Purveyors of low frequencies

MSO’s past and present principal bassists take tea and talk shop

"This is heavy-duty stuff here. We're talking about the meaning of life."

Roger Ruggeri might be right about that, but his warmth and easy laughter belie the deeper notes of our conversation.

Roger and his colleague, the handsome and affable Zachary Cohen, are taking tea with me at the Anaba Tea Room to talk about the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra – where the Symphony has been, where it’s going and why music is important. The mood is excitable – almost electric – and completely contagious.

In 1962, at a fresh 23 years old, bassist Roger Ruggeri moved to Milwaukee to join the MSO, then just four years old.

He never intended to stay here for his entire career – “Hell no,” he says. “But things kept developing. The situation kept getting better, and more vital.”

After almost 43 years as Principal bass, Roger stepped down to make way for a younger guard. His successor: Julliard-educated New York native Zachary Cohen, who joined the MSO in 2005 at the age of 22. That makes Zach one of the country’s youngest principal musicians – in one of America’s youngest major orchestras.

“In the first round of my audition – Roger was obviously leading it – I remember playing a wrong note, actually,” Zach says. “And if you don’t know Roger, and you just hear his voice, [he] can sound very intimidating. I remember him saying, ‘Would you like to reconsider this note?’

“When I met him, I was really surprised that he wasn’t that scary, boom-y voice that I heard from the other side of the panel. When you’re taking an audition, you project. You think they’re all out for blood.”

“There’s no point in torturing people,” Roger says.

“Other people feel differently,” says Zach.

“I’ve always been in the minority,” Roger concedes.

Zach found the MSO’s auditions to be among “the fairest in the country”; it was his first inkling that the orchestra had an uncommon energy at its heart.

“The energy in New York – because of the intense competition – people are waiting for you to fuck up. Here, I really do believe that people want you to do the best you can do. That alone, I think, is one of the greatest things about this orchestra.” he says. “A friend in New York heard that this orchestra was a ‘happy band.’”

“Not ecstatic,” Roger says, “just happy. It sounds kind of new-agey to value something like that – but it really is significant, and it comes across in the way the orchestra plays.”

The questions I’ve prepared for our conversation are pat and practical – they’re about repertoire, perspectives and the relevance of symphonic music in contemporary culture. But something changes – maybe the mystical properties of the tea are taking hold – and our interview turns toward more metaphysical matters. In a Zen (and low battery) moment I shut off my laptop and abandon my notes.

“I ended up in classical music because I felt like there’s subtlety to it that no other type of music can provide,” Zach says. “There are moments that can happen – and more times than not, they don’t – but … there’s this hope that they will.”

“Peak moments,” says Roger.

“Peak moments,” Zach agrees. “Sometimes it doesn’t make any sense why they happen the way they happen. But for whatever reason, lots of things align, and it creates a feeling of euphoria in the same way that praying or mediating brings you to a deeper state that you can’t control.”

Roger works to translate that ineffable euphoria into lay terms; he teaches, serves on committees, and writes most, if not all, of the MSO’s program notes.

“There are a lot of challenges which exist for the orchestra on a lot of different levels … It’s never just about the music, as lovely as that might seem. It’s always about life; it always hooks into the bigger things … It’s not just because it feels good to play.”

Zach feels differently. “I guess at my naïve young age, there’s nothing but [the music]. I get very wrapped up in that.”

“At a certain point you’re more involved with that,” Roger agrees.

“[But] I became very aware – at your stage of the game – that my colleagues and I were out there trying to do something, and nobody understood what the hell we were trying to do.”

With writing and lecturing, he’s “trying to bridge the gap between the land that you’re speaking of, the land of music, and the land of other human experience. I’m trying to build bridges so that people can get over there.”

“How do you keep things fresh?” Zach asks Roger.

“I have a profound awareness that it is never the same,” he says.

“Even playing Beethoven’s 5th, I am still in awe. It’s not same old, same old … Sometimes you’re into the rhythmic drive, the harmonic shift, sometimes you’re into the contrasts. Sometimes one of your colleagues [does] something beautiful. (My God, the violas were fantastic in that!) [But] it’s fleeting – you have to keep moving with the pack, keep the balls in the air. You can’t luxuriate in that feeling without the responsibility of making sound. But [that responsibility] gives you an entré to a level of perception that is unique.”

Bringing people closer to that experience, both musicians agree, is a challenge for symphonies – and arts organizations in general – in contemporary culture. How do you quantify something ephemeral into subscription sales or donations?

“Sometimes we have donors come on stage and sit in extremely close proximity to the musicians,” Zach tells me. “I think one of the things about classical music that is a deterrent is that sometimes there is a huge disconnect between the players and the audience. Actually bringing people on stage to sit next to you and feel that kind of intensity – that makes it closer.”

“It’s really mainline. It’s enormous,” Roger says. “When it really rears up – it’s something else.”

“Sound is almost like a feeling, because of how lush it is,” Zach continues. “If a whole string section is playing together, you can almost wave your hand through the air. It would be like swatting mist. That’s how heavy it is.”

Our tea glasses are long empty by the time our interview wraps up, and Roger and Zach are both starving. I ask them what they’re looking forward to in the coming season.

“I’m really excited about the 50th anniversary,” Zach says. “This should be the hot topic of the town. To me – what else is more important? It’s the 50th anniversary. All guns blazing.”

“Will there be fireworks every night?” I ask him.

“Every night,” he says.

“And if your enthusiasm dampens,” Roger says, “just come back and listen to the bass section.”

“Toscanini said, ‘Give me a great bass section, and I’ll build you a great orchestra,’” Zach tells me. “That’s coming from the man.”

“You can’t pile it up very high if you don’t have the bottom,” says Roger. “It’s like architecture.”

“You can never have enough bass,” Zach says.

Roger laughs. “Yes you can. But that’s another story.” VS