Bird vs. Hiker

I believe that there are musicians in all orchestras who also have an affinity for conducting - who even become members of an orchestra precisely because they are closest to the idea and activity of conducting, who are in a sense in direct contact with the material.

It wasn't only as a violinist in the pit of the Vienna State Opera that I realized that conducting was also something for me, but that I have had a profound interest in the big picture of a work since my earliest childhood. I come from a family of musicians - my father is a conductor himself - and so it is perhaps not entirely surprising that I was already familiar with orchestral scores as a four-year-old.

According to my parents, I first learned to read music and then, by reading the scores, I also learned the alphabet. Even as a violinist, I always understood my own voice within the overall concept of the score, and in this respect conducting is a continuation of my earlier activity as an instrumentalist - just from a different perspective.

Perhaps a change of perspective is the term that best describes my move from the conductor's podium to the conductor's podium. Here's a figurative comparison: think of a forest that you often hike through. You have your favorite route there, you know exactly every turn of the path, you know where the puddles form first when it has rained, where the first snow remains, where the earliest flowers sprout in spring; you know the ditch over which the deer jump - you know this forest inside out from the hiker's point of view.

This is the inside view - the orchestra musician's view, if you like. The conductor, on the other hand, is like a bird flying over the forest in question. The bird sees not only the ditch that the deer are crossing, but also where they are coming from and where they are going; it sees the topography that causes a puddle to form in a certain place and so on. In other words, he sees the actual architecture of the whole - the structure of the composition, cause and effect.

Through my different activities as a violinist and conductor, I have the advantage of knowing both: I am familiar with the forest from the perspective of the wanderer and from the perspective of the bird.

The decision to join this orchestra as a violinist was determined by my interest in exploring the repertoire cultivated here - both symphonic and operatic - as intensively as possible from the inside, in the process of actively helping to shape it.

I consider the 15 years I spent here - the unique sound of my colleagues, which I was constantly surrounded by, the fascinating collaboration with outstanding conductors, soloists and singers - to be a precious treasure, which of course also inspires my work as a conductor enormously.

I recently conducted the Staatskapelle Dresden, for example, an orchestra that has been in existence for over 475 years - naturally, it has developed some wonderful special characteristics. And with the Cleveland Orchestra, I could clearly feel the strong influence of its music directors, who often worked here for decades.

So you're right: every orchestra has a very special tradition inscribed in its DNA. And of course it would be presumptuous to say that I would also like to hear the specific sound of the Vienna Philharmonic elsewhere.

However, my own ideal of sound is very much shaped by the sound of the Vienna Philharmonic - through experiencing numerous concerts and opera performances both as a young listener and, of course, later as an active member.

However, making music is never a one-way street, but rather a collaboration. A conductor will therefore always try to connect his or her ideas of sound - which are expressed in timbre, articulation and balance - with what the other person is offering.

And it is precisely this give and take, similar to chamber music, that I find the most beautiful thing about this activity.

It's interesting that you mention this. I wasn't particularly aware of this with Karajan, but I actually pay very close attention to the extreme registers when I first read a score.

If, for example, a piccolo is added as a special color, I am aware of this aspect in advance and want to perceive this detail accordingly. In other words, it is important to present a broad sound spectrum.

At the same time, I also focus on working on plasticity, transparency and, above all, sound colors - expressive colors, mind you, not just instrumental colors.

I recently conducted Scriabin's Poème de l'Extase - a score that lives precisely from this work on colors. What does the instruction pianissimo mean, for example? Of course, you can only play the passage in question very softly - but that is only half the truth. Because pianissimo also means a very special color, which then unfolds its special effect at that moment.

And when I can feel how the musicians of the orchestra I'm playing with enjoy working on the colors themselves, it's always an exhilarating moment for me.

... none with the orchestra, but enough with the singers ..

Conducting - not mere tactics, but from the moment it becomes a matter of art and interpretation - is a form of magic, a mystical, non-verbal communication between all participants that cannot be fully explained.

Certainly triggered by the conductor's immense inner focus on his own musical conception, but also made possible by the extremely high level of sensitivity of the musicians.

And here at the Vienna State Opera, of course, there is also the great personal familiarity that exists between my former orchestra colleagues and myself. A quick glance, a minimal gesture, a certain form of inhalation or facial expression are often enough to spontaneously achieve the desired result together.

In fact, I have learned a great deal from the advantages and strengths as well as the shortcomings of conductors. After all, the interpretative range of conductors is particularly wide in opera, and the approaches are correspondingly diverse.

As the violinist is placed particularly close to the conductor, my acoustic environment was also very similar to that of the conductor. For example, I was able to follow directly how a certain expression was achieved, how the conductor tried to support the singers in particularly challenging passages - or what the reason was for something else perhaps not working.

The most important thing is certainly the ability to exemplify your own dedication to music and to communicate it authentically to the orchestra members and the audience.

An impossible question to answer, as I love both and both symbiotically fertilize each other. The concert business certainly strengthens the artistic identity of an orchestra, whereas opera requires immense flexibility and that very special expression that is essential when telling stories.

And this ability, tried and tested there, in turn radiates back into the symphonic repertoire - into so-called absolute music - which for its part primarily wants to convey emotions and thus, in a sense, tell stories.

Whether as an orchestral musician or conductor - ideally, both genres should be equally on the artistic menu!

One is certainly influenced by everything one has heard or been involved in. Nevertheless, my own interpretative conception is not merely a sum of the interpretations of other conductors with whom I have been able to work or experience, but something of my own that has gradually crystallized - and it is hard to explain how this particular stylistic conviction comes about, which incidentally may well change again in the future.

Again, a mystical process, so to speak.

So I can't say - just to name two opposing poles: I consciously go in the direction of Nikolaus Harnoncourt, whom I greatly admire, or Riccardo Muti, whom I like just as much.

For me, Mozart is certainly also very much about expressive colors and cantabile.

There are a number of details why I appreciate Mozart so much. One of them is his economy of means, which is unique. Just one example: the overture to Don Giovanni begins with the same chords as the appearance of the Stone Guest three hours later - i.e. the murdered Commendatore at the title character's final banquet.

The same music, here effectively built up by the preceding harmonic situation. There is only one subtle difference: Mozart adds three trombones to the instrumentation when the Commendatore appears in order to symbolize the atmosphere of the supernatural or the afterlife. No more, but also no less.

In this way, he is able to convey a fundamental message with absolute simplicity and only a minimal change, while at the same time capturing and expressing the entire complexity of all emotions in this dramaturgically central moment.

Other composers would have had to move mountains to achieve this incredibly powerful expression. With Mozart, the same music - plus three trombones - is enough. That's what you call genius. I get goose bumps just talking about it.

A second example: hardly anyone has been able to describe characters as comprehensively and vividly as Mozart through music. Just think how differently the three female characters in Don Giovanni are portrayed - Mozart must clearly have possessed a unique capacity for empathy to be able to illuminate their psychological and emotional universes to such an extent.

For this reason alone, I am delighted to be able to make my opera debut at the Vienna State Opera with this composer and this work.

Incidentally, I have also conducted Giovanni several times at the venue of its premiere - the Prague Estates Theater. There is a bronze plaque in the orchestra pit there with the inscription:

"At this spot was the foot of the harpsichord from which Mozart conducted his Don Giovanni."

Being allowed to stand there and interpret this very piece is a unique and, above all, inspiring experience that will stay with me for a long time.