One of the most important opera composers of the last century, Aribert Reimann, died last month in Berlin. He was 88 years old.
Reimann was 9 years old when he experienced the bombing of Berlin in 1945. Traumatized by that experience, he once walked out of an opera performance as an 11-year-old: during the war scene in Hindemith's "Mathis der Maler," set pieces fell down burning; he couldn't handle that much war memory. Human suffering and pain, disruption of human communication are the central themes in his work, complemented by existential loneliness.
Society plays an important role in your "Gespenstersonate", not to mention the parable of "Troades". Does music have a political message for you, a political function?
Everything you write has a political function as long as it is congruent with the things of our time. I only have something against politics in art if it is served up on a silver platter in too ideological a manner. Then art is deprived of its freedom. It was important for me to write Troades because my childhood consisted of war, flight and bombs. I had to write that out of myself and also write it away a little. That helped me a lot.
Emil Nolde once noted "My thinking works slower than my creative talent". Is it the same for you?
You always wait for the moment when it drives you. That takes a while. With Das Schloss, for example, it actually took a very long time. When the moment comes, you no longer have the piece in your hands, but the piece has you in its hands.
Do you stimulate this point when there is a deadline for submitting the score?
I can only hope, not stimulate. When I start a piece, I always have to know the end. I can't start before that. I have to have an arc. It doesn't matter whether it's absolute music or an opera. It has nothing to do with whether the text is self-contained. It doesn't have to be an arc in the sense of harmony.
Do you change much once the piece is printed? Do you react to criticism of your work?
Changes are usually no longer possible before the premiere. When a new piece is finished, you naturally react particularly sensitively to criticism. Every time I say to myself: now I won't read any more reviews. Ponnelle advised me to do just that 20 years ago. You have to sort things out: there are critics from whom I expect something, and if they criticize, then I know they're right. But there are few of them. Unfortunately, there are many where you know after just two sentences that they haven't understood anything. When someone says "get rid of it!", I always console myself with the thought: "If they thought it was good, then I would probably have made a big mistake." But regardless of criticism, I'm still not entirely happy with the end of the first part of Lear, for example.
Why don't you change it?
The piece was written almost twenty years ago. I'm someone completely different today. And you can't cut back on development.
Keyword development: you could never do much with the dogmas from Darmstadt, which dominated the new music scene in your early days, could you?
Everything fashionable is very suspicious to me. Blacher always told me: "You shouldn't be interested in what happens at music festivals. Stick to what's written on the side, not these ghetto concerts." They are very much subject to fashion. I was in Darmstadt for the first time in 1956, and when I left I had a bad feeling. Afterwards I tried to compose exactly as they did and immediately realized: now I'm pretending to be something that I'm not. But I learned a lot from this negative experience.
Robert Schumann was a very important composer for your development. Why?
Because he is very close to me in the way he expresses himself musically, in the way he brings polyphony to life. With him, even the tiniest of secondary voices has tremendously strong expressive content. It is a completely different polyphony to that of Bach, for example. I always come back to Schumann.
The human voice is at the root of your composing. A crucial means of expression.
I grew up with singing lessons. My mother was a singing teacher, and I've been listening to vocal exercises for as long as I can remember. Later, I sang in the cathedral choir. But I always try to counteract these influences a little. After an opera, I first want to write pieces without voice. It's dangerous to think only in terms of voice or text.
You once said that the virtuoso voice-leading cultivated by Mozart and Verdi has received little attention in our century. With the exception of Marie in Die Soldaten and Lulu. Can you clarify that?
I can't write for voices I don't know. That's why I can't give a general answer. Through my second profession as a song accompanist, I had a lot to do with singers and was always very inspired by them. There were singers who almost wrote things out of me. Fischer-Dieskau in particular, of course. As far as virtuosity is concerned, if I hadn't known Catherine Gayer since my student days, I wouldn't have been able to write Melusine. And without Doris Soffel, the Cassandra in Troades would certainly have been very different.
Your fellow student under Boris Blacher, Giselher Klebe, once said that he always thinks about the audience when composing. How is that with you?
I couldn't do that at all. Who is the audience? It's made up of so many layers. Sometimes I think of a counterpart when I write. That's about it. But if I thought about how it would work when I was composing, then I would make concessions.
All your operas to date have been conceived for very traditional opera houses. Do you make any concessions in this regard?
With a chamber opera, you can go anywhere. I got to know the most wonderful spaces through the Gespenstersonate, for example. But if you have an opera with a large orchestra, it's a completely different story. It has to sound good! What do you hear from the singers in a factory hall with a large orchestra? So it starts with very practical aspects. In addition, the architectural anachronism, for example between the Bavarian State Opera and the music of today, doesn't bother me at all. I even found it particularly exciting with Lear. Opera houses are not built for a particular style. I believe in the future of opera houses, just as I believe in the future of opera.
This is a successful composer speaking. Your operas are performed at theaters of all sizes. Your Lear was even included in the dtv opera guide for children. Are you also a sales strategist for your music?
No, not at all. I have no talent for that. It sounds stupid now, but : it always turns out that way. Things have always been brought to me. The publishers take care of the continuation of the pieces anyway. I have nothing to do with that. I also don't have an agency like some other composers.
Let's move on to your second profession: song accompanist Reimann. Singers and conductors repeatedly attest to your phenomenal skills on the piano. Why didn't you become a solo pianist?
If you want to make it as a solo pianist in today's insanely competitive world, you have to get on this track very early on. Then the day really only consists of practicing, and I wouldn't have been able to compose alongside that. That's why I was never interested in it. My mother's students got me into accompanying at the age of 13. My mother always said: "Find a second profession. You won't be able to make a living from composing for the first 20 years." She was absolutely right.
Your work with Fischer Diskau is documented on record. What did the encounter with Elisabeth Grümmer mean to you?
We traveled together from 1961 to '69. Rehearsals were few because Hugo Diez always prepared her excellently. What happened in the evening was always a new artistic event. You were really sucked in by her. Her voice was never in the foreground. Every word, every nuance, every phrasing was felt and fulfilled.
How would you describe her secret?
Her secret was, quite simply, that she started singing very late. She had her first singing lesson at 25 and only made her first stage appearance as a singer at 30. Her voice was in no way used up; she had retained her youthfulness. This voice radiated such warmth that it was always difficult for me as an accompanist to switch to other voices afterwards.
Your teacher Boris Blacher had the ability to bring out the individual, the very personal in every student. Does this task appeal to you in your pedagogical work?
I started introducing young singers and later pianists to new music 20 years ago. And I still notice today that there is a huge gap in the training. New music is played at universities, but rarely sung. The prejudices of many singing teachers, who are still of the opinion that "new music spoils the voice", contribute to this. There is something wrong with our century when composers such as Schönberg and Webern (I'll leave Berg out of the equation) are still shunned because they supposedly ruin the voice! I recently experienced the pinnacle of this when two of my singers were accused at the competition in s'Hertogenbosch of also singing New Music and naming me as their teacher in their biographies. Isn't it outrageous that a singer at the end of this century is not allowed to mention that he sings new music? Many singers find their personality through new music in the first place, that's quite natural. After all, it is the music of their time. The other stuff is an imposed museum! And by dealing with new music, you then get a completely different approach to Mozart and Schubert.
Stendhal once said that caution is the death of music. What role does caution play when you work with young voices?
I make sure that the students don't hurt themselves when they first encounter new music. I would never demand something that a voice cannot yet fulfill. On the other hand, what Stendhal said is exactly right. A singer must also realize when he reaches his limits, because only then can these limits expand. Provided you handle it carefully.