Eric Jacobsen

That's—that's a very hard introduction to follow.

Thanks so much for having me. Thanks for—for, you know, putting this together. It's great to have a conversation.

Absolutely. I think—well, first of all, thank you. All the things you said are too sweet. But yes, I remember very clearly when I got the bug to play music, which was somewhere 12, 13, 14, like, ah, this is really the thing I need to do. It was chamber music that drove me there. It was being in a small group and, you know, feeling connected, being able to talk to people on a different level, flirting, you know, figuring out how to do that thing. And when I was in college, there's no question that I thought if I could be a chamber musician, if I could make a living, if I could exist as someone who could communicate on that level, that's it. Because, and to this day, right? To this day, we all recognize that the intimacy of the string quartet, the euphemism for—for egalitarian conversation and—and—and thought and being able to be together, that's so incredibly special. And so, as now—now that I'm a conductor and spend most of my time doing that, I think of the quartet as really the metaphor for what you want an orchestra to feel like. You want it to feel like the person playing second bassoon and the person mid-section in the first violins are connected on the deepest level. So to this day, it's still the search for chamber music with, you know, a larger palette.

Absolutely.

Yeah.

That is absolutely one of, I feel like, my luck—my lucks in life, is that I was a string player versus being a pianist, which— some of the time I—I mean, you could—if you could give me the ability tomorrow to play piano well, you could choose any toe of mine you want, it's yours. (Jacobsen laughs)

But of course, growing up as a cellist and being able to have that connection—I'm—I'm about to say the connection to breath, because you're right. The string quartet is about the breath. And of course, you can't expect to communicate with an orchestra, especially when half of it are people that, you know, literally use their breath to make the sound on their instrument without that feeling. I still think about the time, you know, obviously, when, you know, when you're young and you're playing in a quartet for one of the first times, like, you actually do that thing where you're like, (inhales deeply and exhales) where you, you know, you give an upbeat and it's exactly in time. And you're in that tempo. And then you get to a place with a quartet that you play with more and more, and your breath stops being about, um, pulse, you know, like, instead of thinking (claps rhythmically) this is your breath, it starts to actually reflect exactly what the concept of the music is. And, uh, that—that's a really kind of interesting thing. So, you know, the calm pulse of when you play something that has like a romantic or, um, cantabile, beautiful, sung moment, it has a different energy and maybe a slightly pul—different pulse than if you're playing something quick and it's like bright and and energetic. And I think that's a very important thing. Um, I—I still think that when there are moments, a couple of times in life, only a couple, where I'm on stage and I'm playing, but I'm not playing. Somehow my brother is like with his brain reaching out and pulling my bow across the string. (Shapiro laughs) And, you know, the—the—the earth moves, you know? There are only a few times that that happens. And when you—when I've experienced that, it's—it's such a beautiful moment of, um, giving yourself to something. It's not taking, and it's not, um, no one's leading, but everyone's leading. You know, it's not a dictation, it's not a reception. It's just all this thing together. And that's, I mean, I think what you're, when you say that, um, you know, which is so beautiful, that you feel like you're going to see a Brahms concert, you know, the organic feeling of what that is—

I—I hope that the reason for that is the idea that this push-pull of who's leading, who's following, is constantly changing.

Exactly. So, you know, when a horn player has this long solo and all—and you're thinking about where it's going, but you're really so tapped in with the breath of that human.

I—I— Yeah, I—I don't disagree. Don't disagree. (Jacobsen chuckles)

Absolutely. Well, I—I think there's no question that the bow well, the bow transitioned into the baton, right? So, at some point before there was a conductor, there was the first violin, or there was the harpsichord player, the organist or keyboard instrument player, and they would maybe show like, here we go, (inhales deeply) bomb, and then, you know, as—as the orchestra grew, as, um, industrialization grew and—and the world grew as wanting more—

Well, I—I will say, uh, a confession, that my wife said she wouldn't marry me if I hadn't read the Harry Potter books.

And years later, we're married, but I never read the Harry Potter books. (Jacobsen laughs) But, you know, and she's doing better than me, because she had not seen The Godfather movies.

She watched those. I haven't. I haven't. I'm still on three. Okay. Um, I what you're talking about is something real, um, and, um, though it's not tangible, you know, a feeling that first of all, the bow in itself, um, uh, the connection to the string, I think that that uh, rub, the—the tension and the uh, um, uh, connection, they're very similar. Every—every instrument has this. So, you know, the flute player has it where the wind is going, you feel kind of a pushback in some ways. And, of course, clearly on brass instrument, you have that buzz, but really, you know, coming from what part of your body? Is it your head? Is it your breath? You know, um, everyone has that point of intersection. And actually, um, you know, getting to play with music—musicians from outside of the—the classical world, I feel, um, I remember Béla Fleck saying the—the "brotherhood of the pick." You know, when you're picking an instrument like a—like a banjo or a mandolin, it's so immediate, you know? It's just the second you do it, and we all know this as orchestral musicians, a pizzicato, even when you pluck the string with the flesh of your hand, that speaks sooner than the bow on the string. So, in some ways, the pits has to be a little later, so it's all matched together. And I feel like every instrument has that moment of connection with their sound. Um, and for me, you know, now that, you know, you—you're—you're there and you're not actually making sound, you're actually just, um, trying to gather people and bring people on the same, uh, wavelength and goal and, uh, trajectory like, hey, we're going here with the music, how are we going to get there? Let's all go. I feel that I feel blessed that, you know, having had the time with that, the, you know, the—the cello with the bow on the string, that, um, that is a moment that one can feel, and all musicians know what that is, whether it's a pianist, a percussionist, a string player, a wind player, breath— (inhales deeply and exhales) and you know where that thing is. So, I hope I bring that to any orchestra that I'm with.

Oh, yeah, absolutely. I mean, every community needs a different something at a different time with uh, with regard to specific music programmed, specific soloists, uh, how do you gather people, what does a company—community need and want, and what do they not know that they need and want? That you could bring to them, because obviously, the duty of an orchestra there are—there are duties that are like a museum. We are the civic orchestra that brings the great historic works to the stage. Right. And so that's one—one aspect of being a civic orchestra. Maybe that aspect was something that was more, uh, say, that maybe that used to be 95% of what civic orchestras did, you know, uh, 20 years ago. And I feel like now the transition for orchestras is really about, um, the—the words that are said and maybe cliché are like "relevance" and "sustainability" and "connecting," and of course, all those things are true. And we need to figure out a way that an orchestra in a city can be connected with not just the immediate patron base of ticket buyers, subscribers, things like that, because we need to be everywhere, right? Everyone needs to be everywhere right now, for better or for worse.

Yeah. Yeah, the—the Knights is really about figuring out where is, um, where is the place that we can most fit? You know, um, we have to carve out our niche because, of course, New York is so plentiful with so many incredible artists, great groups. So you have to find your way to create. And it's funny, uh, we have sort of different, we plug into different needs in different places. In Europe, actually, when we tour, we tour generally, you know, a symphonic orchestra that's like a Beethoven symphony or a Schubert symphony. Now, we pair that and we— we frame that with the most beautiful, colorful frames. Sometimes it's gold and you're putting Couperin or something, and something it's—sometimes it's kind of a rustic new thing like, you know, Thomas Adès over here, or sometimes it's just a canvas that has no frame around it, like Rameau or something, and then making arrangements and Berio, you know, all different programs that come together, uh, for— for various reasons. And I feel like, for me, programming, especially with the Knights, um, when we're touring, say, a standard piece of music, and I say standard meaning of the classical canon, um, it's really about what do you put around it to make those things unique? And for— for civic orchestras, like programming music in Orlando, not only do we have to play, you know, a Schumann symphony that I was just thinking about recently that we're doing in— in about a month and a half, but also need to bring composers with that thing so they could actually have a new way of thinking about Schumann. So, this concert that's coming up, um, with— with Schumann's Second Symphony, we're doing like a Lembit Beecher world premiere with a cellist who's been here before, Karen Ouzounian, absolutely incredible, and— and I think we're starting that concert with an Arvo Pärt piece. And it's kind of a beautiful, it's an outdoor concert. So there's something very special about all those elements, which are very nature-oriented in general, Good. and being I think really being able to represent, you know, um, all different styles of music. Now, that's only three composers on a season, but, you know, clearly, it's— it's about trying to reach um, a new understanding of different, different music.

Yes, on every— every program that we're together, we're in at least one school. Sometimes, uh, and it works in different ways. What we've really been trying to do is bring the entire orchestra to schools. It's— it's kind of a— a daunting task for all the reasons. Not only are schools hard to, you know, like, "Hey, are we available right now?" or, but also the just getting, you know, 60 people through a door of a school. It's very—

Ah!

Yeah.

Yeah.

Yeah. So we've been, in both Bridgeport and Orlando, you know, we have these rehearsals that take place, so you have like four or five rehearsals, and then you have concerts. And we've been trying to do our rehearsals, at least some of them, in school auditoriums.

And make it available. So, and it becomes kind of, you know, there are various ways. You could just rehearse and let people watch. You could make it an open rehearsal and engage briefly. But we always try to put it so that students show up at certain time, and during that time, we perform for them, meaning we're interact with them and ask them questions, and try to have that thing. I think it does go a very long way to building relationships that might pay dividends in 30 years because you're in the school, and then you go to college, and you have a family, and, "Oh, do you remember?"

That's good.

Well, I guess it's two or three things. It's one that, uh, greatness does rise to some degree, you know? Sometimes things that are great get lost. But I think it's— it's that and it's fashion, right? Things go— things are not in fashion right now that are still truly great. And will, hopefully, circle back.

I— I remember my teacher, um, Harvey Shapiro, talking about how Boellmann, a composer who wrote various pieces, and maybe most famous was his Symphonic Variations for cello and orchestra, 20-minute piece, which is probably just as valid as a piece of music as Saint-Saëns' concerto or something, you know, uh, it's kind of late-Romantic, beautiful, and it fell out of fashion because it was maybe, um, the composer's name didn't become such a thing and mhm, some— there wasn't enough behind, it wasn't part of like this French movement, mhm, and we end up saying, "Oh, that's not really the thing now." And, you know, there are, obviously, our loved composers of a time period. Like, clearly John Adams is the most recognized American symphonic composer—I mean, Philip Glass, but John in terms of that's what he does. He does a little bit of film score, but really, it's just— it's— it's that thing, and he will clearly, as he continues to compose, be be commissioned and more pieces are going to be written, and clear— as far as I'm concerned, he will— his name and his music will live on forever. Uh, and like— like Beethoven, Beethoven was recognized in his time. He wasn't an undiscovered composer, um, for being great and being amazing, and people loved him, and they judged him as, you know, maybe— maybe these days, because the word genius gets thrown around, maybe some people who have greatness and have been recognized as great, maybe they get a pass. Uh, and it's, "Oh, yeah, that wasn't—" it was still great, 'cause he's or she's so genius and brilliant that they, you know, of course, it's so good.

As— as being the most famous, you mean?

I— I think there's absolutely mutual respect when it comes to the recognition of what it does to become excellent at something. And, you know, sometimes now, uh, talking to a very young, hopeful conductor, like a 15-year-old who says, "I want to be a conductor," that seems odd to me, because, and— and everyone goes through their own process, but if I hadn't become a cellist, if I hadn't honed the skills to be um, good enough to be a musician on at playing instrument, playing an instrument, that was my, as you started this conversation, coming up in the opera ranks. Like, I didn't come up in the opera ranks, I came up in the instrumental, um, um, uh, chamber/uh, uh, um, orchestra, chamber orchestra, string quartet world, yeah.

Yeah. And I, uh, there's no question that my respect on the podium for all the musicians who are there, who are playing, is like, gosh, you have to— you have to hone that skill. Every day, you go home, and you just go like this, because, and maybe it's not to get better, maybe it's just to be able to do that as well as you could. And then, maybe two days later, it is actually a step forward, and you always want to be better as a musician. How does one do that? And so, if I— I— I hope that while I'm there on that podium, I exude that respect, and I hope that that's recognized because we have to. Uh, you know, there— this is such a hard thing. It's an Olympic athletic, you know, sprint every time you actually are playing an instrument, and we don't think about that so much. I mean, how many great basketball players are there? How many great oboists are there? It's— it's, you know, it's not that many. And you think about, well, clearly, there could be more great basketball players, there could be more great oboists. But boy, does it take a lot to decide that that's the direction you're going to go in your life. So, I hope that what you're saying, um, does come across, which is a mutual respect of, ooh!, that's a lot. And, you know, I'll say this, I, um, I hope that I translate that. I think a lot of it has to do with my father, um, being a violinist, uh, in the Met Opera for so long, and telling me just couple little things throughout the years that are just so bothersome. You know, a conductor who corrects mistakes. Like, that's unnecessary, because someone plays a B-flat instead of a B-natural, it's like, yeah, the next time they'll play it right, there's no— and there— it's a waste of time to— to— to let people know that you know that they made a mistake. It's just ridiculous. 'Cause, I mean, if something happens two times, three times, okay, maybe it's a misprint, maybe someone had, you know, had some weird recording in their mind, it's just a mistake. That's, oh, fine. But, you know, um, when we're there and doing something together, the idea that one makes a mistake and it's a big deal, it doesn't matter. You know, you're spending time, you're rehearsing, you're getting to a shared mutual understanding of where you're going, it's so much more important than letting people know that you know you played a wrong note. So, I hope that as a conductor, that's— that is translated from— from, you know, from having played an instrument.

Ha! Well, I— I'll give the the most obvious answer that I could think of, is that you get right to work and do music, and you— you do the thing that you have to do, uh, because you just have to. And sometimes it's awkward at first, just like any other relationship, you know, you— you be there, you do that thing. And I— and I really think that, you know, that, uh, that idea of surrounding yourself and embracing different ideas and really, really great, great musicians and great players and great minds, you know, it's like Lincoln surrounding himself with a cabinet of people who disagreed, because—

What's that?

Exactly. Yeah, you end up having a— a group of people that will end up not compromising, you will end up with a group of people whose opinions are so strong that they have to actually really decide what— no, it's not, we're not going to— I want it loud, I want it soft. Okay, let's play it in between. Well, that's not better. So how do you actually figure out what is better? And with an orchestra, I think it's so important to try to get that, right? It's not just I— I mean, there's— there's no— there's not enough time in the world to give everyone an exact idea of what you want as a conductor, it's ridiculous. Because generally speaking, in most pieces, you show up on the podium, if— if you haven't just centered in and only done that one piece of music your whole life, quite likely, many people in the orchestra have played the piece as many times as you, or have played it many more times than you, and there's such um, institutional memory as— as musicians, mhm, that needs to be activated. And therefore, the chance of learning something and actually taking more away than you're able to give is, well, guilt-inducing and beautiful. The idea that, like, you can possibly participate in something that actually the oboists, they had there, they knew, they knew all along. And now you know. So the next time you go and you're with a group that hasn't done it so much, you might be able to say, "Hey, there's this one time that, you know, um, Jane was playing and I was so impressed with this and this is what they did." And— and, oh! And that's actually the beauty of how communication is super slow and across generations. Yes, we have the internet, yes, we can email, yes, we can text and everything is instantaneous, but the oral tradition of music is one that's often about, you know, words spoken and then sounds heard, and going back and forth. So, you know, it's why, you know, we talk about, oh, that version of that with the Vienna Philharmonic was 60 years away from when Brahms was alive, and therefore, there's this, and those are such beautiful things and should be embraced. And I, uh, wouldn't it be nice if if the world was able to have that as um, a more formal way of communicating, not just the um, the social media, um, and the dangers of not actually looking at someone in the eye?

Thank you so much, Michael. It's just such a total pleasure. Can't wait to see you again in a concert hall, there.

Thank you so much for having me. Total pleasure.