Adam Fischer is a prominent Hungarian conductor, born in 1949. I have done a Q&A with him: here. Fischer is a sharp and candid man. Sharp and candid makes for an excellent interviewee.
At the beginning of our conversation, we talk about a particular genre of music — of musical theater, actually: opera seria. I say to him, “You know, maestro, a lot of people find opera seria a little . . . boring.”
“Oh!” he responds. “Yes, yes. It’s our fault. The conductor’s fault and the musicians’ fault.” Then he says, “Look, have you got five minutes and I can explain?” Explain he does. Wonderful conversationalist and explainer.
Fischer was brought up in Budapest. He went to his first orchestral concert when he was five. On the program was the “Surprise” Symphony (Haydn). His father, a musician, explained what the surprise would be: The second movement, Andante, would start soft and dainty, and then there’d be a Boom! When the Boom! came, Adam thought it had not been loud enough.
That’s typical of a child, Fischer observes. (Maybe in particular of a boy.)
He and his father went backstage afterward to talk with the conductor. The child asked why the surprise had not been louder. The conductor gave an explanation. The child was not quite convinced. The conductor said to him, “Maybe you will become a conductor, and then you can make the surprise as loud as you want.”
Adam Fischer, incidentally, has concentrated on Haydn, among other composers.
He studied with two of the greatest teachers of conducting of the 20th century: Hans Swarowsky and Franco Ferrara. So did his brother, Ivan Fischer, another leading conductor. About those two teachers — so different from each other — Adam has very interesting things to say.
Who were his favorite conductors, by the way? Fischer names Toscanini, Klemperer, and Walter. And — in his words — “Carlos Kleiber, of course.”
Over the years, I have asked many, many conductors about conductors they admire. Almost all of them say “Carlos Kleiber,” and they say it as though it should be obvious.
“What did he have?” I ask Fischer — who begins his answer facetiously (somewhat): “He was the only conductor who said openly that he hated conducting.”
I once put a question to a prominent Hungarian (another one): “Why have there been so many Hungarian conductors and other musicians? Their number is way out of proportion to the population.” The man answered, “For the same reason we have had so many physicists and other scientists: We are blessed.”
In our interview, I tell this to Fischer — who sort of scoffs. Yes, he says, there have been many, many Hungarian conductors and other musicians, and many, many Hungarian physicists and other scientists. Hungarians are proud of them. But they should ponder the question: Why do virtually all of these guys leave the country, as soon as they can?
Bartók is Hungary’s greatest composer, probably. Fischer says that Bartók was never properly recognized in his homeland. In fact, at the academy, they did not allow him to teach composition. He taught piano.
Fischer is fascinating, and blunt, on everything he touches.
Toward the end of our conversation, I say, “You work in music. You spend all day long in your profession. Do you ever listen to music on recordings, just for yourself? Or is everything in your head?” He confides that he listens to a duet from Fierrabras (Schubert) over and over.
Again, our Q&A is here.