‘The perfect combination of brain and heart’
As Eivind Aadland releases new recordings of Bartók’s Divertimento and Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta with Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra, he explains his personal connections to the music and the importance of taking risks when recording it
What made you want to record Bartók with Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra?
I am connected to Bartók through two of my teachers – Sándor Végh, who gave the first performance of the Fifth Quartet in Hungary, as part of the Hungarian String Quartet, and Yehudi Menuhin, who commissioned and premiered the Solo Violin Sonata. As a student at the Menuhin Music Academy in Gstaad, I heard Menuhin playing the Second Concerto and Solo Sonata and I loved them. Both works are so powerful and Menuhin’s performances were formidable. We talk about the three Bs in music – Bach, Beethoven and Brahms – but in that environment, there was always a fourth, and that was Bartók.
The Divertimento is one of the pieces I’ve performed most throughout my career. I played it as a student at the Menuhin Academy; play-directed it with the European Union Chamber Orchestra on several tours; and when I got the concertmaster job at Bergen Philharmonic, I invited Sándor Végh to conduct, and we played it with him.
Both pieces are masterpieces, from the same period, with the same musical language – the Divertimento was written in 1939 and Music for Strings, Percussion and Celeste in 1936. It’s music that I love, and I thought we could record good versions.
Why is Bartók important to you?
Bartók’s music is so clever. The opening fugue of Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta is one of the most analysed pieces in music history, because the construction is so ingenious, making use of the ‘golden ratio’. But so much has been written about how well constructed his music is that sometimes the folk-music element is lost – the singing and dancing. This is not theoretical music. It’s warm and heartfelt. It should speak, sing, dance, cry and sigh. Bartók is the perfect combination of brain and heart, but in some performances, the brain part is given too much emphasis.
What did Sándor Végh teach you about Bartók?
When Sándor Végh came to the Menuhin Academy to give masterclasses, he took care of me and invited me to his home for private lessons. I played him the First Rhapsody, and he talked about the rhythms, with the stress on the first syllable (ya-pa, ya-pa), which come directly from the Hungarian language. It’s hard to notate this in music – sometimes it’s written like a triplet, sometimes like a sixteenth. This rhythm happens a lot in both the Divertimento and Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta. It isn’t folk music, but it does come out of folk music – Sándor Végh talked about this connection.
He talked a lot about the bow ‘speaking’, which relates to folk music – how to articulate these Hungarian rhythms using good pronunciation with the bow, rather than using a post-Karajan legato where every note sings. He told me the story of how the singer Feodor Chaliapin once told him, ‘You sing very well, but you don’t speak enough.’ He talked a lot about speaking with bow articulation.
I come from the Norwegian folk music tradition, myself, rather than classical music – my grandfather Engel Aadland was quite a famous Hardanger fiddle player, so there was always folk music at home, and my uncle would play the fiddle at any family gathering. Norwegian folk music is very different to the Hungarian tradition, but most folk music relates to dance – you can hear that in the finale of the Divertimento and in the two fast movements of Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta.
What was the recording process like?
I’ve worked with the producer Jørn Pedersen many times now and trust him a hundred per cent – he knows what we need to cover and is very open. When recording, I do many play-throughs so it’s great when the producer knows that something special is happening and can capture it. You can do a lot in the editing room – technically and correcting details – but you can’t edit in atmosphere. That has to be there on stage when we play.
I see the recording situation as an opportunity to play with high risk. Some people get worried and tight in this situation, but I enjoy it, because the worst that can happen is that you have to do the take again. High-risk playing might not quite succeed five times, but all you need is one wonderful take. It’s important to play well and do whatever is demanded by the music, but not to play safe. It’s not about hitting every note, every time, but catching something special, beautiful, and – at best – magical. Recordings are wonderful for that, because you only need one brilliant take – nobody gets to hear the others!
What are your aims with Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra?
Our goal is to expand their dynamic and expressive range, and flexibility of timing, and to get full energy from everybody, with all the string players taking part in leading, rather than following. This is a never-ending process with any orchestra: to create a deep or transparent sound, with as many colours available as possible – for the string players particularly.
How do you rehearse with the orchestra?
I try not to speak too much! We play a lot, and I show as much as I can, because finer nuances are very hard to pin down in words, and gestures are often clearer. It’s easy to speak about louder, softer, faster, slower, but the more subtle shades are harder to express. If you get too philosophical in front of a group of people, there is more room for misunderstanding. To develop these nuances, we work on our intuition together, including a common sense of breathing together, which takes time to build.
You’re a great art lover and collector – what art do you have at home?
At the moment, we have nothing on any walls at home, because we’re about to rehang everything, taking new works from storage. We change the art in our house every year, bringing together works that makes sense for each room. It changes the spaces completely. Then we invite friends round and have a big party.
We don’t have much art that is shocking – about sex, murder or violence. I know people who work in finance and have a lot of money, and when they come home they want something exciting and loud as a contrast. I have a very exciting job, so I don’t want to come home and be shocked by what’s on my wall. I enjoy art that has elements that make me look at them every day. With some loud art, you see it once or twice and you know it. It doesn’t say anything more. But there are some pieces, as one Norwegian artist put it – that are ‘like having a little sand in your shoe’. There’s something that makes you keep looking. It can’t just be beautiful or comfortable – there must be an element that vibrates a little.
How are art and music intertwined for you?
Practically, art and music are completely separate in my life, but there are so many connection points between the two. With paintings, we talk about rhythm, foreground and background, contrast and tension, and we work on all of these in rehearsals. It’s easy to talk about all these concepts with visual artists.
You’ve made a video of the Bartók – how did that come about?
The film is made by nature photographer Joe Shemesh, who has filmed Tasmanian wildlife. It follows the structure of the third movement of Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta – we spent a lot of time making his sequences correspond to the music. It’s a beautiful film, and one still is going on the cover of the CD. It’s a work of art – his way of seeing this music.
Of course, there are many other ways to visualise and hear this music. Sandor Végh told me that when he and the Hungarian String Quartet prepared Bartók’s Fifth Quartet for the first performance in Hungary, in 1935, they first had a private house concert, and Bartók was there. The leading theory professor of the Liszt Academy, who had made an analysis of the work, was also present. They played the quartet and the professor gave a speech about it, and at the end of his speech, he asked Bartók, ‘That is how you have meant it, isn’t it?’ Bartók replied, ‘I guess it could be seen like that.’ That’s the hallmark of great art – you can’t pin it down to one interpretation.
Eivind Aadland’s recording of Bartók’s Divertimento and Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta is released on 26 September on Rubicon, with a preview track now available to listen to on streaming services
