Interview with conductor Semyon Bychkov

Tutti-magazine: You conducted the Vienna Philharmonic in their annual ball at the Musikverein, the day before yesterday. What did you take away from the experience ?

Semyon Bychkov: It was an extraordinary experience, it is hard to find words to describe it. The women and the debutantes were dressed in sumptuous ball gowns and the atmosphere made it feel as if one were in the . For someone like me who sometimes wishes they’d lived in the 18th or 19th centuries, the evening reminded me of a style approrpriate to a particularly beautiful past. As I’ve said many times to your colleagues, I would be very happy if this beautiful and joyful spirit could be shared by as many people as possible and offer an alternative to the vulgarity and violence which occur daily in the world today.

As I was leaving on tour with the Vienna Philharmonic, I arrived to drop my things off at the Great Hall of the Musikverein in the afternoon – the following day we would be playing in Hamburg at the Elbphilharmonie - the Hall was deserted and the view was so extraordinary that I couldn’t resist taking some photographs : all the stalls seats had been removed and replaced by flowers and tables. Of course I also noticed the wall covered with photographs of conductors who had worked with the , and thought: «So here is the conductors’ wall of fame»… That evening, immediately after our concert, everything that had been installed was moved to the large empty space under the floor of the Hall. This famous empty space surrounds the Hall on every side and is part of the mystery that creates the legendary acoustics of the Musikverein. Once the space was completely cleared, people began to and the atmosphere with extremely joyful. Different parts of the Musikverein were filled with the sounds of different styles of music, from disco to waltzes and polkas. The ball started at 10pm and finished around 6am in the morning. I didn’t stay until the end but, speaking to you, I’m still under the spell of that evening and struck with admiration for those who worked non-stop to transform the place in such a short space of time. The New Years’ Concert, which is broadcast across the whole world, gives you an idea of the type of events that are hosted by the Musikverein. But, especially at this time of year, it is only one of many events. The only important event that isn’t at the Musikverein takes place at Schönbrunn Palace. I played with the Vienna Philharmonic there in May 2016 and something in the region of 150,000 people came to the concert, while another 100,000 couldn’t get in. The crowds spilt over into the gardens… In short: this is what music means to Vienna!

Is it good for your own internal sense of well being to alternate between light and dramatic music, such as Tchaikovsky’s?

Absolutely, because diversity is what keeps you sane. You can’t live with tragedies and extreme emotions entirely. Lightness is also a part of being alive. The balance between these two extremes is very important. But I’m not good at achieving this balance over the course of a season – it’s a goal that is easily forgotten when, like me, you are obsessed with musical masterpieces, such as the repertoire that I conduct most of the time. It is necessary however to identify with these profound works and live through them. It is the same for actors, who have to immerse themselves in a role in order to become the character they are playing. Without this process, it just doesn’t work… So, although it is not easy music to play, I benefit from the respite that light music offers me. A simple waltz contains so many details that need to be understood and fine tuned before it can be played correctly. And, to achieve this, a hundred musicians have to breathe in unison. In Vienna, this kind of music is in the musicians’ blood. Because of this, there are certain things that you don’t have to explain because they feel them instinctively. But there are so many other elements to fine tune that make rehearsals necessary, even for the short to the Merry Wives of Windsor by Otto Nicolai which the musicians really wanted to play. This Ball marked the Vienna Philharmonic’s 175th birthday and Nicolai was one of its founders so this splendid eight-minute Overture - filled with so many beautiful musical ideas - was performed as a hommage. I was really happy because we managed to reach a state of pure grace.

The first volume of your Tchaikovsky Project was released on 18 November 2016 by Decca. How did the idea of this cycle come about?

In life, it sometimes happens that things come together, almost at the same time, without any forethought. And so, this is how the Tchaikovsky Project was born. The first request came around two years ago from the New York Philharmonic who wanted me to create a Tchaikovsky Festival to take place over three weeks with three programmes being repeated three or four times. I accepted this offer with joy because we’re talking about music that is very close to my heart… Two months later, the record label Decca and the Czech Philharmonic asked me to record a Tchaikovsky cycle. In this case also, I was completely on board. To tell you the truth, my only question I asked myself was whether this was really the orchestra I wanted to record this repertoire with. But it only took me another 30 seconds to say «yes» because I was convinced that this group would give me what I wanted to hear in this music. The history and tradition of this orchestra, as well as their geographical position at the crossroads of Slavic, Western and European cultures, seemed to me a very interesting mix to play Tchaikovsky’s music… so I thought that with the New York project on the one hand and, the project with Decca which would keep me busy for several years on the other, I should really programme something similar in London. And now I’ve just conducted the BBC Orchestra in three programmes over two weeks… So the Tchaikovsky Project sprung from pure chance, but one that was very welcome.

Which works will make up your Tchaikovsky cycle ?

The project will feature all Tchaikovsky’s , that is to say Nos. 1-6 as well as the and the three Piano Concertos – the first played by Jean- Yves Thibaudet and the second, and first movement of the third, by Kirill Gerstein, the Romeo & Juliet Fantasy Overture, Francesca da Rimini and the Serenade for Strings. Decca had wanted me to conduct the whole of Tchaikovsky’s œuvre, but I would have had to dedicate my entire life to make that possible. In fact, only the Piano Concertos will be recorded live. The Symphonic works will be recorded in the Orchestra’s Hall – the Rudolfinum – followed by tours. You can imagine how long this project will take. The Pathétique Symphony and the Romeo & Juliet Fantasy Overture alone - which brought us great satisfaction - took more than 16 days including rehearsals and recording sessions. At the beginning, the idea was to record the Symphonies live, just as the Orchestra did with the Symphonies of Dvořák. But , as there is already a formidable discography of Tchaikovsky recordings with many legendary soloists, in order to justify our recordings, we have to aim for the highest possible level. From the moment we have something to say in this music, we have to find the best possible way to say it. .

Regarding the Decca cycle, the first disc featuring the Pathétique Symphony and Romeo & Juliet Fantasy Overture is already out, and we have recorded Symphony No. 3. In April, we continue with Manfred, the Serenade for Strings and Francesca da Rimini for a recording to come out in August. After that we continue to record, but we do not plan any further releases until the end of the project, which should be at some point in 2019.

You said that masterpieces follow a conductor throughout their life and grow with them. Did this Tchaikovsky Project come about at a good moment in your career?

Tchaikovsky’s works have followed me for as long as I can remember. The music stays the same, but we change. When I started my collaboration with Philips in 1985, it was with the release of The and Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 5 with the Berlin Philharmonic recorded practically at the same time. Around two years later, I recorded Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6 with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. I was about 35 then, now I am 64. Everything I lived through over the last 30 years, and not only with Tchaikovsky which I continued to conduct, but the experiences I gained through playing all the other composers, made me realise that the moment had come to commit myself to this Tchaikovsky cycle.

You’ve already explained how Tchaikovsky’s music is able to reach the listener’s emotions with extraordinary force. When you conduct the Pathétique Symphony, do you have to stop yourself from being overwhelmed by a flood of emotions?

It would be impossible for me to conduct without also opening myself to emotions. I always compare the state in which I find myself to someone who has a split personality. I feel very much that this separation in two is absolutely necessary in so much that a part of myself has to engage totally with the emotional side of the music. Without this deep investment of a part of yourself, neither the musicians nor the public will feel anything. But the other side of myself must remain analytical, like someone observing from the outside, and I listen, analyse and anticipate so that everything unfolds in the most natural way. Naturally, if a conductor only utilises the cerebral side of their self, they won’t move anyone. On the other hand, too much from the emotional side leads to the conductor drawing in all the emotion without sharing it with the audience. This leads to a particularly negative kind of chaos… All my life, I’ve worked to try and attain this harmony between these two opposing yet complimentary poles. Of course, experience and age help enormously because, the more you live with a work, the freer you become. At a certain point, so as to reach a harmonious state, a conductor internalises the work to the same degree as the work nourishes him. But it takes a long time to reach this point. And however much work you put into preparation and, even if the result is particularly convincing, when you first tackle a work, the first attempt mark the beginnings of a sort of sketch which needs time to develop and evolve…

While we’re on the subject, you would never guess what happened to me on the plane yesterday. My wife Marielle and I were returning from Vienna and I had already been working on Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 which I’ll be conducting in New York as part of the project in several days time. Yesterday, I opened the score at the first movement, at the point where the second theme of the Allegro starts. Suddenly, I became aware that I didn’t understand the phrasing at this particular point. I had always thought that this phrase was composed in four measures, then two measures. And yet, yesterday, on the plane, I realised that it made much more sense if one considered the phrase in three measures, then three extra measures. If you look at the score carefully, all of this appears quite clearly. And yet to think that I started studying this Symphony even before I entered the Leningrad Conservatory, when I was probably around 14 years old. Fifty years later, I realise that, throughout my life, I had misunderstood the phrase at this particular moment in this symphony even though I had conducted it so many times! Faced with this revelation I could see now how blind I had been not to understand what appears to me today to be so crystal clear. But that’s the way things are and if God willing I live another 30 years, I imagine that I’ll find I’ve misled myself in many other places. This only heightens the need to keep returning to works so as to discover and learn more. In any case, my love for Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5 remains as intense as it was when I was young.

Are there other conductors who have shaped your relationship with Tchaikovsky and his music?

The experience of listening and observing other interpeters influences me greatly. I grew up in Saint Petersburg when Mravinsky conducted the Philharmonic Orchestra. Indeed, the 5th and 6th Symphonies of Tchaikovsky were of such importance to him that he conducted them almost all the time. He led the orchestra for 50 years and there wasn’t a single season when these two symphonies weren’t programmed several times. However, before each performance, he rehearsed with the musicians. We’re not talking about a short rehearsal before a concert: he would dedicate a whole week to prepare! I attended some of the rehearsals hiding under a chair so as not to be seen. Mravinsky was a person who devoted his body and soul to music and his profession. He was sometimes severe but always correct in the way he addressed the musicians, in an aristocratic manner even, fighting all his life for a small detail in the music which only he had the capability of noticing. But it wasn’t only him, because Ilya Musin, with whom I studied at the Leningrad Conservatory, who had a different kind of personality, also showed the same devotion and had a similar way of tackling things… Karajan was also a conductor who had an extraordinary way with Tchaikovsky. So it’s natural to be impressed and influenced by such role models. But the difference is that one uses what influences us in order that we can realise something else. For me, I see these influences as my roots. After all, no conductor can claim not to have an influence behind the notes he conducts when it comes to a composer like Tchaikovsky. This is the tradition, a good tradition, that I would compare to what genetically links us our parents, who in turn are linked to theirs. It’s through this long line of tradition that you find your own path.

What is your conception of sound ?

Sound is a complex concept made up of different elements. It’s first of all about the way in which the strings sound together which one associates traditionally with Tchaikovsky’s time but which also applies to other composers whether they sound very warm, colourful, round or overarching. One associates so many qualites with Russian or Czech strings. Moreover, you realise that in Tchaikovsky’s time, the quality of wind instruments was poor, just because there wasn’t a long tradition for them. In France and Germany on the other hand, you looked for certain colours and expression in the woodwinds. Furthermore, Russian brass were different from others and not made in the same way. This led to people having different ideas of sound depending on where they were born. Up until quite recently, Russian trumpetists and horn players played with a lot of vibrato. This was also the case in France in the past, but this type of playing has almost completely disappeared. I also always imagine sound as a means through which one expresses something. A painter or a sculptor chooses the type of material with which they want to work, and the next day, what they choose might be different. In a similar way, sound should be malleable. In fact, it must respond to what is required by the musical language in terms of articulation and phrasing. It is in fact possible to play with very diverse sounds and it’s important to make the music speak eloquently because there’s a story to be told. Moreover, this is very closely linked to the mentality of people, and each musician, depending on where they come from, reacts in a different way. A Russian won’t think at all like a French person, who in turn will not think like someone from Germany. This is the case for everyone and this diversity is very beautiful. Sometimes it’s the case that if you want to hear a certain piece of music played as authentically as possible, it’s necesary to refer back to the country from which it was born. If an orchestra made up of French musicians plays French music, the music will speak in a different way to if it was played by a German orchestra. It’s always fascinating to hear for example French musicians play Russian or German music because there’s always an element of surprise. Musical articulation, moreoever, is also linked to the language in which one expresses oneself in a given country. The Germans speak much slower than the French or the Italians. In fact, they articulate more consonants when they sing. On the other hand, the Italians and Russians pronounce vowels more. I’m always amused when I listen to The Damnation of conducted by Fürtwangler with the Berlin Philharmonic and compare this version with what the French do naturally with Berlioz’s music. The difference is not just in the chosen tempi but also in the way in which this musical language is spoken. But, after all, it’s completely understandable because in Fürtwangler’s time, there weren’t really many recordings being circulated and people travelled very little. He himself did not speak French fluently.

So many factors come together to create sound, and at the end of the day, it’s a matter of whether the result is convincing or not. But one thing is for sure, today more than ever before, one looks to find the cultural roots in music. We travel around so much and the lines of communication are so quick and powerful that it’s easy to engage with a culture which is not ours. That said, the challenge you face is not simply to understand the notes but also to try and understand the other culture and the mentality of a nation. One must not forget that music is part of life and not something separate from it. It is necessary to find these connections. And yet, these connections are very difficult to articulate in so much that with music, especially if it’s instrumental, we’re talking about an aural experience.

Are there still big differences between the great international ?

It’s true that you often hear about the uniformity of orchestras and there are people who lament the fact that all orchestras sound the same. It’s true to an extent, but certain orchestras always maintain the individuality that distinguishes them from others. It’s true of the Vienna Philharmonic: take an old recording and you’ll know without a single doubt which orchestra it is because you’ll still find them producing the same sound today. Similarly, one recognises a French orchestra, an orchestra from Saint Petersburg or the Czech Republic. Thank God that the different characters of orchestras have not completely disappeared, but it’s up to us to fight against uniformity.

On 15 December 2016, you conducted the Orchestre National de France in the Manfred Symphony, a work based on ’s story of the hero. Does your interpretation of the music take into account the story?

This touches on an extremely important subject. In the 19th century, programmatic ideas in relation to music were completely normal. One expected instrumental music to tell a story and evoke images relating to a main theme, whether it be a story about love or war. In the 20th century, programmatic music was no longer highly regarded because it was deemed descriptive. In the same way that today, when you want to criticise a certain piece, you say «that sounds like film music!», forgetting that some film music is of colossal quality. In short, programmatic classical music has suffered unfair judgement, to the extent that Mahler suppressed the story he had in mind when composing his First Symphony in order not to burden the music with too much descriptive detail… Manfred is an interesting example because it is a sort of opera without words, able to tell a story without being overly descriptive – which is what gives it its value. I always think that even without knowing the subject, a sensitive person who has never read Lord Byron and is not aware of the underlying dramatic theme, can feel that the composer is recounting a story of great force while they listen to this music. As to my approach, if a piece is based on a literary theme, it seems completely natural to want to know as much about it as possible. And because I find it very important to know what’s behind the notes, I shared the story of Manfred with the musicians of the Orchestre National de France as well as others.

Conductors tend not to show much interest in Manfred? How do you explain this?

The history of this symphony is quite tortured, similar to the story of the hero which the symphony recounts. It started right from its creation, Tchaikovsky himself wrote that he wanted to burn his symphony and only keep the first movement. Subsequently, it’s easy to conclude that if the composer himself felt this, the work must be bad… it’s not a view I share, but I do however recognise a number of challenges that face a conductor when trying to find a solution for the final movement. It is very complex, so one risks not being able to maintain one’s concentration until the end of the work without getting lost during the fugue. The fugue comes at the point that practically everything has been said which leads to many seeing it as a purely technical exercise, and only reinforcing the negative image of this work. Not to forget that Bach wrote many fugues which are also immense masterpieces! The problem with Manfred does not come from the symphony but from the way that it is interpreted. From this point of view, one can better understand why this work is so little played and often cut. Especially as the harmonium specified in the score by the composer is often replaced by an enormous organ, which reminds one more of Saint Saen’s Symphony No. 3 which is not the intended effect. However, here also, there is nothing to stop one from controlling the dynamics of the organ so that it melds with the orchestra, bringing about the religious and spiritual colours which await Manfred at the end of his life.

Another problem one is faced with in Tchaikovsky at the time he wrote Manfred, and even before, is that when he finds a phrase, he repeats it, which can give the impression of gratuitous repetition. But we’re talking about leitmotifs here, expressed through different tonalities. With each repetition, a different tonality can reveal a new facet to the same theme - from the point one is able to take a different approach to each exposition, the problem of repetition disappears.

Finally, people sometimes reproach Tchaikovsky’s music for the way in which his melodies move the hearts of audiences and touch them through the feelings they’re expressing. But this is noble emotion, not «sentimental», filled with feelings, and it’s this dramatic aspect of the music that makes Tchaikovsky so popular. Moreover, melody constitutes only the tip of the iceberg because one has only to look below the surface to realise how extremely polyphonic, rhythmically complex and unpredictable this music is. I would also add that certain facts that are known about Tchaikovsky’s life have compromised the way in which his music is approached because one knows well that he was homosexual and had a tumultous private life. And yet, someone who knew nothing about Tchaikovsky would not be able to able to tell his sexual orientation from listening to his music. Such a variety of challenges means that each conductor must make of it what they can. Toscanini, like other conductors before him, made lots of cuts. But, without wanting to question his talent, I don’t think that the symphony gains anything from being cut. For example, to end the work with the coda of the first movement provokes excitement with the public because the moment is at once powerful and dramatic, but creates a distortion… Manfred is not a simple work but this symphony does not merit the unjust treatment it has received over many years.

At the end of your concert with the Orchestre National de France at the Radio France Auditorium, you received great applause from the musicians. How did you feel about this recognition?

It’s always a very strong feeling which I experience when musicians, colleagues or peers express themselves like this after a moment so intense and perilous as a concert because it’s impossible to know beforehand how it’s going to turn out. I received this recognition from the musicians as a human response because I managed to guide them through the path of something extremely powerful. This gesture was as important to me as a compliment coming from an enthuisiastic audience but it was a sign that I had managed to move my peers which to me is more important than anything… I also knew that this was the fruit of three days of rehearsals leading up to the concert, because in the end it is up to the musicians to bring the music to life. The musicians of the Orchestre National de France didn’t know Manfred. They’d played it once in the past but they had a really bad image of it. And now they’d discovered a complex universe, which is beautiful but also difficult, at the same time enriching and worth the pain of having to discover it. Sometimes the discovery can be compared to going through Hell…

You conducted Parsifal in Madrid in 2016 and next spring, you will conduct it in Vienna. With regards to Wagner, one often talks about the endurance test the singers have to go through but little of what the orchestral musicians have to face and even less of what the conductor has to go through. How do you pace yourself when you conduct such a long work?

That is exactly what makes Wagner’s music so amazing and mystical because his music does not express time in the same way as ours. Human beings know very well that there are 60 seconds in a minute, 60 minutes in an hour etc. But time doesn’t move in this way in Wagner’s music. Why is this? Firstly, he uses leitmotifs which represent a character, whether it be a psychological state, or a relationship with another character or to a particular situation. Then he brings these leitmotifs to life and makes them evolve through the tonal development of the opera: you come across the same characters, but they appear differently, so it makes you feel like you’re meeting them for the first time. Moreover, the principal compositional characteristic of Wagner’s music is that it opens into infinity. This dimension is similar to the Buddhist belief in birth and rebirth. Wagnerian development allows one to understand that nothing starts and nothing finishes. There is therefore no beginning nor end, when Wagner recounts his story of Parsifal, he could easily add another 3 hours to it…

It’s up to us to find the pace which suits the music and, at a certain point, the notion of time disappears to make way for a state of grace, like an ocean which carries us away. Even before the first note of the score is played, it’s necessary to guide this process,

Parsifal is extraordinary because it’s the only opera which Wagner wrote entirely for Bayreuth. When I went to there for the first time, it was Parsifal that I saw. I was in the second row of the stalls and suddenly I felt the first note of the opera with my feet. At Bayreuth, this sound was difficult to define and seemed to be in the process of being born. Of course, the configuration of Bayreuth is unique and it’s not possible to reach the same effect in any other opera house. But what is important to say is that if a conductor has this idea in mind, he can try to come close to the sensation by drawing a sound which gives the impression of not yet being fully materialised from the orchestra, as if it has made itself known from another world.

You’ve talked about which you recorded for Philips in 1986. When a conductor accompanies dancers, the tempo is adapted to facilitate the choreography. On CD, the tempo is often quicker than on stage. What is the right tempo for music like The Nutcracker?

In The Nutcracker, especially in Act II, there are lots of each representing a style which goes hand in hand with convention. But the rest of the time, accompanying dancers is quite like supporting singers. As with singers, it’s necessary to watch the dancers so as to understand what they need and what they’re capable of doing. It all depends on what the choreography demands. Tchaikovsky loved dance and was the first composer to create that are works of genius. Before him, ballet music was decorative and only conceived to accompany dance. With Tchaikovsky, the music inspires the dance, in the same way that the composer himself was inspired by the idea of dance. From this moment, he often gave metronomic indications. Moreover, he knew perfectly what he could demand of the human body. These metronomic indications, can be used by a conductor to navigate through the music but he has also to work with choreographers who often don’t understand much about the music. They try to adjust the music to their choreography and want one part or another to be performed faster or slower than the tempo imagined by the composer. I had to stand my ground firmly against the French choreographer Roland Petit. It was in Lyon, yet I won the battle which made him mad with rage! The logic of my approach finally convinced him, and he conceded with both nobility and dignity. Before recording The Nutcracker for Philips, I had conducted the staged ballet in the States which helped me a lot. When I recorded the work I was free from the restrictions of the stage.

What can you tell us about your future plans?

In the immediate future, after the Tchaikovsky Project in New York, I will conduct a new production of Parsifal in Vienna. This city has a very special Wagnerian tradition. I will have the pleasure of finding myself amongst friends who share the same passion and respect that I do for this music. After that, a number of projects await me in the medium and long term, including returning to Strauss’ Daphne in Madrid, and to Parsifal in London and of course, for the next two and a half years, I will continue to concentrate on Tchaikovsky.

I’m also very curious about contemporary music which makes me think about the première of a work I attended in Amsterdam two months ago: Glanert’s Requiem for Hieronymus Bosch. It lasted around 83 minutes without a break and is composed for 4 soloists, 2 and orchestra, performed on this occasion by the Concertgebouw. Glanert is a contemporary composer who I respect enormously and whose music I conduct regularly. It was an extraordinary moment and still today I feel the absolute need to conduct this Requiem. The dates and locations are yet to be confirmed but everything is ready in my mind… It’s less than a year ago that I conducted the Vienna Philharmonic in the première of Symphony No. 2 Kenotaph by the Austrian composer Thomas Larcher, which was also an extraordinary experience. Larcher and I worked together for several months before the première and, afterwards I conducted it again at the BBC Proms with the BBC Symphony Orchestra in London. In Vienna, Larcher is regarded as the prodigal son and the symphony was a great triumph, so I was really curious to see how the work would be received in London. As it was, the work was also a triumph in London! So, new music is also part of my life, not so much in quantity, but in quality. As soon as I identify contemporary music in which there is a «permanent» value, I want to conduct it. The problem is only that I do not have enough time to conduct everything I love.

Interview by Philippe Banel 21 January 2017

To find out more about Semyon Bychkov: www.semyonbychkov.com