Music....it's all about listening....

Arrived in Boston this week and have already been blest by great weather (expectations aside) and an exciting concert experience: 17 year old pianist George Li (who is rapidly assuming superstar status nationwide and abroad) performed the Schumann Piano Concerto with the Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra under its renowned  conductor, educator, author and motivational speaker, Benjamin Zander.

It was gratifying that a young pianist with such "technique to burn" would choose to perform a less "flashy" and more poetic work like the Schumann. Mr Li, a recent winner of the Young Concerts Artists prize definitely does possess a maturity of approach and performance well beyond his years. His interpretation of the Schumann was placed strongly on the more straightforward,  masculine end of the spectrum for this popular work. There were times I wished for more variety in his use of tone colors or phrase shapes/destinations, and I hope that in time he will become more sensitive to the nuances of harmonic colors or key changes, and their role in defining what makes any individual piece of music unique. But having said all of that, Mr. Li's performance of the first movement cadenza was possibly the best I have ever heard.

His humility (during numerous bows before a hometown crowd in a standing ovation) was gratifying to observe, and his performance of a slow, poetic Chopin encore was absolutely spellbinding and masterful. It had all of the tone colors and nuances that I had wished to hear a bit more of in the Schumann, so perhaps this confirms that his (or his teacher's) view of the Schumann is more "classical" than "romantic" and he perhaps chose deliberately a rather Bach-like robustness. This school of thought definitely exists, but having performed the work myself around the world and coached it in masterclasses of maybe 14 or so music conservatories, my own personal belief is that without a more sensitive alternation of gentleness, light and phrase destinations, the Schumann concerto can get very repetitive in some passages despite its greatness.

For the second half of the ambitious (and long!!!) three hour program, the BPYO was joined by assembled choirs and two internationally known vocal soloists, to perform Mahler's Symphony No2, "The Resurrection".
I was surprised by several things. First of all, the choice of soloists. To quote the BYPO's own program notes by David St George: "Mahler specifically stipulated that the singer of this song ["Urlicht"] use "the tone and vocal expression of a child who thinks he is in heaven". There was nothing inherently wrong with the vocal soloist(s) but those booked for this performance had very heavy vibratos and very "angst" ridden emotional portrayals that most definitely did not sound either childlike or heavenlike. So it simply seemed an odd choice of soloists if one wanted to follow Mahler's wishes.
The second surprise was the program itself - combining a very long Mahler symphony (which can often suffice as a complete concert program all in its own right) with a relatively long piano concerto.
Youth orchestras don't often play complete Mahler Symphonies, but especially not immediately following a performance of the orchestral parts of the Schumann Piano Concerto - which the BYPO players did to a very high standard indeed. So it was astounding that they had the physical stamina, let alone the mental or musical concentration, to continue with this lengthy and powerful Mahler symphony. The results were (rather understandably) uneven, but there many great moments, as well -  and I kept thinking how fortunate these young talented players were, to have this perhaps life-changing experience of learning and performing the Mahler 2nd, live, at such a young age.

And for the audience members as well - judging from mistimed applause that interrupted or rattled the young performers at times, it seemed that for a fair proportion of the audience of relatives and friends, this was perhaps also their first time experiencing this monumental work. So it was exciting to be there in the midst of it all, like witnessing a child's first taste of ice cream or an adult's first sight of the ocean. A young woman (maybe 19 or 20?) next to me was fidgeting constantly, flipping the pages of her program instead of reading it, while her boyfriend (?) next to her was totally rapt and obviously knew players on the stage - one could see him sort of vacillating between feeling sorry for his bored companion, or feeling regret for bringing her if she couldn't share his enthusiasm, or wishing he could find a way to help this powerful work to enter and engage her spirit. The Mahler 2nd has an undeniable power that sweeps all audiences to their feet, and this performance, especially by such young and exhausted players, was (almost) no exception.....with the one hold-out being that same young female next to me. She had the honesty to remain seated as a testimony to her bewilderment or boredom or dislike or all of the above. And I am sure Mahler would have approved of that honesty too.

An internationally known musician sat to my left, and her first comment afterwards was how much she would dearly love to create some serious cuts/edits in the Mahler 2nd, saying that orchestral musicians often discuss how amenable this particular work is for finding some relatively easy cuts without damaging the power or the overall message, due to its harmonic structure and repeated thematic segments. (Takers, anyone? ) Shortening the work would obviously make it less taxing to perform, whether by youth or experienced professionals. But the BYPO musicians did a very creditable job technically, with special kudos going to the cellos, the concert mistress, and the confident brass, horns, and woodwinds.

The main surprise we (the musician to my left and I) had both noticed was that none of the players seemed to be trained to focus on listening to each other as an absolute first priority of being an orchestral musician. Each section played its solo or part in its own rhythm and mood without any apparent understanding of how it fit into the whole or how it then dovetailed or answered a previous phrase played by another section. It could be that this was simply a symptom of the number of rehearsals a massive work like the Mahler would have required, and they needed to focus on technical and ensemble issues in the weeks that they had till performance day. One could tell that they all loved and trusted their conductor Maestro Zander to be the chef, take their individually prepared ingredients, and then produce the completed cake. But the BYPO is a tremendous youth orchestra and it can only get better, so one shares this suggestion in a positive way - listening to each other is a habit built in the first moments of the first rehearsal of any new work, whether easy or difficult, and it has to be insisted on and demanded by all beloved conductors. Training orchestras that succeed most in this one specific aspect - like the Shepherd School of Music orchestra at Rice under Larry Rachleff - are renowned for producing the top orchestral players of the next generation and the most riveting, "together" performances of any piece, by any age of players.

But back to the concert at hand - the gorgeous, elegant ambiance of Boston's Symphony Hall added to the "special-ness" of the occasion, and it is difficult to say whether the principal star was the pianist George Li or the courageous and generous players of this technically excellent orchestra in such a challenging program. The packed hall was full of truly ecstatic and inspired music listeners, and I heard several different audience members commenting as they departed that it was the best concert of the BYPO - and indeed of any they had attended anywhere -  in a very long time. In retrospect, it is really all about listening....the players listening to each other, audience members listening to something for the first time, a young but mature piano soloist inviting us to listen to every note as if it was a word.....music is special that way...and it's all about listening for the life and the message that lies within.

on pop stars, Olympic ice skating and piano recitals......

Last week someone remarked to me that for those who are not lifelong concert artists, there can often be a strong fascination with the details, moods, experiences and activities of a performer or musician, and (in that person's estimation), this fascination played a large part in the initial popularity of Twitter because young fans of pop stars could now follow their idols' every move or imagine more closely their daily lifestyle. This person went on to suggest that more of us "classical musicians" should likewise share our experiences from the "onstage view" and I thought that made sense, so here is my first installment on that topic.

Over the past three days, I have performed the same solo piano program to three different audiences, in two different venues, so I thought that this experience might be a good place to start.

First of all, I would say that all three audiences were equally appreciative and excited afterwards when coming up to speak with me, although among the two recitals held in the same venue, those two audiences were actually very different in the way they seemed to listen and the level of "energy" that came back to me onstage while performing. This could have had something to do with the time of day for each concert (as this affects the audiences even more than the performer, in my opinion) as well as the overall age group in each audience.

I was also intrigued by the fact that after each of the three concerts, as people would come up to tell me what piece was their favorite, there was always one piece that got more votes than any other - but, that "audience favorite" piece was different at each of the three performances, even though all three concerts had the same program. And none of the pieces named by audience members as their "favorites" ever matched the ones that I myself most enjoyed performing at each concert! There are many different discussion topics or potential "psychological insights" that could probably arise from these observations, but for now I'll simply move on because today (rather typically of most performers, I am sure) my adrenalin and brain cells are rather drained :)

Two of the three concerts were recorded for potential broadcast. People often ask me if there are any surprises when I hear a recording of my live performances or if the interpretations sound indeed exactly as I hear them "in my head" while rehearsing or playing. Having just today listened to the recording of the first concert, my response would be that pretty much everything sounded exactly as I "heard" it while performing, except for one thing - the very fast pieces always come out sounding much much faster than I "feel" I am going at the time. I am sure this is a reaction akin to that of tennis players viewing tapes of their successful matches or shots when they felt they were "in the zone" - so many players have said that the ball seems to be coming at them in "slow motion" and that they are not aware of how rapidly they are responding or moving.

And perhaps also akin to a tennis match or a golf tournament, I never expect to have an absolutely technically perfect solo-recital performance over a 90-minute program encompassing maybe 300 pages of memorized music from a wide variety of composers. I have no doubt that many of my colleagues do achieve this, and repeatedly - but my hands are some of the smallest in the concert world (they barely reach an octave, even though some of my best reviews have been for Rachmaninov, Brahms, and Chopin) and when under the adrenalin rush of live performance, they can sometimes betray me a bit and hit two notes at once or misjudge a leap - just occasional things like that.

Pianists also have the added technical challenge of not being able to bring their accustomed instrument with them to each venue, so it would be like golfers having to use completely foreign clubs at each competition - or tennis players never having any choice in their racket or competing ice skaters having to wear used skates that were handed to them at the competition day itself. There is a level of technical comfort that is just simply not possible sometimes in these situations, because certain pianos have an action that is unexpectedly heavy or light, or one that works great for Debussy but not Brahms, or have a key that doesn't repeat, or any number of other challenges. Personally I quite enjoy these added challenges (and often joys) that come with discovering new instruments (with their own potential tone colors) at each venue, but that doesn't diminish their existence.

My reason for mentioning all of these factors is simply to share that in assessing a live performance (my own or others') , technical perfection does not rank as the No1 consideration in my overall feelings about that concert, and some non-musicians who greet me after concerts with "Wow that was amazing- I didn't hear a single wrong note the entire concert!" are often surprised when I assure them that yes, there were a few wrong notes, but hitting all "right" ones is not the ultimate goal. They then sometimes ask me, "well then, what is?" . Keep in mind, I am talking about a few tiny glitches or clinkers here and there - obviously if someone has a "bad night" for whatever reason and the piece becomes a complete and total mess technically, that is a different story akin to an unexpected sporting disaster.

But for example, my own personal goal over these three concerts this week was to recover a level of "abandonment", fun, and "emotive freedom" in live performance that I recently concluded I had partially lost, at least in comparison with the first performances of my career as a child, probably due to the increased focus on technical perfection as a professional. Again, I am sure this is totally normal for most lifelong performers and there are as many causes for this phenomenon as there are people in the performing world, each with their own history and experiences. But the dilema became clear to me only a month or so ago, while watching the ice skating championships during the Winter Olympics and listening to the commentary of the ex-Olympians who were comparing the skaters, their practice routines, and their goals. The winners in this instance were those who practiced the hardest in order to be as physically, mentally and technically ready as possible so that they could "let go" in performance and inspire the world with the beauty, freedom and expression of their interpretive artistry and their heartfelt (as opposed to intellectualized) "presence" during their skating. They still had occasional tiny glitches, but it didn't matter - at their peak performances it was as if there was no separation between the skaters, the music they were skating to, nor the feelings they (and that music) were expressing through their physical movements - they seemed to become the music, and their movements on skates became the physical expression of their hearts and souls. Watching them, I realized that this, surely, should be my goal as a concert performer as well. I know that seems obvious, but sometimes we need to be woken up and reminded of such things!

So - with that as my focus during the intense rehearsal sessions leading up to these recitals, was I fortunate enough to meet my personal goal in these particular concerts? I am happy to report the answer is Yes! Does that guarantee I will be able to do so the next concert, and the next? Possibly not.....

But this particular concert program added to my enjoyment as well. Many people do not realize the great amount of planning, rehearsing, deciding, re-rehearsing, changing, and re-deciding that goes into the final creation and deliberation of the concert program that is ultimately handed to the audience members as they enter a venue. In this particular case I decided on the theme of a "round the world" tour, with the composers as the tour guides. This program approach and the "travel commentary" I provided before each piece, proved extremely popular with all three audiences. More on that topic, and my feelings about classical piano music as the World Music of its time, in another blog post.

For now, it's time to do as any good but exhausted post-Olympic athlete eventually does, and get some sleep!