Most people know him as “the grey-haired one” in Les Luthiers. But few know that he also has a degree in Orchestral Direction from La Plata Faculty of Fine Arts and that in 1981 he founded the Estudio Coral de Buenos Aires, a professional chamber music choir specializing in contemporary music, considered to be one of the world’s finest, and honoured with the 1999 Konex Platinum Prize as the best Chamber Music Group of more than six Performers.
His expertise has brought him important official positions. From 2002 - 2004 he was director of the Argentinian National Polyphonic Chorus, where he produced works by Verdi, Mozart, Fauré, Durufle, Beethoven and Bach, while also acting as artistic advisor for the Colón Theatre in Buenos Aires.

–I have been conducting choruses since I was eighteen years old; it has always been a love affair of mine. At that moment a number of choirs like mine were forming, professional and highly specialised. I might have studied orchestral direction, but my heart was always in choral work, and I became more and more convinced that wanted to conduct choirs: good ones.

–Before the Estudio Coral de Buenos Aires you were in the Chamber Nine and Les Luthiers were starting up as well. Did the intensity of the this work make it difficult to devote yourself to the choir?
–It’s hard to say one way or another; they were things happening at the same time that I managed to combine so that they didn’t clash. At that time Les Luthiers was very small, with not much future in it (laughs), and we were clear about respecting each other’s individual space, so that the group didn’t take up our whole lives.

–When Gerardo Masana died en 1973, the blow was so heavy that you went into group therapy together. What was that like?
–A great learning experience. As a group and – for me anyway – as individuals. It was a privilege to be able to work for so many years with Fernando Ulloa, a very intelligent and wise man, and a great professional. We were able to talk and clear important knots in the group relationship, to negotiate, discuss, reach agreements... and make decisions. The whole experience was very important for me from another point of view, for learning about group direction. The work with Ulloa went on for twenty years– yes, twenty! By which I mean we had a weekly session during the periods that we spent in Buenos Aires. I consider it to have been essential to the longevity of the group. It helped immensely.

–How did Les Luthiers’ working method evolve?
–Until the mid-eighties we worked collectively. We loved having creative get-togethers. I remember, for example, the two children’s songs we did, whose main ideas came out of a “creative barbecue” at Rabinovich’s place. It was us, the Luthiers and [Roberto] Fontanarrosa... Or the old Ya el sol asomaba en el poniente, which we put together in the garden of a rather dilapidated hotel, where we ended up during one of our first seasons in Uruguay around 1970; and an unedited film script that we wrote during a year-long series of meetings together with Luis Puenzo, Fontanarrosa and Jorge Goldenberg. There were so many people at these sessions that they seemed like meetings of a consortium. And then, little by little, we stopped doing things in collective mode. And before long we went over to out-and-out individualism. Now, anyone who wants to do something does so at home and shows the finished work to the rest.

–You’ve been on both sides of the choral experience, as singer as well as conductor. What can you tell us about how a choir works? 
–It all depends on the choir, naturally. The choral experience is always fascinating. I say choral, but I’m thinking about orchestras, too, and any art form that is produced by a lot of people simultaneously, where you have phenomena that go together to make an artistic piece, coordinated by that magic which is the work of art.

Puccio’s passion for the choir has inspired him to cosmic analogies: “Music made in a group is one of those marvellous creations in which human beings act upon chaos, domesticating the disorder of the universe. To feel that you are part cog, part engine for a phenomenon as incredibly ordered as music is a magnificent and astonishing feeling (...) each person sings their own melody (...) but each contribution joins mysteriously with the others and suddenly one discovers that one is taking part in something greater.” Interview with Magdalena Ruiz Guiñazú in Perfil newspaper June 2007.

–What is the relationship between the members of the choir and the conductor?
–I can only speak about my choir, which is a very special one, a kind of crème de la crème of choral practice; because all my singers are professional musicians with countless years of experience behind them. The relationship is respectful and great fun... The authoritarian approach turns me off; I feel that they respect me although no absolute silence reigns during rehearsals. It’s a very dynamic process with a lot of repartee, jokes and comments from everyone. If the music is well made, it goes beyond the conductor’s guiding hand: something happens. There’s a dialectic and reciprocal relationship between choir, individuals and conductor.

–That could produce a high level of dependence...
–Yes, it’s a very strange closed circuit which never halts and never travels in only one direction. The conductor moves his hands... I’ve always found that image rather funny.

–Les Luthiers once said that a conductor is a person standing in front of an orchestra who responds to the stimulus of the music by waving their arms...
–Yes, actually it’s the other way round: the music follows the beat laid down by the conductor. Although in practice, two things happen. The conductor indicates how they are going to do the music, but also responds to what they receive back. And thanks to this back-and-forth a subtle phenomenon takes place; otherwise the conductor is a sort of absurd tyrant through whom everything passes and then they are working with instruments, not with human beings.

–What matters more: the conductor, or the relationship between the members of the choir?
–Well, that’s a question for a theory of group dynamics... (laughs) What do you mean?

–For example, if you change the conductor, will the choir sound the same?
–It is a fact, clearly demonstrated as far as I am concerned, that conductors, whether good or bad, bring something to the work so that it ends up with that conductor’s sound. So what happens if you change the conductor?... It’s too scientific... You’d have to take a look at specific cases because there are so many variables: whether the group is a professional one, whether they want to get rid of the conductor, whether they want to see how it goes with a new one...

–As in the case of guest conductors...
–Of course, that’s very common and professional choirs are already doing it. I was invited to direct the National Youth Choir while I was in charge of the National Polyphonic Choir. It was a very rewarding experience because when you go as a guest to somewhere that has an established conductor, you can’t very well step in and say, “Right, now I’m conducting so pay attention to me.” You have to agree on all kinds of languages, signs and things... For me it was a beautiful romance (laughs). I didn’t have to deal with all the humdrum tasks that the regular conductor has to do. The romance was brief and we were left with a lovely memory. If we had stayed together, it would have become much more serious (more laughter).

–You also guest-conducted the Madrid Community Choir. I suppose it must be difficult to adapt to a new group when you know you’ll soon be parting company...
–Especially for choral conductors, because orchestral directors learn to be guest directors, they are trained for it. But anyway, it’s not the same; gesture and expression are very important and the conventions you have to adopt. Choral directors don’t have that problem so much, there are less guest-directors coming and going. 

– Does that mean that a closer relationship is formed between the members of the group?
– Choral work has much more human contact. In an orchestra you have this chap with the baton all the way over there, and it’s a new director every week. The chorists have to establish  relationship with that person in a matter of hours. And that person, the conductor, has to gain the attention, interest and understanding of the choir... It’s devastating.

–How important is it for that connection between the conductor and their orchestra to be present?

–It’s absolutely vital. If it isn’t there, it’s a complete disaster. When the connection is a bad one, you simply don’t get music, just a cold, lifeless thing... And that’s the best result. A lot worse things can happen. I wouldn’t like to play the paternal role. It would be harmful for me, at the very least. I feel a certain embarrassment when someone stands like some kind of father-figure before a choir and says: “I’m going to tell you what you have to do.” It seems to me a pompous thing to do and I’ve never understood it.