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Spending the Day With Sibelius

September 14, 2006 at 6:24 PM

Saturday afternoon. I am in the living room, watching David Oistrakh perform the Sibelius violin concerto on DVD. The music has swept me away, like it always does. “Mom, come here,” my son Jonathan shouts from the office.

“Can’t. I’m watching this performance. It’s important.”

“But I need you. Come here.”

This time I offer no reply. I’m at an electric place within the Sibelius, cerebrally and emotionally. Three days earlier, I’d played the concerto nonstop on the computer while I worked on three crucial scenes in my novel. The protagonist has reached her darkest hour, so to speak. She has a terrible argument with her beloved mentor, goes and does something unspeakable, then, two days later, plays her heart out in the finals of an international competition. She performs the Sibelius as if her life depended on it, and in a sense, it does. She’s a scrappy survivor type who doesn’t have a lot going for her except for the way she can play the violin.

Fourteen hours of this immersion—interspersed with only short, terse breaks—caused both story and music to merge and seep into every nook and cranny of my consciousness. A most draining experience to record. The next day I had an artistic hangover.

You’d think I’d have gotten my fill. Apparently not. Watching the David Oistrakh DVD on Saturday afternoon, I am sucked right back inside that intense place. But my son is insistent. It finally crosses his mind to get off his butt, leave the office, and come to the living room, where he can stare at me accusingly, hands on his hips. “I need help on the computer.”

“What is it?”

“A game.”

“Later.” David’s playing the adagio now. I’m so inside it, it hurts.

Jonathan’s face scrunches. He can’t wait. He will expire if he has to wait. I tell him, my eyes focused on the television, that I'll help after the movement is finished and not before. His shoulders collapse. Tears fill his eyes. “You love that music more than you love me,” he cries. Then he turns and runs down the hall. Cue for Mommy to leap up, follow him, gather him up in her arms and tell him no, that’s not possible, it’s only a dumb piece of music, how could she love anyone or anything more than her son?

I don’t rise to the bait. I don’t leave the Sibelius. I can’t. My son will never understand this. Even I have trouble understanding this lion inside me. I hear him stomp into the office and slam the door and I sit there, inside the Sibelius, in this frozen state—but not frozen, because my heart’s on fire. Or my soul. One of those intense places. The music has gripped me. I would let dinner on the stove burn at moments like this. I would ignore a ringing phone, a shout from my husband, a fire alarm.

Only the music matters. This message springs up inside me from a place beyond ego, beyond words and justifications, beyond even guilt. It feels timeless and pure. Right then, music has elevated me far above the grind of daily life. It feels more important, certainly more significant, than life. One man, one piece of music from his head—how is it a mere nugget of mortal sensory stimulation can expand to feel bigger than even the night sky? And how can I listen to this concerto hundreds of times and still get sucked up into its wintery, haunting intensity within seconds? Maybe even more so, after our fourteen-hour marathon together.

What did it feel like to be Sibelius, composing this, all that fire in his heart? Or how about when a soloist performs it, immersed in the spirit of the music -- or does that not happen? When I performed onstage as a ballet dancer, a performance rarely swept me away. I was too busy focusing on technique and presentation, responding to cues from audience, stage surface, my body, the lights in my eye, the other dancers. I’d get flashes of transcendence from time to time, but not much more.

What is it like to perform the Sibelius? I’d love to hear your comments, or even simply your experiences as a listener. Does this, or any other piece, haunt you eternally?

It was 10 years ago in Spain, I asked for Tchaikovsky's violin concerto for Xmas and it accidentally came together with Sibeius (Kyung-Wha Chung-Previn-LSO). I think I didn't love it at first, but after some time I was not able to say which of both concertos I liked more. I still can't... Unforunatelly I'm not able to play it yet, not even practice it, but I'll surely do, this is one of my goals together with Brahms, Hindemith and Prokofiev.
>It was 10 years ago in Spain, I asked for Tchaikovsky's violin concerto for Xmas and it accidentally came together with Sibeius (Kyung-Wha Chung-Previn-LSO). I think I didn't love it at first, but after some time I was not able to say which of both concertos I liked more. I still can't. Isn't that cool when that happens?!

I had that experience with the Barber and Korngold concertos. Was familiar with the former and that's why I got the CD, and ended up falling wildly in love with the first movement of the Korngold as well. It makes me shake my head in wonder that I hadn't listened to it before. And I have the Goldmark VC on the Sibelius CD. I think the first movement of the Goldmark pales in comparison to what came first, but the slow movement I now find to be simply exquisite.

Thanks for your comments, Jesus!

Sometimes when I played so much I wanted to stop everything that is to do with music. I didn't know how to express it but thanks to you, now I know there's a term for it: artistic hangover!

I can understand your passion for music that when you are in that mood at that very moment, nothing else matters. The brain and the heart are shut down from everything else.

Recently I had discovered a new favourite concerto, Bach's concerto for oboe and violin in C minor. I've played the piece in the first violin section a year ago in the orchestra (transposed to D minor) but didn't think much about it (although I did enjoyed playing it). Now I am hooked, listening to it on the way to work, at work (with earphone of course), on the way back, and (blast my speakers and a new sub-woofer I got recently) when I got home. I'm afraid I'll get sick of it but I can't help listening.

Today I was browsing in a bookstore after work and found a CD of Bach 3 violin concertos plus the oboe and violin concerto recorded by the Australian Chamber Orchestra (ACO). I bought it even though I already have half a dozen of Bach's violin concertos CDs (include one by David Oistrakh, one by Menuhin, one by Nishizaki of NAXOS). I was right, ACO makes the concertos so refreshing I don't regret having another one in my collections.

I have lots of concertos I like, but haven't found one that I love yet. I don't think I will until I start playing them and learn to appreciate them more. That will be 2 to 3 years from now, I hope.

Oh, I forgot to mention, I have the Oistrakh DVD as well. I am hooked at the extra where he was rehearing the 1st movement of Kreutzer Sonata(Beethoven), even though all we could see is his face.

If you were wondering what he was saying during the rehearsal, he was asking for a chair and then said thank you. Then he was telling the pianist not to rush. I read some Japanese and understood the Japanese subtitles :-)

William, I love that Bach concerto too. I discovered it when I bought Hilary Hahn's Bach concertos CD for the better-known A minor and E major (and the Bach Double), but it's now my favorite work on the disc. I'm planning to fly to St. Paul in the spring to hear Joshua Bell play it along with the Bruch. :)

Terez, thanks for your comments on the Korngold. Did you know that Hilary is performing it with the SFS this season? I didn't get tickets even though I adore her, because I'm not familiar with the concerto. But maybe I'll end up going after all.

Oops, I forgot to make my remarks about the Sibelius. Although I don't think I've ever been completely swept away in the manner you describe, it is an incredibly gorgeous work, and I love the darkness of some of the first movement passages. Like Jesús, I've got it on my "concerti to play before I die" list.
William - loved your comments! Karin - yes, I've got tix for Hilary's Korngold. Oh, you HAVE to run out and listen to the Korngold - the first movement is so accessible and lush and gorgeous. Korngold, I learned, was shunned by his peers for sounding too "Hollywood" (a broad generalization here, I'm sure). I guess he did music for films, as well. Makes sense, as I always love movie soundtrack stuff. As for the Sibelius - did you ever get that CD you were talking about wanting several months back? The one with Josh and Esa Pekka-Salonen (sp?) It continues to be my favorite recording of the concerto. That's where I got exposed to the Goldmark, as well.
Yes-- Sibelius is a haunter. I grew up with an LP of Heifetz with Chicago Symphony, and I've always missed some of those sounds in any other recording or performance. I've been flipped over his tone poems for many years now-- for a unique musical voyage, in some ways like fourth symphony bordering on escape from tonality, try Luonnotar, Op. 70, for orchestra and soprano voice. WOW. "Artistic hangover"-- perfect! (I had that yesterday after creating through the late night before a syllabus for training in "Structural Improvisation"!) I've been in orchestras as, even in 'only' rehearsals, we've continued to play through power outages and fire alarms...
Burn, supper, burn!
Terez, Sibelius is my favorite VC, in spanish i can say a lot of things, in english? i really adore Mullova´s style in 2th movement, so pasionate, all around? idont i like may be all of this, a name? Vadim Repin.
Wiiliam and Karin, i just bought Bach´s VC with Andrew Manze and Rachel Podger with original instruments, wow Double Concert´s 2th movement is incredible, William there is a violin- oboe version for two violins, highly recommended
Ooh, more Sibelius lovers. Thanks for your comments, Gabriel and Luis! (Gabriel, BTW, got my copy of African Rhythm and African Sensibility the other day. Oh, WHERE was this book when I was researching my last novel?! Looks jam-packed with great information. Thanks for the tip!)
Ooh--what unspeakable thing did your protagonist do? :)
Sibelius is definitely a "haunter", as is Brahms (concerto and sonata #3.) I get haunted by violinists, too: for the last several months I've had a serious thing going for Joska Szigeti. :)
>...as is Brahms (concerto and sonata #3).

Maura, I'll have you know this has been on my mind since I read your comments, 30 minutes ago! : ) I'm not familiar with sonata #3 - yay! A new one to hunt down. Thanks for the tip.

>Ooh--what unspeakable thing did your protagonist do? :)

Oh, Maura, she's a woman who's not about to share her dirty little secret with anyone. I can't either, or she'll come after me with her bow in my dreams. : )

(Hint: she didn't kill anyone. But what she did gives the book its "R" rating.)

Yes, Maura, we've noticed you and "Joska"...
Since raving about this book is one of my favorite things, let me mention that the author is John Miller Chernoff, who has some other remarkable books out, whose book Terez mentioned: African Rhythm and Afircan Sensibility. Great read!
Thanks, Terez, for your wonderful blog. Yes, music is one of the most powerful forces imaginable. It can grip me, and I lock into it and depart from everything and everyone else around me. It's a transcendant experience. It's like an addiction. There are some pieces I can never get enough of. People think I'm crazy for buying so many CDs of one piece of music, but I just can't help myself. They blind me to everything else.

When I perform, I often experience a transcendant experience of a sort, but not as intense. I play on many levels at the same time. I concentrate on playing well, following the score and the conductor's cues, but there is something else going on. The music lifts me up and carries me away. The music plays me. Sometimes I can sense that the transcendance is communal. The whole orchestra is transformed. We play our very best under these circumstances. Our excitement is somehow communicated to the audience, and they respond with excitement.

I don't believe in a personal god, but I do believe in music.

Oh, Pauline, what a wonderful, delicious reply! Thank you.

And Gabriel, you should mention Ghost Quartet as a heck of a book to read, as well. Fits so very well into the mood of following the Indianapolis competition, when you get down to it. When ambition and the desire to win competes with the desire to make art... (I'm speaking of my own impressions here, mind you, not any impression I perceived from the contestants. But whoa, what a storm on the "Indianapolis..." thread. You can feel the energy.

Anyway. Thanks loads everyone, for your wonderful comments. I just love that I can have a place to share this kind of artistic/musical intensity.

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