An Interview With Cellist Marc Johnson

For thirty-five years cellist Marc Johnson performed with the renowned Vermeer Quartet. The Quartet appeared regularly in the world’s musical capitals on five continents and made extensive tours yearly in Europe and North America. Their recordings gathered critical acclaim on both sides of the Atlantic, and included a version of the complete Beethoven string quartets on the Teldec label.  Mr. Johnson continues to pursue an active career since the Quartet’s retirement in 2007, appearing in recitals and as a soloist with orchestras in North America and Europe.   He was also awarded the Chevalier du Violoncelle by the Eva Janzer Cello Center at Indiana University. His cello is a fine, old Italian instrument made c. 1730 by Francesco Stradivarius. He lives in Cushing, Maine, with his wife, two absurdly large dogs, and a sarcastic parrot.

Marc Johnson will be performing at the Norfolk Festival on Friday, July 24, at 8pm.

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When you are away touring, do you bring anything special with you to remind you of home?

I bring wallet-sized photos of my wife and daughters and 4 or 5 of my grandson Sebastian (who just turned 4). I’m a notoriously light traveler, especially when flying, so anything else I have with me is strictly utilitarian.

Are there any “good-luck” rituals that you observe while one the road?

I’m not a very superstitious person, but especially in a new venue, I always walk from the hotel to the concert hall earlier in the day so that I won’t get lost on the way to hall.

Aside from your instrument, what do you have in your instrument case?

Two bows (I would rather have three, but my current case only accommodates two), 2 extra sets of strings, rosin, and scotch tape (I was always the scotch tape guy in the Vermeer Quartet and haven’t gotten out of the habit). I keep music, reading glasses, pencils, sometimes a metronome/tuner, itineraries, etc in a separate briefcase that I carry with me.

When you fly what do you like to read? How do you pass the time?

The rule for books when flying is: paperbacks only; no hardback or oversized books. I mostly read mystery/suspense novels when flying because they take a minimum of brainpower and fill gobs of time. I also buy a New York Times every day and do the crossword puzzle. I lately started to do Sudoku but am not particularly gifted at it.

What are the top five most played songs on your Ipod?

The only Ipod I own spends most of its time in a desk drawer at Boston University and only comes out as a teaching tool. If I had a personal Ipod, I wouldn’t have a top 5 list – I would have a top 500 list, the vast majority of which would be chamber and orchestral music.

What is a favorite non-musical past time?

Gardening. Since I have no talent whatsoever in the visual arts, this is about the only way that I can create something that is pleasant and satisfying to look at. It’s also important to me to be involved in something which is less ephemeral than music. A concert, once it has been played, is gone forever. A rhododendron planted today will be there tomorrow morning when you walk out the door.

What is your favorite concert hall (aside from the Music Shed of course) to play in and why? And it doesn’t have to be for a musical reason.

There are great concert halls all over the world, but the one that pops most readily to mind is Kioi Hall in Tokyo. It’s relatively new but is acoustically magnificent and visually stunning. The Vermeer Quartet played its last Beethoven cycle there and it certainly was one of the highlights of my entire performing career.

What does it feel like right before you walk onto the stage? What runs through your mind?

The last moments before walking on stage are a matter of trying to find the right balance between being focused and being relaxed. If I’m feeling uptight, I like to joke with my colleagues; if I’m feeling scattered, I like to go off by myself and focus on the first few bars of music that I’m about to play.

Is there a work that brings to mind a particularly happy memory? For instance, is there a piece that made you want to play your chosen instrument, or one that always reminds you of home or a favorite place? Would you share the work and the memory?

At the age of 8 or 9, shortly after I had begun to play the cello, I went to hear Leonard Rose play the Dvořák Cello Concerto with the local symphony orchestra. I was not unfamiliar with the piece, but the live performance of it awed me with its beauty and its presence. After the concert, my teacher arranged for me to go backstage and meet Rose. I was honored that he asked me to hold his cello while he signed an autograph for me. While I didn’t make a conscious decision to become a professional cellist until 4 or 5 years later, I think it was that evening that planted the seed for me.

Everyone dislikes as least one thing about their profession. Aside from being away from loved ones and home, what is your least favorite part about being a musician?

Traveling with a cello. It has become more and more difficult over the years to fly with the cello – I find myself tempted these days to drive seven or eight hundred miles rather than go through the cello airport dance.

What is your favorite piece music and why?

Probably Beethoven String Quartet Op. 131. After spending 35 years playing string quartets, I found no other piece that is as consistently satisfying and revealing as this great masterpiece. We chose it to be the final piece on our final concert because it epitomizes Beethoven’s ability to express his deepest inner nature through the voices of only four instruments.

Is there a work in which your interpretation has changed over the years? What has prompted this re-interpretation?

I would hope that my interpretation of everything has changed over the years. There’s not much point in returning to a work over and over again unless there’s some hope of finding a new perspective on its performance. A lot of things can go into the process: working on a piece with a new colleague or guest artist; hearing someone else’s inspiring performance of the work; personal experience or study of either the work itself or of other works by the same composer or from the same period; new editions or scholarship; etc, etc. If one’s interpretation of any piece stagnates, it’s probably time to put it away for a while and come back to it after the world has turned on its axis a few times.

When you perform, what do try to communicate to the listener?

I feel that it’s my job as a performer to be an honest go-between linking the composer and the listener. The first part of the job is to try to understand as precisely as possible what the composer meant to say, both intellectually and emotionally. The second part is to offer this knowledge to the listener in a way that is as clear and as vivid as possible. Anything else is window dressing.

Is there anything about the way classical music is presented to the world that you would like to see change or evolve?

The children are the key. But the old-fashioned children’s concert where a bunch of kids are brought on a bus to hear the local orchestra play and then sent home without further comment or follow-up, is decidedly not the answer. Studies have shown that, aside from level of income and level of education, the two biggest factors in predicting whether a child will become an adult concertgoer, are: 1. The number of years private study of an instrument and 2. The regularity of concert attendance in the company of a parent or other family member. Therefore I think that the success of building future audiences for classical music depends on the success of our community music schools and the ability of performing organizations to bring parents into the concert hall along with their children.

Often we hear people say that they don’t listen to classical music or go to classical music concerts for fear of not “knowing anything about it” or “understanding it.” How would you respond to them?

It doesn’t matter whether it’s classical music, art, baseball, algebra… We all start our exploration of any field knowing nothing. So, I would ask this hypothetical person what it is they do love and how they came to love it starting from the point of knowing nothing about it. Also, don’t sweat it too much. There won’t be a test and therefore there won’t be any wrong answers.

For that same group of people, what three or for works would you recommend as an introduction to the genre, and why?

I think that it’s more likely that one can find some connection to a truly great work of art than that one can find that same connection to a lesser work. Therefore, my inclination would be to recommend to someone that they sit down and listen at least 10 times to something like Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Mahler’s Second, Bach’s Fifth Brandenburg Concerto or something similar. Listening to a Clementi Sonatina just because it’s short and palatable isn’t going to get someone to cross over to the other side.

And finally, for the all the Fantasy Baseball players out there, if you could play in an ensemble with anyone, living or dead, no matter what the instrument (classical, rock or even zydeco) whom would you choose and why?

I guess for me it would have to be Pablo Casals. He was the first modern master of my instrument and a musician of deep convictions. I can’t but think that a little bit would rub off on anyone who sat and played with him for a while.