Matzo Madness and Memories

Last day of Passover. One of our guests brought the most delicious matzo: Yehuda Matzos. Ordinarily, I avoid the stuff, as it tastes like cardboard, but this year, the matzo was magnificent. Maybe it was just a good batch, I don't know. Late at night, I wandered for forty minutes around the kitchen, poured a glass of Manischewitz, and slathered butter and strawberry jam on those beauties. The combination of crunchy matzo topped with creamy butter and sweet berries tasted like Nirvana. Truth be told, I'm not ready to return to toast.

Passover, a season of renewal, is also an opportunity for reflection and contemplation. While Sarah and I were driving home from shopping, I mentioned that we've lived in the same house on Queen Anne for twenty-five years. That's half my life.
"Did you expect to live here that long when you moved from L.A.?" my daughter asked.
"No," I said. As I turned into our carport, I had a Proustian experience, and recalled magic moments of lost time.

Over the years, in our humble dwelling, my in-laws, Irja and Veikko Talvi would travel from Finland, and transform our house into a palace. Irja polished the kitchen counters until they gleamed, and Veikko set massive historical books on our dining table. He rattled away on Finland's history in Finnish, as if I could process a labyrinth of information, and strained his ears to hear Ilkka practice. He listened to his son's recordings over and over again with Seattle Symphony, demanding to know which violin Ilkka played.
"A wooden one," was the only response from his son.

My mother, Frances Kransberg, doted on her grand-daughters, Anna and Sarah. She'd go out to our backyard in the late summer, and pick apples, pears and plums from the plentiful trees. Then she'd simmer the fruit together in batches, and create a rich sauce for the girls. The house smelled like cinnamon and cloves. Because her four daughters, myself included, led such separate and disparate lives, my mother wouldn't have her children in the same room with her at the same time until her passing, in 2004. The shiva ritual took place in our living room.

Music has always filled our home. Many talented individuals have enriched our lives within these walls. I remember when George Shangrow accompanied me at the piano with the Beethoven Concerto before an appearance with Orchestra Seattle. Playing the Beethoven with George felt effortless, as he's a wonderful accompanist. Incidentally, the day that George was no longer part of KING-FM, we stopped listening to that station—forever. I think classical KING-FM was doomed right then and there.

Back in the days of Northwest Chamber Orchestra, Adam Stern arrived to rehearse Copland's "Vitebsk" for an all American chamber music program. Vitebsk is chock full of quarter tones which confounded me; the tonalities posed a challenge. My husband slipped into the room, appeared at once by my side, and placed my fingers accurately on the fingerboard. Besides having perfect pitch, Ilkka had analyzed the quarter tone interval down to a science. What I didn't realize at that time, but I certainly do now, is that it is vital for a musician to keep an open mind (and ear) with regard to repertoire. We learn the most from our cherished colleagues.

Ralf Gothoni practiced on our Steinway upright, and beamed energy into our home. He mused: It's not enough to be young and talented like we, of course, are. We still must practice.

And, believe it or not, Ilkka and I were once threatened at this address by the SS. The police came right to our front door, sent by a local conductor claiming that my husband had jeopardized his life with his blog. Ilkka then showed his blog to the policemen, and they agreed, shaking their heads at false accusations: the opposite was true. Tainted matzo? Madness? Perhaps, but like the Exodus from Egypt, we remember.

On Human Spirit

As I took my walk this morning to Discovery Park, I carried with me in my backpack two inspiring articles about musical conductors. The first article, "A Conductor Whose Worship Stands Apart" by The New York Times reporter, Daniel J. Wakin practically induced me to tears. In contrast to the much publicized inhumane spirit of Seattle's musical scene, Manfred Honeck, the music director of the Pittsburgh Symphony shares his deeply personal view with Mr. Wakin of the role spirituality plays in his work with orchestras. "It's a guide," he said of his religious conviction. "I'm an instrument, to make music better, to make my profession more honest. It allows me to be very deep in my soul. Therefore, the music probably comes very deep from that area of my soul." Honeck admitted that he, at one time, had flirted with the priesthood but found his way to the orchestra podium instead.

In an era when so many orchestral conductors and performing artists worship themselves, I find Mr. Honeck's words soothing. I've often felt that an orchestra reflects the music director's soul. I'm grateful to know that our former student, Irene Cheng, is now part of the Pittsburgh Symphony family. My sentiments of tenderness also arose from the sad news that Teresa Harth, longtime violinist with several orchestras, including Pittsburgh, and wife of famed conductor and violinist Sidney Harth, passed away a few days ago. The memories of concerts with Sidney Harth and Northwest Chamber Orchestra bubbled to the surface of my mind, and I became nostalgic.

Later, while sitting by the rocks at South Beach trail to gaze at the water, I reached into my bag for an article  "A Conductor Does Not Need Hair."  Die Welt features an interview with Christophe Eschenbach exploring his perspectives on flight, difficult childhood, and his departure from the U.S.A.

Eschenbach, born in 1940 in Breslau, Germany (now Poland) was orphaned during World War II. His mother died while giving birth to him, and his father was sent to the war front and killed. As a result of the childhood trauma, Eschenbach lost his ability to speak for almost a year. After the war, while living with his foster mother who was a pianist, she asked Christoph if he wanted to play music. His foster mother had observed how the child "listened, listened and listened to her play." Studying music was, for Eschenbach, a lifeline. "Music was my recovery," he explains.

I was mesmerized while watching and listening to Eschenbach conduct Mahler in the documentary film "A Wayfarer's Journey". At the very least, this should help to dispel the theory that a conductor requires big hair in order to cast a spell over musicians and audience. (Eschenbach is bald; I mean, Ken Wilbur type bald). He tells Die Welt: "My image, you know, had never really been built up on hair." As for his exit as chief conductor with Philadelphia Orchestra: "I'm glad that I'm away from there. The (mis)management pretended that the orchestra did not like me. It was a lie."

And, as I continued on my walk around the magical paths of Discovery Park, absorbed in contemplation, I remembered the sense of spirituality and guidance I experienced during concerts, rehearsals and discussions with the miracle that is pianist and conductor Ralf Gothoni, and I felt at peace.

Shalom

Twas the day before Christmas, with my family snug at home, when I looked from a bin of potatoes and onions at Metropolitan Market, and thought about Shalom. But glancing up from the bin, here's what I saw: Two ghosts—a married couple—from my Christmases past. Sure enough, the husband had observed me, and then quickly spun round, appearing to float from aisle unbound. A ridiculous hide-and-seek proceeded to begin. The ghost from Christmases Past presided over the cheese, while I whizzed with my cart in tow down cereal and grain. As I made my way (with heart pounding through my chest) towards olives and cheese, the apparition wafted down Spice Lane, nose in the air. His pale, garrulous wife seemed to hover near the fruits. I left the market with only a breast of turkey (free range, I'll have you know), a few potatoes, and a heavy heart. The snow covered hills and winding streets offered me an opportunity to reflect on life, and I trampled home, recalling books and perspectives which have become my own.

Daniel Barenboim emphasizes in his latest book, "Music Quickens Time" the difference between power and force. It is an illuminating topic, as the two entities are often confused in politics, music, and everyday life. Barenboim makes this point: The idea of music, as we see, could be a model for society; it teaches us the importance of the interconnection between transparency, power and force. During my formative years as an orchestra musician, I felt most respondent (as opposed to despondent), in the presence of inspirational and thoughtful leaders. There were so few in my life that I can count them on, perhaps, one hand. Orchestra musicians tend to revere leaders on the podium as parishioners do their priests, congregants to clergy. We seek guidance and encouragement from our music directors especially, for they have the potential to become role models, allowing us to transcend our own limitations. That is partly why Barenboim, a defiant individual, tower of power, symbol of acceptance and integration of humanity, is unique in my eyes. A feeling of communion is also the force that compels me to play with Rainier Symphony— the music director, David Waltman, an innovator and motivator.

I have mentioned in several previous entries of this journal, my indebtedness to Ralf Gothoni as a source of personal enlightenment for my own artistic achievement. As a Christmas gift to my readers, I'm including the CNN link to Ralf and Elina's recent performance for Nobel Peace Prize recipient, former Finnish leader, Martti Ahtisaari.

Shalom.

Seattle, Too Late!

Dear Friends of Gothónis

To your information:

Ralf Gothóni and his violinist wife Elina Vähälä have been invited to perform on December 10th in Oslo at the Nobel ceremony, where Mr President Martti Ahtisaari will be awarded with the Nobel peace prize. The ceremony will be televised around the globe.

The preliminary plan includes two short performances with Elina and Ralf, probably with music by Brahms and Schubert.

Best greetings

Claudia Krüger

How To Cook A Conductor

A couple of weeks ago, during my Skype call to Ralf Gothoni, I said: Ralf, don't forget to email me any additional thoughts you might like to share with my readers. So, what does he do? He sends me this recipe. I know it's been around a while but, oh, how timely:

How to cook a conductor

Ingredients:

One large conductor, or two small assistant conductors
26 large cloves of garlic Crisco or other solid vegetable shortening (lard may be used)
1 cask cheap wine
1 lb. alfalfa sprouts
2 lbs. assorted yuppie food, such as tofu or yoghurt
One abused orchestra

Instructions:

First, catch a conductor. Remove the tail and horns. Carefully separate the large ego and reserve for sauce. Remove any batons, pencils (on permanent loan from the principal second violin) and long articulations and discard.

Remove the hearing aid and discard (it never worked anyway). Examine your conductor carefully--many of them are mostly large intestine. If you have such a conductor, you will have to discard it and catch another. Clean the conductor as you would a squid, but do not separate the tentacles from the body. If you have an older conductor, such as one from a major symphony orchestra or summer music festival, you may wish to tenderize by pounding the conductor on a rock with timpani mallets or by smashing the conductor between two large cymbals.

Next, pour one-half of the cask of wine into a bath tub and soak the conductor in the wine for at least twelve hours (exceptions: British, German and some Canadian conductors have a natural beery taste which some people like and the wine might not marry well with this flavor. Use your judgment). When the conductor is sufficiently marinated, remove any clothes the conductor may be wearing and rub it all over with the garlic.

Then cover your conductor with Crisco using vague, slow circular motions. Take care to cover every inch of the conductor's body with the shortening. If this looks like fun, you can cover yourself with Crisco too, removing clothes first.

Next, take your orchestra and put as much music out as the stands will hold without falling over, and make sure that there are lots of really loud passages for everyone, big loud chords for the winds and brass, and lots and lots of tremolos for the strings. (Bruckner might be appropriate). Rehearse these passages several times, making certain that the brass and winds are always playing as loud as they can and the strings are tremoloing at their highest speed. This should ensure adequate flames for cooking your conductor. If not, insist on taking every repeat and be sure to add the second repeats in really large symphonies. Ideally, you should choose your repertoire to have as many repeats as possible, but if you have a piece with no repeats in it at all, just add some, claiming that you have seen the original, and there was an ink blot there that "looked like a repeat" to you and had obviously been missed by every other fool who had looked at this score. If taking all the repeats does not generate sufficient flames, burn the complete set of score and parts to all of the Bruckner symphonies.

When the flames have died down to a medium inferno, place your conductor on top of your orchestra (they won't mind as they are used to it) until it is well tanned, the hair turns back to its natural color and all of the fat has dripped out. Be careful not to overcook or your Conductor could end up tasting like stuffed ham. Make a sauce by combining the ego, sprouts and ketchup to taste, placing it all in the blender and pureeing until smooth.

If the ego is bitter, sweeten with honey to taste. Slice your conductor as you would any turkey. Serve accompanied by the assorted yuppie food and the remaining wine with the sauce on the side.

Warning:

Due to environmental toxins present in conductor feeding areas, such as heavy metals, oily residue from intensive PR machinery manufacture, and extraordinarily high concentrations of E.coli, cryptosporidium, and other hazardous organisms associated with animal wastes, the Departments for Conductor Decimation (DCD) recommend that the consumption of conductors be limited to one per season. Overconsumption of conductors has been implicated in the epidemiology of a virulent condition known as "Bataan fever." Symptoms of this disorder include swelling of the brain, spasms in the extremities, delusions of competence, auditory hallucinations and excessive longevity.

Cauldron from clipartheaven.com

Withdrawal

The episodes occur now and then; I experience periods of withdrawal from Ralf Gothoni, the Gilmore prize winning pianist, conductor, composer and essayist, who forever influenced my concept and understanding of music during his engagement as music director for Northwest Chamber Orchestra. This morning I decided to do something about it; take action; make contact. Ilkka hooked me up on Skype and Ralf appeared before my very eyes and ears, on the computer screen. Can you see me now? he asked. Morning in Seattle was night for him in Finland, and Ralf's unkempt hair gave me the giggles. Thank goodness he couldn't see me; my camera was switched off. Ralf Gothoni was just as I remembered; witty, astute, and rattling away. Maybe I have psychic powers. His violinist wife, Elina Vähälä, was enroute to Seattle before heading to Spokane for performances of the Bruch Concerto. Life's not fair, I tell you. Elina has the looks of a Miss World and her violin playing is world class. Ralf doesn't see much of his young wife these days; she's been touring in China, Venezuela and Israel. He's been performing in Turkey, South Africa, Germany and England.

First order of the day, was to tell my much-loved maestro that our brief time together with Northwest Chamber Orchestra was unforgettable, and the pinnacle of my 25 years with that organization. I could hear him smile and see him laugh. I don't think Finns are at ease with compliments.

Next was to find out if Ralf thought classical music would survive today's culture. On this subject, Ralf echoes my husband's views; the world is too stupid and complacent to care enough about deep, spiritual beauty, and the power of the pop culture media is too strong. Even schools in Finland are taking the easy way out, by teaching popular songs to children rather than classical music. As artists we must pass on meaningful traditions, and not partake in the stupidity of the masses, but endeavor to elevate mankind.

In his capacity as Artistic Chairman of Savonlinna Music Academy, Ralf has assisted in the birthing of the Finnish-Egyptian Musical Bridge, a musical collaboration which seeks to enhance cultural relations between Finland, Egypt, and other Arab countries through workshops, masterclasses, and joint performances. This brainchild reminds me of the West-Eastern Divan Workshop founded by Daniel Barenboim and the late Edward Said. I've always had profound respect for this collaborative effort as a means for paving the way to a peaceful solution to the Arab-Israeli conflict. For Ralf, music is but a catalyst for spiritual growth and renewal; a transformational force: Music is a causeway and a stairway of learning that can lead to wondrous worlds.

I feel better after our meeting; Ralf assures me our paths will again cross one day, and I choose to believe him.

Photo of Ralf Gothoni by Arto Tulima