Post-concert Musings

I'm listening to Borodin (a wonderful composer whose virtues I'll extoll in a future posting) while writing this post. It is very moving modern music--oh, but I said I wouldn't talk about Borodin. . ..

So instead I will use this space to talk about my choral concert and pat ourselves on our back for doing such an awesome job. I feel a bit funny patting our own backs, but a) this is my blog, so I should be able to do what I want, and b) I think we did such a wonderful job, that we deserve a pat on our backs, even if we run the risk of sounding, oh, full of ourselves.

This weekend was one of the best performance experiences I've ever had. We all worked very hard on the music, which I will say is not easy stuff! Often, I wonder whether the audience realizes how much work it is to memorize the repertoire that we do, sing 8-minute acapella pieces that have 6 parts in mixed formation and still keep it all on pitch. We don't always manage to do this successfully, of course, but we were able to pull this off twice this weekend, along with other challenging pieces with bizzare breakneck tempos, Hungarian and Spanish tongue twisters set to sixteenth note rhythms, dissonant chords, and elusive pitches.

Both evenings, we got (almost instant) standing ovations. Which felt very satisfying. It was probably one of the best performances we've given since I joined the chorus, and according to some of the longer-term members of the chorus, perhaps even one of the best performances that our choir has given in its history.

It made up for the disappointingly low audience turnout. Actually, considering that there were half a dozen concerts going on the same time as our concert, the turnout was not bad, but of course, I think back to the other night when I witnessed a relatively full house for the Mozart requiem concert and wished for an audience of that size and grandeur.

Several of us talked about this after the concert. Of course, our modern avante garde women's choral music is probably never going to have as much mass appeal as a great classical masterpiece such as the Mozart Requiem; however, for all of the interest people in this area seem to have in classical music, and for the amount of work we put into the music, the dismal audience turnout is a bit puzzling.

For example, I tell my friends about our concerts--many of these people would go see Iztak Perlman, Yo Yo Ma, or Chanticleer. And no, the point is not to suggest that we are comparable to any of these groups; the point is to point out that many of my friends are interested enough in classical music to seek out performances of these aforementioned "brand name" performers. Yet, I cannot get most of these people interested in our concerts. Granted, for some of them, their current family situation (having young babies) makes it difficult to attend concerts.

Even when I do succeed in enticing people to come, I know that they are more coming for me (i.e. to support me) than for the music. In fact, that is probably the case with 90 percent of our audience. While it is nice to get support from one's friends, I wonder if our music and music making is enough to sell itself.

In other words, is it compelling music? Does it speak to the people? If we were to remove all of the personal connections we have to the audience, can our music-making sell itself to random strangers?

I think it does, but as someone who has a vested interest in the music, it is very hard to be objective. Based on the audience levels, the answer is "probably not".

However, I did meet a couple from Sacramento who told me they happened to be in town for a few days, were looking for something to do, saw a listing in one of the local papers and decided to check us out. They are singers themselves, and told me how much they enjoyed our concert and the programming. They were effusive with praise.

While a bigger audience would be nice (and heck, more familiar faces in the audience would also be nice), it is these folks--often total strangers--who are musicians themselves and go out of their way to come see us, and then tell us (sincerely) how much they enjoyed our performance that make the experience worthwhile.

* * *

Our conductor read a very insightful excerpt from a book that Aaron Copland wrote in 1949 but is just as relevant today. A great passage which I found on the NYT and will quote here (the rest of the article is actually a fantastic read):

"Why is it that the musical public is seemingly so reluctant to consider a musical composition as, possibly, a challenging experience? When I hear a new piece of music that I do not understand I am intrigued -- I want to make contact with it again at the first opportunity. It's a challenge -- it keeps my interest in the art of music thoroughly alive.

But sadly I've observed that my own reaction is not typical. Most people use music as a couch; they want to be pillowed on it, relaxed and consoled for the stress of daily living. But serious music was never meant to be used as a soporific. Contemporary music, especially, is created to wake you up, not put you to sleep. It is meant to stir and excite you -- it may even exhaust you. But isn't that the kind of stimulation you go to the theatre for or read a book for? Why make an exception of music?

It may be that new music sounds peculiar for the sole reason that, in the course of ordinary listening, one hears so little of it by comparison with the amount of conventional music that is performed year in and year out. Radio and concert programs, the advertisements of the record manufacturers, or school curricula -- all emphasize the idea, unwittingly, perhaps, that "normal" music is music of the past, familiar music that has proved its worth. "

Copland would've liked our music. It certainly stirred, excited, and exhausted--many of us.

A bunch of us ended the exhausting concert weekend with some great Indian food from Shivas. A perfect ending to a very good weekend. We all went home feeling quite sated.