Foregrounding the background
In a George Plimpton-esque adventure, I spent the day playing with the Philharmonic Orchestra of New Jersey at the big New Jersey Performing Arts Center in Newark. The orchestra's web site advertised the concert this way:
Be swept away by the lilting grace of Antonín Dvořák's charming Serenade. Judged by many to be one of the most beautiful works ever written for string orchestra.
Well, I don't know whether the audience was swept away, but they were certainly talked to. And it was quite uplifting. This was billed as a Discovery concert, which meant that the conductor turned around and tried to persuade the audience to get in there and understand what they were listening to.
After having cajoled the group to recognize several themes in the last movement of the Serenade, the conductor said, in effect, “Now, concentrate, and see whether you hear what we've just talked about.” And then we trickily played a section from the Tschaikovsky Serenade. Totally different piece. Also for strings. Also very familiar. A hummm went through the audience. And this is when the conductor, George Maull, really hit his stride. He confessed to having deliberately played a different piece to prove a point.
He said, ”Society is teaching us not to listen. Music is everywhere, but it's always in the background. When you go shopping, it's there. When you see a movie, it's there. When you're in your car, it's there. But we're not really listening. Can you imagine this — Dvorak intended for you to give his piece your full attention. We don't seem to do that any more. I see people in concert halls reading the contributors' list in the program with absorption, or reading the program notes — meanwhile, the music is passing them by. You can't multitask with this. You have to listen.”
The musicians on stage nodded in agreement. He was saying what they believed. He went on to talk about concert etiquette — stop coughing — and about how classical music is full of emotional variety, just like people. We don't get up in the morning and decide we're going to be happy all day. There are always transitions, and shades of meaning, and moods with us. Same with this music. It changes all the time.
It was a very speedy adventure. We had just one rehearsal, then a break, then the concert, so it was a little hair-raising. I do know that the audience was giving us its full attention.
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5 Responses to “Foregrounding the background”
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It must be a matter of training. I don't feel engaged when I hear live music performed. With a song I can feel involved, I attend tons of live theatre, but if there is an overture, I can feel my eyelids start to droop. Is the only way to learn to appreciate the music more simply to listen to the music more?
Sorry to change the subject, but are you still on the ICANN Board?
Yes, I am very much on the ICANN board and I am spending a great deal of time on ICANN issues. Susan
I want to elaborate on my reply of a few minutes ago. Working with ICANN is a top priority for me. You can see a recent statement I made about ICANN here. You should read that statement in context with the others made there — I am not blogging about it here.
I hope to blog soon about advances made by ICANN in several areas. I'm working hard, I promise you.
I once knew an individual who could actually have to simultanious conversations. In reality, he could carry on two conversations by temporarily backgrounding one just listened to and responding to the other which had just been backgrounded previously, and foregrounding briefly the conversation being responded to. Surprisingly, it worked. It just didn't work well, and not surprisingly, the amazing multitasking conversational master didn't look as though he enjoyed either conversation, or was giving either his full attention.
Like the proverb says, “Chase two rabbits and catch neither.” Isn't music a kind of conversation? Anyway, it seemed to me to plausibly fall under the bailiwick of trying to do two things at once.