... couldn't conduct a bus!

[Tony Halstead]

I wonder whether HS or any other professional has views on 'treats' sometimes handed out by their conductors?

When Sargent conducted the BBCSO he used to take them to the London Zoo as he was a fellow of the RZS.
I think they were given lunch somewhere but two particular friends of mine, one viola player, one cellist were less than thrilled by this annual jaunt.

I remember seeing pics in one of our papers with a member of the orchestra entwined by a dangerous looking snake, while MS himself visited his bush babies, little furry panda like thinga.

That greatly undervalued conductor STANFORD ROBINSON ( I will always remember a superb studio recording of Sibelius' 6th Symphony and Delius' 'Brigg Fair' with the BBCSSO), at the end of a week's work, whether of concerts or recordings, used to bring in a huge bag of boiled sweets and hand it around the orchestra!

[salymap]

That greatly undervalued conductor STANFORD ROBINSON ( I will always remember a superb studio recording of Sibelius' 6th Symphony and Delius' 'Brigg Fair' with the BBCSSO) at the end of a week's work, whether of concerts or recordings, used to bring in a huge bag of boiled sweets and hand it around the orchestra!

Yes, he was undervalued Waldhorn. Oh well boiled sweets are nice but it's what we had at
Christmas at the hire library, when others got a bonus.

[Nick Armstrong]

Great thread this... above all HS's two tales

“Sick to death of sex and violence!”
“Sixth desk of second violins!”

&

"first, you steal a dozen eggs!"

made me LAUGH !!!!

[Flosshilde]

MS himself visited his bush babies,

[salymap]

I thought it sounded your sort of remark Flossie. On various overseas tours he was given animals at different times, including two bush babies. As a Kensington flat is not the best home for them he parked them in the London Zoo. I saw a photo, they had great big eyes and were lovely

[Petrushka]

That greatly undervalued conductor STANFORD ROBINSON ( I will always remember a superb studio recording of Sibelius' 6th Symphony and Delius' 'Brigg Fair' with the BBCSSO), at the end of a week's work, whether of concerts or recordings, used to bring in a huge bag of boiled sweets and hand it around the orchestra!

I recall reading somewhere that Pierre Boulez handed out wine gums.

[Pabmusic]

I've come across this tale more than once, as an example of the importance of a conductor's concentration. The orchestra is always the BBC SO, the conductor Boult, the leader Paul Beard, and the piece either Elgar 1 or 2. It's a special broadcast, one of Paul Beard's last as leader (which would make it 1962, so Boult was guesting).

They're well into the morning recording session on this emotional occasion, when Beard senses Boult leaning towards him and saying sotto voce "It is still beef on Thursdays, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Sir Adrian" replies Beard.

The music continues for several minutes, Elgar in full flow, when Boult leans over again, "I think it is, you know", and continues to the end with his mind firmly on lunch.

[salymap]

I've come across this tale more than once, as an example of the importance of a conductor's concentration. The orchestra is always the BBC SO, the conductor Boult, the leader Paul Beard, and the piece either Elgar 1 or 2. It's a special broadcast, one of Paul Beard's last as leader (which would make it 1962, so Boult was guesting).

They're well into the morning recording session on this emotional occasion, when Beard senses Boult leaning towards him and saying sotto voce "It is still beef on Thursdays, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Sir Adrian" replies Beard.

The music continues for several minutes, Elgar in full flow, when Boult leans over again, "I think it is, you know", and continues to the end with his mind firmly on lunch.

Wonderful Pabmusic. That confirms what I heard about 40 years ago from cellist friend -Sir Adrian was always first off for lunch at Maida Vale studios and was known to eat two meals, one after the other. Well he was a big man and needed to keep his strength up.

[Hornspieler]

“A hospital can keep going without doctors, but it can't survive without nurses and ancillaries” (COHSE spokesperson)
....
“An orchestra can perform without a conductor, but a conductor cannot perform without an orchestra.”



There is an element of truth in both of the above statements -- as far as they go, but one must
presume that at least some of the patients in a hospital without doctors will die and, in the
same way, there are certain pieces in the orchestral repertoire, such as Stravinsky's Rite of
Spring, which could not possibly survive in performance without somebody to beat out the
complex rhythms.

The man who does that is called The Conductor. If, in addition to (or even instead of ) beating
time, he is able to draw from the players an interpretation of the work, and if that interpretation thrills and delights both players and audiences alike, he may earn the appellation `Maestro'
.

Very few young conductors are likely to be accorded such an accolade . In fact, to
address someone not deserving of the title as `Maestro' might well be interpreted as either
patronising or derisory -- unless, of course, it is done `tongue-in-cheek'
The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra were rehearsing with the young American conductor Lawrence Foster, who
was making his first visit to Europe. Maybe he was over keen or maybe he was still on Eastern
Standard Time, but the rehearsal which started at two o'clock was still going at twenty
minutes past four without a break for refreshment.

The principal trumpet could bear it no longer. “Maestro!”

Swelling with pride, the young baton wielder hurriedly consulted his orchestra list.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson?” he invited.

“How about a cup o' tea, lad?”

[amateur51]

I've come across this tale more than once, as an example of the importance of a conductor's concentration. The orchestra is always the BBC SO, the conductor Boult, the leader Paul Beard, and the piece either Elgar 1 or 2. It's a special broadcast, one of Paul Beard's last as leader (which would make it 1962, so Boult was guesting).

They're well into the morning recording session on this emotional occasion, when Beard senses Boult leaning towards him and saying sotto voce "It is still beef on Thursdays, isn't it?"

"I don't know, Sir Adrian" replies Beard.

The music continues for several minutes, Elgar in full flow, when Boult leans over again, "I think it is, you know", and continues to the end with his mind firmly on lunch.

A great story beautifully told, Pabs Adnams Explorer

[amateur51]

Sir George Solti was known to musicians as "The Screaming Skull" Certainly this bald-headed despot was much to be feared if he really got going, but the Hungarian in him came out from time to time and he actually made an occasional joke (deliberatelty, that is)

We were all assembled for the first rehearsal of Bruckner's 8th symphony. Solti looked around the orchestra, noted the 4 Wagner tubas in place and all the extra woodwinds and then, to our surprise, put down his baton and cleared his throat.

"Oh dear, who is he after now?" we thought.

We could not have been more surprised......

"Gentlemen," he said "get out paper and pencils - I'm going to give you a recipe for Hungarian Baked Egg Strudl"

he paused for a moment then continued to speak "first, you steal a dozen eggs!"

Hoots of laughter! A happy start to an exacting task!

HS

Great story, HS!

[Nick Armstrong]

“How about a cup o' tea, lad?”

[amateur51]

There is an element of truth in both of the above statements -- as far as they go, but one must
presume that at least some of the patients in a hospital without doctors will die and, in the
same way, there are certain pieces in the orchestral repertoire, such as Stravinsky's Rite of
Spring, which could not possibly survive in performance without somebody to beat out the
complex rhythms.

The man who does that is called The Conductor. If, in addition to (or even instead of ) beating
time, he is able to draw from the players an interpretation of the work, and if that interpretation thrills and delights both players and audiences alike, he may earn the appellation `Maestro'
.

Very few young conductors are likely to be accorded such an accolade . In fact, to
address someone not deserving of the title as `Maestro' might well be interpreted as either
patronising or derisory -- unless, of course, it is done `tongue-in-cheek'
The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra were rehearsing with the young American conductor Lawrence Foster, who
was making his first visit to Europe. Maybe he was over keen or maybe he was still on Eastern
Standard Time, but the rehearsal which started at two o'clock was still going at twenty
minutes past four without a break for refreshment.

The principal trumpet could bear it no longer. “Maestro!”

Swelling with pride, the young baton wielder hurriedly consulted his orchestra list.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson?” he invited.

“How about a cup o' tea, lad?”

Lovely story HS!

From the energy levels shown here from the start I'd suggest that an older Lawrence Foster and Barcelona Symphony Orchestra had had a drop of something stronger than tea

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdNdE-uG8LY

[Hornspieler]

AM51 Msg 43 From tea to something a little stronger, perhaps.

When a coffee break is called, the Principal Conductor (or a guest conductor) has his coffee
delivered to his room by one of the orchestral attendants. The assistant conductor is unlikely to
enjoy the same privilege and has to `queue up with the boys'.

Jimmy Loughran, (Silvestri the Sorcerer’s Apprentice), frustrated at always finding himself at the back of the queue, hit on an idea to remedy the situation:

Stopping in the middle of a phrase, he threw down his baton, called out “Coffee break!” and, jumping off the rostrum, raced for the canteen..

Only the double bass player nearest to the side door beat him to it. He was second in the queue!

The bass player grinned at him knowingly and turned to place his order.

“Seventy four coffees, please Miss!”

HS

[salymap]

When a coffee break is called, the Principal Conductor (or a guest conductor) has his coffee
delivered to his room by one of the orchestral attendants. The assistant conductor is unlikely to
enjoy the same privilege and has to `queue up with the boys'.

Jimmy Loughran, (Silvestri the Sorcerer’s Apprentice), frustrated at always finding himself at the back of the queue, hit on an idea to remedy the situation:

Stopping in the middle of a phrase, he threw down his baton, called out “Coffee break!” and, jumping off the rostrum, raced for the canteen..

Only the double bass player nearest to the side door beat him to it. He was second in the queue!

The bass player grinned at him knowingly and turned to place his order.

“Seventy four coffees, please Miss!”

HS

Lovely thread HS