2013-07-04 Update
Machiko Shimada, Violin
―You have been a new member of the Mito Chamber Orchestra since July (2013). What are your current feelings about it?
I am really grateful for the opportunity. When I was received the news (about becoming a member), I had been planning to play two concertos as a soloist, and I just dropped everything to stay home alone and practice. I was happy about that because I love music, but at the same time, there were parts of it that were hard and even lonely, because I wondered, “Is it really all right to live my life like this, just with music ...?” So, it was great timing to get word from the MCO, which made me happy. I felt, “They want to include me, even a person like me!”
―You have taken part in many MCO performances since the 47th regular concert in 2001. Can you tell us about your impressions about the ensemble and its attractiveness?
Above all, it’s the kind of group that emphasizes the strong individuality of each member. I think it’s an orchestra that brings together giants—including the conductor, Seiji Ozawa—whose individuality really stands out. And the music changes depending on who is the principal of each section and who sits where. I think that is the great charm point of this orchestra. As each year passes, I feel ever more strongly that there is a bond between us members, with our unique personalities, and that there is a similar bond with the staff members. We are also connected similarly to our audience.
Incidentally, the first time I listened to the MCO in the audience was at its 25th regular concert in 1996, which featured the pianist Bruno Leonardo Gelber. I happened to be visiting Mito at that time for a lesson by Mazumi Tanamura.
―Please tell us why you, as a violinist, began studying under Mr. Tanamura, who is a violist.
In fact, when I was a second-year student at Tokyo National University of Fine Arts and Music, my left hand was severely damaged before I was to participate in the Music Competition of Japan. However, I didn’t really know what was causing the pain at that time. I then read an article in a string music magazine featuring an interview with Mr. Tanamura, in which he spoke about the relationship between performance and the body. Of course, I had always respected him as a musician, so I asked one of his viola students if I could tag along to one of his lessons. There, Mr. Tanamura immediately pointed out the cause of my pain, and after that, he began to teach me privately. That’s how I was in Mito taking the lesson on that day, and he invited me to the concert, saying, “Why don’t you take this opportunity and come listen to our performance?’’ And so, I went and was able to hear the MCO perform for the very first time.
―What did you feel hearing that first concert?
First, I looked at the stage and thought, “This can’t be Japan!” It was the kind of space I had never seen before—and a very calm, chamber-music type of atmosphere. Still, each player shone, and I longed very much (to be part of the group). My heart was pounding when I listened to the performance, and I remember well afterwards that I walked back to the station with a smile. Then I started to play in the Saito Kinen Orchestra, and later was invited to join MCO, which really amazed me.
―You have frequently performed at MCO regular concerts. Is there any performance that particularly sticks in your mind?
I think it would have to be the very first time I participated in a performance conducted by Seiji Ozawa. Compared with the Saito Kinen Orchestra, in which I had taken part before then, the MCO is “denser,” and the distance between us and Mr. Ozawa is also very close. You can easily hear the sounds made by each person, and your own sounds can be heard by everyone else, meaning that the concentration level on the music is condensed, giving us a great sense of fulfillment. I had never experienced such a vibrant spirit before.
I should also mention the time just before the 2008 performance tour to Europe when Mr. Ozawa bowed out (for medical reasons), and it was decided that MCO would go to Europe without a conductor … . Everyone was really thinking seriously about what we would do. However, I believe that making such resolute decisions is one of the strengths of the orchestra. All the members are fully convinced that they can do the music. Each person has a larger responsibility to bear, but the serious and strong feeling of making the music a reality—into something absolutely good—also comes across from our music. The moment it was decided (for MCO to go to Europe without a conductor) truly gave me goose bumps.
―How about any recent performances?
There is one thing that remains vivid in my memory even now. At our 83rd regular concert in January 2012, Mr. Ozawa became unable to conduct on the second day. At the concert hall, some of the (disappointed) audience members were arguing publicly with the staff, right? At that time, I happened to be standing near the door of the stage entrance, and I could hear the audience members and staff inside the hall by putting my ear up to the wall. At that time, Yoshida Hidekazu, who was in the audience, stood up all of a sudden and took the microphone to say some words. The last thing he said—resolutely and in a loud voice—was, “We will never get back the time that has been lost.” What he meant was, “We can’t do anything about what has happened,” but to me it sounded like a forceful voice from heaven arguing for ephemeralism. That concept goes well with (what we do in) music, right? We musicians pour our lives into every sound we make in the here and now, but those sounds, too, gradually drift away and disappear ... . Even now, I can still recall what Mr. Yoshida said at that time.
Immediately after that, when we walked out onto the stage and started to play Mozart’s Divertimento in D major, K.136 (125a), without a conductor, I couldn’t help holding back my tears. While some in the audience had remained to listen to the MCO performance, it was clear that there were others who had left, so my feelings were mixed (lit., I could not describe my feelings). But some of the members said, “Let’s smile as we go out onto the stage,” and we poured our hearts into the performance even more than usual. All of that and the beauty of the Mozart were so wistfully painful that I could not stop my tears from overflowing while I was playing, even though we were in the middle of a performance. I will never forget that moment, performing with such feelings, and I also cannot forget the appearance of the late Masuko Ushioda (1942-2013), who was playing as concertmistress at that time.
―How did you first encounter the violin?
I have been playing violin since the age of three. Actually, my mother graduated from the high school at the Toho Gakuen School of Music as well as its college piano department. She used to go to Hideo Saito’s home to take lessons as an accompanist, and was a student of Motonari Iguchi, who, together with Mr. Yoshida, founded The Music School for Children (which later became the Toho Gakuen Music Division). My mother had a strong affection for string instruments and orchestras. When I was three years old, I was watching someone play the violin on the TV, and she asked me whether I would like to try that, and I answered, “Sure!” That was the first day of my “violin life.” Ours was an everyday family, as my father was an ordinary office worker, so all my monthly lesson fees and the cost of my small violin were totally covered by my mother’s earnings at that time as a piano teacher, and I am grateful to her for that. My father also helped me, though, after I reached a certain point.
―When was the first time that you realized the pleasure of music?
The first time for me to appreciate the joy of music was when I was an orchestra member. There was a local orchestra in Nagoya called the NHK Nagoya Junior Orchestra, which I joined. I failed the first entrance test, but I really wanted to get in, so I took it again and was successful. I went to practice with the group every weekend from the time I was 3rd grade until 8th grade. I was the kind of child who would just stare at the various other instruments while keeping on plucking the strings of my instrument, even though the pizzicato marking was finished. Still, it was a lot of fun, and that was enough for me to continue playing. But I always hated practicing on my own (laughter). We played a lot of pieces in that orchestra, including Beethoven’s 5th Symphony and Dvořák. Also, Kazuo Yamada conducted us sometimes, and we made a tour of France, so it was an orchestra that enjoyed many advantages. My starting point for enjoying music was that orchestra.
―When did you decide to become a violinist in earnest?
Anyway, I was the kind of child who never practiced properly, so no one ever thought that I would ever choose music as my career. When I was in 9th grade, I won the top ranking in the junior high school section of the Student Music Concours of Japan, so I narrowed my choice of high schools to music departments when taking their entrance exams, and ended up getting into the Music High School attached to the Faculty of Music at the Tokyo University of the Arts. But after enrolling, I was so happy to live by myself that I just goofed off for three years. After that, I entered the college division of Tokyo University of the Arts, but still just goofed off a lot until I turned 20, when I thought, “It’s time to get serious and challenge myself to enter the Music Competition of Japan,” which motivated me to resume my practice. At that time, as I said earlier, I had damaged my left hand. Since the age of three, I had been playing the violin as a totally natural part of my life, and suddenly I found myself in a situation where I couldn’t that anymore, owing to an injury that rendered me unable to play for three months. For my first month at home, I wondered, “What if I can’t play the violin my whole life ... ,” but after two months or so I started to realize that I still liked music after all. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I really wanted to play the violin. After that, I tried everything I could for treatment, such as getting surgery, visiting Kusatsu Hot Springs, doing acupuncture, getting massages, and even going to a chiropractor. Finally, grasping at straws, I ran into a specialist in rehabilitation for string players, and worked on rehabilitating myself for two years. Meanwhile, on the performance side of things, I was able to meet Mr. Tanamura. Thanks to various people’s help, I became able to play the violin once again. I then began to work more seriously than I ever had before my injury, and decided to play the violin for my whole life. It was only when I lost something that I realized that I liked music so much that I could discard everything else for it.
―So, your three-month period out of commission was really kind of a turning point in your life.
For someone who is twenty years old, (being young) normally ought to be a good time in one’s life, one that is full of dreams. But I found myself in the abyss of despair. That’s why I have treasured every single moment playing the violin since then. I think my pace of development in becoming a violinist might have been somewhat slow, but I do my job now responsibly because I like what I’m doing.
―Underlying your current success, then, is that setback.
In fact, I was still in the midst of rehabilitation when I placed second at the 66th Music Competition of Japan. At that time, I did not use the little finger on my left hand, but played the assigned piece with my other three fingers (on that hand). But I was playing more skillfully than I had before the injury. That shows you much I hadn’t practiced before then (laughter). But I did feel that I could do anything that I set my mind on doing.
―After that, you left Japan to study at Hochschule für Musik Detmold in Germany. What did you study there?
I spent a total of six years in Germany. Since I was living in a rural area, I had nothing to do but practice, and there weren’t many other Japanese there either, so I think I was able to absorb a lot, just as if I were a brand-new sponge. The German faculty gave me a thorough “baptism” in the German repertoire. One teacher told me that I couldn’t play Beethoven without reading Goethe’s Faust, so I struggled to read it in the original. I think that the German people’s way of thinking and their philosophy is completely different from those of the Japanese, and unless you know about them, it’s impossible to make the proper sounds, articulation and interpretation of German works. In that sense, my six years of intensive studies in Germany were really good for me. My teacher, who was Italian, told me, “Don’t enter competitions or anything like that. Just learn the style of each composer. If you study one piece by a certain composer, you will understand his or her language, no matter what you may play later.” So, I studied deliberately one piece by each composer—just one at a time—at a pace of one week per measure. That’s why I am still slower than most people. Japan is so fast-paced, with people always feeling that they have to act in a busy manner because the people around them do things that way, but I am not that way at all. Because of my life at Detmold, my attitude is still one of “not doing anything for a month and just living for a certain concerto.”
― What other impressions or memories do you have about your life studying abroad?
Apart from Detmold, I participated in various projects in France and the Netherlands, also studying baroque music and going to various master classes in Germany. I also learned the joy of chamber music during my years studying abroad, and Nobuko Imai, a professor of Detmold College of Music, taught me a lot of chamber music when we played together.
At that time, I received no remittances from my parents, using scholarships and money I earned from work in Japan to fund my life as a student overseas. In other words, I went to Japan to earn money, then studied in Germany using those funds. At first, I was quite poor in Germany, sometimes only eating one watermelon over a two-day period, and found myself unable to open a bank account there. So, I was really thankful to find work in Japan. Not only did I get paid, but it enabled me to learn things and meet great people. I took my earnings back to Germany, paid my tuition and rent with it, and studied some more so as to prepare for future audiences to listen to me. It was hard to live in such a way, but when thinking about why I was doing the music, I never lost my “core axis,” which was the fact that I liked what I was doing, that I wanted the audience to hear me, and that I was aiming for the heights of the art.
― Currently, you are actively pursuing activities in various genres, including solo, chamber music, and orchestra. What is the source of all your energy?
It’s because I really like the music itself. When I am in contact with it, I think, “There is nothing better than this in this world.” It’s a pleasure for me to be able to play with such wonderful people, which gives me motivation and strength. In addition, the Mito audience has supported us a great bit up until now. Long-time MCO fans remember our names and faces, send us gifts anonymously, and make comments on our blogs. We get encouragement from everyone, from young people to the elderly, regardless of gender. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all of them. I want to tell them “thank you very much” for giving me a piece of affection that they built up toward MCO in its history so far.
―Can you tell us about your future goals?
I don’t have a very specific vision. But various things that I have dreamed about in the past have come true in many ways. When I thought I would like to keep on playing with the MCO, it was decided that I could be a full member. Ever since my junior high years, I had always wanted to be able to play the violin concertos by Beethoven and Saint-Saëns, and just recently I have finally learned to play them. My biggest dreams are to play my favorite works with a certain kind of sound, and to live so that I can do that. After all, the hardest thing is to play according to your ideals among the opportunities you have achieved. Anyway, it is a step-by-step process!
― Are there any works you would like to challenge yourself to play in the future?
I would like to perform the complete violin works by J.S. Bach. I like Bach the best among all composers. But that’s just an immediate goal, and once that’s done, I’ll do the same with another composer’s works. As long as you play music, you can keep on dreaming. It just so happened that I chose the violin, but as long as I continue to play it, I think that I will run across countless dreams and goals in my music, and will try to make those come true one by one.
― Could you tell us again your aspirations as a member of the MCO orchestra?
Now that Hidekazu Yoshida and Masuko Ushioda have passed away, what I think now is ... that ours is the last generation to have been in contact with both of them for the longest time. Among them, I have a strong feeling that my generation will convey what we have been taught by our teachers and seniors, including both of them and Mr. Ozawa. It’s a precious thing to be able to play music with people who have been involved in music for so long. That’s why I will never forget that, and while I obviously can’t take their place, I can inherit their spirit. That’s what I’m responsible for now. And I would constantly like to share the music with the other members, our staff and the audience. Also, being surrounded by other members with a strong individuality, I want to become like that someday myself. But it’s not something that we can gain through our efforts, so we have to build upon what has been built up so far. It’s something that will be gained naturally.
― Thank you very much for your valuable words.
July 2013
Interviewer: Maki TAKASU
