"I believe so, but at first he must know. He must know in which spirit Beethoven has composed this piece. He must try to study that. And he must find out in which station of life of Beethoven he did"
About this Quote
Masur isn’t offering a genteel reminder to “feel the music.” He’s laying down a moral requirement for interpretation: permission comes after knowledge. The double insistence - “He must know. He must know” - is the sound of a conductor pushing back against a modern temptation to treat masterpieces like neutral content, infinitely customizable to the performer’s brand. For Masur, Beethoven is not a mood board; he’s a lived human situation with stakes.
The key phrase is “in which spirit.” That’s not mysticism so much as discipline: the interpreter has to reconstruct a work’s inner weather - its anger, defiance, grief, comedy, or radical hope - and resist the lazy shortcut of importing their own. Masur’s language also betrays an old-world musician’s suspicion of virtuosity unmoored from context. You can play the notes and still miss the point.
Then comes the almost awkward, beautiful detail: “in which station of life of Beethoven.” He’s insisting on biography not as gossip, but as a map of necessity. Beethoven writing as a young firebrand is different from Beethoven writing while increasingly deaf, politically disillusioned, or spiritually cornered. Masur implies that tempo, articulation, even the size of a crescendo should be answers to questions about circumstance: what did Beethoven need this music to do at that moment?
Subtext: fidelity is creative. The performer’s freedom isn’t erased; it’s earned by doing the hard work of empathy, scholarship, and historical imagination. Masur makes interpretation sound like an ethical encounter with another mind, not a solo sport.
The key phrase is “in which spirit.” That’s not mysticism so much as discipline: the interpreter has to reconstruct a work’s inner weather - its anger, defiance, grief, comedy, or radical hope - and resist the lazy shortcut of importing their own. Masur’s language also betrays an old-world musician’s suspicion of virtuosity unmoored from context. You can play the notes and still miss the point.
Then comes the almost awkward, beautiful detail: “in which station of life of Beethoven.” He’s insisting on biography not as gossip, but as a map of necessity. Beethoven writing as a young firebrand is different from Beethoven writing while increasingly deaf, politically disillusioned, or spiritually cornered. Masur implies that tempo, articulation, even the size of a crescendo should be answers to questions about circumstance: what did Beethoven need this music to do at that moment?
Subtext: fidelity is creative. The performer’s freedom isn’t erased; it’s earned by doing the hard work of empathy, scholarship, and historical imagination. Masur makes interpretation sound like an ethical encounter with another mind, not a solo sport.
Quote Details
| Topic | Music |
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