In this corner of the music instrument room, surrounded by a maze of open instrument cases and trunks, and in the company of a random assortment of coats, shoes, and scooters, it’s surprisingly calm. The humming of cars outside mingles with the sounds of the orchestra over the speakers, the occasional announcement from a mysterious female voice calling singers to the stage, and the shuffling of the singers’ footsteps as they walk—in full costume—past the door. It is an interesting combination of different sound worlds.
It’s my fifth day (of seven) in Vienna and the orchestra’s third day rehearsing in the pit here at Theater an der Wien. The musicians are here for three weeks to play the first of the two Berg operas, Wozzeck, for the Wiener Festwochen; in June, they will return to perform Lulu. This is my third project with the orchestra, and things are very different every time. New faces and personalities, music, environments, and challenges: you really are kept on your toes, and I quite like it.
On Sunday, right at the beginning of rehearsal, those of us who were looking down from above had a good laugh about how, from the audience, the musicians looked like unhappy sardines packed into the pit. They barely fit! With a few re-arrangements—part of the percussion section now sits in one of the boxes above the pit, and the celesta has switched places with the trumpets, trombones, and tuba—things seem to be working out better. After much delay, some of the plexiglass screens for the brass and percussion have finally arrived, and the rest will come this afternoon. The first run-through will happen after the lunch break, and although I have only seen (and heard) snippets of rehearsals, it is evident that the opera is coming together.
In many ways, coming to Vienna is almost like going home. As a music student, I studied here for a semester in the spring of 2008, and it’s comforting to return to a place that feels so familiar. Even after having lived in Hong Kong, New York, Düsseldorf, and now Berlin, I somehow never acquired even the faintest sense of direction. To navigate this city without a map is, for me, a mini triumph.
The Vienna of my semester abroad two years ago consisted of countless hours of music-making, standing for five-hour-long operas at the Staatsoper (and coming up with survival techniques: essential), fighting with old but aggressive ladies at the Musikverein for the best standing room spots, determining the best Sachertorte and Melange combination, weaving through crowds at the flea market on sleepy Saturday mornings, and finding moments of calm in the many museums of the city (the Breugel room in the Kunsthistorisches Museum is my favorite).
This time around, it’s about which restaurant at the Naschmarkt to go to for a good, but quick, bite to eat between rehearsals, or what to order at ra’mein—our quasi-cafeteria—on Gumpendorferstrasse (chicken and ginger is my rice bowl of choice). Of equal importance is where the closest internet café can be found (Phil, our makeshift office, where we even have a couch that we have claimed our own), and the shortest distance between Theater an der Wien and the copy shop on the Ring.
And the little things about the theatre, of course: the cheerful man whose hearty Servus! greets us at the artist’s entrance has everything that we would ever need, and it is much faster to get to the other side of the pit from the house than to sprint up and down flights of stairs backstage. The best spot and time to catch the musicians is by the door right before the break, and not in the hallway at the end of rehearsal when everybody comes through with their instruments. That, I learned the hard way, causes traffic jams.
You see, there is quite a lot of truth to the saying that you never experience a city the same way twice.
There is always a flurry of activity here regardless of the time of day. Music always needs to be distributed and contracts need to be signed; we are always putting together lists, noting down questions or concerns, and handing out transportation passes, backstage badges, and per diem envelopes, which is really the quickest way to learn everybody’s names. Sometimes, cases of water need to be run from the smoker’s room backstage to the other side of the pit even as the orchestra starts to tune (with practice, it is indeed doable), and once rehearsal resumes, preparations for upcoming projects are again underway.
We are also in the final stages of putting together everything for the second violin auditions, which will take place on Thursday. At the moment, we are expecting around 70 people to show up, although the numbers will still change between now and then. The voting and information sheets, summaries of the applicants’ resumes, signs and lists are all ready to go, and we will buy some food and water tomorrow to sustain the panel throughout the day. It will be a long one for many of them: the auditions will begin at 9 am and go until the evening, and the General Rehearsal will happen shortly after that. It has been quite a process of sorting through applications, corresponding with applicants, and getting everything ready. Anything can happen, but I’m ready for it. It will be exciting to finally meet all the musicians and match faces to the names of people to whom I have been writing over the past few months.
Despite all the work that takes place here backstage, we’ve had plenty of memorable opera-related moments too. Regardless of whether we are here or in the theatre, we will keep our ears open for the ethereal trombone passage in the first act. As though on cue, we will burst into laughter upon hearing ‘helli, hello…helli, hello’ from the chorus, and sing along as it is repeated for too many times to count. The same goes for the line ‘Margret, du bist so heiß!’: the full name of our Project Manager for this project, Maggie, is Margaret, and that reference is just too inviting to pass up. And if we happen to be in the house for the scene in the third act with the male members of the chorus lying down in a circle, facing up, and humming like monks, the expressions on some of the musicians’ faces in the pit are always priceless.
It’s so wonderful to be here with the orchestra: in many ways, it’s a perfect collision of my two worlds. In the past few days, I have traded conversations with new acquaintances and reconnected with old ones, shared many moments of laughter, and exchanged bright ‘good morning, how are you’s despite the early hours. One of the best things about being on tour with the MCO is the opportunity to witness, every day, the coming together of musicians from different backgrounds and their undying zeal for making thoughtful music as a group. Not to mention musical discoveries (Wozzeck is really much better the second time around) and many interesting life stories (or just plain funny ones): this experience, as a whole, is very inspiring. A friend once remarked that it is almost a pre-requisite for a musician who plays with the MCO to have a personality that contributes to the unique—and rich—fabric of characters that make the orchestra what it is. I agree, and I wouldn’t have been happier anywhere else, with anybody else.
To borrow from one of Phil’s signature breakfasts: in all honesty, this really does Philgood.
