[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?

(Title)

For the last 6 months or so I've had an unfinished composition sitting on my desk next to my laptop. The piece is a multi-movement fantasia (of sorts) for solo baroque bassoon. The piece is written in a shorthand which, like a number of my own compositions for solo bassoon, allows me the freedom to explore my musical ideas from one performance to another. The composition hasn't been finished because the inspiration for it comes from a rather dark memory which I've been reluctant to dig up. The reason I write about it today, however, has to do with the title.

While I am no expert in the realm of new music, I can imagine that the variety in stylings which their titles take today are only increasing. Most instrumental works in centuries past were not given a name. We know them by the ways we categorize them; their form, key and, if they were published, by their order of in the collection (e.g. Suite in G major, Op. 3 no. 1). Of course, exceptions to the rule existed - take the instrumental repertoire of the French baroque, for example. Free today are we, however, to break from this tradition.

So I took it upon myself to title the work and its movements hinting to the particular memories they were inspired by. While I'm not bothered by the thought of performing a work born out of a personal experience to a public audience, for some reason I'm fighting the urge to explicitly identify what brought about the work. Funny to me is that, though I am plausibly fearful of ridding myself of a comfortable space between me an my audience, I think my apprehension here stems from the fear that I am effectively creating a work of 'low' art.

Think about it, I'm writing a piece about a woman. Elements of it do have some real sophistication which I spent time working out: it incorporates a notational shorthand which I developed after studying early western musical manuscripts, for example.

It's a puzzling fear to have. I suppose it boils down to an adherence to The Poietic Fallacy. A theory of Richard Taruskin, which points to the hegemony within western classical music of valuing the particularities of a work's construction over its reception or ability to move an audience. While a dedication of a work would fit within the canon, betraying that the compositional process was driven by an emotional response somehow seems to me to be too revealing. Even discussing the topic has been hard: a draft of this post has been sitting in my outbox for two months now.

For the moment I don't know if this circle can be squared.

Tackling a Dangerous Premise

Recently, I was asked the question below in a discussion about early music performance. I've decided to write up my (polished) answer. 

"What do you think about attracting audiences in this century of digital music downloads?"

First, I'd like to tackle the premise of your question. It assumes that a recording is effectively a replacement to a live performance. In fact the two media are fundamentally different works. A recording today is, essentially, a patchwork of hundreds (or even thousands!) of segments that are weaved together to present a musical composition performed to technical perfection and, possibly, with a specific artistic vision. 

A live performance, on the other hand, is a communal activity where an artist or artists engage with a work and the audience around them. A performance is a transfer of energy through a specific medium (whether it be a musical work, theatre piece, etc.), connecting people on an intellectual and/or spiritual level. It's a human activity - it's not a social construction. 

I'm sure you've been to a performance in your life where you felt you were on the "outside" - maybe it was a concert of 15th century Burgundian music, or maybe it was contemporary dance - but even so, there was still a moment during the show where you couldn't help but think "wow, I don't know what I'm watching, but it's incredible!"

The danger with tacitly accepting that a recording is a replacement to a live performance is that it will ultimately lead to the latter's disappearance. Already it's getting harder and harder for artists to find paying audiences, and I worry that we are unconsciously trying to replicate a recording in performances to the detriment of the activity. At every level of artistic training, at least in the classical music world, we are not teaching performance. We might encourage it, but we don't emphasise and train the skills which set performance apart from recordings. We don't even have a vocabulary to discuss and analyse the act of performing. 

So, to answer your question, all I can say is that I will continue to advocate live performance as its own medium; to strive to perform as much as I can, to the best of my ability.

Something Special

For those of you getting into the Christmas spirit, I present the most important video you'll watch all day.

Youth, Part 1

For months I've been brooding over a term which I see appearing more and more. An article in The Strad published a few months ago, while written about an organization with the best of intentions, included the words 'young' or 'youngster' several times. The Jumpstart Jr. program offers a much needed springboard for a select few string instrumentalists. The competition is tough, and the winners are "usually at the start of their career, freshly out of college, but have already established a reputation for excellence in their field," says Kati Debretzeni, OAE leader and artistic advisor to the York Early Music Festival.

A Good Time to be a Cynic

When I am given the opportunity to speak in front of a group of musicians, I usually conduct an exercise or two. One of my most though-provoking involves asking all the participants to write down two rational reasons (or as close to as possible) why they should have a performing career. The only things which they are no allowed to write down are "I can't imagine doing anything else," or "I love to do it." After 5 minutes or so, the participants reveal their reasons. The funny thing is, most of the time hardly anyone can think of something which they themselves believe is legitimate. It seemed that many of the people who I'd gone through this exercise with started on a path and never questioned why performing was important to them. Even years after the experiment, some have told me that they still haven't come up with anything. I've struggled with since I came to Basel four years ago.

My Fear for Cadenzas

Recently, I read a post on David A. Wells's blog. In it, Mr. Wells details the process by which he wrote his own cadenza to the Mozart bassoon concerto. It's an interesting piece, one which had more than a few links to good material. In fact, I was surprised to learn that there is a D.M.A. thesis by a bassoonist named Sarah Anne Wildey, titled Historical Performance Practice in Cadenzas to Mozart's Concerto for Bassoon K. 191 (186e).

The Transformers Theme: What Makes it Great?

One of the greatest kids' TV shows of all-time, Transformers fueled the imaginations of a generation. Warring sentient alien robots, capable of transforming themselves into vehicles, bring their fight to earth. But, aside from that 1980's oh-so-cool premise, what was it that caught the attention of its viewers? I would argue it was the opening theme song (credited to Johnny Douglas).

Techniques for Recital Preparation

While many begin to prepare for their end of year recitals, it is worth taking a moment to consider practical routines to let the body best facilitate a good performance. Over the last few years I have been experimenting with my diet and daily routines leading up to a big solo concert or audition. Below, you will find a list of different things which I have experimented with and have resulted positively. Understandably, not everything can be done all the time, but I think trying a few of these techniques might be beneficial to anyone's performance preparation.