Why won't famed conductor Valery
Gergiev permanently relocate to one of the great cities of
the world? Because he's already living in one of
them.
In the cramped practIce audItorIum inside the venerable Mariinsky
Theatre in St. Petersburg, the soprano rehearsing the lead role in
the opera
Tristan and Isolde is in nearly perfect voice. The
orchestra sounds excellent, as well, at least to mere mortals. The
company seems ready to move downstairs into the theater's
magnificent gilded auditorium - which harks back to the glory days
when Catherine the Great ruled this imperial city and the rest of
the Russian Empire - to play before another packed house.
But
Valery Gergiev, the dark-haired conductor on the small rostrum,
is not content. He claps his hands overhead, signaling the
orchestra to stop. In a soft voice, he suggests to the violinists
that they sound like cows. Their sound is too noisy, too jumbled,
and they must play each note with more precision, so that they
sound separate and distinct. Making a slight clucking noise
designed to mimic a violin, he indicates the rhythm he seeks.
"I want more sharpness, more quality," he says gently, with no
trace of rancor or condescension, then gives the signal for them to
start again. The orchestra seems to soar, then blends perfectly
with the soprano's voice, thrilling the handful of visitors. But a
few minutes later, the conductor halts them again and makes the
same point in a different way, trying to nudge the players to a
higher plane. He is patiently looking for a sound of transcendent
beauty.
This is the Valery Gergiev the world rarely sees. He is most often
observed on center stage in New York,
London, and
Paris, wearing
black tails and receiving standing ovations, rather than wearing
unpressed slacks and a casual black shirt in a rehearsal space far
from the public eye. Gergiev - principal guest conductor of New
York's Metropolitan Opera and set to become the principal conductor
of the London Symphony Orchestra in 2007 - has been proclaimed "the
greatest conductor alive" by critics at the
Times of London
and elsewhere.