The Secret Is in the Shrubbery

Audiences love the ambience of the Hollywood Bowl. They love the setting, the picnicking, the music. But it has been a long, long time since they have loved the sound. And for good reason. It has been a long, long time since the sound of an orchestra playing in this arena, which seats about 18,000 and which once (before the Hollywood Freeway was completed in 1954) had wondrous natural acoustics, has been worthy of the music performed.

The sound system has traditionally most bothered classical music listeners who know from the concert hall, or even from a high-end stereo, just how effective the presence of an orchestra can be. And you have probably noticed that those of us who regularly attend for the sake of the music complain that you hear the musicians but you don’t necessarily experience the effect of their sound.

But you may also have noticed far less carping about that fact from these quarters lately. For years now, the Hollywood Bowl began each season by touting some new addition to its elaborate system of microphones, amplifiers and speakers. And each summer, the sound nevertheless disappointed.

But this year, with what seems to be a fairly minor upgrade in microphones and the addition of some small speakers in the hedges, there really does seem to be greatly improved sound. It’s not perfect--far from it. But the Hollywood Hills are, nonetheless, finally starting to come alive with the sound of music.

So a trip to the sound booth seemed in order. It’s in a smallish bunker, under the first row of benches, behind the last of boxes, and one recent morning, during the rehearsal for that night’s concert, it was hot (the air conditioner doesn’t work very well). The small space is just about filled by a mixing board, computer and two technicians. The first thing you notice once inside? You can’t hear the outside world very well.

Joseph Magee couldn’t agree more. One of his biggest difficulties as sound designer for the Bowl is figuring out what the audience around him is hearing and what the musicians are playing.

“Not only are we too far back and buried,” he says, “but the bunker itself resonates, which drives me crazy.”

Magee and his associate, Michael A. Cooper, rely on their ears, which are acute, and their knowledge of the Bowl’s acoustics, which is extensive. But they also rely on other ears. Either Philharmonic General Manager Ernest Fleischmann or Bowl General Manager Anne Parsons will be seated at every performance in a central box equipped with a telephone, calling in messages about the sound.

“That’s helpful, of course,” Magee acknowledges, “but we can’t always use it. Sometimes it is already too late to make an adjustment, and sometimes we are too busy trying to cope with everything going on in here to also be able to deal with the telephone.”

And Magee and Cooper, of course, know the technology better, and what is really going on in the booth is highly technical.

“You can’t do it with knobs,” Magee suggests, pointing to a horizon-worth of knobs and faders, “but you can do it with numbers.”

The secret as to why the latest Bowl sound seems more lifelike is, Magee says, a new computer. The current system--which is state of the art in terms of amplification (and preamplification), speakers and microphones--was built piecemeal for budgetary reasons. And it wasn’t until this year that the Bowl installed a computerized console that could accurately control the intricate interactions of the network.

Some of these controls turn out to include highly sophisticated automation, and some still require old-fashioned tweaking by ear. The challenge at the Bowl is that the sound changes dramatically between a morning rehearsal and evening concert. It’s unavoidable in an outdoor space, because differences in humidity (which can vary by 60% day to night) and temperature (which can fall 20 to 30 degrees by evening) have a drastic and complicated effect on the transmission of sound. With the new computer, sensors electronically compensate--to some extent.

The size of the crowd will also affect the sound; an empty Bowl during morning rehearsal is a different-sounding animal than a full Bowl at night. An awning that protects musicians from the sun during practice also makes the strings seem warmer. These differences must be accounted for by ear at the time of the concert.

And finally there is the music itself. Each genre requires a different kind of acoustic setup. The Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, for instance, goes for a hotter, more commercial sound, more amplification; the Philharmonic, a more restrained mix.

Magee, who has been the sound designer for the Bowl for three seasons and has recorded the Philharmonic in the studio since 1984, is something of a purist. He says that he tries to produce as natural a sound as possible. And he notes that there are inherent dangers in the new “transparency” that the computer provides at the Bowl: The system is no longer as forgiving of players as it used to be in its vaguer days.

“Garbage in, garbage out,” he says succinctly.

A tour of the Bowl, both at rehearsal with Magee and later that evening during the concert, reveals both major improvements and areas that can still be problematic. During rehearsal, when Magee asks Cooper to mute the system, if you’re standing amid the boxes, the effect is subtle. The amplification adds a sense of ambience to the natural sound. But in the benches behind the boxes, the same request has a much more striking effect, especially if you’re in the center seats, where the stereo effect is excellent. Note for ticket buyers: The sides are not as acoustically alive.

At the concert that night, the sound was never as good as it had been earlier. A lot can go wrong. During the opening overture, sampled from the benches far to the left side of the rear section of boxes, there was no amplification at all. A maintenance crew had disconnected something and then forgotten to hook it up again. The orchestra sounded even farther away than it looked.

The piano concerto, Mozart as it happened, heard from a box that The Times’ reviewers sometimes occupy, was perfectly acceptable. The piano may have been slightly outsized in comparison with the orchestra, but that also matched the stronger-pianist-than-conductor dynamic. Magee had offered a warning: The bass, he said, can roll off into the hedge in front of that box. In fact, you could hear more bass when sitting tall than when slouching.

After intermission, up at the summit, where the dollar seats are, a selection of Strauss waltzes offered a few insights. The heights make for ambience, a great feeling of openness and a beautiful view that can make the boxes seem slightly claustrophobic by comparison. The sound system produces a remarkably true and clear reproduction, even way up there. But the freeway is loud, and quiet passages are lost.

As one moves down, the sound remains surprisingly consistent, although always with a little added sense of presence as one gets closer to the players. The biggest advantage, however, is the muffling of the freeway; it turns out to be directly proportional to the price of the ticket. Still, by the section in front of the uppermost benches, one is able to take in a genuine musical experience, and maybe on a night with better performances, that is true at the top as well.

Much is still possible. Magee’s wish list includes relocating the sound booth closer to the stage, and that should happen next summer. A season or two later, he anticipates, a new shell will be in place. Though not yet designed, it is expected to improve the natural acoustical reflections and to include built-in sound system hardware. Finally, Magee would like to upgrade the wiring from copper to fiber optic.

It’s an unpredictable business, and no one can predict just what these changes will bring to the ear. But the evidence so far this summer is that the Bowl is moving in the right direction.