Who needs conductors anyway?

It’s not unusual for people to ask “what does a conductor do?” or “does the orchestra really need the conductor?”. I can understand the curiosity – if you watch a broadcast concert, the musicians often appear not to be looking at the conductor at all. The same is true of amateur choirs (but that’s another story). Conductors can be fascinating to watch. Some will stand and appear to do little or nothing while others will dance, leap, gyrate and mug their way through a performance. Does it make a difference?  I might answer that particular question later. When I first started to listen to orchestral music I had a strange notion that the conductor miraculously created the music by cueing the players and (I suppose) conveying the notes by telepathy! The truth is rather less magical. With that in mind, I thought I’d write a bit about what a conductor does. So – do we need a conductor? Yes.

And no.

The more I have thought about this post, the more complicated the answer became so I’m going to divide my answer into two, dealing with orchestras and choirs separately. A professional orchestra is made up of many different musicians each of whom can play to a high level, in many cases to a ‘soloist’ standard. They have practised on their instrument for years, been to a conservatoire and played in orchestras, chamber groups and duos. They ‘know’ about music, are familiar with a wide repertoire and different styles of music. When they walk into a rehearsal they can, for the most part, sight-read their way through a creditable performance of the music. The conductor does not need to teach them the notes.  So the conductor’s first job is to act as the ears of the orchestra and ensure that the ensemble is good (non-musicians might be surprised to find that someone playing in one section of the orchestra may not be able to hear everything that’s going on because of the physical distance between sections) and that no-one is misreading their part (or, indeed, playing a wrong note that is actually written into their part). All sections need to play in time with each other and, for that, the conductor must give a clear beat and let everyone know if something is awry. This is particularly necessary when the music changes tempo – the whole ensemble must speed up or slow down at the same rate and at the same time. In the same way, the conductor needs to ensure that the balance between sections is correct so that, for example, the brass do not drown out the woodwind.

Unless they are tackling a particularly difficult piece or an unfamiliar one, the conductor’s main role in this situation is to bring about a corporate understanding and vision of the piece. Left alone, the orchestra would find it difficult to give a coherent interpretation, especially of a longer romantic or 20th century. The conductor needs to have that vision of the work, has to convey it to the orchestra and convince them to execute it. For that to happen, he or she has to know the music, to understand the challenges for each instrument and have the people-skills or charisma to bring out the best in each player. By the time the concert comes around, the players will be familiar enough with the music that they only really need to keep an eye on the conductor at the beginning, end and at tricky corners where everyone is slowing down or speeding up or pausing. (In rhythmically challenging works, the conductor might have to work harder to keep everyone together and they might look up rather more).

This being the case, do the conductor’s movements on the podium make a difference? This is a harder question to answer. Some of the greatest conductors have moved very little while conducting but had a very clear beat and achieved electrifying results – Toscanini, Reiner, Szell, Abbado, Haitink. Others have been more expansive – Karajan, Kubelik, Kleiber (although Kleiber was not above stopping conducting altogether and letting the orchestra get on with it!). At the other extreme, Leonard Bernstein would jump, grimace, grin, fling his arms around, poke, prod and perspire like no-one else. His fans would say he was matchless, and orchestras found him magnetic (some players even memorised their parts so that they didn’t have to take their eyes off him).

Did it really make a difference? I’m not convinced. Watch a YouTube video of Bernstein conducting and it is certainly exciting.  But, to quote a New York music critic: “if you close your eyes, the performance you hear is less interesting than the one he mimes” and I’ve certainly found that to be the case. If I find a Youtube video of Bernstein and just listen to it, without watching his antics (sorry – conducting) the performance does not stand out from the crowd. It’s good but not exceptional.  My conclusion is that Bernstein’s style made for a more exciting performance but not necessarily on a musical level. What he did thrilled audiences and possibly ‘guided’ them through a work in a visual way, pointing out the sights rather like a tour guide and this enhanced their experience. But in terms of whether or not it affected the playing, I’m not so sure. Let me be clear: I am not trying to knock Bernstein, who was a clever man, a great communicator, a fine composer and a brilliant musician. He just wasn’t the messiah that he’s often claimed to be.

Back to ‘normal’ conductors. The purpose of the conductor as described above holds true, largely, for amateur orchestras although the general standard of playing and musicianship will be lower and so the conductor will need to work harder just to ‘get the notes right’ and to ensure that the players play those notes in the same way (e.g. with the same attack, the same tone etc.). The conductor might also suggest areas for the players to work on between rehearsals so that progress is maximised.

The situation with professional choirs is very similar to that of professional orchestras except that the instruments, in this case, are the singers themselves. Each individual will be a singer trained to a professional level, with an understanding of the workings of the human voice, a familiarity with musical styles and probably some fluency in one or more languages. The conductor, again, acts as the ears of the group, listening for balance, attack, ensemble and style. As with orchestral players, singers can find themselves struggling to hear what is going on around them. (I once sang in a group giving an outdoor performance and found myself unable to hear the singers on either side of me!). Long-standing conductors of professional groups will mould the sound of the group to their own ideal. Listen to recordings of the choirs of St John’s College under George Guest, with the red-blooded choristers sounding very different to those of King’s College under David Willcox. Similarly, the often dramatic sound of The Sixteen under Harry Christophers is very different to the purity of The Tallis Scholars under Peter Phillips.  Top choral conductors are highly sought-after – groups love to work with the likes of Sir John Rutter, David Hill and Brian Kay and Sir Simon Rattle has a long-standing musical partnership with Simon Halsey, who has trained choruses for Rattle’s concerts for many years.

This leaves us with conductors of amateur choirs. Everything I’ve written before holds true but there are a few other considerations. Firstly, there is no guarantee that a singer joining an amateur choir will be a fluent reader of music. This can be a challenge. The conductor may need to teach the choir to read music or even to teach the music by rote. I experienced this when running my first church choir: out of a group of sixteen singers, only three or four could read music. Tackling music of even intermediate difficulty was a challenge. Nevertheless, they gave perfectly respectable performances of music by Tallis, Purcell and Bruckner, having been taught the music phrase by phrase and, often, practising at home using rehearsal files.

For this reason, choice of repertoire is crucial. Music which is too difficult risks alienating the choir and leaving them unable to give a performance of which they can be proud. Repertoire which is too easy can leave people feeling patronised or unstimulated. While some people are happy to sing regardless of the choice of music, others will have a preference for sacred music, folk music, music from the renaissance or from the 20th century. Keeping everyone happy while creating a programme to please an audience is no easy thing. Personally, I find programme building a frustrating but enjoyable challenge. I prefer to have a ‘theme’ or thread running through my concerts – something that connects the music. This is not always easy, especially when working with an established choir who, it sometimes seems, has sung everything! Christmas progamming is a particular joy for me and I often start working on it in March.

Some amateur singers will have had singing lessons, may have sung in choirs from a young age and have vast experience. Others may not have sung since their schooldays and may never have had a singing lesson. A conductor with a strong singing/choral background may put aside time in rehearsals to work on vocal technique with the whole group and improve everyone’s technique while others will address vocal issues as they arise while learning a piece. Singing is, of course, not like playing an instrument. It is expected that someone taking up an instrument will have to put in hours of practice and have access to a half-decent instrument. Less than beautiful sounds can be blamed on lack of training or a substandard, factory-made violin. Few people will be offended if told they really need a better instrument. There is, though, an expectation from some people that everyone can sing (and, in fact, most people can). After all, isn’t it just the next step up from speaking? And most children will sing at one time or another. But there is still some skill and aural ability required and not everyone will have had the training to develop that. As a consequence, some people will sing fairly well but slightly ‘under the note’ (which is a polite way of saying ‘singing flat’). This can be a challenge, especially if they can’t hear it! The sound of the choir is affected and, if the individual’s voice ‘sticks out’, a performance can be quite badly affected. The conductor will need to address this tactfully. He or she is responsible for ensuring that the choir is not compromised or undermined but this should be done without causing offence or upset.

I abhor the practice of teachers or other individuals telling a person that they “can’t sing”. In my early teaching days, I saw a senior member of staff walk in front of children who were rehearsing for a carol service and tell some of them to: “just mime dear – don’t sing”. What did they take away from that, I wonder? When running a church choir, a lady attended the first rehearsal and told me that she wasn’t sure if she should be there – she’d been told she couldn’t sing and should never join a choir. How much damage is done by such comments and how long does someone carry that shame or sense of failure with them? I suggested to her that she come to a few rehearsals and see how she got on. Her voice was small and (not surprisingly) her singing was timid. But she was in tune and didn’t stick out. She became a regular and reliable member of the group. A few years later, she came up to me before the rehearsal to tell me excitedly that she’d just booked a cruise holiday for choral singers and would be rehearsing and attending workshops every day. She had a whale of a time. Not long after, I asked if she would mind taking a small solo in a service. She did and sang very well.

If someone criticises another’s singing, it feels (to my mind) rather more ‘personal’ than telling someone that they did not play well. By criticising the voice there is a sense that you criticise the person themselves. For this reason, conductors of amateur choirs need to think very carefully about how they frame advice or criticism. Of course, one has a responsibility to ensure that the group sings as well as possible but that should not be at any cost. The conductor, therefore, needs a degree of tact and diplomacy. This extends beyond singing to people management. In well-established choirs, there is often a small cohort of members who have been there for many years and whom, truth be told, the choir relies on. Such people are worth their weight in gold which is fine until they start to feel the same way! There is a real danger of ‘senior’ choir members taking it upon themselves to ‘keep up standards’ by telling others what they are doing wrong. I once had the good fortune to lead a choir made up of singers, musicians and music teachers. The standard of musicianship was very high. Unfortunately, one singer decided to start ‘coaching’ her section and would vigorously point upwards with her finger if she thought they were singing flat. The indignation among the singers was visible. When stopping the choir to work on a particular passage, I found myself being interrupted as she told the bass section that they were too loud. I had to point out gently that I was the conductor and the person responsible for such observations. Eventually her finger prodded once too often and angry words were exchanged, causing upset for both parties. For this reason, the conductor needs to exercise some ‘people skills’ to keep everyone happy but in their place! I don’t how many people do that with an iron glove but I prefer velvet – I don’t think conductors should ever forget that the people they direct are there through choice and for the love of music-making. They are not professionals, are not paid and not always thick-skinned.

I’ve written at some length and haven’t mentioned the concerts themselves. How much the conductor is needed depends on the ensemble, the music and the venue (particularly if the acoustic is challenging and the performers are struggling to hear each other). For amateur musicians particularly, the conductor should create a sense of calm, confidence and enjoyment. A dress rehearsal is not the time to get cross about tuning or pronunciation. The concert is not the time to make people nervous. Foster a good atmosphere and a sense of positivity, make sure everyone starts together and finishes together, try to keep things together in the middle, then get out of the way and let your musicians enjoy their moment of glory – a conductor should never forget that they need their ensemble more than their ensemble needs them. (And if you doubt that, try to imagine a concert given by an ensemble-less conductor!).

I hope, by now, you will have decided for yourself if we really need conductors. I think we probably do, but conductors should never make the mistake of thinking that they are indispensable!