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A Life Changing Experience
A road taken... Is it too late to become conductor?
10/8/2002 10:04 AMAbout a year ago, I was sitting at my computer very early one morning . I think it was around 4.30 am. I opened an e-mail from a man called Johannes Nebel from Sweden. Johannes wrote at some length about his delight with my Mahler interpretations, and especially the value that he found in the accompanying explanation discs. He deduced from my willingness to create these educational tools as a means to enable lay audiences to achieve a better understanding of music, that I might also be open to entertain a question from a member of the general public, a question that had haunted him for years.
Johannes had never studied music formally and played no instrument. After university he followed a career first as an air-traffic controller, a job he hated, and now at 28 he was employed at a design company. However, music had occupied much of his leisure time, both as an avid listener and as a member of several choral groups. He was also a devoted member of, and occasional contributor to the on-line Mahler-List, a band of devoted, some would say fanatical, Mahler lovers who communicate daily about matters Mahlerian, and of which I am a member.
His question to me was quite simple, essentially he was saying: "I made a wrong step in my career, I really wanted to be a conductor. What can I do?" (Johannes's letter is printed at the end of this journal entry)
I receive quite a number of odd questions in my line of work, especially since I opened the floodgates of communication by publishing my email address. In such cases I have three choices: 1) hit the DELETE button, 2) get Kylie, my trusted assistant, to write a polite letter on my behalf sending good wishes or 3) to answer it myself. Maybe it was the early hour or something about the way Johannes wrote about his reactions to the Mahler recordings, but I decided to answer it myself.
"Dear Johannes," I wrote, "I was impressed and quite moved by your letter. If you want something enough, are driven enough and have enough time you can do almost anything! My brother leaves tomorrow to climb in the Himalayas - not Everest, just walking in the mountains many hours a day. He is 67, has never walked much, even at home and has rarely been in the mountains. He did a terrific regime to prepare, including climbing 300 steps at the Highgate Underground Station every day for three months! I am impressed.You set yourself 10 years for your Himalayas. Good. What do you want to do by then? Have a full-time career conducting orchestras around the Globe? Unlikely. That would be like climbing Everest for my brother. Walking in the foothills? Yes. Start climbing those steps!
There are a hundred ways to go. Steps are good. Don't waste time trying to become a virtuoso on an instrument. That would be like learning rock-climbing for my brother - dangerous and dispiriting at his age!
I would begin with a chorus. Learn one short piece very well. Learn it thoroughly. Decide how you want every phrase to sound. Then call up all your singer friends, invite them to a party which will consist of some good food (spaghetti will so, you don't have to waste time shopping and cooking) and drink. Then do a REHEARSAL of the piece. At the end of the rehearsal tape the piece and send it to me. Also, give each person a sheet of paper to write how the experience was for them. Did they enjoy it? Were they inspired? Would they come again? This is not a feedback form about you, but a sharing of how the experience was for them. I look forward to hearing from you."
I pressed the SEND button.
Three months later I received a CD in the mail. It was of a short piece by an obscure Swedish composer from which I frankly couldn't tell much. So I wrote him again: "Get your choral friends together again, or a different lot, if you have worn out the good will of the first group. This time add some instrumentalists and record a piece of the standard choral repertoire."
As I was about to press SEND, I noticed that Johannes lived in Lund, a small Swedish university town, which I was due to visit the following December to address the world managers of the Tetrapak Corporation. "I'll be there", I added and proposed a date to meet with him and his group.
Imagine Johannes' surprise and delight when he realized that the shadowy Maestro he had approached blind, through the email was actually to appear in a few weeks. He went into overdrive. He gathered the group, around 35 male singers and a handful of instrumentalists and rehearsed them in a Schubert work (I never found out how much all this cost him in spaghetti and wine!). He booked the main hall of the University, gathered about 40 guests and prepared for the big day. He greeted me at my hotel and we spent many hours together, walking around the town, talking and listening to music in his apartment.
I realized quickly that this was no ordinary amateur music lover. His knowledge, and more importantly, his musical perceptions were extremely acute. He had a beautiful light tenor voice and as he hummed absent-mindedly along with whatever piece was playing on the CD player I realized he could sing any part of the music that he chose, effortlessly in perfect intonation. I knew at once that this was a true musician, who by an accident of locality and education had missed out playing the cello or the flute as a youngster in a local youth orchestra and instead had passed the difficult exams to become an air traffic controller!
Now, all that remained was to find out if he had any physical gifts as a conductor. I realized that the significance of the evening's event loomed large in the minds of everyone present. His parents, his girl friend, the members of the choir and the friends all understood the stakes for
Johannes were very high indeed. They began by performing the obscure Swedish piece. I was impressed immediately by Johannes' evident love for the music and his desire to communicate it to the singers, who were, incidentally, superb and threw themselves into it with tremendous gusto, with the flattering acoustics of the magnificent, high-ceilinged Aula dramatically enhancing their sound.
As before, I couldn't tell much about Johannes's ability to shape and mould this particular music, so we went on to the Schubert. Now they were joined by the handful of instrumentalists. This was to be the first time in his life he
would be conducting an orchestra, albeit an "orchestra" of only nine string players. Everything went smoothly through the performance, but it wasn't until we started to work together that I would be really able to tell if his obvious stiffness could be "broken through". I worked with him for about an hour in full view of all his friends.
Since I myself now became totally involved in this highly emotional process, I cannot be fully objective about what actually happened next. Certainly, everybody present realized that the music took on a completely different
quality. The shape and passion of the music began to emerge with clarity. No longer self-conscious about how he looked or whether he was impressing me, Johannes began to cajole and mould the players. We conducted together and by so doing I gave him permission to step outside the boundaries of decorum and reach down deep into the emotion of the music. His body started to take on a different "Gestalt" - fluid and expressive. I also demonstrated some fundamental aspects to conducting that he hadn't yet grasped, for instance that every gesture the conductor makes is indicating something that is about to happen, not what is actually happening. Sforzandi that had been tepid or indistinct suddenly came to life, sharp-edged and "true" because of the preparation they received.
After we had worked through to the end of the piece, I was somewhat concerned that the singers might feel exhausted, or even be feeling exploited after one-and-a-half hours of intense singing, so I brought the evening to a close. However, one member of the choir suggested that Johannes be given a chance to conduct the piece through one more time. I went back to my seat in the audience and now had a chance to find an answer to a question that often looms in my mind when I coach. How much of the admittedly striking improvement, was due to my energy and participation and how much to a genuine and lasting break-through for the student? Johannes provided an answer in a most dramatic fashion.
In a gesture that I would come to realize was typical of him, he took the score of the Schubert and threw it on the floor, proceeding to conduct the entire piece from memory with his entire being now focussed on the performers. His body, eyes and hands seemed released from the vice-grip of anxiety and the music was at last free to breathe and soar. The reaction of the choir and the gathering of friends at the end could be only described as ecstatic. Mother and girlfriend dissolved in tears of gratitude and it seemed that everybody realized they had witnessed and been participants in a birth of sorts.
The evening was completed with a glorious traditional Swedish Christmas dinner, with lavish food, hilarity and, inevitably, much singing of traditional songs. I left Lund knowing that something profound had happened for Johannes, but quite uncertain as to how it would all play out. Over the next few months almost the only contact I had with him was an occasional letter and reading his insightful and sometimes extremely moving contributions to the MahlerList, in which he invariably revealed not only his
deep passion for music, but a fine and perceptive musical mind.
The following June, as I was discussing my July conducting course at the London Master Classes with the Director, Norma Fisher, I wondered if this year it might be possible to have nine conductors instead of the traditional eight. She assured me it was entirely up to me and so I called Johannes and invited him to come to London for the 5-day course, his very first participation in a music class in his life. That he was able to hold his own in a group of young professional conductors from all over the world, all of whom had had many years of formal training and some of whom had considerable experience was a remarkable achievement.
When his turn came to conduct the resident orchestra in Brahms 4th very difficult slow movement and Beethoven's 5th I explained to the orchestra that, since he had no training and had never conducted an orchestra before, he must be considered differently from the others. I could have saved my breath! The reactions to Johannes' stints on the podium were extremely positive all around. "Tell him to persevere!" one member of the orchestra wrote on his white sheet, "he's got what it takes!" The enthusiastic applause they gave him at the end seemed completely genuine
A month later, through the good graces of Jim Lowe, last year's Zander Fellow, Johannes Nebel was enrolled as a full member of the conducting class at the Prague Academy for a three week course! And this week I received the following letter.
"Dear Ben
Suddenly I am in that strange position that I knew would come eventually. I have left the company I work for. I leave it now to do something that I feel want to do instead - exactly how and when and what is a bit blurred yet...
So. Today, I agreed on completing the current projects that I am involved in. After that, I will no longer be an employee but instead "out there", taking new steps for personal growth and going more direct towards my aims to become a communicator and champion for spreading and creating music with others - to become a conductor - one year has passed and my thought of giving my dream 10 years of my life to start with is real, now, more than ever.
It is safe to say that it feels very strange and a tiny bit frightening. No actually, to be honest, I am scared for just having let go like this. On the other hand, I know that this is just right and simply another road with new possibilities that lie in front me.
One thing that I know is on my agenda regardless if I have a job or not, is the male choir that I conduct today - it is continuously growing. The entire project has become considerably more successful than we all had counted on
to start with. Our goal, to start a choir mainly for guys who think that they cannot sing and to - together with these people and other interested singers - create the largest male choir in Sweden, that goal is soon achieved. It is evident that there has been a huge part missing in Lund.
Among the around 80 choirs that are registered in Lund there has been no choir that is open for guys who don't read music but still want to make music, to try their voices. More than 80 men have joined now and the work to establish a repertoire for the concert in November has now started. It is a great challenge and it is with great happiness to realize that it all is a product of saying: "Let's do this! Let's make this happen!"
You see, that is one of the most powerful things about my path having met with yours - I am learning very much about myself, for it makes me think and challenge myself and makes me dare to get out of the box.
Often, it turns out that something positive for one person soon becomes positive for all involved, a great thing that I have discovered during all of this.
When I think of what has happened during this ONE
year, I can only imagine how many people you must have inspired and engaged yourself with during your life. It feels good to write the following words: I am so glad I know you, Ben!
All the best, write soon! With warm regards and love,
Johannes"
I suppose the moral of this tale is: DON'T PRESS THE DELETE BUTTON!
(For ongoing dialogue between Ben and Johannes, go to the "Correspondence" page of this site) |
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