In August 1964, I made my first public appearance as a conductor. I had done bits of stick-waving in high school and had led the Marriage of Figaro Overture with the California Youth Symphony, but this was the true beginning of my musical life on the podium.
The place was Aspen, Colorado. I went there as a conducting student under the watchful eye of the Aspen Music Festival’s music director, Walter Susskind. Sixty years ago, this mountain town did not have traffic lights. Boutiques were unheard of, except for those selling skiing equipment. There were only two fine-dining establishments, the Copper Kettle and the Chart House (for steaks). The student orchestra rehearsed in the high school gymnasium.
The first incarnation of the tent, where most of the concerts took place, was showing its age, having been erected fifteen years earlier. The wooden pylons would come out of their moorings with every gust of wind. Rain would flow freely, often drowning out the music played onstage. This was followed by mud streaming down the makeshift aisles.
On one memorable occasion, the great pedagogue Rosina Lhévinne was performing a Mozart Concerto. Her page turner was Jimmy Levine. About halfway through the slow movement, a dog trotted onto the stage, came up to the instrument, and did what dogs will do. In Paepcke Auditorium, I attended a life-changing all-Scarlatti recital by Fernando Valenti. My introduction to the world of lieder occurred in the Wheeler Opera House with a program of the Spanisches Liederbuch by Hugo Wolf.
I was one of approximately 150 students, and the faculty was there full-time. Guest artists were rare, but during the annual composer’s symposium, I had the opportunity to speak and work with Elliott Carter, Benjamin Britten, Sir Michael Tippett, and many others.
It was in Aspen that my musical persona began to emerge. I only led one piece of music that first summer, the Barber Adagio for Strings, but it went well enough that I was asked back. From that point on, I became an Aspen regular. In 1967, Susskind invited me to be his assistant conductor in St. Louis, and in many ways, became my surrogate father.
This July, I returned to Aspen for what must have been at least my thirtieth summer. The festival is celebrating its seventy-fifth anniversary season, and I was asked to put together a program that incorporated aspects of its history.
Aaron Copland took time out from his regular visits to Tanglewood to attend Aspen’s annual conference on contemporary music, headed up by composer-in-residence Darius Milhaud. I don’t know if they played Copland’s El Salón México back then, but it always serves as a wonderful concert-opener.
This colorful and tricky work was once hugely popular but has almost disappeared from the repertoire. It used to be a common audition piece for conductors, as the rhythmic complexity requires acute technical skills or—at least in my case—a lot of experience. The combination of seasoned-veteran principals in the orchestra, coupled with the highly talented young students, made for a most exciting performance.
The soloist was the winner of the last International Chopin Piano Competition, Bruce Liu, who brought a wide sonic palette to Prokofiev’s Third Piano Concerto with a very intriguing emphasis on inner voices. As opposed to many pianists today, he did not view this as a work to be played as fast as possible. I enjoyed the collaboration and will be most interested to see how this young man grows.
Christopher Rouse was a longtime composer-in-residence in Aspen. He was also a dear friend, and I had the pleasure of performing and premiering many of his pieces. His five-minute showstopper The Infernal Machine is a wonderful way to introduce orchestras and audiences to a virtual encyclopedia of hallmark twentieth-century sounds. I had led this piece during the 1983 Aspen Festival, and it was great fun to bring it back.
It also seemed appropriate to reprise the Barber Adagio in this anniversary year. After my first performance in 1964, I had asked Susskind if I could return the following summer, and he replied, “You had better.” Hopefully that sentiment will continue over the next few years. It was most gratifying to experience a long silence after the music faded, followed by a standing ovation.
We wrapped up with An American in Paris, a piece that has become a calling card for me during my career. It takes time for young musicians unaccustomed to this very personal style to make adjustments from what they have learned with other repertoire. Nevertheless, after a lot of hard work, they got into the spirit, and the result was one that captivated the audience.
I also worked extensively with the conducting students, using the information in my first volume of score studies, Eight Symphonic Masterworks of the Twentieth Century. This was perfect, as the Barber and Gershwin are two of the pieces I dissect in the book. All in all, this return was emotional, satisfying, and most enjoyable.
Now, all that is left this summer is a return trip to Taipei for more collaborations with professionals and students. Hopefully we will avoid typhoon warnings this year.
Oh, and on September 1st, the number on the left changes for my birthday. I suspect that there will be a lot of hoopla, but if I can just spend the day with my Big Green Egg, I will be happy enough.
See you next month,
Leonard