I Felt I Was Schoenberg's Pupil
Judit Rácz Talks with Zoltán Kocsis
Zoltán Kocsis has been chief conductor of the Hungarian National
Philharmonic Orchestra since 1997. Alongside his stellar career as a pianist
Kocsis has been devoting more and more of his time to the orchestra, mounting
Hungarian premieres of rarely played and new works, including his own
transcriptions for orchestra of pieces by Bartók, Debussy and Ravel. His
commitment to contemporary music has been recognized by, among others,
György Kurtág, who dedicated several of his compositions to him. Kocsis's
recording of Bartók's Out of Doors was hailed by London-based Gramophone
magazine as one of the greatest piano recordings of the twentieth century, and
Philips included him in its series of the fifty greatest pianists.
Kocsis's latest feat, attracting critical and public acclaim, was his completion
of Schoenberg's Moses and Aaron, left in two acts by the composer. The semistaged
premiere took place in the Palace of Arts on 16 January 2010 with the
National Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir under the baton of Kocsis, with
Wolfgang Schöne and Daniel Brenna in the principal roles.
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Judit Rácz: The completion of Schoenberg's Moses and Aaron is a sensation not
only from a musicological point of view. It seems to me that you did it for us
listeners. I was convinced: I found it beautiful, authentic, coherent. It was
Schoenberg and Kocsis at the same time. It has been discussed whether
Schoenberg actually wanted to finish Act III, or whether he intentionally left the
opera unfinished (and if so, why). There seem to be no conclusive arguments
either way.
Zoltán Kocsis: Not long after Schoenberg died his widow said the opera
should be left alone. I doubt he would have agreed. After all, he had written the
words for Act III; it would be absurd to perform them without music. Even with
the music it is rather like an epilogue.
[...]
How did it feel to write Act III? Did Schoenberg as a figure have a paralysing
effect? Or did you sit down next to him like an equal?
I felt I was his pupil. He had given me a task to solve. I had to expand a melody
he had started to write; yet the accompaniment was already all there. My task
was to make sure that the twelve-note row worked both horizontally and
vertically without repetitions. As far as my own invention is concerned,
I started by working out Aaron's part, the most easily sung melodious vocal
moments. Then came Moses, and only then did I check what Schoenberg
wanted. Act III can therefore rather be considered my music, with important
reflections on Acts I and II.
When you were using actual Schoenberg materials, could you still feel as an
independent composer?
Absolutely. To understand what a great master Schoenberg was—that is
already an accomplishment. Then it's no longer so difficult to proceed because,
although Schoenberg is very strict in demarcating the playing field, there is
enormous freedom within that field. So much so that I even created note rows
of my own.
The really interesting challenge is when you have to be inventive while bound by
rules and laws.
Of course. And I am a law-abiding citizen...
How are we going to refer to this three-act version? Schoenberg-Kocsis? You
have to write something on the title page of the score.
Good question: I haven't thought about it. One solution would be to give Act III
a separate title like "Aaron's Death"—a title, by the way, that had also occurred
to Schoenberg. In one of his letters he raised the possibility of making the
continuation a separate piece under that title.
I think that would disrupt the unity of the work.
I don't think so. It would give conductors the option between the two-act and
the three-act versions. If they choose the latter, they'll perform Moses and
Aaron by Schoenberg and Aaron's Death by Kocsis. I would have a lot of nerve
to say that I finished the opera and now I want to be Schoenberg's co-author.
Maybe someone else will want to give it a try and write a better completion.
Should that ever happen, I will conduct that version instead of mine. I don't
think a lot of people would want to do it, though. Composers are aware that
they have moved too far away from the masses and they see tonality as the way
that will lead them back to the audience. This is not a generational issue. What
Emil Petrovics has said about Schoenberg verbally, younger composers say
with their compositions: let us return to tonality! The problem is that you need
to be a fantastic talent to pull this off, because the tonal music that is being
written these days is like earlier music, only not as good.
The music "that is being written these days" includes your music, too.
The key factor is the appearance of original talents. If such an exceptional figure
comes along, it doesn't matter what language they use: originality means that you
can use any language whatsoever in a unique, personal way. Who the hell cares
today if Rachmaninoff's music is anachronistic? Nobody wrote the way he did.
Consequently, he is a first-rate composer, like anyone who does something that
hasn't been done before, or something that nobody else would be able to do.
[...]
Judit Rácz
is a journalist who has translated several books on music.
