On chamber playing

 Last week I spent one of the most enjoyable seven-day periods of the year, at a small town in Wiltshire. This wasn't because I was a refugee whilst my hometown was being looted (that still hasn't happened) but because the town's large private school was hosting the Grittleton Chamber Music Course, and I was signed up for the first week.

This wasn't a professional engagement, by the way. I'd paid to be there (minus a discount for some work on the evening bar, in common with most of the under-thirties) purely on the recommendation by a long-attending friend and subsequent invitation by the course organisers, and purely for the enjoyment of playing and for the group coaching sessions.  It was a very good decision to go. The format of the course is that every morning is spent in two pre-formed groups, each studying a particular piece with a coach, with the rest of the day free. I say 'free', but the idea is actually that you organise sight-reading sessions with other members during this time. Needless to say I did so much of this that by the end of the week I had spent less than six hours of the total evenings and afternoons not actually playing one of my instruments or listening to others in concert.  I was playing for eight of nine hours a day, and this pleased me much despite at one point wondering if my fingers were capable of keeping it up.

Space does not permit a full list of all the highlights - our heroic reading of Schubert's monumental last quartet, particularly on the part of out violist; the late-night attempt at Janacek and Haydn; adding extra notes whilst sight-reading a Vivaldi cello concerto because it wasn't hard enough already; the concert given by the coaches - but one thing I have definitely taken away from the eperience is the vital importance of the person at the head of the group, especially when sight-reading.  It's not something I had actually given much thought to previously.

It is crucial to the success of any group to have an effective leader. It was noticeable how my own and others' technical faculties and the ease of playing seemed markedly better in groups which I felt had a good individual in charge.  In fact, the very best ensembles were those in which all the members were taking a share of the responsibility for maintaining the stability of the playing.  If every player is reliable in such things as maintaining the tempo of the music, matching to a reasonable degree the expressive and dynamic demands, rhythmic precision, and playing with musical expression that reinforces these things, it reduces the workload on the other members, allowing them to expend greater concentration on their own playing. On the other hand, if they must be constantly aware that they may have to react to something unexpected, it affects even the most technically able players because decisions have to be made more urgently and more concentration has to be diverted. It may sound odd, but in effect good intonation is to a large extent determined by how well the group is counting.

It should be remembered that the ability to lead is distinct from technical ability on one's instrument, although the two usually develop simultaneously. I have played with plenty of individuals whose technique was less than perfect but who understood what was necessary to play well in a chamber group (indeed I would - modestly - put myself in this category) with the result that any shortcomings were not an obstacle to the effectiveness of the ensemble. That said, I think that allowing technique to overrule and become an obstacle is the chief cause of a breakdowns within the ensemble, and it is a particular responsibility of a group leader to ensure this is not a danger. In other words, it is much better to scramble those difficult semiquavers and enter the first note of the next bar accurately, on the beat, than try to hit every pitch perfectly, slow up (even if one is not aware of it) and pull the group apart by doing so. In addition, a good technique allows a player to interpret the music in a way that maintains control and communicates with others. A good example of this is in a ritardando - the more accurately the player leading the rit. can place the notes, the more predictable the rate of slowing down is and thus the better then ensemble will hold together. Similarly, when moving off again, a technically able leader will be able to nuance the phrase in a way that indicates the new tempo very clearly to the others.  Obviously, in many cases such things will not be the sole responsibility of the leader, and so every player, however subsistant in the group, must posses these skills too.

Sidetracking a little, an analogy can be drawn here between music performance and driving.  It is the homogeneity and predictability between drivers that maintains (relative) safety, just as it is the same processes that allow a chamber ensemble to play comfortably together. The success of either task is determined by how well several entities can communicate both their intentions and react accordingly. (Come to think of it, this would make a decent-length blog post to elaborate upon in the future).

As a conclusion, I believe that the art of good chamber music playing can, in many respects, be summarised thus: it is the knowledge of when it is permissible to subordinate the group to oneself, and when one must subordinate oneself to the group.