well-concerted sounds is quite a challenge.There are several memorable moments, from the very beginning, with the enigmatic and committed bassoon solo "that has to be played in a very uncomfortable high register, and that doesn't sound at all like a bassoon," explains Bernstein. That's why he addresses the woodwinds, inquiring: "Who is the unfortunate one?" A coughing fit—forced to identify himself, or induced by nerves, or perhaps both—helps the maestro locate him. "You [pointing at him with the baton], it's fine." Once the individual with an unusual degree of exposure is identified, he seeks to promote a relaxed atmosphere with the words: "Coraggio! We all love you. So, that's the most important thing." Another curious moment, in which he expects a notable reaction from his pupils, is when he reminds them that they are already too formed -"trop well educated", he snaps in French -to make the message clearer- and, therefore, that they need to be broken in: to cast off and momentarily depart from the "correct way of proceeding" to apprehend the non-conceptual -not even properly musical- language that Stravinsky's composition transmits and that he reproduces shamelessly, with guttural sounds and very graphically by comparing the work to a kind of "prehistoric jazz."

No matter how much Bernstein tells the musicians to stand up to receive the applause, they disobey. They insist that the maestro should receive the bulk of the ovation.

Appropriate or not -that "primitive" expression- we know, in any case, that Igor Stravinsky himself had heard live, appreciated, and validated the approach of the early Bernstein. In stark contrast to the image of his later stage, the one he offered to the youth orchestra he rehearsed with in Salzau -in which he looks like a Socrates from Plato's Symposium- we can also access those recordings from his early years leading the New York Philharmonic. They show a impeccably dressed young man, yet full of enthusiasm; an enthusiasm effusively dispensed throughout his career -as we said- to achieve the degree of commitment from the musicians that interpretive excellence requires.

Between both eras, a video in which he precisely performs theThe Rite of Springwith the London Symphony Orchestra evidences the affection that musicians could feel towards Bernstein, a conductor who even worried about working conditions and interceded on their behalf (it happened, for example, during his time as director of the New York Philharmonic). At the end of the interpretation of that Stravinsky piece, during the round of applause, no matter how much Bernstein indicated for them to stand up to receive the merits, they - led by the first violin - disobeyed for the first time and stubbornly reaffirmed that it should be the maestro who accumulated the bulk of the ovation.