eMusic interview: Alan Gilbert

I recently had the pleasure of sitting down with Alan Gilbert, the New York Philharmonic’s new music director, for an interview. Although he had just returned the day before we spoke from Hamburg, where he had conducted and performed in three consecutive concerts (he’s a violinist as well as a conductor), and even though he was due to return there in two days, he graciously consented to a Jukebox Jury, in which we play musical selections for an artist and get their gut reactions. When I heard he had agreed to this, I rubbed my hands together and went about trying to devise the sort of playlist that only eMusic could give him — Mahler, yes, and contemporary composers Christopher Rouse and Magnus Lindberg, but also some curveballs (spoiler alert: he likes Radiohead). My favorite moment from the entire interview, and one that I think speaks most directly to his relationship to music, was when I got up to switch between two selections. His response: an upheld hand. “Wait, just wait till the return,” he murmured.

Jukebox Jury: Alan Gilbert

By Jayson Greene

Alan Gilbert is the newest Music Director of the New York Philharmonic. At 42, he is one of the Phil’s youngest leaders ever, and he is also — somehow — the very first native New Yorker to hold the post. His mother and father both come from the orchestra’s ranks; his father, Michael Gilbert, played in the first violin section for 25 years, and his mother Yoko Takebe still does today.

Perhaps this familiarity helps account for the way the NY Phil sounds these days: utterly, unmistakably revitalized. A few short months into Gilbert’s official tenure, the orchestra already plays for him with the palpable warmth and heightened awareness that could only be produced by someone who has sprung directly from their ranks. But the larger part of this transformation surely comes from Gilbert’s innate qualities as a musician: his wide-ranging, engaged, and curious ear; his firm intellectual grasp of music’s inner architecture, and, last but not least, his lively, engaged, and intuitive relationship to musics of all kinds. These qualities were evident in abundance when eMusic sat down with him recently to play music ranging from his own ravishing recording of Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 with the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra to Radiohead and The Field.

Alan Gilbert, Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra – Mahler’s Symphony No. 9 in D Major: IV. Adagio

You programmed this symphony for two successive seasons in preparation for this recording — that’s a lot of time with Mahler’s Ninth! What kind of insights do you gain into a work like this when you spend that much time with it?



This symphony is very difficult on every level; obviously technically, but emotionally, it goes as far as any piece I know goes. By programming it twice, I was hoping that when we came back to the piece the second time, we wouldn’t have to worry and fuss about the mundane challenges of the piece, the technical difficulties, and that we would be able to immediately get into the more interesting areas: the spiritual questions, figuring out the energy flows, the high points and low points. With Mahler’s Ninth, as much as you give, you get back.

What specifically focused or deepened from the first to the second performance?

That’s a difficult question, because it’s emotionally such an elusive piece — I can’t say that I’ve figured it out, or gotten the answer, because I don’t think there is an “answer.”

For me, at least, this movement is like the longest, most exquisitely painful “goodbye” I’ve ever heard. How do you sustain something like this, in particular, so it doesn’t spend itself before it’s over?

Well, that’s the challenge. When I study a work, I try to get to a point where, no matter where I randomly open the score to, I get an immediate and visceral reaction about whatever happens to show up. That means that I want to have a clear sense of what it’s “about,” what it’s trying to say, and what I feel about it. I have an exercise with myself where I try to think of adjectives. And it’s interesting: the better I know a piece, the better the adjectives become. The aim is to have a clear idea about literally every moment in the piece locally, but also to know how it fits into the global picture. It’s all about the story.

I think this final movement is a great example of this sort of thing — knowing how long the piece is, how many goings and comings you’ll have to deal with. Right here, for example, is where you want to release, say, sixty percent of your emotional energy, and then the next peak you’re going to let go of that much more.

This is one my favorite pieces, by the way.

I know! It’s kind of hard to talk, because I’m still listening! [Pauses, listens to 9:02 mark of movement.]The first return to major here shouldn’t be that difficult, but … it’s still a relief when you get there. That figure, that sighing figure, it becomes harder and harder for that figure to get “home.” And the last time, when it breaks through, it’s soo difficult. It’s still satisfying, but you’re all the more depleted at the same time.

Alan Gilbert, Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra – Christopher Rouse’s “Iscariot”

This is probably one of the most depressing pieces I know. Chris Rouse is a wonderful composer, and he’s a tortured soul. I know him; he’s a wonderful guy, and a good friend. But you don’t need to know him to understand that this is sort of a desperate, tortured work. I mean, it’s just so obvious, starting with this wrenching blow of a hammer. We just did Berg’s Three Pieces for Orchestra, which is another piece that has the hammer, and Mahler’s Sixth… I thought of doing a program that all just had the hammer blows of fate.

That would be the feel-good program of the year.

Yeah — free razors at the door, right? This piece is obviously about betrayal, and I don’t know the story, because Chris doesn’t tell people the story, but it’s obviously inspired by some kind of personal betrayal he experienced, and that’s why he called it “Iscariot.” It’s an amazing piece, because it has some of the most painful music, but then it also has some of the most exquisitely gentle, beautiful episodes. The contrast couldn’t be starker, and because of it, each atmosphere is heightened.

Kari Kriiku, Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra – Magnus Lindberg’s Clarinet Concerto

You’ve brought Magnus Lindberg on board to be the New York Philharmonic’s new composer-in-residence, and you’re giving the U.S. premiere of this work, his Clarinet Concerto, with the Phil this season. When did you first encounter his music?

It’s been a long time. I’ve known his music for years, and I remember the first time I met him, it was actually a very important moment for me, having performed and admired his music for years. It was like meeting Stravinsky or something like that. Subsequently, we’ve become very close friends, and it’s kind of amusing to me to remember that feeling of awe. Now he’s just Magnus!

One of the things I like about his music is that it’s so — kaleidoscopic in its coloring and orchestral texture and so ravishing to listen to, but at the same time it’s so intellectually rigorous and brilliantly composed. To say it’s “clever” sounds trite, but it’s so well-conceived — the metric modulations and the transitions, how he orchestrates it to bring out every element. It’s challenging and inspiring to deal with on an intellectual level. You don’t hear that, necessarily, you just hear this gorgeous texture, but to study the score closely, you can feel his brain at work.

I actually feel that way when I eat really good food that has clearly been prepared with utmost care. Unless you are a trained cook, you don’t say, “Well, he clearly used this much nutmeg” as you eat it, but you instinctively know you are in the hands of a master. It communicates itself on some kind of subconscious level.

Absolutely! Yeah, I like that. The mechanics of a piece should absolutely never be the top level of experience, but the fact that they are there does, somehow, transmit.

It’s the man behind the curtain.

Yes, and it’s great. The thing that’s interesting now, with Magnus set up as our composer-in-residence, is that we talk about lots of music, and not just contemporary music — he knows the repertoire. He can talk about Beethoven string quartets, he can talk about Bach fugues. He knows them. There are a lot of bullshit composers who somehow splatter notes onto a page, and people play them, and I guess they’re composing, but they don’t necessarily have the underpinning. But he absolutely does, and you can hear it in the music. It’s absolutely unique and has its own voice, but it takes into consideration the history of music.

Art Tatum, “Willow Weep for Me”

So I’ve heard that you love Art Tatum. What do you love about him?

Well, he’s technically one of the greatest pianists I’ve heard. His ear, and his sense of harmony, is so sophisticated and so developed and he has absolutely the most incredible rhythm of any musician I know. All of his licks and riffs that he plays, with ten million notes, he always lands exactly where he needs to be, and there’s just this unerring sense of time. He swings, he feels it, he’s got the total feel of the music, but also this technical proficiency that’s staggering and some of the most amazing harmonies.

I suppose those are understandable things to tap into as a conductor. Do you find yourself applying those principles in your role?

Well, yeah, sure, I guess just the timing, the innate sense of flow in the music. The notes are written down and you try your best to get it “right,” so there’s not the same kind of leeway in what we do, but the flow is changing all the time. The piece takes a slightly different course each time, and it’s not improvisational in the way jazz is, but it’s thinking on your feet and living in the moment.

Are you a jazz aficionado?

I love jazz. I used to play jazz; I played drums. If I listen to music, it’s as often as not jazz. I hope that I can bring that to bear when I play Gershwin and try to make it swing with the band.

Uri Caine Ensemble, Funeral March

The next thing I want to play you is sort of in the same wheelhouse, or not too far out — it’s Uri Caine Ensemble’s reworking of themes from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony.

I’ve heard this. I love it. It’s great.

What about this works for you? Why is this logical?

I mean, this particular piece is written for symphonic orchestra, but it’s clearly written in the vernacular. And Mahler was trying to recreate music that was essentially played by a band on the street. It’s very true to the spirit. This isn’t high art we’re talking about here; this has the klezmer, gypsy feel — this is folk music.

Ralph Van Raat – John Adams’ “Hallelujah Junction”

This is an early minimalist piece by John Adams. I picked this because you debuted at the Metropolitan Opera conducting Adams’ opera “Doctor Atomic.” What about Adams’ music speaks to you?

John was clearly influenced by the minimalists, but I don’t think of his music as minimalism. “Harmonielehre” was a breakthrough work for him, and it’s definitely minimalist, but to me there’s a more obvious structure, and it’s not just a meandering journey. To me, there’s more clarity in the story in John Adams’ music. The elements are minimalist and repetitive, but I find there’s more of an anchor in terms of where you stand in the bigger picture. Which I think is one of the reasons I like his music; he paints with a minimalist’s brush, but in a way I actually identify with in terms of musical form.

For me, the story in these types of works is much more open-ended, much more of a “Choose Your Own Adventure” sort of spirit than in pieces in which the arc is very traceable.

Right. There’s something so American about this sound to me.

The Field, “Everyday”

This is from a 2007 album that was critically acclaimed in the minimal electronic world. It’s by an artist called The Field. Do you hear any of the minimalist, repetitive elements of Adams here?

Yeah, I do. I absolutely do.

Do you like it?

Yeah, I do. I like it. There are certain kinds of electronic music sounds that feel too impersonal to really speak to me, but this is a very attractive sound world to me. To me it feels more personal, more textured. It’s cool. Actually, I’d love to get this! What’s the name of the album?

The album is called From Here We Go Sublime.

It’s very sophisticated; there are arcs that kind of go up and down; it’s not just the same thing. You can feel a sort of undulating flow coursing through everything. It holds a lot more interest for me than the sort of electronic music I often hear when I walk into a shop or something.

Radiohead, “Reckoner”

And finally, why not? This is Radiohead.

I like Radiohead. I have several albums, even though I don’t actually get to listen to a lot of music when I’m home. What I admire about them is that there is a sophistication in the composition while at the same time remaining very immediate and personal. I guess what we’ve been talking about is this sort of balance of elements, and what I like about them is that there’s a rigor of technique that’s combined with a very natural, folk spirit.