[Emotionally] Leading and Audience

Months ago, in a MoMo class at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis, I saw a performance of a harpsichordist who was presenting a work in progress. The piece was a very flashy ciaccona by some unheard-of 17th century composer/performer and it was played very well for us that afternoon. Most of us were impressed not only by the performance, but by the fact that there had been such a development in that player's technical abilities in such a short time. The performance, like any, did have a few moments of insecurity but they did not detract from our reception of the work overall.

The most interesting part of the lesson was the discussion that followed it. A listener in the room asked the performer how he understood the piece emotionally. After a detailed description of what he felt and following another run-through of the work, the audience's comments became almost exclusively focused on whether they themselves interpreted the performance along the same emotional lines. In effect, following the description of what the performer saw, the audience adjusted their interpretation of the work by making judgements on whether they did or did not feel what was described to them before the work was performed again.

Let's look at an interesting parallel. Wikipedia writes, "in common law systems that rely on testimony by witnesses, a leading question or suggestive interrogation is a question that suggests the particular answer or contains the information the examiner is looking to have confirmed.[1]" The use of leading questions are often restricted, as they tend to allow the examiner to influence the evidence presented. Frequently, leading questions lead to binary answers. For example, question: "You were at the restaurant last night, weren't you?" The answer is either 'yes' or 'no'. 

While I absolutely encourage performers to make the exercise of analysing a work on an emotional level, I wonder whether we should share our findings with our audiences for fear that we 'cheapen' their experience. Think about it: in the moments before a performance you want to do your best to focus the attention of the listener as well as prepare them for the emotional experience you wish them to have. If you were to give away what they should feel, would they not spend the performance comparing their experience with their expectations?

A Night that Songs are Written About

Over the last year I've found it hard to find the inspiration to write. I've had plenty of life to live in that time, but the events that have occurred did not reverberate in the musical or literary corners of my mind. That changed this past Saturday night. 

After an exhausting week in The Netherlands with Primary Colours and The New Baroque Orchestra, harpsichordist Andi Westermann and I got back to Basel early Saturday morning. After I awoke, I had to immediately prepare to officiate a friendly Rugby game between Basel and Fribourg later that afternoon. Luckily, I wasn't a complete disaster.

That evening I went on a date with someone whom I had an immediate connection. I think everyone reading this can relate, but these kind of moments for me are few and far between given my career choices. After a beer, she invited me to meet some friends and to continue on to a club. I could come along so long as I understood one thing: she was leaving Switzerland and never coming back. 

It's funny how defining a relationship can dramatically establish how it unfolds. It was clear in this moment that we had to experience the night as best we could. Her friends and I danced the night away. We talked, laughed, and shared those dreams of what could be. We stayed in the moment for as long as it could last. It was one of those nights that songs are written about; one I won't forget.

As the days begin to pass, that echoing in the corner of my head has begun to build up once again. I hope it continues to grow.

Rumorum performs for WDR 3

It's very easy to think of medieval music as a rather limited genre. Not so. In fact, medieval music encompasses nearly a millennia of musical output with an incredible array of styles and particularities, depending on the time and region. More startling still is the knowledge required to unlock countless forms of notation and numerous early European languages to breathe life once more into an ancient manuscript.

A Telemann Fantasia

Earlier this year I spent two evenings recording with my ensemble Primary Colours. While we were mainly working on chamber music, at the end of the second day there were 20 minutes left with our sound engineer.

Leading in to those sessions I had been working on arranging a number of Fantasias from Telemann's Fantasie per il Violino senza Basso. When I realized I had enough time at the end of the project to record one of them, I jumped at the chance. Have a listen to the result.

A Concerto for 24 Bassoons?!

Last May I performed my final recital at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. The program centered around the music of English theater composers from the first half of the 18th century. My goal for the evening was to posit that works by composers contemporary to G.F. Handel which are today overlooked were worthy of our attention. One particular personality who I focused on was that of John Ernest Galliard, the German immigrant. Galliard was a central figure at the Lincoln's Inn Field's theater for nearly three decades where he wrote the music to numerous productions.

On 11 December 1744 a concert was given for his benefit (likely marking his retirement) at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Following a performance of Love and Folly, as well as four choruses written for the tragedy Julius Caesar, a “Concerto grosso, 24 Bassoons, accompanied by Caporale on the violoncello” was performed. The concerto is the only work of this instrumentation on record and was more likely produced with the intention of creating a novel entertainment than for artistic reasons. Sadly, this work, as well as any other information about its performance, has been lost.

In response to our predicament, I took it upon myself to compose a new concerto for 24 bassoons. Basing it upon a variety of music by both contemporary composers active in London, as well as those whose music Galliard was familiar with at the time of his benefit, this new concerto is stylistically plausible for the scenario of a performance in mid-century Britain. To be clear: my intention with this work is to present an entirely new creation, not to try and reconstruct the original using Galliard’s surviving works as a basis.

Below you can find a selection of movements from the premier performance at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis on 27 May 2016. All bassoons present are modern copies (pitched at A=415Hz) of originals made in the 18th century. 

I should note that this was not a professional concert and that I hesitated to put any of this online. With an ensemble only a fraction of the intended size, and given the little rehearsal time we had, I feel that there is a better performance yet to come. There is no doubt in my mind, however, that Galliard's concerto was composed in a festive spirit, and I believe all bassoonists should be aware of that historic moment in 1744. Therefore, in the spirit of good humor, I present to you selections from:

The Grand Concerto

A Concerto Grosso for 24 Bassoons newly fashion’d by Mr. Burn in response to that by Mr. Galliard which was perf’d for his Benefit at Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 1744

Lukas Henning: Rome 1623

A few days ago I had the chance to interview Lukas Henning, whose groundbreaking masterrezital was recently published on YouTube. After months of research, planning, and practicing, the performance was well received by all. Being in the audience myself, it was interesting to imagine the possibilities for such a "scenic production". 

"A Transportation"

A few weeks ago, my friend and colleague Lukas Henning had his Masterkonzert at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. For his concert, Lukas went off the beaten path, so to speak, by creating a theatrical work which he hoped would help give a context to the performance and creation of the music at the Barberini court in early 17th century Rome. After months of work planning, arranging, composing, and practicing, the final product was the most unique presentation within Early Music that I have seen yet. Take a look.

Five Weeks

Today marks the end of an incredibly busy chapter. Five weeks ago I boarded a plane to Amsterdam to begin the first of a series of projects which would test me both technically and psychologically. Sitting in Gatwick airport on my way back to Basel, I have yet to feel a sense of relief despite coming to the realization that I've survived this stressful period.

Just a Few More Days

This coming Saturday marks the return to my regular Basel-based activities: I will referee two rugby games this weekend, and will begin taking lessons again at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis on Monday. Looking back at my summer activities, it seems I've had quite the experience.

Claiming Authority

As an Early Musician, I have come across numerous philosophies (or pseudo-philosophies) relating to performance. I'm not saying there should be a consensus, but I am troubled that many tacitly assume their reasoning is generally-accepted since there is no real medium for collective discussion on the broader HIP movement. Of those who do make their thoughts known, the most visible opinions on early music performance usually make a bold claim. 'Authenticity', 'correctness', or whatever they call it, is often touted by performers and their agents.