Monday, March 24, 2025

Excerpts from AMC interview with Maestro Vasily Petrenko

 

AMC:  You left Oslo for the Russian State Academic orchestra?

Vasily Petrenko:

I left Oslo for the Russian State Academic Orchestra in Moscow—the former Svetlanov Orchestra—and things were going exceptionally well for about two years. We had a full schedule of programs, ambitious plans, and numerous tours. Then, however, the situation took a turn for the worse, and I couldn’t see myself continuing there at that time.

Like millions of others, I have deep personal ties to the region. My father still lives in St. Petersburg, and although my mother passed away eight or nine years ago, her family remains in Kiev. Many families have relatives on both sides of the border and the conflict, which makes this a very difficult choice. We still keep in touch, exchanging letters and messages regularly. But unfortunately, I was forced to leave the Moscow orchestra.

When asked if there’s any chance I could return to Russia, my Vasily Petrenko is an unequivocal yes. I feel it’s my duty to go back and help revive our cultural life when the war is over. It’s the public that suffers the most—most artists and renowned performers are absent, and most Russians can’t travel abroad to experience concerts. We have an obligation, once peace returns, to restore our cultural heritage. Culture has the power to unite us; it bridges divides and is at the very core of society. When we appreciate and understand each other’s cultural roots, we connect on a deeper level.

I believe this responsibility isn’t limited to Russia—it’s also a fundamental task for Europe. Our continent is home to many nationalities, immigrants, and refugees. The shared European culture serves as an anchor that unites all these diverse elements, even if not every politician sees its value. The same principle applies in Russia—but only once the guns have finally fallen silent.

AMC: Do you usually conduct from the score?

Vasily Petrenko:
Yes, I almost always conduct from the score. There are two main reasons—even if I know the music by heart. First, sometimes the score is enormous—50 or 60 pages long. Early in my career, I asked the musicians whether they preferred a conductor who used the score or one who didn’t, and they told me that not using it adds extra pressure. Besides having to keep track of every note, they worry about what might happen if I forget something. I don’t want to add that extra stress on them. Second, even if you know the music inside and out, it’s nearly impossible to remember all the rehearsal numbers, cues, and bar numbers. In those rare moments when something unexpected happens on stage, the score lets me quickly indicate where to restart. Relying solely on memory just wouldn’t work.

AMC: When you’re conducting during a performance—not during a rehearsal—does your brain work on it consciously, or does it happen on a subconscious level? What’s going on in your head?

Vasily Petrenko:
Conducting is like living in three time dimensions at once. First, there’s the inner music I hear in my mind—whether I’m reading the score or have it memorized. Then I have to translate that inner sound into gestures for the orchestra. But by the time they respond, there’s a slight delay—a millisecond or so—between what I intend and what you actually hear. Almost invariably, the orchestra’s response is a bit different from what I imagined, and that’s perfectly natural because they’re the ones playing. Finally, my hands and mind work together to bridge that gap in real time. In short, you’re juggling several layers of time during a performance, and you have to be fully engaged at all times. It’s also a balance: you need to control things well enough to prevent mistakes, but you also have to let the music breathe emotionally rather than making everything overly technical. Even when I conduct something as familiar as Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto—which I’ve performed about 25 times around the world—I make sure my mind stays completely in the moment, avoiding distractions like thinking about dinner.

AMC: After a performance, do you ever let criticism—like someone saying the second movement was too fast or too slow—affect you?

Vasily Petrenko:
Not really. As performers, we know our work better than anyone else because we experience it from the inside. It’s important to be confident, but also to remain respectful. I have immense respect for every musician in the orchestra—they play at a level I could never match, no matter how long I study. I’ve tried playing many instruments, but nothing compares to the mastery of a professional. A baton doesn’t make a sound; it’s the musicians who do. My role is to help them bring out their best, both individually and as a group, and to honor the composer’s vision. I always show that respect, regardless of how confident I feel. I remember once, when I was young, I asked Sir Georg Szolti for advice during a rehearsal with the St. Petersburg Philharmonic. He simply said, “I hope music always remains your hobby.” And he was right—music should always be a passion. Once it becomes just a job, you risk losing that creative spark.

 AMC:  How important is curiosity for a musician?

Vasily Petrenko:
Curiosity is essential, especially for orchestral musicians. It’s easy to become set in your ways after playing the same repertoire for 15 or 20 years. But exploring new pieces or rediscovering familiar ones from fresh angles keeps you vibrant and inspired. Personally, I love to listen and discover—even today, with just a couple of clicks, you can access countless recordings of any piece.

AMC: Do you notice differences in sound between orchestras—for example, between those in Liverpool, Oslo, and the Royal Philharmonic?

Vasily Petrenko:
Absolutely. There are definite differences, particularly between British and Norwegian orchestras. In my experience, each orchestra reflects the spirit of its home. The approach in Oslo is quite different from that in Britain, and that affects how the music is interpreted. That said, having worked with all of them, I also see many similarities.

 

 

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