Manfred Honeck is the music director of the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra and one of the leading musicians in the world. He is also a superb interviewee — one of my favorites, in the musical world. You can learn a great deal from him. I most recently spoke with Honeck last month, before an audience of the Salzburg Festival Society (in his home country, Austria). Our conversation has been turned into a podcast: a Q&A, here.
“My father put a violin in my hands when I was seven years old,” Honeck says. When he was in his mid 20s, he joined the Vienna Philharmonic — as a violist. Why did he switch instruments? He made a deep philosophical decision, he says: There was an opening in the Philharmonic for a violist, not a violinist. So he switched . . .
But he says, quickly, “I like the sound of the viola very much.”
In Salzburg last month, Honeck conducted his Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra in two works: the Piano Concerto No. 3 by Rachmaninoff (with Yefim Bronfman as soloist) and the Symphony No. 5 by Mahler.
A question for the maestro: The Rachmaninoff concerto is such a showpiece, for the pianist. Is there much for a conductor and orchestra to do? I will give Honeck’s answer, in paraphrase:
Oh, my God, this concerto is something. It’s a challenge. It sounds so easy, so normal — but it’s like Mozart. When you hear Mozart, it sounds light and easy, right? But, actually, Mozart is one of the most difficult composers to conduct.
Now, Rachmaninoff has a lot of secrets, because if you play a Rachmaninoff concerto very square, as it is written, you have a problem, because you lose the music. If you have too much rubato, too much freedom, in the music, then it gets kitschy. And I want to avoid that — even though I like kitsch very much.
Turning to Mahler: Some people like him, or love him, right from the beginning. Others take some time to grow into him. (Others never take to him at all.) What about Manfred Honeck?
Being a violin student, I did not have any contact with Mahler. I mean, there are no sonatas or concertos. But there came a moment in my life . . .
I was a member of the Austrian youth orchestra. And Karajan was making a big presentation of youth orchestras in Berlin. We played Schubert’s “Unfinished” Symphony. And we listened to the German youth orchestra, which played Mahler 1. I was blown away. I thought, “Oh, my God, what is this? What kind of sound came out of that orchestra?” Since that time, I have been very interested in Mahler’s world.
When I first conducted Mahler, it was Mahler 1. I have conducted all the Mahler symphonies, except for 7 and 8. They are on my list. Of course, Pittsburgh would have to allow the Eighth, which is a little bit expensive, with a big choir and soloists and all.
Yes — that symphony’s nickname is “The Symphony of a Thousand.”
What Honeck says about Mahler’s music — its connection to Austrian folk culture, for example — is fascinating. So is this: “I must tell you, when I joined the Vienna Philharmonic, some of the older members hated Mahler.” The music or the man? “Both.”
Honeck explains at length. In a nutshell: Their hero was Beethoven. And, by comparison, Mahler seemed chaotic and nuts.
There are national differences in concert audiences, as there are national differences in many other things. In America, we tend to applaud very enthusiastically and very briefly. In other countries, they go on and on. Hell, I should be in bed by the time an Austrian audience stops clapping.
I say to Honeck, “Does my country’s brief applause bother you?” “Well, yes, of course,” he answers. But he goes on to discuss “differences in mentality.” He says,
When you present your passport to a border agent in America, he might say, “How are you?” An Austrian would never do that — but he may still be friendly, in his own way. The openness in America is remarkable.
Angela Merkel once told a story about being a young woman visiting California. In a shop, a clerk said to her, “How are you?” The young German was flabbergasted. But she liked it. She found herself saying, “I am fine. How are you?”
Somehow, in our winding conversation, Honeck and I touch on Haydn — and we recall Bernstein, conducting an encore of Haydn, without conducting. (Well, without conducting with his hands. His face was involved. That counts in a big way.) The orchestra was the Vienna Phil, and Honeck was in it.
Experience the encore for yourself, on YouTube: here. (As I have frequently said, YouTube is the greatest invention since the wheel.)
I could go on and on — like an Austrian audience, applauding — in my citation of Manfred Honeck, but it’s better to listen to him directly. Again, our conversation is here. Maybe I could quote one more thing, about a composer Haydn knew, and taught:
Mozart was a miracle, and he always will be. He knew the human soul and the needs of the human soul. He could look right through you. He could be funny, he could be sarcastic, he could be dramatic. He could be pure, he could be sharp. He had everything.
True ’nuff.