Interview with conductor Ondrej Lenárd

Do you remember the first time you conducted one of Mahler’s symphonies?

Of course. The first time I conducted Mahler was in 1988. I’ve got to admit that until that time I hadn’t managed to really take in Mahler’s music, to understand it. Later I realised what an ignoramus I’d been, because after 1988 I was completely overpowered by Mahler. I’m normally 183 centimetres tall, but when I’m conducting Mahler I must be 190. It’s music which probably says more to us at an older age, when we’ve gone through life experiences and are able to appreciate its boundless riches. By the way, I’m glad I didn’t start with Mahler earlier, as it would no doubt have been very superficial. And doing Mahler superficially is a great sin.

Thank you for your candour! What do you value most in the Third Symphony?

That’s like asking me whether I prefer Verdi or Puccini! All of his symphonies are a chronicle, a scenario that we can’t fully lay bare. I play some passages from Mahler’s symphonies in difficult moments, when I’m at my lowest. It’s interesting that this nostalgic, even nerve-wracking music, which can bring us to tears, can cure lethargy and depression. Take the closing part of the Third, which is being performed today. It’s…I can’t even explain what I feel. But that’s nice. If we could put our feelings in concrete terms, we’d arrive at programme music. But music is beautiful just because it allows us all freely to think, feel, be moved, and form our own interpretations. The finale of the Third always arouses in me feelings of absolute modesty, confession. As if we were crying on somebody’s shoulder…It does us good, it relieves stress. The children’s choir in the fourth part are like fluttering angels. And the beautiful mezzo-soprano solo takes us to a world that everybody would envy us.

I had expected that as a nature lover you would emphasise just that aspect of the Third. But now I understand that you avoid the programme direction and allow yourself to be completely transported by the music.

Maybe this will surprise you a lot, but every time I hear the Third Symphony again I have conflicting feelings. I can’t say where I am. For instance, a passage begins with the typical Marcia funebre; one time it transports my thoughts to a cemetery, another time to blissful paradise. Because we all have to die. It’s hard for me to speak about it, but in any case I find this music immensely fulfilling. I feel like I’m getting an infusion, the music flows into me through the drip and I’m replenished.

From next season you will head the Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra as principal director. What plans to you have for the position?

Let me be a little blunt. I can’t stand it when many so-called bosses answer such questions by quickly spewing forth various ideas they’ve thought up – in the process somewhat insulting the collective concerned. I am merely taking the baton from my predecessor. I’m taking over the ensign after somebody who has done a huge amount of work – conductor Válek, who is my friend. That’s all! I have to continue in the high-quality work that the orchestra has been doing for decades. I’ve known the PRSO a long time – we first met in 1972 and immediately got on. When this opportunity arose I jumped at it, even taking into account my age, like a fish going for a hook. With great joy and, I admit, a certain satisfaction. Because I regard it as one of the best orchestras. It takes in new members amazingly well, it has huge potential, excellent quality, and technically skilled individual players. It’s a great joy for a conductor to work with an orchestra, which – as we musicians say – plays like six diesel engines.

Could you tell our season-ticket holders how you actually became a conductor?

Oh my. Give me a few moments…What’s interesting is that as a small boy I never thought about music. I come from a village and never came into contact with culture. One time my father took me to the cinema to see the film Eroica. It was then, at 14, that I first saw the story of a genius, a word I hadn’t known until that moment. Beethoven was portrayed so vividly in the movie that I was completely dumbstruck. I was overcome with powerful impressions. My dad was a joiner, so I immediately asked him: “Daddy, could you make me a conductor’s stick?” Soon after I went to buy some sheet music, even though I didn’t know what that was. I chose Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto in B Minor, put the sheet music on the table, put the record on, and started conducting! It was a sudden decision, because I was self-taught. Only later did I go to music school. Many people tried to dissuade me from joining what they called circus types, they said I’d never make a living from music. Even now, I wouldn’t decide differently.

So you like the music life?

Just two days ago, after a performance of Turandot, I met an Italian at the Slovak National Theatre’s opera. We were sitting at dinner and he suddenly asked me: “Ondrej, are you in love with music?” I could only confirm that was the case.

Allow me to move on from music and ask what – apart from music – is the love of your life?

You’re really putting me on the spot! Well, in first place I would say my garden. I’m currently preparing tomato and pepper seedlings. Of course I really love to cook. Cooking is a form of relaxation that to a certain extent helps me to drive the “music gnats” out of my mind. I’m chopping onions and occasionally I cut myself, because there’s constant music in my head. It’s there all the time, even if I take sleeping pills. Nature is my great interest. Contact with it constantly reminds us of our place on earth. Soil smells wonderful to me – I regard it as a symbol of birth and the essence of life.