In both New York and Boston Munch had spectacular success, and, unlike many conductors, his success with the musicians was just as great as his success with his audiences. During his Philharmonic engagement the musicians spontaneously got together one afternoon and chipped in to present Munch with a gift symbolic of their respect and admiration. And after his last concert in New York, they honored him with a cocktail party, something which had been done only once before--when Toscanini finished his last season with the Philharmonic.
There are many reasons way Munch is such a popular leader. First of all he is one of those few conductors doing their best to destroy the image of the "super-man maestro." When he conducts, he is working with an orchestra, he does not stand on a pedestal and dictate to it. He never plays favorites among the players, as many of his colleagues are accused of doing. A tyrant conductor usually develops a clique of musicians who will support him, and help him keep control, but Munch never needs such a clique. One of the violinists in the Philharmonic described him as the "most perfectly just man I have ever known."
But the fact that he does not cultivate favorites does not mean that he refuses to be friendly with the orchestra. Philharmonic members often went up to his room to chat with him, on any subject from the most abstruse musicology to plain gossip about available jobs for conductors--gossip of which, incidentally, Munch strongly disapproved.
An excellent illustration of his attitude towards musicians is the way he led the United States tour of the Orchestra National de France last fall. For almost the entire trip, Munch rode in the busses with the men, enduring their hardships, and bolstering them. His spirit was probably the principal thing which prevented the tour from collapse. After the completion of the trip, he travelled a considerable distance so he could testify for his musicians in New York, when they brought legal action against the American manager of the tour.
The basic philosophy characterizing Munch's approach to the orchestra is that every musician is talented and a master of his instrument. Otherwise he would not be a member of the orchestra, Munch reasons. Consequently he seldom corrects individuals in rehearsals, and though he is careful of details, he does not pick out one particular player for picayune criticism. Only when he strongly disagrees with a man's particular interpretation will he stop a rehearsal to correct him. Thus, although he spends as much time in rehearsal as other conductors, less of this time is spent in repetition of short phrases. Munch's approach worked extraordinarily well in New York and Boston; whether it would work with groups of lesser stature is another question.
"Calculated Risk"
In every Munch performance, there is a certain amount of "calculated risk." That is the orchestra never is absolutely sure that everything is going to work out perfectly; consequently they are on edge, always awake, and always sensitive to the wishes of the conductor. This contrasts with the technique of a man like Bruno Walter, who sometimes repeats a few measures so many times that the orchestra becomes bored, and, of course, their playing shows it. Munch never takes a big chance in any performance, but just enough is left in doubt to create the effect he desires. Thus, in performance, his personal hysteria mixed in with the highly sensitive orchestra often leads to extraordinarily exciting music.
Munch's baton technique is perhaps his most unique characteristic. One moment he may be beating time with the sparest possible motion, left hand by his side, and the next he literally whips up the orchestra with violent arm movements. He conducts not only with his arms but with his entire body. During the performance of a choral work here recently, he was conducting four separate elements of the orchestra with different parts of his body, all the while singing the French words along with the chorus and carefully exaggerating his lip movements of assist the singers in pronunciation. He usually uses a baton, but occasionally, he may leave it idle in his left hand. He sings along with the strings as loud if not louder than Toscanini does. He shushes for pianissimos, exhorts for fortissimes. Sometimes he depicts the music physically, but where other conductors often merely imitate the motions of a violin bow or a cymbal, (something which has no value for anyone except the audience) Munch attempts to portray the spirit of the interpretation he is seeking (something which can be of considerable value to the musicians as well as to the audience).
Boston Critics Perturbed
Some critics notably those in Boston, have criticized Munch's technique as excessively flamboyant. This may seem justified to the casual observer, but many orchestra musicians explain that the technique is an extremely illuminating one that assists them greatly in performing complicated rhythms or melodies, especially those encountered in modern works. At any rate, the musicians of the Boston Symphony will have no doubt when Munch gives his downbeat--something which cannot be said for his predecessor.
The one fear that haunts Munch when he is leading a performance is that the music is dragging. This to him is the worst thing that can happen, and thus when he feels a piece sticking, he is apt to rush it.
Despite his great popularity, Munch is a very modest man very much aware of his own defects. Once many years ago, when Toscanini was conducting a French orchestra usually conducted by Munch, he unobtrusively took a seat in the first violins and played with the orchestra to learn how Toscanini gets his effects.
Joie de Vivre
Munch's preoccupation with music has not prevented him from living well off the podium. He is an highly civilized man, deeply interested in painting and craft. Walter Hendl, assistant conductor of the New York Philharmonic and newly-appointed conductor of the Dallas Symphony likes to tell about the time Munch came to visit him at his home three years ago. He arrived with a bouquet of roses for Mrs. Hendl, and then proceeded to spend the rest of the evening teaching Hendl different kinds of solitaire which he uses when traveling. Hendl had a wonderful evening, but when it was over, his house was completely bare of food and liquor. The next day, Mrs. Hendl, who is a painter, decided to do a still life of the roses which Munch had brought. The story eventually hit the papers, and Munch read it is a Swiss journal while he was a in Geneva. He kept the clipping, and months later when he saw Hendl, he presented the article and demanded his painting. When he saw it, Munch was quite impressed, and promised to show it to his friend Please. Since their the Hendl's have heard nothing, but they're still hoping for an encouraging word from Picasso.
Munch appreciates art for what it is, not for its monetary value. He is by nature completely unmaterialistic, although it has been pointed out that a men with a millionaire wife has no real need for being materialistic. But in this case, the spirit is not superficial. He has one abiding interest in life--music. That is why he is so impatient with musicians who discuss with him the positions he might get. That is why recently, when he heard indirectly that an orchestra he was guest conducting was in financial peril, he returned his salary. These are superficial examples to be sure, but they illustrate an essential part of his personality.
A lot has been said and written about what Munch will do with the Boston Symphony when he comes here next fall. Unfortunately, much of it is guff. For example, some chronic worriers are predicting that the programs will be overwhelmingly, and for them unbearably French. But an examination of the programs Munch gave with the Conservatory in France proves quite the contrary. An analysis of two full years' programs show that over two thirds of the music played was not French. A surprisingly large amount of all the music Munch programmed has seldom been played in Boston during Koussevitzky's reign. Munch has an extremely broad repertory, and there is no doubt that he will widen that of the Boston Symphony considerably. The same is true for the Harvard Glee Club, which will be singing many works for the first time in years under Munch.
While guest conducting, Munch has placed a great deal of emphasis on French music, but this is perfectly understandable in view of the fact that since 1944, France's Orchestre National has played more works of living Americans than all the orchestras of America combined have played of living French composers.
Munch is greatly interested in contemporary American music; he is also greatly puzzled by it. He like many others both here and abroad, has been unable to figure out just where American music is going. He is studying many scores in all effort to find clues, but one of the real question marks about him is whether he has Koussevitzky's ability to analyze and evaluate a modern composition.
It is doubtful whether the tonal characteristics of the Boston Symphony will change greatly under Munch. There will be shifts among the musicians--there always are--but it is very unlikely that Munch will attempt to completely shake up the orchestra in order to make it sound like a French ensemble. Aside from the impracticality of such a step, Munch looks at the Boston Symphony as a completely different instrument from those he has led in France, not necessar-