Something touched me deep inside the day the music died
Music. Performing music and hearing people make music have been among my greatest joys in life. Ever since I was a kid, I've been performing music. Playing the trumpet badly in school. Singing, somewhat better than playing trumpet, in school and then semi-professionally for the last three dozen years. I have been lucky to perform regularly, mostly in the DC area but also across the the United States and in a couple countries in Europe. I have also been lucky to hear symphonies, choirs, bands, singers, and even guys playing guitars on subways in the US, Europe, and Asia. Frankly, music, and singing in particular, is part of my identity.
Back in March, I was at a rehearsal at the church where I am a paid singer when the parish priest came into the rehearsal and announced the church was closed until further notice by the diocese, so no more choir. At the time I was also rehearsing Durufle's Requiem and Bach's B Minor Mass (a piece on my musical bucket list) with a community chorus. An email went out the same week saying that rehearsals and performances were postponed indefinitely. I had bought tickets to hear National Symphony concerts in April, May, and June. All cancelled.
During the first week of the general shelter in place I watched a video of orchestral musicians in Canada playing "Nimrod" from Elgar's Enigma Variations. It really struck me, partially because of a cat wandering around an oboe player's feet, partially because the piece is always moving to me, and then finally because the video demonstrated the will of musicians to keep performing. Since then I've watched video after video of people, famous and anonymous, sitting in their rooms making music.
On one hand the music can be beautiful. Technology allows for quite effective recordings by cell phones. The professionals' playing is technically and musically excellent. Videos range from the humorous to the inspiring. And it is stirring to see that music struggles to continue in the face of challenging circumstances. But, just as a photograph of a friend or favorite place only has the power to stir memories of that person or place, so too do the videos remind one of what we have lost. The only music I've made since mid-March has been singing streamed services of Holy Week/Easter services at the church I sing at a month ago, with a socially distanced SATB quartet behind the altar. I was happy to be making music, but it also served to remind me of what I have lost.
Watching a video on youtube of people performing has been our substitute for the real thing for two months. But settling for watching a video of people making music rather than performing or a seeing a live performance is like settling for watching a porn video rather than having sex. If you make music, you know what I mean.
A tenor/blogger out in Seattle has written a couple brave articles about the future of classical performances in general and singing in particular that say out loud what many are dreading to contemplate. It will be a while before people can make and hear music like we did a mere three months ago. But compared to other casualties from the pandemic, tens of thousands of deaths as well as tens of millions of people without work, the loss of of musical performances seems slight. Lamenting its loss seems trite. And perhaps the title of post is a bit of Don McLean hyperbole, as music making has not really died. But it feels like it has.
Back in March, I was at a rehearsal at the church where I am a paid singer when the parish priest came into the rehearsal and announced the church was closed until further notice by the diocese, so no more choir. At the time I was also rehearsing Durufle's Requiem and Bach's B Minor Mass (a piece on my musical bucket list) with a community chorus. An email went out the same week saying that rehearsals and performances were postponed indefinitely. I had bought tickets to hear National Symphony concerts in April, May, and June. All cancelled.
During the first week of the general shelter in place I watched a video of orchestral musicians in Canada playing "Nimrod" from Elgar's Enigma Variations. It really struck me, partially because of a cat wandering around an oboe player's feet, partially because the piece is always moving to me, and then finally because the video demonstrated the will of musicians to keep performing. Since then I've watched video after video of people, famous and anonymous, sitting in their rooms making music.
On one hand the music can be beautiful. Technology allows for quite effective recordings by cell phones. The professionals' playing is technically and musically excellent. Videos range from the humorous to the inspiring. And it is stirring to see that music struggles to continue in the face of challenging circumstances. But, just as a photograph of a friend or favorite place only has the power to stir memories of that person or place, so too do the videos remind one of what we have lost. The only music I've made since mid-March has been singing streamed services of Holy Week/Easter services at the church I sing at a month ago, with a socially distanced SATB quartet behind the altar. I was happy to be making music, but it also served to remind me of what I have lost.
Watching a video on youtube of people performing has been our substitute for the real thing for two months. But settling for watching a video of people making music rather than performing or a seeing a live performance is like settling for watching a porn video rather than having sex. If you make music, you know what I mean.
A tenor/blogger out in Seattle has written a couple brave articles about the future of classical performances in general and singing in particular that say out loud what many are dreading to contemplate. It will be a while before people can make and hear music like we did a mere three months ago. But compared to other casualties from the pandemic, tens of thousands of deaths as well as tens of millions of people without work, the loss of of musical performances seems slight. Lamenting its loss seems trite. And perhaps the title of post is a bit of Don McLean hyperbole, as music making has not really died. But it feels like it has.
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| Happier days. Rehearsing Thomas Tallis' Spem in Alium in 2014 |
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