Baton down the hatches

I’m supposed to be helping to moderate this discussion, not participate in it. But I found my own questions too tempting not to answer. So here are my five ways to have your orchestra not hate working for you:

Don’t talk so much. No one became a musician because they wanted to hear conductors talk. I have sometimes fantasized about rationing conductors to so many words per rehearsal. Isn’t conducting supposed to be a non-verbal thing? All that moving your hands around and such?

Talk to the point. OK, sometimes you’ll have to say something. Tell us what you want in words that will actually help us achieve it. I know how not to drag, or how to play louder. I don’t know how to make something “sound like the trees.” Rehearsal is not a place for metaphysical explanations. It’s OK to tell us (very occasionally) what the piece meant to the composer (if it’s a fact and not your own fantasy). We recently did Mahler 5 and the conductor read us the words Mahler wrote to the Adagietto. While it didn’t increase my respect for Mahler, it did help me to “get” the movement. But we don’t need to know what the piece means to you. It means something to most of us too – but we’re not wasting rehearsal time telling you about it, are we?

Feedback comes in two forms. If you tell us to fix something, let us know when we’ve actually fixed it. It’s fine to tell the horns that they were behind at letter “B” and to run the passage again. If they get it right this time, let them know. A simple smile in their direction will do, although a verbal acknowledgement at the next stop is better. Presumably they wouldn’t have been behind in the first place if they could tell whether or not they were. That means they also need to know when they got it right.

This does not mean continuing obsequious remarks about how wonderful we’re playing. That falls under the category of “talking too much,” and we won’t believe it anyway.

If you screw up, admit it. It’s better not to screw up at all, of course, but most musicians know that conductors are human (although they might not want to have to say so publicly). You know and we know when you miss a beat pattern. When we screw up, you call us on it. When you screw up, the only person that can call you on it is you. Not only is it basic good manners to admit to your own mistakes, it will greatly increase your moral standing to call us on ours.

Lose the attitude. Musicians are primed to condescension and even contempt from conductors. We’re pleasantly surprised when we don’t get it. Surprise us.