The First Meeting
It's hard to believe, but this is the first time I'm speaking to Toby in person. (For context: we have been working on making this project a reality for about a year.) For me, this apparent absurdity is one of the appeals. Like many things in present-day society, it shouldn't work, it shouldn't be possible - and yet, thanks to modern technology, it is, and it does.
Often, this shift, from absurdity to normality, happens quickly. So quickly, in fact, that we fail to marvel at the beauty of what transpired. For this reason, I believe documenting projects like this one, which could only succeed in the 21st century (and unabashedly marveling at the mere fact of their existence) is so crucial; it allows me to be profoundly grateful while also (hopefully) laying some groundwork upon which future projects can build.
So what did the first meeting look like and what did we discuss?
Coffee. We started with coffee. This detail may seem superfluous, but it is critical as it speaks to the most vital part of any artistic endeavor: the human relationships that develop as a result. Good relations with great people are what allow dreams to become plans which in turn become realities. This project is proof.
Speaking of plans, we had a concerto to premiere. First order of business was addressing Toby's questions and comments. These were purely technical; a pass during which we made sure all the nuts and bolts were properly in place. During this time, Toby also offered some suggestions on how to make the score cleaner and more precise to future interpreters:
Consider losing cue (3) at rehearsal [A]
Show quarter = quarter going into Mvt. II
Lose the final barlines on the end of movements; replace with double barlines
Clarify note at rehearsal [G] - note density is the parament that is to be improvised
With all our parts in order, we turned our attention to structure and intent. Here, Toby asked about essential formal articulations and the purpose behind some of the musical markings. One fascinating, yet often frustrating, aspect of notated music is just how limited it can be in conveying vitally-important details. For example, how can you communicate the sound or the intent behind a passage? Sure, you can load on the technical info and write endlessly about the philosophy of specific musical choices, but when it comes down to it, there will always be interpretive options. The decisions made here can never be right or wrong in any absolute sense; they can only be right for that person at that time. Discussing these choices is one of my great joys as a composer, and the conversation with Toby was especially satisfying: after a few hours, we had developed a complete vision for the piece and Toby had a plan for rehearsals.
Later on, Imogen joined us to address the solo part and work out cues and other performance logistics with Toby. Though most of their soloist-conductor run through ran smoothly, we ran into a few issues when dealing with rhythmically free or rhythmically ambiguous sections. Most notably, this occurred in the seemingly innocuous-looking third movement.
The issue arose from the conflicting needs of the music, namely the demand for freedom and the necessity for control. In Movement III, control is personified by Toby, who is tasked with ensuring that the appropriate colors sound at the right time. Freedom is embodied by Imogen, who must find the right balance of rhythmic accuracy and flexibility to deliver a moving performance, one that is not bound by the orchestra and yet does not stray too far from it. Finding the right balance was tricky, but we managed by agreeing to specific coordination points that would allow everyone to 'check in' should things fall too far out of sync.
With that done, it was time to call it a day and get some well-deserved rest before the start of tutti rehearsals. It is also here that I paused to appreciate how lucky I am to be working with these two. They are truly world-class.
Imogen, Toby, and I together for the first time.
