“He was totally practical, totally to the point, rather funny, very warm and with a really unusual way of making all the people who are frightened of meeting him feel at their ease. I think every young musician who met him found the same thing: that he was totally unterrifying. He was curious about what was going on and it’s amazing how much he knew what was happening, how much he listened to. Curiosity is also something that people don’t always realize in connection with Karajan.” “Rostropovich told me about a funny conversation he had with Karajan when they were doing Strauss and his “Don Quixote”. He kept making ugly sounds on the cello and Karajan asked: “But why are you doing that?” - “Because you have to show the character of this person.” “Oh no, this has no place in this music. That’s not what beauty is about - Beauty isn’t about edges.” Well, that was fascinating.” “He had a very particular concept of sound and what it is. Sometimes when I see films of Karajan as a young man it’s astonishing how aggressive his conducting is. He’s like no one I’ve ever seen, and he might have been battling with demons” “Sometimes one has to remind people of what Karajan had and what he gave. Part of my job here was to make the younger musicians listen to the older musicians while we still have them. It’s interesting because the older musicians talked about the sensitive conspiracy they had together with Karajan at the beginning, about the amounts of fun and pleasure they had. Somehow they were all helping each other. They were all in the same gang if you can ever say that in this culture.” “I think it’s very hard to be the conductor of any orchestra for a very long time. But yet, without that nothing real gets achieved. But the first five or ten years are a transition. You can hear that from Karajan to Furtwängler: all good things take time.” “There’s something that Karajan recommended. He said: “It’s easy to sing like a bird when you’re young like a bird. When you had life’s tragedies – it’s much harder to sing then.” It reminds me of that wonderful Auden quote. Somebody wrote to Auden, wanting a libretto for an opera, and he wrote back only one sentence: “Sorry, too sad to sing. Yours, Auden.” |