There have been many firsts in Robert deMaine’s life. Indeed, a first-prize winner in numerous national and international competitions, he was the first cellist ever to win the grand prize at San Francisco’s Irving M. Klein International String Competition in 1990. And after graduating high school, he entered the national Naftzger Young Artists Competition in Wichita, Kansas, snagging the grand prize in the string division. He then went on to receive full scholarships to the Eastman School of Music and Yale University.
In addition, the Oklahoma City-born deMaine studied at The Juilliard School, the University of Southern California, and the Kronberg Academy in Germany. Praised by The New York Times as “an artist who makes one hang on every note,” deMaine, now 54, is principal cello of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, having won the seat in 2012 after serving in the same position with the Detroit Symphony from 2002–2012. He is also a much sought-after soloist and chamber musician, as well as a frequent guest artist at many of the world’s premier chamber music festivals. His main gig, though, continues to be with the LA Phil, where he can be seen — and heard — on concerts that run the gamut from world premieres to all of the boldface names in the classical repertory.
DeMaine’s discography includes recordings for, among others, Chandos, Elysium, and Capstone. In addition, he has been featured on the BBC, PBS, and NPR’s Performance Today. His recording of the John Williams Cello Concerto with the Detroit Symphony, conducted by Leonard Slatkin, was released by Naxos in the fall of 2015. And in the 2024–2025 season, deMaine will record the Cello Concerto by Tom Flaherty, pairing it with Samuel Barber’s Cello Concerto, to be accompanied by one of the BBC orchestras.
SF Classical Voice connected with the perpetually busy musician by phone, and he discussed topics ranging from performing under some of today’s greatest conductors to his personal struggles with drugs and alcohol.
Did you always want to be a musician, and why the cello?
There were a lot of string players in my family. I was the youngest of four, and I’m the fourth generation of cello players on my mom’s side. Mom was very good; my oldest sister, Mary, was 10 years older than me, and she took care of me. We all took music lessons, [and] I took the cello because Mary played the cello. I did everything she did, [though] she cleans teeth for a living.
The dental world’s loss was the music world’s gain. You were with the Detroit Symphony for 10 years beginning in 2002. What prompted you to audition for the LA Phil, and how did you prepare for that?
I took the cattle-call auditions like everybody does. Strangely, two weeks before the audition, I played and recorded John Williams’s Cello Concerto with the Detroit Symphony and Slatkin. I flew to L.A. to play through the concerto for John at his home, and I wasn’t even sure I would play the [Phil] audition. But I was in good shape from playing the concerto — I was on the verge of getting an injury in the midst of all that — but I played for Williams, and he gave me his blessing. It was a fun and worthwhile trip. I did it on my own dime, but I played for him.
There’s something kind of sacred about that contact with a living composer. But I got his blessing, and we had lunch together. It was so weird — eating a tuna fish sandwich at his coffee table. I got back to Detroit and played four concerts. The recording was cobbled together out of those concerts, [and] I had a couple days to regroup and then collapsed for 24 hours and did nothing. I was exhausted and knew I had to go back to L.A. for the big audition.
I was pulling an all-night [practice session] before I left, so it was like riding a torpedo all the way to the end. I’m 13 hours in, and Betsy, my dear wife, comes to check on me and says, “How are you doing?” And I said, “I don’t know if my hand hurts or if I’ve got it.”
She looks at me with the same intense stare as on our first date [and] says, “While you were practicing, I was imagining the garage sale.” So that’s what motivated me to go. She’s a horn player and a very good musician, [so] when she makes comments to me, I listen to those little gems. The garage sale — it made me smile, and I felt good about going to the audition.
Obviously, you aced the audition, and for the last 11 years, you’ve been working with a myriad of conductors. You recently performed with Esa-Pekka Salonen, who led the Phil in his own work, Karawane, and of course, you’ve worked with Gustavo Dudamel. What do you see as the differences in their conducting styles?
Gustavo is one of the quickest, most blindingly talented people I’ve ever met [and] also happens to be, apparently, kind of a regular guy. He’s a down-to-earth, humble person. For him to have so many people who want to have a piece of him all the time — he has to talk to press, publicists, deal with his manager. He has to study scores and be prepared. You can’t clone yourself to do all that work. I don’t know how he does it all. It’s pretty amazing.
He also keeps growing as a musician. I don’t know if I’m qualified to pass judgment, but I almost never disagree with the musical decisions he makes. He’s deeply sensitive and has an instinctive musical mind and a real soul which really comes through in everything he does.
People let themselves be known. In my experience, they show their true selves behind a musical instrument. In Dudamel’s case, it’s the orchestra. But [Salonen’s and Dudamel’s] styles tend to boil down to personality. Certain body-language things are obviously quite different. They’re similar in stature — they’re both about 5 feet 7 inches. They’re compact, but their gestures are markedly different because their personalities are very different.
For Esa-Pekka, as an orchestral musician — he’s a horn player — the preparatory gesture is paramount. [It gives] us the confidence to come in. He leaves nothing out. He prepares everything for us. We have this blueprint that can shift and change a bit, but you can always rely on E-P’s skill.
Gustavo does all that, too — often without a score in front of him. If you’re comfortable using a score, use a score. I find playing from memory to be more liberating. But Dudamel, these pieces are a part of him — all the Mahler, Beethoven, Brahms. He knows every nuance, every dynamic marking, every potential pitfall. He is that type of conductor as well in terms of preparing you for your entrance.
With all the music you’re constantly playing, what is your practice regimen like?
I don’t practice. My whole credo is “pay attention.” Be present when you’re playing. If you’re not playing and paying attention to everything you’re doing — how your fingers curve, the way you hold the bow — you have to question everything. It’s a search-and-destroy mission with yourself that I keep improving.
I think I practice while I perform. I just play all the time. I don’t differentiate between time I spend on the cello at the LA Phil or time I spend teaching or in a festival somewhere. All of that counts. I make sure I’m on. When I’ve got my cello in front of me, it’s like I’m on my motorcycle. If I’m not in the moment, it’s goodbye. That’s how it feels. That’s where the fight or flight comes in.
It’s also not as if I’m performing open-heart surgery. Nobody’s going to die if I mess up. [People ask,] “What are you thinking about when you perform? You seem so calm.” I’m just trying not to fuck up. Whatever happens in the meantime, I don’t throw myself around onstage. I don’t do the whole showbiz part of it.
I like to have people listen with their ears. There’s also a certain amount of salesmanship that has to be done, but it can’t overshadow listening. If you capture somebody with your sound, that’s it. You don’t need to throw yourself around.
I’ve interviewed a lot of musicians in my time, but your approach to practicing seems, well, off the charts. That said, I’m wondering where you see yourself in the next five to 10 years?
Gosh, probably doing exactly what I’m doing. What I’d love to be doing is more solo concerts, more recitals. I had done quite a bit of that until about six years ago, [when] I had a complete flameout. I went to rehab for drugs and alcohol. I took a leave. It’s kind of hard to relive, but in January 2018, I was scheduled to play Bernd Alois Zimmermann’s Cello Concerto with the Phil. I was so sick and overworked and such a mess, I couldn’t even hold my bow.
I had a nervous breakdown. I had to go to the hospital, and it took three cellists to replace me. I got sober in my late 20s, and then I had a problem with self-medicating. I was sober for a while, then I wasn’t. I’ve been sober for six years now and slowly regained peoples’ trust. I was a very good chameleon. Finally, when this all happened, I got with the right psychiatrist, the right psychologist, the right diagnosis, and the right medication.
It was a godsend because I used to drink and use opiates before going onstage. I couldn’t handle stage fright. That started when I was 12. I was a child prodigy and had a memory lapse, [but] before that, I felt absolutely fearless and bulletproof performing, and just like that, it was taken away. I have been chasing after it ever since, often going down unhealthful paths [because] I never knew how to ask for help.
Robert, thank you for being so open, but are you sure you want people to read this?
It’s hard for me to not be honest. I like people to have the whole story. I feel like my experience with being wired as I am will help other people come out of the woodwork. There’s a stigma attached to mental health problems, [but] people are finally coming out of that closet. It’s not something that I should talk about too much, but I do like to help people who have issues. Seeing a therapist is critical. You have to find a good one. My therapist is the best music teacher I have had and doesn’t read a note — and I’m playing the best I ever have in my life.
