We began our rehearsal with the Kodaly and almost immediately, a woman
with blond hair came in and sat down with such determined familiarity
that I thought that perhaps she was an unmentioned guest of one of the
artists. She watched and listened to our rehearsal intently from the
second row. It wasn’t until a member of the staff came in to ask her if
she might like to perhaps eat before the concert and she stepped out
that I realized she was a client. But in no time at all, she was back
in her spot for the rehearsal, watching us closely and with
appreciation.
This time I went downstairs to see how many clients were in the
building and to possibly advertise if necessary before we were to
start. I smiled when once again I saw the familiar face and red hoodie
of Marvin. “I was looking for you!” he said beaming. “Will you be
there?” I asked. “Yes” he said, “but I have to meet with my case
manager first; I wanted to let you know that I’m getting an apartment!”
That’s terrific news!” I said, “congratulations! That means we won’t see
you after today, so I really look forward to playing for you one last
time at the concert.” But in a realization of one of my long-term
goals, he leaned in and said, “No, not the last time. I’ll be at your
concerts out there, he said motioning vaguely towards the door. You
won’t see me or even know I’m there, but I’ll be...” and he made an
applause motions while beaming, his face turned upward as if trained on a
stage.
When I returned, this time there was no particular magic which filled
the room. It was pretty much the same intimate crowd, focused towards
the back of the rooms as when I left. Perhaps others had gotten their
apartments as well. I decided we would go ahead and start.
I made my usual introductions while this time preparing our audience
for the newer, more virtuosic style of music we would be offering
today. I told them to expect from the Kodaly a raw, earthy energy and
harmonies you could feel in your gut. Plus color influenced by the
French music of Debussy. I also told them that Kodaly and his friend
Bartok went out into the country with their early recorders and recorded
people in the fields and villages singing traditional folk tunes to
incorporate into their more formalized music. How perfectly aligned
with our vision for today and these 15 months. As we began to play, I
threw myself into this beloved work which I recorded some 17 years ago
on my debut CD. And yet part of my consciousness was roused by the
motion of every movement and possible entrance by a human body near the
door, and I willed the top of my eyes and the side of my head to
see. Simultaneously, I worried that I had over promised in my
introduction as my other senses seemed to tell me that no one was paying
any attention to our performance this time. Uh oh- would this be the
first time my fears would be realized and a concert in a focused, quiet
environment would fail to hit the mark? But when we finished, Marvin
punctuated the hearty applause with both arms pumping the air at the
end. And when I asked for thoughts and impressions, Marvin lead eagerly
by volunteering about this performance “It completes my day.” While I
breathed a sigh of relief, his enthusiasm was immediately echoed by
someone else in the back of the room. “Me too!” Contrary to my pointers
of rawness, this audience heard the solace. “It eases my day too; it
relaxes my mind. Gave me a sense of peace inside,” said the man in the
back. Another interjected, “It’s a work of art. I tell you- I’ve never
heard anything like that before. I’ve been all over- to Europe... but
I’ve never heard anything like that. But he did pick up on some of what
I had mentioned, “It’s not easy!” I immediately quipped, “You picked up
on that, huh?” and everyone had a hearty laugh. Peter wanted to
clarify, “not easy to listen to or not easy to play?” He clarified-
“Not easy to play! I can tell how much experience it takes to do what
you did. It sounds nice.”
For another man it reminded him of the time in his high school when
other students played instruments. For yet another man it sounded like
“walking on the beach on a sunny day- nice and smooth.” “You gonna play
another one?” He asked. Yes, I assured. “Ok, give us the name, the
year....”. So I gave them more info about the 31 year old Kodaly who
wrote the piece in 1914. I also told them about how the Hungarian
language apparently has many words accented in the first syllable and
that Hungarian composers like Kodaly used that in the music as well.
For the next movement I told them that there’s an extended passage that
evokes a full-fledged thunder and lightning storm, first the low
distant rumble, then flashes of lightning, then moving walking or riding
through a hard rain. I asked them to listen to see if it strikes them
that way too. When we got to the passage, I heard at least at least one
person say, “this is it-that’s the lightning.” But by the time we got
to the end, no one was willing to quite venture a guess. “It sounds
nice, the whole thing.” “Fair enough,” I said, “what did you like about
it?” “It sounds nice,” he said again, it was something
different.” Again, this is a phrase that I have heard from several
people over the years, striking me as an indicator that the speaker is
moved by what they heard and cannot fully express it. He continued,
“it’s the first time I’m hearing it” I replied, “I’m glad it connects
with you the first time you’re hearing it.” I asked, “If you could say
one thing that was your favorite thing about it, about this piece, what
would it be? “Just the way it sounds. It’s something different.” He
went on, “I know they got specific names, that’s a violin, right?” “Yes,
and that’s a cello,” I said. “Yeah, it ain’t easy playin’ that. I
noticed that. I know you don’t just walk out and do that.” “It’s true,
it takes a lot of work,” I replied.
When no one else had any more to say, I then told our audience that we
have a really special treat for them, “Oh! Thank you so much,” came a
reply. I introduced Forgotten Voices and introduced Ellen Taaffe
Zwilich, sitting right in the front row. I said that she is not just a
composer, but a Pulitzer Prize-winning composer who has won 4 Grammy
nominations, a Guggenheim and many other awards- and at each of those
mentions, the same vocal gentleman in the audiences punctuated the
points with vocalizations of appreciation, surprise and esteem- “Oh!
Ooh! Wow!” I said that we are so honored to have the contribution and
the presence here today of this wonderful composer. Each Forgotten
Voice piece is unique in its own way, but this piece comes to this
project by a particularly unique path. Thematically, the material is
drawn from a solo violin work that Ellen wrote for the Indianapolis
Violin Competition. But inspired in a whole new way by the Forgotten
Voices Project and the words “Never been so close to a violin before”
and “How do you get the violin to talk like that?,” she reimagined the
piece and has re-gilded the title as “Music Kitchen Interplay.”
Ellen rose to underscore how particularly inspiring those words were
for her in choosing to write for this project, it really “lit her fire”
she said. Mark then read the complete text for the song and he
surprised me by saying that he had had the same feeling that this writer
the first time he heard me play! So he too found deep resonance with
this particular text, “How do you get a violin to talk like that?” and
was happy to now have a chance to render it in song. I could not be
more thrilled and honored that a song for Music Kitchen Forgotten Voices
by one of the country’s most celebrated composers will also be part of
the virtuoso violin canon and was written specifically for me and Mark
Risinger.
We jumped into the work and at the end were greeted with hearty
applause and thumbs up. “You get better and better, you crushed it!”
said Marvin. “Sounds like we’re at the opera,” said another. “It gives
you energy,” said yet another and he continued, “something new for
us.” When I asked if they had ever been this close to a violin before,
someone called out, “First time!” And as we have been frequently
offering with these new pieces, I asked if we could play it for them
again now that they know what to expect. The voices of immediate and
eager approval of this idea felt good to hear. But before we even
started, one client wanted to share what he wrote- “Music is a universal
language. And it soothes the mind and soul of everyone.” I asked,
even though this piece goes all over the instrument, and even though
you’ve never heard anything like this before, it’s speaks to you
right?” “Of course,” said one. Another opened up for the first time to
share that his daughters are also very musical, two play violin and one
sings. With that we played the piece again. “What a voice,” said
Marvin. Someone new, a woman’s voice spoke up, “I liked it. I like how
you were speaking through the instrument.” Our special guest for
today, my colleague and Executive Director of BMI said she liked how
there was not just one voice from the violin but many different voices,
both in Ellen’s compositional techniques and huge range and my playing
of them. Further for me, with the stark register difference between the
highest violin lines and the lowest bass notes, I can almost smell
incense on the word blessing, as if in an old cathedral!
Ellen stood to thank the audience and us, and I asked the audience if
they’d ever met a composer before. No one had, so I invited Ellen to
speak more about her work. She spoke eloquently on a really central
point that I am also not only passionate about, but on which Music
Kitchen is founded. She showed the audience the score, saying the black
dots on the page are what we are given, “But these are the people that
bring my music to life. It takes the human element…” A client broke in
to say, “Because you’re not playing it.” “No, I’m not, she replied,
I’m thinking it and they give it life.” Immediately grasping it, he
chimed in, “They build it up.” “Absolutely and that’s one of the great
joys of being a composer. And it’s lovely to share it with you,” she
said warmly to the audience. A heartfelt “Thank you!” was the immediate
reply from our most vocal audience member for today. But as I was just
about to wrap up, finally the woman near the front, who had been
listening since the first notes of our rehearsal ventured to speak,
shyly and with a tone of voice reminiscent of the hearing impaired. But
she waxed tenderly about the violin sound reminding her of “being with
someone that loves them but they don’t know it yet. It reminds me of
those feelings.” Though I’m not sure I fully grasped her meaning, I was
very taken with the power of her sentiment. Another man continued by
saying he loves hearing music live, touching another point on which I am
passionate. I started to wax about how recordings are important to
document great performances, but that live music is essential. The
vocal audience member was reminded of listening to Beethoven’s 5th, so I
played once again the opening motive. Though I don’t always mention it
here, it never ceases to amaze me how many times that work is evoked in
the shelter.
Ellen further spoke of the little differences between our two
performances; she says she loves that as it’s evidence that the work is
living and breathing. The same man wanted to know how she thinks of the
notes in the first place. Ellen replied that of course she works very
hard, studied, and also used to play the violin, but still that there’s
something very mystical and magical about composition. Indeed. I
thanked our audience for electing to come upstairs to our concert and
for listening, and they returned a hearty thanks to us. I reminded them
that they were the first to hear this piece and the public would hear
it second in a concert. “A concert?” they perked up already at the
thought. “Will it be in New York?” Smiling on the inside about our
upcoming Carnegie Hall World Premiere Announcement, I replied, “Yes, it
will, and I hope you will come. And I am already in contact with
shelter staff and the Department of Homeless Services to make sure you
can attend if you would like.” When I reminded them that when they get
there, they can say, “I’ve heard this because they already played it for
me!” there were light-hearted chuckles around the room. With that, we
took our group photo.
No comments:
Post a Comment