All language subtitles for 000001

[faint chattering]

-[child shouts]

[person] You ready?

No, just--
Yeah, just ignore the microphone.

Yeah, just act as if it's not there.
Sing as if it's not there.

Yeah, uh...

[speaking Mandarin]

Okay?

[person 2 speaking Panoan]

[singing in Panoan]

[singing continues]

[children chattering in distance]

[singing continues]

[singer exhales]

[crowd chattering]

[sniffling]

[exhales deeply]

[exhales sharply]

[exhales sharply]

-[host] Ready for them?
-Yes.

Let's go.

[audience applauding]

[host] If you ’re here,
then you already know Who she is.

And that is one of the most important
musical figures of our time.

Lydia Tér is many things.

A piano performance graduate
at the Curtis Institute,

Phi Beta Kappa from Harvard.

She got her PhD in Musicology
from the University of Vienna,

specializing in the indigenous music

of the Ucayali valley in eastern Peru,

where she spent five years
among the Shipibo-Konibo people.

As a conductor, Tar began her career
with the Cleveland Orchestra,

one of the so-called "Big Five."

A string of important posts followed,

including the Philadelphia Orchestra,

the Chicago Symphony Orchestra,

the Boston Symphony Orchestra,

until she at last arrived here
at our own New York Philharmonic.

With the latter,

she organized the Highway Ten
refugee concerts in Zaatari,

which were attended by over 75,000 people.

She’s become particularly well known
for commissioning contemporary work

from, among others,
Jennifer Higdon, Caroline Shaw,

Julia Wolfe and Hildur Guénadéttir.

And she's made a point
of programming their works

alongside composers of the canon.

She’s been quoted as saying,

"These composers
are having a conversation.

And it may not always be so polite."

Lydia Tar has also written music
for the stage and screen.

She is, in fact, one
of only 15 so-called EGOTs,

meaning those who have won
all four major entertainment awards:

an Emmy, a Grammy,

an Oscar and a Tony.

it is, as you can imagine,
an extremely short and shimmering list

that includes Richard Rodgers,
Audrey Hepburn, Andrew Lloyd Webber

and, of course, Mel Brooks.

[audience laughing]

[host] In 2010,
with the support of Eliot Kaplan,

she founded
the Accordion Conducting Fellowship,

which fosters entrepreneurship
and performance opportunities

for female conductors,

allowing them residencies
with major orchestras around the world.

In 2013, Berlin elected Tér
as its principal conductor,

in succession to Andris Davis.

And she's remained there ever since.

Like her mentor, Leonard Bernstein,
Tar has a particular affinity for Mahler,

whose nine symphonies she recorded
during her Big Five stints.

However, she never managed
to complete the so-called “cycle"

with a single orchestra until now.

Under her direction, Berlin has recorded
eight of the Mahler symphonies,

saving the big one, Symphony No. 5,
for last.

Due to the pandemic, that performance,

which was scheduled for last year,
had to be canceled.

But I'm told that next month, she'll make
a live recording of Mahler‘s Fifth,

which will complete the cycle,
and will be issued in a box set

by Deutsche Grammophon
just in time for Mahler's birthday.

As if that's not enough,
her new book, 7347? on MR,

will be published
by Nan Talese‘s imprint at Doubleday,

just in time for Christmas,
a perfect stocking stuffer,

especially if you have
a very large stocking.

[audience laughing]

All of us at The New Yorker
welcome you.

Thank you for joining us, Maestro.

Thank you, Adam. Thank you.

[audience applauding]

Lydia, I couldn't--

I couldn't help but see you flinch just
a little bit as I was reading your bio.

Was it because I forgot
some other amazing achievement?

Or do you have
a slight self-consciousness

about the incredibly varied things
that you've accomplished?

Well, in today's world, "varied,"
it's a dirty word.

I mean, our era is one of specialists.

And if you're trying to do more than
one thing, it's often frowned upon.

-Every artist gets typecast.
-Oh, yes. Aggressively so.

Do you think there'll be a moment, though,
when the classical music community, uh,

decides not to use, uh, sexual
distinctions to differentiate artists?

I'm probably the wrong person to ask
since I don't read reviews.

-Never, really?
-No.

But it is odd, I think,
that anyone ever felt compelled

to substitute "maestro“ with "maestra."

I mean, we don't call, uh,
women astronauts "astronettes."

-[Adam] Right.
-[audience chuckles]

But as to the question
of, uh, gender bias,

I really have nothing to complain about.

Nor, for that matter, should Marin Alsop,
JoAnn Falletta, uh,

Laurence Equilbey, Nathalie Stutzmann.

I mean, there are so many incredible women
who came before us.

You know, women who did the real lifting.

[Adam] That's fascinating.
Can you-- Who, for instance?

Uh, okay, sure.
Uh, first and foremost, Nadia Boulanger.

I mean, that would be
the, uh, happy example.

Uh, the sad one would be Antonia Brico,

who by all accounts
was an incredible conductor,

but was ghettoized
into the non-glamorous status

of a "guest conductor"
and essentially treated as a dog act.

A dog, um-- She never got the chance
to lead a major orchestra?

Well, yes. Yes, she did, uh, conduct

the, uh, Berlin Philharmonic
as well as the Met,

but, again, only as a guest conductor.

You know, I mean, at that time,
it was... it was all gender spectacle.

But fortunately, times change,
and the Pauline conversion is,

if not complete,
then it's evolving nicely.

No less, um, having fallen off its horse,
um...

Lydia, could we talk a little bit
about, uh, translation?

I think there's still people
who think of the conductor

as a kind of human metronome.

Well, yeah, that's partly true.

-Yeah, but it's--
-But keeping time, it's no small thing.

-But I suspect there's a lot more to it.
-Yeah, I would hope so, yes.

-But time is the thing.
-Ah.

Time is the essential piece
of, uh, interpretation.

You cannot start without me.

See, I start the clock.

Now, my left hand shapes,
but my right hand, the second hand,

marks time and moves it forward.

However, unlike a clock,
sometimes my second hand...

[inhales sharply] ...stops.

Which means that time stops.

Now, the illusion is that, like you,

I'm responding to the orchestra
in real time,

making the decision about the right moment
to restart the thing, or reset it,

or throw time out the window altogether.

The reality is that
right from the very beginning,

-I know precisely what time it is...
-Really?

...and the exact moment that you and I
will arrive at our destination together.

You know, the only real, uh,
discovery for me is in rehearsal.

It's never, never in performance.

Hard question, I know,
but if you could define one thing

that Bernstein gave you, what would it be?

Kavanah.

Yeah, it's the Hebrew word
for attention to meaning or intent.

What are the composer's priorities,
and what are yours,

and how do they complement one another?

fight, kavanah.

I think that's a word that will have
slightly different meaning

for many in our audience.

-Well, yes, I imagine so.
-[audience murmuring]

Am I right in thinking
that a conductor was not always,

uh, an onstage presence
in classical music?

No, that's right.

I think I read someplace that it actually
was the first violin who was responsible.

Yes, the first violinist, whether they had
any interest or skill in it or not.

When did that change,
and who changed it?

With the French composer,
Jean-Baptiste Lully,

who reportedly, uh, used
a rather enormous, rather pointy staff

to pound the tempi into the floor.

It's not something I imagine
the players particularly, uh, appreciated.

Uh, anyway, that technique ended
during a performance

when Lully accidentally stabbed himself
in the foot with the thing and died.

-[audience laughing]
-Yeah, of gangrene.

But anyway...

-[Lydia laughing]
-[audience applauding]

Anyway, but the conductor

really becomes essential
as the ensembles get bigger.

And once again, we go back to Beethoven.

[hums Beethoven's Symphony No. 5]

Now, that doesn't start
with the eighth note.

The downbeat... it's silent, right?

So someone had to start that clock.

Someone had to, uh,
plant their flag in the sand

and say, "Follow me," you know?

And when that someone was Lenny,

the orchestra was led on the most
extraordinary tour of pleasures.

'Cause he knew the music,
Mahler especially,

as well or better than anyone.

And he would often play with the form.

'Cause he wanted an orchestra
to feel that they had never seen,

let alone heard or performed,
any of that music.

So he would do radical things,

like disregarding the tempo primo
or ending this phrase mo/z‘o r/fardando,

even though it had no such marking.

Was he over-egging it?

Oh, no, no, no. Not at all.

He celebrated the joy of his discovery.

You just told us a moment ago that
your discovery takes place in rehearsal.

When will that process
begin again for you?

We start on Monday.

-Immediately?
-Mmm.

With this one, it really is about

trying to read the tea leaves
of Mahler's intention.

I mean, we know a great deal about this
with his other symphonies.

You know, he was so inspired
by the poetry of RUckert,

that for years,
he didn't set another author to music.

But all of this changes with the Five.

The Five is a mystery.

And the only clue he leaves us
is on the cover of the manuscript itself.

Yes, the dedication to his new wife, Alma.

So if you're gonna partner with Mahler
on his, uh, fifth symphony,

the first thing you must do
is try to understand

that very complex marriage.

And would you say you have a different
interpretation of that marriage

than Bernstein did?

You mentioned my ethnographic fieldwork
in the Amazon.

Well, Adam, the Shipibo-Konibo
only receive an foam, or song,

if the singer is there, right?

On the same side of the spirit
that created it.

And in that way,
the past and the present converge.

It's the flip sides
of the same cosmic coin.

That definition of fidelity
makes sense to me.

But Lenny, he believed in feshuvah.

The Talmudic power to reach back into time

and transform the, uh, significance
of one's past deeds.

So when he played the "Adagietto"
at Robert Kennedy's funeral,

it ran for 12 minutes.

-He treated it as a mass.
-Absolutely. Yeah, right.

And you know,
if you listen to a recording of it,

you will no doubt feel the tragedy
and the pathos.

And of course, that, uh, interpretation
was very true for Mahler later in life,

after the professional bottom dropped out
and Alma had left him for Gropius.

But, as I said before,
we are dealing with time.

And this piece was not born
into aching tragedy.

It was born into young love.

And so you chose...

-Love.
-[audience] Aw.

Right, but precisely how long?

Seven minutes.

[audience laughing]

[fan] I was so taken
by what you said to Adam

about, um, interpretation
and specifically about feelings.

And that you chose love.

And I know it's said that you should
leave the tears for the audience, but...

do you ever find yourself
overwhelmed by emotion

-when you're up there at the podium?
-[Lydia] Yes.

Yes, that does happen.

There's an expectation-reward cycle
with some works,

and there's spots in them
that I find so incredible,

that when I'm conducting,
it's not that I'm rushing exactly,

but I don't know,
I just can't wait to get to that spot.

And yeah, it does it.
It does it every time.

[sighs]

-So it's physical as well as emotional.
-[Lydia] Mmm.

God, it must take hours
to come back down to earth.

You say things after others remember,
but you won't.

And sleep, it's impossible.

It's like my freshman year at Smith.

[Lydia chuckles]

Which piece does that to you?

Oh, I saw you!

I saw you conduct, uh, The Rite of Spring
at the Met last year.

It was so powerful.

[Lydia] Thank you. Thank you.

It's-- It's the 11 pistol shots--
it's a prime number--

that strike you as both victim
and perpetrator.

You know, it's not until I conducted it
that I became convinced

we're all capable of murder.

That is a fantastic handbag, by the way.

Thank you. I'm glad you like it.

Oh, I do. I do.

Sorry. Your lunch with Mr. Kaplan.
His driver is waiting.

All right.
I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name.

-Whitney. Whitney Reese.
-Whitney.

Whitney, of course.

I'm so sorry, and unfortunately
I've left things a bit late

-and there's something I can't get out of.
-I understand. Can I text you?

It's perfect, Aldo.

Oh. I was hoping we could celebrate.

No. 80 was I.

I've got a class at Juilliard.

Oh, good.

I promised Ben.

I'm sure you'll have a few elbowing
for an Accordion slot.

We should open up the fellowship.

-What, expand our numbers?
-No, our sex.

I mean, it feels quaint
to keep things single-gender.

We've made our point.

And honestly, we've had no real trouble
successfully placing any of them.

Except one.

Oh, well.

She had issues.

So I've heard.

The topic comes up
in every Citibank meeting with her father.

I'm sorry about that.

It's fine.

It's nothing I can't handle.

So, you want to torpedo
Accordion's founding principle?

We'd likely lose donors.

Yeah, I suppose that's true.

Maybe it's something
we revisit down the line.

Sure.

Bryant Park's locked for the 25th.

Nan asked me to help fill the place,

so the Kaplan Fund is gonna buy
some radio and outdoor advertising.

And claqueurs.

It's too big, Eliot.
She should have booked the Strand.

Relax. It'll be great.

And it almost falls on your birthday.

I was sorry you weren't able to make it
to my Mahler 3 in London.

Me too.

Uh, Petra had a school thing.

Uh, and I promised Sharon I'd be there.

Of course.

I was just hoping for your honest opinion.

My player rating sheets
were off the charts.

Those are confidential, Eliot.

Well, the principal oboist is a big fan.

On the way back, I was listening to yours
with the Israeli Phil.

And I was struck by what you managed
to pull from the strings

in the last movement.

I mean, how did you get them there?

Was it the hall? Was it the players?

The players weren't very obliging.

The principal violinist came up to me
after the first rehearsal

-and asked if I was a Jew.
-What?

It seemed to him unusual,
if not suspicious,

that a non-Jew would be interested
in conducting Jewish music.

-[Kaplan laughs]
-Felt like Max Bruch.

Well, big Jew that I am,

the Kaplan Fund has, uh, committed
a sizable amount to them

-for a klezmer commission.
-Mm-hmm.

Uh, maybe they'll invite me
to guest conduct.

Well, they'd be lucky to have you.

Oh, please. I know my place.

Money can't always buy you everything.

You don't really believe that.

I'll have you know I tried to bribe
Francesca to let me look at your notation.

She sent me packing.

Good girl.

That gentleman sitting over there
with the gnome

is urgently focused on our table.

At first, I thought he was looking at me,

but I think he's got his eye on you.

Please try and ignore him.

I can excuse myself and go wash my hands
if you'd like to be alone.

And I would never forgive you.

The last thing I need
is to be buttonholed in here

by someone exactly like me.

Uh, what time are you Ieavin' tomorrow?

Francesca's looking into flights.

Well, call her off. Leave when you like.

You don't have to do that.

My motives are not entirely altruistic.

Just one peek.
One peek at your performing score.

[laughs]

Fine.

-Would 5:15 be okay?
-Sure.

Okay, I mean, I do--
I have to get turned around fast.

We're filling a vacant position.

Please tell me it's Sebastian.

Now, be fair, Eliot.
Sebastian has decent technique.

He has baton.

A month ago, I dropped into Bunkamura

to watch the touring machine
trot out Chopin 1.

OI' Sebastian really is Mr. Tempo Rubato.

Robot-o is more like it.

-Why do you keep him on?
-Oh, he's Andris's man, you know that.

Exactly. You inherited that decision.

Seven years is a long time
to pretend you respect it.

They have different labor contracts
over there.

He's a-- He's a strange guy.

-Who? Andris?
-No, Sebastian.

He has, um, fetishes.

Fetishes? Like what?

Nostalgia for pre-war
Kalmus miniature scores,

dead-stock pencils he's seen
von Karajan hold in photographs.

You know, that sort of thing.

[chuckles] That's just sad.

Yeah, but you're not wrong.

I am gonna have to rotate him
at some point.

For who?

What Love Teaches Me.
That string notation.

Mahler gives it to you himself.

[in German]

Come on.

Trust me, you do not wanna go to school
on someone else's red and blue pencil.

Least of all, mine.

Oh, but I do.

-All right. Will you quit pestering me?
-Yes.

Free bowing.

It's not pretty
for an audience to look at.

But if you can manage
to keep your players outta the weeds,

the sound's ferocious.

Oh.

There's no glory for a robot, Eliot.

Do your own thing.

Mmm.

[instruments playing low tone]

All right, um,

let's stop here.

-Thank you, Max. Very good.
-Thanks.

Um, just for my own edification,

why did you come to Juilliard?

Uh, it's the best music conservatory
in the country?

People from Curtis, Eastman and others
may beg to differ.

I mean, Juilliard's a brand, right?

So, did you come to study with a brand?

-No, right.

So there's a teacher or graduate
somewhere down the line

who, you know, conjured something
in your imagination.

Someone you aspire to be yourself.

-Mm-hmm.
-So, who was that?

Sarah Chang.

-So you're a violinist?
-Yeah.

All right, okay.

Well, I can see why you would choose
to conduct a piece like this.

Must be a familiar pleasure
in presiding over a bed of strings

that behave as if they're tuning.

Now, this piece is very au couram‘.

And here, the composer tells us
to begin with

"back-and-forth tremolo strokes
with wire brush

and slowly sliding crotales over skin.“

Sounds like Rene Redzepi's
recipe for reindeer.

[sighs] It's exciting
to play new music, isn't it?

-Yeah.
-Yeah.

Great. All right, please,
join the other fellows.

Now, I know you're all conducting students
of, uh, Mr. Wolfe‘s,

but how many of you
are also studying composition?

Right, what's your name?

Olive Kerr.

[Lydia] All right, Olive, uh,

what do you make of
what we've just been listening to?

It's pretty awesome.
I mean, there's incredible atonal tension.

I agree about the tension part.

Now, you can intellectually contemplate,
or masturbate,

about the felicity
of the so-called “atonal,”

but the important question here
is what are you conducting?

What is the effect?
What is it actually doing to me?

Good music can be as ornate as a cathedral
or bare as a potting shed,

so long as it allows you
to answer both those questions.

Max.

Come on, what do you think?

When Anna Thorvaldsdéttir
gave her master class,

she said she was often influenced
by the form

and structure of landscapes
and nature she grew up within.

But I'm not sure she was interested per se
in describing those actual sounds.

Vew Punkt Kontrapunkt.

Yes.

The intent of her composition is vague,
to say the least.

So, if her intent is vague,

how do you, as a conductor,
have a point of view about anything?

Now, to be fair, I mean, there are times
when you will simply have no choice.

And you will be made to stand
in front of an orchestra

and pretend that there are
these invisible structures.

But my prayer for you is that
you will be spared the embarrassment

of standing on the podium with a 433,
trying to sell a car without an engine!

Because now, my friends, now is the time

to conduct music that actually
requires something of you.

You know, music that everybody knows
but will hear differently

when you interpret it for them.

For instance, Max, why not a Kyrie?

You know, like, uh, something like
Bach's Mass in 5 minor.

[chuckles] I'm not really into Bach.

-You're not into Bach?
-Mm-mmm.

Oh, Max.

Have you read the Schweitzer book?

No.

Well, you should. It's an important text.

Now, Antonia Brico thought so.

So much so, that she shipped herself
to Equatorial Africa

and canoed up the Congo River
to track Schweitzer down

and ask him to teach her
what he knew about Bach.

I mean, somewhere I've got
a picture of her in a pith helmet.

I mean, have you--

Have you ever played
or conducted Bach?

Honestly, as a BIPOC, pangender person,

I would say Bach's misogynistic life
makes it kind of impossible for me

to take his music seriously.

Come on.

What do you mean by that?

Well, didn't he sire, like, 20 kids?

Yes, that's documented.

Along with a considerable amount of music.

But I'm sorry,

I'm unclear as to what
his prodigious skills in the marital bed

have to do with 5 minor.

Sure. All right, whatever.
That's your choice.

I mean, after all,
"a soul selects her own society."

But remember,
the flip side of that selection

closes the valves of one's attention.

Now, of course, siloing
what is acceptable or not acceptable

is a basic construct of many, if not most,
symphony orchestras today,

who see it as their imperial right
to curate for the cretins.

So, slippery as it is, there is some merit
in examining Max's allergy.

Can classical music

written by a bunch of straight,
Austro-German, church-going white guys

exalt us,
individually as well as collectively,

and who, may I ask, gets to decide that?

You know, what about Beethoven?

You into him?

Because for me, as a U-Haul lesbian,