Потребителски вход

Запомни ме | Регистрация
Постинг
25.11.2008 17:36 - Carlos Kleiber Is Dead, But For How Long? by David Hurwitz
Автор: kleiber Категория: Музика   
Прочетен: 3105 Коментари: 1 Гласове:
1

Последна промяна: 29.11.2008 10:23


The death of Carlos Kleiber on July 13 2004 at the age of 74 brings to a sudden end the sporadically active career of one of the most enigmatic yet respected conductors of this century. Of course, the respect to some extent stemmed from the enigma, but far be it from me to deny any artist his mystique when (as in this case) it’s sustained by the quality of the musical results. So I will leave a more general evaluation of his life to others: my interest concerns the preservation of his legacy on recordings, and in this respect we might say that his death represents not an end, but rather a beginning, and an ominous one if current trends are any indication of how the wind is blowing.

Kleiber belonged to a select category of highly self-critical (in his case almost dementedly so) musicians whose extreme perfectionism led him to limit his repertoire, his appearances, and his recordings quite drastically. In this respect he most closely resembles the pianists Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli and Ivan Moravec. Comparisons with Sergiu Celibidache might come to mind more readily because both were conductors, but aren’t really apt. Celibidache was a true nut case and egomaniac who, despite claiming that all recordings were illegitimate, left behind a truly vast legacy of live performances, many in superb digital sound, and many more so unworthy of the claims he made for himself and for music in general that more than enough ammunition exists to declare him a fraud and make him fair game for ridicule.

No, Kleiber understood the value of recordings, but as in all things he was selective in what he chose to release, and because he was so careful, and the standard he generally set so high, the question of what happens to his concert legacy now that he is gone defines the issue of the artist’s rights in this respect with singular clarity. Certainly not everything he did was “the best.” His Schubert symphony disc isn’t all that spectacular; his Beethoven Fourth on Orfeo doesn’t attract legions of admirers, and the recently released live Sixth on the same label (in poor sound) doesn’t augur well for the posited existence of hidden “treasures” in those broadcast vaults. I could go on, but never mind: his integrity and seriousness were never in question, particularly given the fact that (unlike Celibidache) his interpretations never came across as self-serving or mannered, but rather as the work of one who was a true servant of the composer, and of the work.

And few conductors have inspired such enthusiasm in their audiences. I was fortunate enough to see all of his productions at the Metropolitan Opera on multiple occasions over the years. My most vivid memories concern a performance of Verdi’s Otello. I marveled at his control of the orchestra, how he shaped the entire score with his hands as a sculptor works with clay. It was a remarkable display of musical control and discipline at the highest level, even though I couldn’t help but notice a certain stiffness and lack of dynamic range resulting from keeping everything on such a tight leash. Most memorable, though, was what happened at the end of the Third Act. To my right, an overenthusiastic fan leapt up and started screaming “Bravo!” as the curtain fell, well before the music had stopped. To my left, my date vaulted across my lap and nearly decapitated him with her program. “Be quiet!” she hissed. “What’s your problem,” he sneered cattily, “It’s about passion, honey!” “Right,” she snapped back, “Verdi’s not yours, you pathetic asshole!” Say what you will about Kleiber, few conductors inspired THAT kind of reaction at either end of the spectrum.

And yet, this episode perfectly illustrates what is at stake here. There are two kinds of Kleiber fans: those who respect his integrity as an artist, support what he stood for, and so grant him the right to limit the number of available recordings only to those that he regarded as fit for public consumption. Then there are those fans who can’t get enough, and who mistakenly assume that blind adulation justifies any violation of their idol’s clear intent. They call it love. I call it selfishness, for the price they demand in exchange for their unconditional approval of every recorded scrap of music graced by the presence of their hero is nothing less than the utter destruction of the very reputation that made him worthy of their notice in the first place. Remember, Kleiber recorded Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde: and everything about his career indicates that, whether consciously or not, he recognized a true Liebestod when he saw one coming.

This particular Love-Death began long before Kleiber’s own physical demise. Pirate recordings of numerous performances have dogged his career, not a single one of which (I might add, having heard virtually all of them) sustains the quality standards both interpretively or sonically that characterize his authorized recordings and videos (despite the less than alluring close-ups of sweat dripping off his nose in that Concertgebouw Beethoven symphony pairing). It’s a curious phenomenon. One would think that admiration for such a musician would manifest itself in scrupulous respect for his abundantly clear intentions, and a desire on the part of his admirers to inculcate in themselves the same discriminating taste and high standards to which his art bears such eloquent witness. The reality, on the other hand, is a personality cult whose members come across as behaving like a clutch of grotesque, highbrow Elvis groupies or female Beatles fans.

Curiously, the actual amount of money to be made by issuing pirate recordings isn’t all that great in absolute terms, and for posthumously “authorized” releases it’s even less. This is classical music, after all, but such is the smallness of the market that the clamor of any sort of fandom assumes a volume out of all proportion to the size of the actual market. Combine this with the existence of both legitimate and unscrupulous labels desperate to make a buck, the fact that any pirated recording is by definition free for the taking, the often disreputable behavior of relatives of the deceased prepared to “authorize” anything if the price is right (and I have no idea where Kleiber’s executors stand on this issue), and the result is a lethal cocktail guaranteed to destroy the very thing it claims to be serving: the reputation and integrity of a great artist.

The scarcity value of classical music recordings in general has already been eroded by the current glut. Against this seemingly irresistible tide, Kleiber achieved the Holy Grail of any classical artist: true uniqueness. He did this through a combination of musical excellence and by making each recording a genuine event by virtue of its rarity. Who among us has the moral (as opposed to the legal) right to second guess him in this regard? Who would dare stand in his shoes and say, “Had he been alive, he would have approved the release” of this or that public concert, never mind if he wasn’t at his best, the sonics are sub par, the orchestra not on top form, and the audience afflicted with acute respiratory distress? Who has that right? NOBODY. Not now, not ever. Not his friends, his family, his heirs, his record labels, his orchestras, radio stations, colleagues, champions, publishers, lawyers, or accountants.

And so now the waiting game begins. Hopefully, the major labels that he worked with will release carefully remastered complete editions of his work, a tribute richly deserved. Hopefully those sets will stay in print forever, and hopefully they will not be swamped by a deluge of technically legal and/or just plain pirated recordings that destroy the market for the discs that the great man himself chose as representing the best of him. Whether you or I agree or disagree with his choice isn’t the point, for only he had the right to make it, and the bottom line is that we either respect that right or we don’t.

It will be interesting and instructive to see if Carlos Kleiber’s most fanatical admirers preserve his reputation, or by their behavior encourage an all too willing industry to diminish it. Will Kleiber remain the universally admired artists whose recorded legacy remains available to all and sundry, or will he become yet another cult figure, quickly marginalized by fans deriving their validation less from a love of music than from the satisfaction of belonging to a fanatical minority --keepers of the sacred flame? It’s too soon to tell, but historical precedent isn’t encouraging. Kleiber’s very loathing of the personality cult of the performer may yet give birth to one, and that would be very sad, even sadder than the fact that he is dead--because the important question facing us is this: Will he be permitted to rest in peace?





Тагове:   Kleiber,


Гласувай:
1



Следващ постинг
Предишен постинг

1. kleiber - Making copies for non-commercial use is permitted!
06.12.2009 17:25
Making copies for non-commercial use is permitted!
цитирай
Вашето мнение
За да оставите коментар, моля влезте с вашето потребителско име и парола.
Търсене

За този блог
Автор: kleiber
Категория: Музика
Прочетен: 526337
Постинги: 72
Коментари: 86
Гласове: 42
Архив
Календар
«  Март, 2024  
ПВСЧПСН
123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031