Training | 2009.10.13
The myth of the maestro | Philippa Ibbotson
For all their huge salaries, it is hard to say what difference the conductor really makes to the playing of music
Few people remain unaware of the exorbitant rewards enjoyed by many bankers and executives. Fewer still can have failed to hear of the astronomical salaries earned by some celebrity presenters. So the announcement this month that Bruce Forsyth has accepted a 15% pay cut from the BBC is a small but welcome change. It may even have set a precedent. For, as Brucie himself graciously conceded, "entertainers get paid far too much". Still, there are worlds less prominent than his where vast fees cause hardly a murmur. Take that, for instance, of classical music.
Conductors are a mysterious breed. Oozing self-belief, elevated on a podium, they are endowed by critics and public alike with magical abilities. As the writer Elias Canetti observed: "There is no more obvious expression of power than the performance of a conductor." Yet for all this power, what they actually do remains an enigma. In fact, it is one of the most frequently asked questions of an orchestral musician.
You might say that while orchestras can play unaided, it is helpful if someone can follow a score and beat time clearly. That if they can also manage musicians with respect, as well as help shape a performance, so much the better. There are some who achieve this, whose passion is inspiring, whose insights provoke, reveal, or enhance. And there are a few who are great. They are usually the ones who place themselves wholly at the service of the music, who make working for them feel like a joyful, collaborative experience.
But how much difference does the average conductor make? What can be said is that music, given players sufficiently accomplished, speaks for itself. Even in the case of the talented few maestri, the skills on offer are subject to an indefinable alchemy of charisma and self-belief. And as is the case with any dictator, what seems paramount is the ability to inspire confidence in their powers.
You do not have to be a musician to wonder if such a nebulous yet omnipotent job description might be dangerous. Nor might you be surprised to learn that Margaret Thatcher was a notorious devotee of Herbert von Karajan . You might even speculate whether, just as with the bankers, it is this very lack of scrutiny that may be contributing to the orchestra\'s demise. For, one way and another, conductors\' fees have escalated over the years out of all proportion. Even three years ago, names such as Lorin Maazel were making more than $2m (£1.25m) a year, and Michael Tilson Thomas and James Levine in excess of $1.5m. Lesser conductors nowadays regularly receive fees that are at least 100 times more than those of the musicians they conduct.
In London, the resident conductor for a major symphony orchestra receives £25,000 per concert. Rank-and-file players, meanwhile, typically earn £107 for a rehearsal and concert. Conductors jostle with one another for enormous salaries. And while it might be argued that bigger names sell more seats, it is inconceivable that any such increase could justify these huge rewards.
Yet maestros are human, and few can resist the hype. Many demand star treatment, and fragile orchestral budgets teeter under the strain. UK managements, meanwhile, feel powerless to resist. Conductors, they say, are part of a global market. They fear that they will simply stop coming. And so it goes on.
Such self-belief, of course, is enthralling. Even the sternest critics can be seduced, reverential before the wild-eyed maestro\'s authority – in fact you could be forgiven for discounting the serried ranks of players behind him altogether. And yet while every one of the great man\'s gestures is seen as critical, the reality, as players see it, is different.
The truth is that almost the last place you look as a musician is towards the conductor. There simply isn\'t time. The notes fly past and the brain is in overdrive, busy processing vast amounts of information on the page. Your entire physical being is occupied, focused on the music and your instrument, the wash of sound, the interweaving voices of your colleagues. The conductor remains, for the most part, in your peripheral vision. Occasionally, with luck, you might spare him a glance. You look up at the pertinent moments – at the start and finish, for example – much in the same way that you would check a speedometer or rear mirror while driving. To assume that the conductor is largely responsible for the music is a bit like believing an air-traffic controller should take most of the credit for a Red Arrows display .
As one principal player said: "The difference between a very good performance and a great one is, more often than not, in the hands of the player. No conductor should take the credit for that."
So what can be done to debunk the maestro\'s image? In the US, orchestras are challenging the status quo – the Chicago Symphony has announced a cut in its 2010 fees for guest artists and conductors. Perhaps British orchestras should do that, too. What is to stop musicians challenging, together, a zeitgeist in which it is routine for celebs to receive such large slices of a dwindling cake?
But above all, surely, it is time for our conductors to search their conscience and to follow the admirable lead, say, of Bruce Forsyth.
For more information, please visit
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/[...]/orchestral-conductors-pay-cut
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