Since last week’s sordid events, there have been three developments:
– The Philharmonic’s chief executive is apparently unwell.
– The critic who praised Gilbert Kaplan’s performance of Mahler’s second symphony has admitted he did not acknowledge the conductor’s full authority in his review.
– And two more players have reiterated the trombonist’s attack on the guest conductor in language so similar to one another as to suggest a football huddle.
On the first matter, there is nothing to add except to wish Zarin Mehta a speedy recovery.
Steve Smith, the critic (who is also music editor for Time Out New York), deserves much credit for disclosing on his blog that he regrets having omitted a phrase in which he described Kaplan as co-editor of the critical edition of the score – in other words, as the man who helped produce the text that is truest to the composer’s final intentions.
The two new grumblers deserve no credit at all, not even name credit.
They were playing for the first time an authentic version of the symphony and all they could do was whinge about aspects of the conductor’s technique. Have these people lost all interest in music? Don’t they want to know more about the stuff they play? Can’t they see beyond a physical rehearsal-room limitation to the possibility of actual enlightenment?
The New York Philharmonic has come out of this seedy episode looking like a rabble without a cause. When its music director invites a man to conduct a concert for the benefit of the orchestra’s pension fund, it is worse than just bad manners for the players to insult him to their heart’s content. It is a symptom of exceedingly bad management, of an organisation that has run out of control. Somebody needs to get a grip, to state a position, to invoke a principle of collective responsibility.
It is no surprise that Riccardo Muti turned down the offer to become music director in favour of Chicago, that Simon Rattle won’t go near the band with a bargepole and that the only person with enough insurance to succeed Lorin Maazel is the son of two members of the orchestra who think they can keep the hyenas from his door. What a shambles.