Alex Berti: The artist should be the pebble in the shoe of the politician

Bass player, Composer, Conductor and educator; Alex Berti Soteldo belongs to an extense heritage of Venezuelan musicians, amongst them Elisa Soteldo, Aldemaro Romero, Chucho Sanoja, Michael Berti, Salvador Soteldo, etc. Some of his most important contributions to music are the orchestral arrangements he did for Simon Diaz and Ruben Blades, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. I also took an opportunity to get his opinion on the current situation that Venezuela is going through, specifically in reference to the controversy that Dudamel has raised with his political neutrality.

Sitting in his living room after having lunch, he confesses: «My first instrument was the piano. The bass was always there on a corner in my house because my three uncles were bass players. Then one day when my grandmother’s piano arrived, I wanted to be a pianist. But then the piano had to be returned and never came back. My mother said «How much longer are you gonna wait? Aren’t you a musician?» and I said «I’m waiting for the piano», to which she replied «That piano’s not coming back… There’s the bass, though».

 

Almost everyone in your family is a musician. Tell us a bit about the influence that your family had in the development of music in Venezuela

There’s Aldemaro Romero, who brought to Venezuela musicians such as Astor Piazzola, Milton Nascimento, Michel Legrandt, etc, and invited them to play at the music festivals of the «Onda Nueva». We have my uncle Virgilito Soteldo, who was one of the first jazz pianists in Barquisimeto. There was my aunt Elisa Soteldo who worked in New York playing piano and singing. My uncle Rafael Horacio (who they called «El Guaro Viejo») along with Aldemaro Romero on the piano and the drummer – if I recall correctly – Alfonso Contramaestre, all three formed one of the first jazz trios there was in Venezuela.

Another thing I discovered recently reading an encyclopedia, is that my grandfather Rafael Soteldo founded the first music school there was in Barquisimeto, where I believe that Maestro Alirio Diaz was one of the students. This was in the early Twentieth Century.

In the forties in Venezuela, we had Luis Alfonzo Larrain and his orchestra – he had been married to my aunt – and he was the creator of the Society of Authors and Composers in Venezuela (SACVEN) Luis Alfonso had a terrific orchestra. He’s the author of themes such as «Quisiera» (A bolero-son) There was also the Chucho Sanoja orchestra, and the Billo Caracas Boys. Chucho is the father of my cousin Chuchito Jesus Sanoja. So then, my three uncles were participating as bass players in these emblematic ensembles in Caracas. I also remember there being a mosaic that Maestro Billo Frometa dedicated to my uncle Antonio Maria.

 

When did you begin playing in El Sistema’s Simon Bolivar Symphony Orchestra?

In 1979 I entered the Simon Bolivar Orchestra, where there was a line of bass players who I admired a lot, all of them older than me,. I remember we were rehearsing an extense repertoire, with pieces such as Bartok’s Concerto for Orchestra, Hindemith’s Metamorphosis, Brahm’s Fourth Symphony, etc. There was an exam and I was the only one who passed, already working with a salary and teaching younger students. Without realizing, at eighteen years old I was already conducting the Youth Orchestra of the Miranda State, and teaching bass lessons in the Conservatory of El Paraiso. I did this because in El Sistema, the idea is that as soon as you enter, you’re already teaching others, so that it’s like a stone that falls in a pond, making waves…. but these waves, instead of dissipating, gain more strength and individual power, and become stones themselves, thus generating new waves. It’s very beautiful. There may be dark things in El Sistema, but the good things are just as strong.

 

What impression did you have playing and studying at El Sistema’s Orchestra?

That was a beautiful experience, because I learned two very important values: One was the importance of colective work, and how to generate an altruist and magical way of thinking, which I experienced in many places, both in Latin America and Europe. The other thing I learned was to become a really reactionary person, in the sense that I had zero tolerance toward people who were benefiting in an unfair manner from El Sistema, in which just because they had certain close conections with Maestro Abreu, they could receive benefits that, at a musical level, they did not deserve.

 

Besides being a performer and composer, you’re also an orchestrator, and you’ve collaborated with musicians such as Dudamel and Ruben Blades. Who did you study orchestration with?

My way of studying orchestration was very particular because I tried, poorly, to study with Gonzalo Castellanos Yumar, Mastro Giovanni, Primo Casales…. but I was – I think I no longer am – a very difficult person. I didn’t have the vision to keep studying for a longer time. I don’t know… I don’t wanna blame myself completely, but I thought that we were going to be treated as individuals, as opposed to numbers, where we were all gonna be doing exactly the same thing. I thought that the way of teaching art was something else. That’s why I felt completely unsuited for the classes, because we needed to develop a certain basic knowledge so that then we could fly. But I wanted to fly already.

My way of orchestrating and composing comes from the analysis of the scores from the composers I admire. Also, I had the fortune of playing in an orchestra, so that I had direct experience with all these concepts. Playing in an orchestra made me feel like I was inside the vinyl record, spinning at thirty-three revolutions. And since I was the youngest player, my position set me in an almost intermediate point between the conductor and the rest of the orchestra. Back then, I was mostly interested in conducting and composing, but without realizing, I was also learning orchestration.

(José Antonio) Abreu was also a great teacher. The thing is I was constantly arguing with him. I showed him a string quartet that I wrote and he said: «Alexander, my dear, add a bass and orchestrate it, so that you can conduct it», and I got angry and said «No, Maestro, this was written for string quartet». I didn’t realize what it would have meant to orchestrate my quartet and conduct the Simon Bolivar Orchestra at twenty-one years of age. That would have launched my career, but I didn’t see that. But I guess it wasn’t my turn…

 

Tell us about your concert for clarinet

I wrote my clarinet concert in B flat for string orchestra in the year nineteen eighty -eight. This work has two cadenzas: the first one is based on harmonic changes, where the clarinet player has to improvise. The second cadenza is open: the orchestra stops playing and the clarinet player is left alone to improvise again. If the performer doesn’t know how to improvise, the idea is that I give them a written «improvisation» that I compose. Of course, there are improvisations that have had such great reception that I transcribe them to be used in future performances. But if the audience wants a new cadenza, I can write it for that specific concert, so that it has a certain freshness.

 

You did orchestral arrangements for Simon Diaz, which were conducted by Dudamel. What were the biggest challenges when writting these arrangements?

It was very hard for me to transcribe harp, cuatro, bass, maraca and voice in: first violins, second violins, cellos, bass, three flutes, three oboes, three bassoons, three clarinets, four trumpets, four trombones, tuba, percussion and choir. I instead tried to arrange, rather than orchestrate.

 

What’s the difference?

The difference is that when I arrange, I have more freedoms: I can change the harmony, the rhythms, etc. The «Tonada de Luna Llena» is an arrangement, where I changed lots of things. On the other hand, the «corridos» were copied with all the repetitions, and if you listen to it you may say «Wow… they’re gonna repeat that section again?» but the audience was singing and enjoying it, because they’re following the lyrics in their mind. So the idea was that if Maestro Simon Diaz was there singing along – which is what I did with the songs for Ruben Blades – there had been nothing modified. It would be like falling on your back and landing on top of an orchestra.

 

What compositions are you currently working on?

The first thing I’m going to do is write this cello concerto for my friend Miguel Rojas, who’s the first cellist of the Puerto Rico Symphony Orchestra. He has been waiting for that concert for years. Sadly, I had already begun writing it, but it ended up becoming the arrangement of «Por una Cabeza» by Gardel, which was performed by William Molina and the Orchestra of El Sistema. I also have in mind writing a concert for trumpet and orchestra, which I’ve been planning for over fifteen years.

 

You’ve been working as an educator for thirty-seven years. What’s the biggest challenge when it comes to teaching?

The biggest challenge is planting a seed in that human being, not of music, but of realizing that life has a beautiful meaning and that music is simply an element that I use to tell them that.

 

What has been your experience working with Gustavo Dudamel?

Extraordinary. Dudamel is a musician that has achieved what many others haven’t, like for instance conducting the New Year in Vienna, and also becoming the artistic director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. I can show you pictures that have been taken of us, where we’re both laughing because he’s telling me that my score looks like one from Mahler, because of the amount of instruments. And I’m telling him «Well, that’s what you asked me for. You wanted every instrumentalist to be playing all the time»

What amazes me is his ability to see things in the score that others haven’t, and the way he exploits these things. It’s remarkable to see how he processes all the information that he takes in, digests and then «boom». He’s very fluent. On every opportunity I’ve had to work with him, I never saw him get overwhelmed. And that says a lot.

 

As you know, Gustavo Dudamel is now a very controversial name after that famous episode in which he was giving a concert in the center of Caracas, while not far from there, a student that was protesting against the government was murdered. This tragic event put Dudamel in a crossroad where, in the eyes of many Venezuelans, he was in the obligation to take a political position. Dudamel has remained silent, but recently he posted a video in which he pleaded for dialogue amongst the political leaders. However, the reception amongst the majority of Venezuelas has been very negative, and many believe that he should adopt a more radical political posture. What is your personal opinion about this?

 

Dudamel remained silent, which to many people meant he had taken a position in favor of the Government. Due to this, a lot of people have aligned against him, while others support him. Which position do you take?

I think that taking advantage of the fallen tree to make wood is a very easy thing to do. The situation in Venezuela is something that angers all of us a lot, but there are many people who have taken advantage of that to appear on stage, like a lot of Venezuelans from the opposition did here (in Miami) because they realized that they had access to a space on the radio, the tv and the news… So due to that, they were very powerful opposers thanks to the income that they were receiving. And to speak badly of the Government of Venezuela is not a hard thing to do, because they (the Government) themselves already do it by opening their mouth. We have a country with a wealth as big as Saudit Arabia, but we’re as poor as Haiti, and that doesn’t make sense to me. This is something you can’t be neutral about. And all my friends from El Sistema forgive me, and I still love you, but it’s very immoral to go on tour in the conditions that they deserve, because they’re high level artists. They have to arrive to the best hotels and fly in the best airlines, and get paid very well. But if you offer me those things while being in Venezuela, I would say: Hold on, don’t give me that money for the first class ticket, the five stars hotel and the food. Instead, give it to the kid that needs to pay his dyalisis, or the person who’s standing in line in an oncologic clinic to pay his chemotherapy.

I would tell him «Gustavo…. yes, forgive me, but in this moment, we can’t be half-pregnant». Silence is consent. Not only remaining silent, but also, accepting lots of things. We can’t repeat history, especially knowing the experience that Karajan had with the third Reich, or Shostakovich and Prokofiev with the Soviets and Stalin. We can find other ways, and not repeat the same mistakes. What are we waiting for?

 

What would happen if Dudamel took a position against the Government?

I initially conceived the idea that for Gustavo it was way easier to not make any comments, because for him it would be very comfortable to say «Yeah, Chavism doesn’t work», and he can still keep conducting any orchestra in the world. But at the same time that he would take a political positicion, El Sistema would crumble completely. And perhaps on that point of view, I see that he would rather look bad and let people speak badly of him, and not destroy the only thing that works in Venezuela, which is El Sistema.

 

So, do you think Dudamel is doing the right thing by not directly attacking Chavism?

I respect his position because, how can you not respect each person’s decision? To each their own. But I would not take that position. Because yes, in Venezuela El Sistema works… but right now we need other things to work. Besides, we don’t need to go to Europe to keep doing what we do. They (El Sistema) should stay in Venezuela and donate that money to the people that need it, because they have no food.

I’ve always believed that no artist or citizen should be partnered with a politician. The artist should be the pebble in the shoe of the politician. The damage that El Sistema, led by Dudamel, could do to the government is huge.

 

In what sense should the artist be «the pebble in the shoe of the politician»?

All I’m saying is that we can’t be so complacent with politicians, just because we have some connections with the government. We are not republicans, nor democrats, nor socialists, etc. We are citizens. It’s the politicians the ones who should kneel to the artists, because they (the politicians) are probably doing something bad.

 

 

We know that there have always been artists who, regardless of their art, were individuals of a questionable moral. For instance, Wagner who was an antisemite and who, when he wasn’t composing, wrote essays against the Jews. Do you believe that one can execute and appreciate a work of music, even if the person who created it was someone immoral?

Perhaps an eighty-eight year old orthodox Jew who had been in Asuchwitz and who saw his family getting killed would say: «To me, that is Wagner», but this is a conditioning. I go a bit further than that. I know great musicians who when they play their instrument, make beautiful things inside of me vibrate, but as human beings they leave a lot to desire. I remember having met this musician and not being able to understand how a person who moved all these fibers inside of me, could at the same time be a person of such low morals.

I have always had the concept, perhaps mistaken, that we are a kind of translator of this cosmic, divine, universal energy. All human beings perceive this and when we create, we project that energy in some sort of way. Now, that projector depends on its lens and on its internal elements. Your lens is your knowledge of music in this case. Your internal elements are your cultural background, education, taboos, and even your genetic memory. Then, when that cosmic energy passes through your projector, perhaps there’s a lot of things that become distorted. But this energy is so strong that the lens, and even any distortion you may have, is canceled out, and thus you are a creator. Now, when the composer stops using his tool which is composition, and starts writing essays, we are now dealing with what’s inside his projector. His taboos, education, ideology and traumas…. perhaps when Wagner was younger, his mom left his dad for a Jew, hehe. Or his dad lost his job to a Jew. I mean, what do we know about Wagner’s life that led him to feel this hatred toward Jews?

 

In your opinion, is there good music and bad music?

There is no good music or bad music. There’s good musicians and bad musicians. If anyone tells me that reaguetton is bad music, I tell them «No. The musicians that are making it, are the ones that make it bad or good». I could have someone play some Bach, and it could sound horrible.

 

I know from previous conversations with you, that you are filled with many fun and interesting anecdotes. Could you share a couple of them with us?

There was this latin pop singer I was playing with in a television program, and I told her as a joke «How out of tune!…. I mean, I was fascinated» («Que desafinado… Perdon, quedé fascinado») in front of everyone…. And they fired me. They never called me again. They even refused to pay me the last check.

I also remember being with El Sistema’s orchestra in a theatre in Bogota where we were supposed to play a concert for the president, who was Belisario Betancur, and they gave the job to this colombian conductor – I can’t remember his name – who was going to have us perform Shostakovich’s Festive Overture. I remember that before the rehearsal began, they warned us that the urban guerrilla was causing blackouts in the area. So when the conductor arrived to the theatre, he said «How do they pretend that we have a rehearsal today, to perform this music tonight? This is the most unprofesional thing I’ve ever seen. But anyway, the President is coming, so lets see what we can do». We began playing and by the time we’re on the second bar, the lights go out. And in a theatre like that one, when it’s dark, you can’t see your own fingers in front of your face. But yet, the orchestra didn’t stop – Maestro Abreu had taught us to play everything by memory – We played the full Overture together all the way to the end. When the lights came back on, the conductor looked at us, and said «Wow…», he put his baton on the stand and said «See you tonight». He didn’t rehearse. He realized he wasn’t necessary. That’s what a conductor needs: an orchestra that sounds. And that’s what Gustavo does with El Sistema. He doesn’t underestimate his orchestra. He believes in it.

 

The orchestral works of Alex Berti are filled with that typical real-magic where the sense of tragedy and of triumph seem to be in a constant conflagration. You can listen to his arrangement of Gardel’s «Por Una Cabeza» here: