Composers create music from their imaginations. And, certainly, we expect jazz performers to improvise. But what about those who perform classical music? When they play their instruments, how creative can they be?
When I first interviewed Eugene Drucker, a violinist who performs with the world-famous Emerson String Quartet, we talked mainly about his novel, The Savior. I became curious about how his creative process plays out (so to speak) when he's performing classical pieces for huge audiences. He graciously consented to be interviewed again, this time about music, collaboration, and creativity.
Q: How much freedom is there for individual expression in performance, aside from what is agreed on in practice? Is there room for improvisation? (A recent
New Yorker article, "Taking Liberties," discussed aspects of this very topic.)
A: The room for improvisation is, of course, much narrower than in jazz. There is a certain amount of rhythmic flexibility possible within the framework of the tempo and the interpretation that we have agreed on in rehearsals. This depends on the historical context, style and individual character of each piece we play. In other words, certain pieces, or more exactly certain parts of pieces, have to be played "straighter" than others.
Q: In jazz, performers inspire one another. Does this happen with your quartet?
A: We have worked together for so many years that it is hard for any of us to play in a way that is completely surprising to the others. However, the intensity of our musical and technical expectations onstage and in the recording studio is like a crucible in which each of us is challenged and, yes, sometimes inspired, to reach beyond his comfort level.
Q: How do you decide on your next project? Majority? Negotiation? Barter?
A: Our major projects have to be approved unanimously.
Q: What if one member has strong feelings about phrasing, etc., the rest don't agree on?
A: We have the luxury of repeated performances of the same piece, so there is room to experiment with different approaches to problematic passages. When recording, we have a more objective arbiter -- the way a phrase or section sounds when we listen to the playback, as well as the input of our producer.
Q: Your performance of The Art of the Fugue [Watch here: Art of the Fugue, Contrapunctus #9 or listen to a longer clip] is particularly fine. How did you achieve the clarity? All voices are distinct. My husband Stephen, who is helping me with this post because he knows far more about music than I do, says it's probably the most "musical" performance he's ever heard? What does that mean?
A: One advantage of playing fugues in a string quartet is that you automatically have more distinctness of voices than on a single keyboard instrument. (A possible downside is that it's harder for four different people to achieve unanimity than for a pianist, harpsichordist or organist.) I appreciate Stephen's description of our interpretation as highly musical. Perhaps he means that within the rigorous rhythmic and intellectual framework of Bach's fugal writing, we aimed to explore the personal and emotional level of Bach's last major work. In the enormous triple fugue that ends this summation of a life's work, when the music breaks off in mid-phrase (probably because Bach was too ill to continue), the effect can be shattering.
Q: How much of your performing is intuitive, how much being aware of the deep structure of the piece itself?
A: I would say that we have an intuitive awareness of the structure of many pieces that we play. We learned how to analyze music harmonically when we went to school, and learned about large-scale structure, but as performers we are mostly concerned with making each section of a work sound as good as possible within a coherent framework. Coherence depends to some extent on consistency of tempo except where the composer indicated otherwise, but also on convincing transitions from one section to another. Sometimes extra time has to be taken between sections in order to articulate the structure.
Q: With something as complex as the Bach, do you consult other sources?
A: When preparing The Art of the Fugue, and more recently all the 4- and 5-voice fugues transcribed from The Well-Tempered Clavier, we listened to various keyboard interpretations. The differences of tempo between three major pianists were striking, sometimes unbelievable. That gave us an idea of the interpretive latitude with which we could approach this great music. We had to decide to what extent we should imitate keyboard articulation and to what extent we should embrace the different possibilities of playing this music on four string instruments.
Q: With contemporary composers, with such freedom and complexity and sometimes chaos, is the work more difficult to get a handle on?
A: When approaching a new piece, we try to come quickly to an understanding of its soundscape and how the narrative arc of the piece should unfold. Some music is so complicated rhythmically that in the first few rehearsals, we can barely make it through a phrase or a section without breaking down. But we find a way to learn it, and to achieve some kind of security by the time we perform it.
Q: Can performers know more than the composer about how a piece should be played?
A: We might know more about the sonic potential of our instruments than some composers, and we might make suggestions about articulation markings (such as slurs) and bow-strokes. Sometimes we request a slightly different tempo than what the composer has indicated, and usually he or she is receptive to our suggestions.
Q: When Stephen listens to some of the Haydn quartets, he laughs in certain places. What's so funny?
A: Haydn was a master of unexpected silences; indeed, the most salient aspect of his wit was his ability to play with the listener's expectations. We should remember that in a larger sense -- i.e., not just in terms of the humorous aspects of his music -- Haydn and the other great classical composers were constantly experimenting with form and sound. The music was modern, not classical, at the time they were writing it.
Q: What's the most difficult program you've performed?
A: We have sometimes played all six Bartok quartets in chronological order in one concert. That's the longest and probably the most physically strenuous program we've ever performed. The three "Razumovsky" quartets of Beethoven's Opus 59 also make for a very challenging program.
Q: Do you get nervous before a performance?
A: Yes, fairly often. It depends to some extent on the challenges of the music itself as well as the venue, and on circumstances leading up to the concert (i.e., how well I've slept, how prepared I feel, etc.).
Q: Do you become so involved you become the music itself? In other words, does time stop and you feel you're in a flow state?
