Steven Isserlis

I have just finished my annual stint of teaching in Cornwall, and as so often have encountered a wonderfully idealistic group of young musicians in all the classes at the seminar. What I found perhaps most satisfying was the serious (though joyous) enthusiasm for chamber music shared by all the players. That’s how it should be: for instrumentalists, chamber music, or at least its set of values, is at the heart of everything that we do, whether we are soloists, ensemble players or teachers. Chamber music involves listening, being sensitive to other voices, dialogue, compromise in – hopefully – the best sense. (If only the politicians wrangling over Brexit, or the Mueller report, or migrants, or whatever, had been taught chamber music as children, the world might be a better place!) Concertos and symphonies are chamber music too, just on a larger scale, in that they involve different voices responding to each other, sharing the telling of a story.

But as usual there was the odd mention of something ordained by a teacher somewhere to some unsuspecting student that shocked me. I think – hope – that overall instrumental teaching is improving; but there still seems to be in some schools an unhealthy obsession with ‘projection’. This dreaded word (as I said above, perhaps my least favourite word; probably my most favourite is ‘upgrade’, but that’s a different matter) usually means getting one’s musical voice out there, over any other voice, so that the audience can hear every note clearly. And if one does not have the principal voice at the time? Never mind – the main thing is to be heard: MY part is important, MY instrument has to sound the loudest. Me me me. But that’s really not what music is about – EVER.

Of course one has to be practical. It’s frustrating for an audience not to hear a player enough – I know I myself have often erred in that direction; but still – listening is more important than shouting over others. Making every note clearly audible does not necessarily equate with communicating the meaning of the music. ‘Listening’ involves, not merely being aware of the other musical voices of a work, but listening to oneself, and to what the composer is telling us through the harmonic journey, the rhythmic flow, the gradations of colour, etc.

Talk of projection is usually bound up with the quest for constant, almost desperate (I’d say) intensity. Why? Composers at least until Wagner wrote to delight, to entertain, to uplift their listeners as much as to express their inner struggles. What is the point of overloading, say, a Mozart violin concerto with angst-ridden vibrato and hormone-enhanced decibels when for the most part the music is lucid, almost childlike, revelling, often humorously, in the purity of its own perfection? Don’t worry that you’re not ‘doing’ enough to the music; it can thrive on its own merits without intensity sauce being poured all over it! And if you don’t feel you sound ‘grown-up’ enough – that’s probably a good thing, not a bad one.

Sorry – I know that I have ranted on in similar fashion before; but there’s so much rubbish talked about music everywhere that one cannot be too vigilant. If someone advises you to play in a way that doesn’t reflect what you hear and feel in the music, at least question their advice! The truth lies in the music, and I believe that most people’s instincts, if left uncorrupted by distortion, will lead them to a real understanding. People don’t tend to phrase exaggeratedly or add unnecessary stress to a melody when they sing it in the shower, after all. Getting the point over as simply and understandably as possible should be our aim. Music is not about performance; performance should be about music.

And here endeth today’s rantus minimus.