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By David Amos
 SAN DIEGO—As you may well know, I am deeply involved in conducting orchestras worldwide in commercial recordings of lesser known, new music, and talented soloists. While I strongly believe that there is nothing better than hearing music in a live performance, for a multitude of reasons, we have different standards of what we may accept in a concert hall versus a compact disc.
There are superstar conductors today who are sensational in a live concert, but fall flat in achieving significant sales in the recording industry, curiously, sometimes with the same musical works. Why?
A live concert implies many conditions that we take for granted. We dress up, take our narrow seats, pay a high price, accept as best as possible the acoustics given to us at the specific event, and enjoy. The emotions and expectations of the moment even neutralize some faults in the music, which are unavoidable in a live performance, such as wrong notes, occasional bad intonation, audience coughs, and other extraneous noises. We tolerate conditions which are far less than ideal; after all, it is a live concert, with a renowned orchestra, soloist, and/or conductor.
But in commercial recordings, we are conditioned not to overlook many of the factors mentioned above. After all, recordings are supposed to be nothing less than perfect. And that is the way it should be.
But, the creative process in recording sessions is quite different from what you hear in a concert, and even in the final version of a recorded performance. The approach to rehearse is totally different. In recording sessions, the procedure is not as simple as “rehearse the music, record it, and move on”. Many times, very small fractions of the music are recorded over and over again, until the desired perfection is achieved. And then, through the miracle of editing, which has evolved into digital wizardry in the last two decades, the results are impeccable. Most of the time, you can not possibly tell where the edit points are. One second of recorded music can be graphically projected on a screen and divided into thirty segments!
But, if you have been immersed in recordings as I have, and even if you have not, but know the particular piece of music intimately well, a few wrinkles reveal themselves. It is amusing to hear, and fun to catch, especially if you are not part of the project.
I have heard recordings by famous performers and labels where through editing mistakes, whole measures have been omitted. Recently, I heard on radio a work where in three spots, instead of the required four notes in succession, we heard only two or three. Again, mistakes in editing.
At times recording flaws can not be avoided, simply because time ran out during the recording sessions, and there was no additional budget for the orchestra to take more time to correct sloppy segments. Close or distant microphone placement can be a factor in hiding many sins, making less than great orchestras sound quite acceptable.
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There are some recordings which are proudly labeled “Live Performance." This may be true, but what is not announced is that at times, the same performers gather at the concert hall the next morning, with no audience and the same microphone setup from the previous night’s concert, and “patch up’ the spots that needed correction. They do a few “takes” of any rough playing from last night, and, voila! A perfect recording of a “live” concert. I have no objections to these hybrids, but they do slightly stretch the truth in advertising.
There is a curious recording of the monumental Concerto For Orchestra by Bela Bartók. The first movement is magnificent; the second, very good; the third shows strained sounds and less than perfect ensemble; the fourth is messy and unfocused, and the last is downright sloppy. What happened? Improper pacing of the recording sessions, and insufficient good material on tape to do the necessary corrections during editing.
Listen to the recordings of Herbert von Karajan. His early ones were the paragon of transparency and precision. The recordings of his last few years were frequently imprecise, loose, and at times bordering on lack of interest.
Some of the world class orchestras are a joy to rehearse and record. The musicians are alert, give the most of themselves, which is usually a lot, and precision is achieved fairly quickly. The artistry and focus of everyone has to be there from the beginning, or the entire exercise is futile. At the other end, there are some bargain-counter European orchestras which are far less efficient, but with sufficient recording and rehearsal time (which is usually allotted), and good attitudes, very nice results can be achieved.
Editing war stories are many; they could fill a whole, very entertaining book. I also have a few choice incidents from my own experiences. Here is a classic, wonderful story about editing which I heard many years ago, and was confirmed to me as true by London orchestral musicians. I will leave out the names:
In the 1950’s or 60’s, a famous conductor and pianist were recording the First Piano Concerto by Brahms, with a London orchestra. Things were not going well at the sessions. The pianist was playing more wrong notes than the right notes. Everyone involved had to endure the grueling task of recording practically every musical phrase of this magnificent masterpiece over, over, and over again, until there was a “take” that was acceptable which lent itself to editing. This time, money for the extra sessions needed was apparently not an issue.
After the sessions, producers and engineers took months to painstakingly and heroically go through the tapes second by second, doing miracles in the editing room. This was before the days of digital editing. Thousands of hours were devoted, but the final result was such an overwhelmingly gorgeous performance, that it is still regarded today as a classic.
Fast forward to the listening room, a few months later. Seated were the pianist, conductor, and all the exhausted engineering crew, listening to the absolutely perfect final result of the Brahms Concerto. The conductor turned toward the pianist and told him, “Don’t you wish you played like that”?
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