The Journal of the American Viola Society- About Michael Tree
I studied with Michael Tree at Curtis in the early eighties and I remember taking a taxi with him in New York City once. He strode out into the middle of Madison Avenue in a swirl of oncoming traffic and flagged down a cab. The car stopped immediately and Tree flashed an impish grin. “I think I got his attention!” he said.
Michael Tree died on March 30 after a long career getting people’s attention. He was one of the founders of the legendary Guarneri Quartet and defined the role of the violist in the modern string quartet. In his hands, the viola was never an “accompanying” instrument. He drew attention to the beauties of the inner voice in the great quartet repertoire.
It was the tone, always the tone! Yes, he was a virtuoso of the viola, but it was the sound that drew you in and knocked you out. The first time I heard him play it was the Mozart Divertimento for string trio and after a placid opening I was unprepared for the explosion in the viola part in the eighth bar. I have a vivid memory of a performance of Beethoven’s Quartet op. 59 number 1 in New York. It was the middle of the mighty Scherzo and the Guarneri was playing it at a good clip. The viola part has a four bar solo, fortissimo, all octave G’s. Tree spun out in his chair to face the audience and played every note of those four bars downbow. The sound, articulation, excitement was enormous. He had a mad gleam in his eye. After the concert I saw him backstage and mentioned the “unusual bowing.” His eyes flashed again and he said “well, sometimes these things happen on the spur of the moment.”
Tree was a hugely influential teacher and I suppose all his students wanted to sound like him. I certainly did, but eventually I despaired. The sound was so extraordinary and so personal. What was it that was so distinctive? It had something to do with the use of judicious portato, vibrato and sometimes expressive intonation combined with an absolute and uncompromising contact of the bow on the string. He would have hated such an analysis. Sometimes I would try to figure out exactly what he was doing and ask him questions. He would laugh and say “tell me what I do, Ed, tell me what I do!” The truth is the instrument spoke and sang when he played. He liked to say that he enjoyed the “chocolate” sound of the viola and it was certainly dark when it needed to be, but it could also be a clarion call when that was called for. Thankfully we still have the recordings. Listen to Guarneri Quartet recordings of Smetana, Dvorak, Debussy to be immersed in Tree’s artistry.
As a teacher, many of his students will remember the scientific attention to fingerings. He could be obsessive about a clean and articulate left hand. Extensions and contractions abounded and never a hint of glissando. Well, almost never. I brought the viola part to Mozart Quartet k. 590 to a lesson once and we worked through it. We came to the beautiful tune in the viola part in the recapitulation of the first movement and he played something with a gorgeous, juicy slide. I looked at him in mock horror and he shrugged, “well, it’s vocal” he said. It sounded like a Mozart Aria.
Michael Tree taught several generations of students at several schools but I think Curtis was closest to his heart. He had attended the school for ten years as a violin student of Zimbalist and talked about his teacher with warmth. He famously took up the viola when the Guarneri Quartet was formed. In fact, he was a virtuoso of both instruments and still performed as a violinist decades into the life of the quartet. He should be credited with raising the level of viola playing in his lifetime.
Tree’s teaching was always concrete and specific. You had to play in tune, vibrate every note, articulate, play with a beautiful sound and phrase, phrase, always shape the line. The lessons were sprinkled with yiddishisms; on transposing octaves in Brahms Sonatas: “it’s chutzpah to change the work of a great composer.” When I vibrated too slowly: “Ed, you sound like an alte kocker.” He laughed at himself a fair amount and when he used a word like “autumnal” to describe a Brahms Sonata he grinned and said “it’s a good word to throw around now and then.”
Unforgettable, funny, an artist. The world has lost a great musician and a great person.
This article was published in The Journal of the American Viola Society