On February 21 and 22 the Lysenko Hall of Columns hosted two concerts by renowned Russian violinist and conductor Sergei Stadler. Visiting Kyiv this time, Mr. Stadler once again demonstrated his virtuosity and subtle awareness of all the nuances secreted in every sheet of music. His improvisations based on popular operas were assisted by his sister Yuliya, a very original pianist and winner of international contests. For the first time he performed together with Andriy Shuhan, Meritorious Artist of Ukraine, who sang leading roles from Verdi. Mr. Stadler quickly came to terms with the National Philharmonic of Ukraine (he first met the musicians several years ago). Listening to his rehearsals was most interesting. He placed every accent so accurately, polishing on ever timbre, achieving velvety cantilenas. He gave timely and relevant instructions to the musicians, always with a good joke causing the musicians to smile in return. The thing is that Ottorino Respighi’s symphonic poems — Roman Festivals, Fountains of Rome, and Pines of Rome — are a novelty for our orchestra’s repertoire. This coloristic music is virtuoso and interesting, in which the author reflects his own impressions of his beloved city. With all the “quillets” of the Italian composer they coped brilliantly. And the maestro was in his creative prime at the concerts.
Sergei Valentinovich, few musicians can boast having played the violin of the great Paganini. What were your impressions when you first took the violin in your hands?
It is a phenomenal instrument, perhaps the world’s most famous violin. Done by the master Giuseppe Antonio Guarneri. I think that the owner’s hand must have influenced it. It sounds absolutely special, unlike any other instrument I have ever dealt with. Still, playing it is quite difficult; it takes special skill. The violin has an absolutely special sound. I performed at the Hermitage Theater. The instrument had been specially brought from Genoa to St. Petersburg for my two solo concerts. The event was truly a turning point in my fate. We all know that Paganini never visited Russia. His longest concert tour eastward ended in Poland. True, at the time it was part of the Russian Empire. Preserved are historical records by eyewitnesses present at the coronation of Nicholas I where the great maestro played in honor of the Russian monarch. Of course, I was nervous when I first took the instrument in my hands. But after running the bow just several times across the strings and hearing the first notes, I realized that this violin could work miracles.
Glory and recognition came to you early. Already at 14 you won an international contest in Prague. You were a Wunderkind. How did you manage to avoid the star disease?
I don’t consider myself a Wunderkind in the sense in which it is usual to speak about it nowadays. There was no exploitation of child’s labor. I performed with concerts to have the training of a musician, so I would not get stage fright and could continue with my studies parallel. Although, unfortunately, many young performers who are early to announce themselves, with time cannot hold high positions. As a rule a boy wonder is interesting only as a child, and when he grows up as a musician he no longer evokes in the public its former teary admiration. Very often a star that burned bright quickly goes dark even quicker. It reminds me a little of sports. Take, for example, rhythmic gymnastics. Athletes are at their peak at 14-15 years of age. Then what? One has to continue to study and think about tomorrow. They have lots of medals in reserve and minimal basic knowledge. They spend all their lives away from home, during training sessions, confined to barracks regimen. I think that an early spectacular career, as a rule, does not lead to anything good and further on only interferes with one’s intention to develop normally. The main thing is not to grab success by the tail but to show annual stable good results, improving one’s skill. I believe that not falling ill with the star disease was helped by my parents and teachers who reacted to the eulogy with adequate criticism. They taught me to regard myself from the outside.
What do you think: should every musician give test him/herself in a contest or is totally unnecessary?
If only to try oneself, excite one’s nerves, and raise one’s adrenaline, it is completely unnecessary. A contest is a brutal trial. It is a sport having nothing to do with what a given musician should do later. Often contests have a negative effect on very many artists. First and foremost, one must have that combative spirit, an ability to tune oneself to ultimate victory, and there is factor being of extreme importance: Lady Luck smiling one’s way. At times those with weak nerves are rejected. They have to pull out, never winning prizes or diplomas. At the time I started competing in contests this was perhaps the only opportunity to make oneself known in the international arena. For me 1982 Tchaikovsky contest in Moscow was the most difficult. It was very much in the limelight. Incredibly, many musicians still remember every note they played. Of course, I was under great mental pressure, for those comrades in plainclothes were using the event for their own propaganda purpose. Primarily, they wanted the world public to see how well people lived under our totalitarian system and what great talent the USSR possessed. However, there was nothing they could do to pressure the international jury. Feeling responsible for the state was not simple. I tried to prove that our violin school was really the best and that political games had nothing to do with it. Today, winning a contest is not as prestigious. There are countless contests. Last year alone saw 485 piano contests, meaning that someone got a first prize every day and twice on Sunday.
Sergei Valentinovich, you were born into a musician’s family. Was taking up the violin your decision or your parents’?
What say can a five year old have? Of course, it was my parents’ choice, but a very good one in my case. I have been in love with music for as long as I can remember and I enjoyed studying it. When I was 2 or 3 I thought everybody played some instrument or anotner.
St. Petersburg and Moscow have been constant rivals, especially in terms of culture and the arts. Which school do you think you represent?
I have mixed feelings. I finished my secondary music education in St. Petersburg [then Leningrad], then graduated from the Conservatory and finished graduate studies in Moscow. One should remember that at the start of the century St. Petersburg was not only the capital of Russia, but also of the whole world. The best performers from all countries would come on tours with their shows and concerts. After the government was transferred to Moscow the city lost its importance and turned, to put it bluntly, into a provincial town. On the other hand, Moscow became a totalitarian capital. Still, St. Petersburg retains a quite active cultural life with a very compact center, lots of theaters, concert halls, and museums. Residents of St. Petersburg want their city to remain the cultural capital. At the time of my study the school of music of St. Petersburg was very different from that of Moscow. Students from all over the USSR wanted to enroll in Moscow, not in the city on the Neva. The best creative forces were drawn to the capital. My father was my first teacher. He gave me my first violin lessons. After that Mikhail Vaiman, Leonid Kogan, and Boris Sergeiev exerted a tremendous influence on me. David Oistrakh gave me private lessons when I was 12.
What were you like as a boy?
My parents know best whether I gave them trouble or not. All I can say is that I wanted school to be over as quickly as possible. In many respects I consider that period a waste of time. There were a great many subjects I did not and never would need in life. The impression was that school did its best to prevent me from becoming a musician. At the time children were not allowed to study according to individual programs. The schoolteachers did not care anything about my progress in music. And how much time and nerves did we waste on political information nobody needs, meetings, and exams on Leninism? Now all this looks simply ridiculous, as though it has happened to someone else, not me.
Sergei Valentinovich, are you and your orchestra planning a concert tour of Ukraine?
I would like that very much, but bringing the company to Ukraine is difficult financially. I’ve been with the Hermitage for several years. It has a diverse and interesting repertoire. We premiered La Tosca this January and are planning Berlioz’s Les Troyens in late March.
You have visited Kyiv frequently. Do you have any favorite places here?
Yes, I have visited your city frequently, but every time I have had a tight schedule, so I couldn’t just walk the streets like a tourist. I’m especially fond of your Andriyivsky uzviz. The facades of the buildings remind me of dollhouses. There are art galleries and you can buy a nice souvenir right in the street, meet and talk with artists, and then visit the Bulgakov Literary Museum. At the Pecherska Lavra Monastery of the Caves one can touch stones personifying history and it’s a place where one can think especially well.
Many performers complain that true devotees of classical music have stopped going to concerts and plays. What about your audiences?
It is true that previously we had a large group that could be described as opera and symphony fans. They knew every work almost by heart. Their number has noticeably dwindled. The audiences have changed, unfortunately for the worse. A number of listeners are simply unprepared for serious music, although I must admit there are interesting trends like growing affection for separate performers or performances. For example, listening to Tchaikovsky’s Queen of Spades or Wagner’s Lohengrin is not entertainment but empathy, a desire to partake of dramatic identification and elevated sentiments.
If we were talking ten years ago I would have described my audiences as so-called middle class, although that European notion does not quite apply here. We are more of a Asiatic mentality. In other words, we have two classes: those who give orders and those who take them. For centuries on end Russia had a large gap between rich and poor. Now this gap has become an abyss. Our current middle class is in reality made up of people with empty pockets. The state does not care anything about those learned in the humanities and such people are precisely my audience. I mean those who want to go to concerts and listen to symphonies but can’t afford to. The biggest problem now is that money has acquired some magic power. Unlike before, the notion of theft is no longer an accusation. Some even regard it as a virtue: such people know how to live. Everybody wants to make money, by hook or by crook. Here most seem to agree that the end justifies the means. This is a very bad mistake and our society will long have to pay for it. Our culture will not survive without sponsorship. Regrettably, patronage is mostly based on selfish motives. Here a successful businessman has break the law. But the laws of the state are perfect! If you are a law-abiding citizen you are guaranteed never to succeed in business. Even under Aleksei I Mikhailovich (ruled 1646-1676 —Ed.) it was said, “The severity of the laws in Russia is mitigated by the lack of need to observe them.” We have lived by this pattern ever since. Patronage is very important, but nothing will work unless we revise the law. There is also another aspect. At present, managers of philharmonic societies venture risky projects, driven by the desire to make money. They invite performers of international acclaim, yet the name does not always mean real quality. The criteria are substituted. Being good often does not mean being famous and vice versa. They invite an international celebrity and the cost of tickets jumps sky high, barring access to people who really love classical music, rather than to attend only “prestige” events. I have been in the concert and opera business for a number of years and you can take my word for it: this is not where one can make money now. A program or performance, once it gets in the box office league, stops being truly creative. Here one must choose between money-making and creativeness.
And our eternal Slavic question: What is to be done and who is to blame?
Hard to say. There are a number of reasons why we live like we do. For Russia — and I think for Ukraine as well — the biggest problem is that most people are doing their professional work very badly. Of course, what musicians get paid looks like welfare, but also, unfortunately, most of them are only worth their pay. You could stage an experiment and pay each a hundred times more, yet their performance wouldn’t get any better.
You will have presidential elections on March 26. A lot of musicians have already signed up in support of certain candidates. Will you take any part in the campaign?
Unfortunately the coming elections offer no alternative. All the registered candidates know who is going to win. None can rival Vladimir Putin. A lot of my fellow citizens regard him as savior of the nation, but if they expect him to take office and straighten out everything just like that, they’re in for a big disappointment.
Much will depend on his new team in the Kremlin. Personally, I don’t need good words. I need good deeds. Russia is a traditionally agrarian polity, yet the Soviets destroyed all they could in the decades of their rule. It is time to give the land back to the people, to those that can really work it. There is no sense waiting for a miracle. Each person should do his job well, conscientiously. Every citizen should make a choice, so I am not going to campaign in favor of any candidate.
When do you think Russia will have its golden age?
The devil only knows.
