In
remembrance of Sinopoli
On April 20, 2001,
after a break of over
twenty years, Giuseppe
Sinopoli returned with
Aida to the podium of the
Deutsche Oper
Berlin, where he had made his
international
breakthrough as a conductor in
1980 with
Verdi's Macbeth and
won over the
orchestra at once. This was a
performance he
had long promised the opera
house’s
former director, Götz
Friedrich, as a sign of
reconciliation after their
musical partnership
had been broken off more than
a decade
earlier, to be followed by
years of
silence. Friedrich had died
some months
before Sinopoli could fulfil
his promise, and so
the conductor printed a moving
tribute to
him, which he enclosed with
the programme
that night. As we know,
Sinopoli
collapsed and died during the
third act of this
performance. We were deeply
moved to
know that in his printed
tribute to Götz
Friedrich he had chosen words
that now
could be considered his own
obituary; they
closed with the quotation from
Sophocles:
"Remember me with joy when I
am dead." On
November 2, 2016, Giuseppe
Sinopoli
would have celebrated his 70th
birthday -a
suitable occasion to fulfil
this, his last
wish,which he left to us, in a
special way; We
wish to honour his memory with
genuine pleasure and deep
gratitude, by way
of this double CD of live
recordings by
MDR KULTUR, the arts programme
of
Mitteldeutscher Rundfunk, of
concerts he
directed with "his" orchestra
in the
Semperoper between 1993 and
2001.
Whenever he came to us from
his home
in Rome or wherever in the
world his
travels had taken him, we
would see him
enter the office, light of
step, bright-eyed and
with a friendly smile on his
bearded
face. As he greeted his team
of workers with
a hearty "How's it going?",
the room at
once seemed filled with the
spiritual and
physical presence of his
powerful,
irresistible personality. The
longer one knew
him, the clearer it was that
it did him
good to be there. And usually,
over a
lovingly prepared coffee and
regrettably
inevitable cigarette, he went
straight to
work. It really was a great
and thrilling
pleasure to stand at his side,
and a constant and
intensive challenge too.
When Giuseppe Sinopoli came to
Dresden, he was considered one
of the leading conductors of
his generation; he was Music
Director of the Philharmonia
Orchestra in London, had stood
before almost all the major
orchestras of the world and
enjoyed resounding successes
in the famous opera houses of
Europe, North America and
Japan. And although his
previous musical partners had
offered him an abundance of
perfection, he remained in
search - as he once put it to
me - in search of humanity not
only in music but in
musicmaking. In this sense,
his first encounter with the
Staatskapelle in September
1987 with the studio recording
of Anton Bruckner's Fourth
Symphony proved "a profound
experience". Looking back in
1998, he admitted: "The
orchestra has deeply entered
into my life"; its "intense
engagement with the music",
the seriousness and enthusiasm
of its playing, had made him
realize that "here, music was
preserved as an island already
thought lost". That week the
foundation for his personal
and artistic future had been
laid.
For their
part, the musicians of the
Staatskapelle treated him with
a mixture of curiosity and
respect, many of them aware
that this striking character
was not only a conductor and
composer but also a medical
doctor and psychologist, that
he was as familiar with
philosophy and history as with
the various eras of
literature, that he was fluent
in several ancient and modern
languages and had
archaeological ambitions too.
In their own field of
excellence, they were
particularly impressed by his
immediately perceptible
sensitivity for the way they
made music, by a way of
working that combined an
emotional response and a good
ear with the search for
structural clarity by the
precision and rigour with
which he turned his concept
into sound. Approachable as an
artist on the concert podium
and away from it, he
instinctively added the human
touch that is so important to
exceptional achievement.
Sinopoli promptly agreed to
combine planned future
recordings with concert
performances.
In the late 1980s, we were in
a difficult political
situation, which was growing
more disturbing and agitated
all the time. Nevertheless,
the first significant contacts
about closer future
collaboration took place in
the closing phase of the GDR,
with more targeted discussions
in the weeks before and after
the fall of the Wall. Tensions
between East and West played
no part at all, surprisingly
enough; discussions revolved
around the goals and the
nature of artistic relations
between a potential principal
conductor and the orchestra.
After two concerts in April
and May 1990, the
Staatskapelle elected Sinopoli
as their new conductor. The
arrangement was officially
announced soon afterwards in
an international press
conference during the Bayreuth
Festival, although there was
no contractual basis for it,
as there was no governmental
body that could or would have
taken responsibility for it at
the time, and the tricky
question of remuneration had
not even been raised. Faced
with such questions, Sinopoli
responded with almost naive
yet persuasive seriousness
(even if many did not take him
seriously) that he had given
his heart to the orchestra,
and regarded money - including
East German money - as
secondary. In view of the fact
that the salaries of his
musicians were far below those
of their colleagues in
comparable Western orchestras
(and would remain so for years
to come), he contractually
reduced his fee from the
normal international level to
meet the circumstances in
Dresden and set appropriate
limits for guest conductors
and soloists, which were quite
out of the ordinary but were
always readily accepted.
Sinopoli
had scarcely taken office in
Dresden in 1992 when a concert
in the Alte Oper in Frankfurt
prompted the commentary that
this was one of the happiest
combinations of recent times;
nuanced judgement and personal
aura, performing culture and
precision, brilliance and a
sense of poetry and timbre,
solo excellence and ensemble
playing, discipline and
imagination were all in
evidence in a "phenomenal
company" that was conducted in
a "virtuosic and commanding"
manner.This, then, was only
the beginning. It is not very
often the case that, as here,
a good relationship between an
orchestra and its conductor
grows even closer, warmer and
more consensual the longer
they work with one another,
and after more than ten years
together, scarcely anyone gave
a thought to a possible
parting of the ways; on the
contrary, the musicians and
many others were looking
forward to 2003, when Sinopoli
was to be made General Music
Director of the Semperoper,
where he would raise the opera
to the international status
and esteem that he had long
since attained with the
orchestra, while ensuring the
musicians in the pit a
permanent return to the rank
of "best opera orchestra in
the world" once assigned them
by Richard Strauss. The
performances of Elektra,
Salome and Parsifal
sadly all too seldom to be
seen in the Semperoper under
his direction, the rehearsal
of Die Frau ohne Schatten,
even the rare excerpts from
Verdi operas in the open-air
concerts televised by ZDF from
the Theaterplatz had all
raised great expectations for
the future.
One was
his absolute devotion to the
music, his determination to
give his all for an
interpretation and carry us
all with him. He was concerned
with artistic integrity, with
the personal experience of the
"conducted conflict". He wrote
that he could be satisfied
with a performance not "if
everything goes well -
intonation, ensemble playing,
articulation - but if it says
something to me. And forthat I
will give everything I have
got, even at the cost of my
physical health."
Anyone
who saw him conducting and
anyone who watched him leave
the platform completely
"drained" after a big symphony
can appreciate that these were
not mere words. At the same
time, he could convey a
vividly contrasting scale of
musical expression, from the
most sensitive, personal
feelings (we can still see his
positively tender, delicate
hands before us, as in
Schoenberg's Verklärte
Nacht) to unbridled
exuberance (his "dances" in
the stretto of Wagner’s Rienzi
overture), from deeply felt
sorrow (who could forget his
Mahler Ninth?) to delight in
rich sound and brilliant
virtuosity (his Strauss still
echoes in our ears), from
passionate emotionalism
(remembering his Verdi
Requiem) to an impulsive
life-force (thinking of the
bold leaps in the third
movement of Tchaikovsky’s
Sixth Symphony).
Another was his constructive,
committed work with the
Staatskapelle. Exercising
"modesty, care and patience",
he constantly sought new ways
to bring out and enhance the
traditional performance
culture and euphonious sound
of the orchestra. It was
surely one of his most
exceptional achievements to
have constantly heightened the
technical perfection of the
orchestra without neglecting
its quite specific "sound" -
transparency, lightness,
homogeneity, warmth, a rich
palette of tone colours -
while maintaining soloist
expertise while nurturing and
advancing ensemble quality
within the orchestral ethos
established over centuries.
He once
said: "The Staatskapelle does
not primarily have a tradition
of commanding power and
dazzling virtuosity (much as
it possesses such qualities),
it has a tradition of
heartfelt human expression. As
long as it continues to
maintain this tradition, it
will keep its character and
make music that is worth
while." Such thinking reveals
the true legacy that Giuseppe
Sinopoli bequeathed and
entrusted to his musicians and
to later generations. In this
context it is important to
mention that he placed great
value on a complete
identification of princial
conductor with his orchestra;
Sinopoli and Staatskapelle
were to become an unmistakable
"brand" on the international
marketplace, as indeed has
turned out to be the case
thanks to their artistic
achievements and successes. To
achieve this, however, he made
a point from the start of
reserving for his
near-exclusive personal use in
concerts and recordings a
particular section of the
repertoire that would
represent the
Sinopoli/Staatskapelle
connection and he made sure
that in a number of European
countries, on other continents
and in the world’s major
centres of music, he alone
would appearwith the
orchestra.
Then there was his conscious
repertoire strategy, building
on German music from the
Viennese Classical school
through Schumann and Brahms to
Bruckner and Strauss. Once he
felt himself largely of one
mind with the orchestra in
this field, he began to
realize his vision of Mahler
with the Staatskapelle. He saw
the music of the twentieth
century as resting upon the
Second Viennese school; from
1995, he conducted a cycle
with over twenty works by
Schoenberg, Berg and Webern,
giving those composers an
exposure in Dresden that they
had never enjoyed in that
range or depth. Building upon
that, he then planned to
explore the music of the
second half of the 20th
century, and began with works
by Luigi Nono, Peter Ruzicka
and his Italian friend Bruno
Cerchio, as well as aWolfgang
Rihm premiere. Later projects,
alas, were never to be carried
out.
And then
there was his remarkable sense
of farnily loyalty. Of course,
this applies in the first
place to his wife Silvia and
his sons Giovanni and Marco
and to his beloved parents.
(He was in America or in
Dresden with the Staatskapelle
when they died, and each time
he arrived a few hours too
late: these were watershed
experiences that defined his
life and were not without
consequences for his way of
working, but they in no way
impaired his relationship to
the Staatskapelle, far more
reinforcing it through the
recollection of the shared
musical experiences associated
with these tragic events.)
Increasingly with the growth
of musical and artistic
confidence on each side, he
also felt himself part of the
Staatskapelle family. He
remained in charge, but he was
more and more regarded as a
friend and confidant to the
musicians and orchestra staff
without the slightest loss of
authority or respect.
When on
tour, he loved to get together
with individual groups of
colleagues, or even the whole
orchestra, so they could stay
in close contact and make
merry together, learn more
about each other, and at the
same time raise certain issues
in a different atmosphere from
that of his office and so get
them “sorted".
His relationship to Dresden
was far more than merely
professional. In the early
days he told an interviewer
that he never noticed anything
in cities where he conducted
other than the hotels, the
musicians and singers, the
auditoriums and the museums.
Yet he came to love Dresden.
He enjoyed the incomparable
way that natural features -
the Elbe and the green
hillsides of its valley -
shaped the city and gave it an
atmosphere of its very own. He
valued the art collections and
actively followed and
supported the reconstruction
of the Frauenkirche, whose
future he saw as a "place of
encounter, prayer and music".
Another project, which enjoyed
his full attention and
participation, was the
incipient reconstruction of
another casualty of war, the
Baroque Palace in the Great
Garden, in which the "Capella"
had given regular concerts in
the nineteenth century. It was
the silhouette ofthe city at
sunset at the end of a
steamboat excursion on the
Elbe, an occasion he never
forgot, that finally gave us
the conviction (if we had not
acquired it long before) that
he had "come home" to us and
was happy in Dresden.
He felt close to young people
and was constantly reaching
out to them. He conducted
half-serious, half-humorous
exchanges with schoolchildren,
suggested
opening the final rehearsals
of the symphony concerts to
music-loving young people and
initiated a lecture and
publication project, aimed
principally at students, to
accompany his Second Viennese
school cycle. Sinopoli always
enjoyed a friendly talk - or a
heated debate - with young
orchestra members, and it was
surely his arrival that gave
shape to the vision of an
orchestral academy for the
in-house training of the next
Staatskapelle generation; at a
concert given in April 2011 to
mark the tenth anniversary of
his death, that academy was
named after Giuseppe Sinopoli,
both in encouragement and as
an example to follow. Above
all, it was his mental energy
that was always throwing up
inspiring new initiatives,
concepts, projects, new
departures for which he could
always arouse enthusiasm and
win support. One never knew,
when he telephoned or called
round, what new ideas and
plans he would confront us
with or what activities he
would be involving us in.
Everything was extensively
planned and discussed, often
till late into the night. Much
could be realized, some
well-meant and
well-thought-out plans fell by
the wayside. One factor was
the sheer volume of work he
took on. Sinopoli's day
outside rehearsals and
performances was packed with
auditions of singers and
instrumentalists, discussions,
negotiations, interviews and
correspondence, with studying
scores and carefully preparing
for performances. And he
always had time for anyone who
approached him with a serious
matter. When he came in early
in the morning, he had usually
spent more than two hours
already that day studying
archaeology in his hotel room,
completing his course in 2001
with flying colours. (At the
very hour in which Sinopoli
was due to have received his
doctorate at the University of
Rome, his funeral service was
being held in the church of
Santa Maria degli Angeli.)
We can
never forget his sheer lust
for life, which he
communicated to all around him
and often shared with staff
colleagues and guests. Then he
would show himself a jovial,
generous host, sparkling with
wit, who could hold the
company spellbound, informing
them and entertaining them
with his huge store of
knowledge.
The last
weeks and months of his life
were spent in a variety of
artistic activities, but there
were also difficult issues to
consider and challenging
decisions to be made. There
was the final negotiation and
ratification of his contract
as General Music Director in
Dresden, discussions about the
Dresden orchestral and opera
scene after 2003, about his
next joint project at the
Bayreuth Festival, about the
plans for the Staatskapelle
and the Vienna Philharmonic at
the Salzburg Festival, and
about his guest appearances at
La Scala in Milan and the
Staatsoper in Vienna. From now
on, Sinopoli wanted to
concentrate his artistic
activities on Dresden,
Bayreuth, Salzburg, Vienna and
Milan. In Dresden, he
conducted a Strauss programme
in January 2001, the Verdi
Requiem in February
commemorating the destruction
of Dresden (with the recording
for a CD, the entire proceeds
of which were devoted to the
rebuilding of the
Frauenkirche), and the
traditional Palm Sunday
concert with the Staatskapelle
in April. In Berlin too, he
was busy with the
Staatskapelle. On the evening
of April 19, he listened
through the night to the
complete Dresden recording of
Strauss’s Ariadne and
cleared it for release, though
he never did listen to the
recording of the Verdi Requiem
as he had planned. As I left
the conductor's dressing room
at the end of the interval in
the evening performance of
April 20, I could still hear
the last words he ever spoke
to me ringing in my ears:
praise for the wonderful
playing of the Berlin
orchestra, with which he still
felt a strong link; and, as an
afterthought, that he was so
looking forward to an Aida
with his Staatskapelle in
Dresden. A few minutes later,
he was dead.
Eberhard
Steindorf
Concert
editor to the
Sächsische
Staatskapelle
Dresden
from 1969 to
2004 and
personal
advisor to
Giuseppe
Sinopoli
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