October 2010:
Maybe Bach Was an Urban Hipster Too
(image: Glenn Gould practicing with his dog)
Striped pants with an un-matching plaid shirt, eyes shifting behind thick glasses to avert direct social contact, foot nervously tapping while fingers pulse against the café table in a complex 3 against 11 multi-meter. This image of the classical composer or brainiac concert pianist is held by many. And like with all stereotypes, this is not without “some” due cause. The late Canadian pianist, Glenn Gould, made famous by his two epic recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, (collectively having sold 1 million + copies), always insisted on wearing knit gloves in summer, amongst other eccentricities. And I have personally witnessed Pulitzer Prize winning composer, Ned Rorem, with his bishon fris poodle on his lap, at an Jordan Hall performance of his complex and beautiful work, Bright Music. But just as Freshman Music Theory classes establish strict voice-leading rules, only to then illustrate how every successful composer in history has deviated from them, I want to demonstrate the many exceptions to this limited conception of the classical artist.
Let me set the scene for the experiences which corroborated my quarrel with this stereotype. These past four days may have constituted the single most musically diverse week of my life. It began with a self-produced recital which included everything an arrangement of Imogen Heap’s Hide and Seek, to Steve Reich’s minimalist masterpiece,Vermont Counterpoint for ten flutes. The next day found me blissfully performing my all-time favorite chamber music work, Chansons Madecasses by Maurice Ravel. These exotic “Songs of Madagascar”, set to the French symbolist poetry of ( name), bring its listeners through an emotional spectrum rivaled only perhaps by the experiences of giving birth or having an earth-shattering orgasm. I was introduced to this piece twenty years ago, on Easter morning, and my cellist colleague brought hyacinths to the rehearsal. For me, the deep, sweet, penetrating scent of those flowers is inextricably linked with this riveting composition. As if this was not enough bliss for one weekend, I then participated in an acoustical/social experiment by one of North America’s rising star composers. For my first theatrical entrance in Lisa Bielawa’s Chance Encounters, the score required me to take a cab around the block to arrive at the pre-ordained public space where the performance took place, with instrument in hand. And joining us for this highly effective, flash mob-style chamber music concert were new music aficionados, several mothers and babies in strollers, a family who set up an impromptu picnic in the middle of the stage, and a rottweiler. Immediately following this performance, I hurried to Vancouver’s picturesque convention centre to entertain 4,000 lawyers from the International Bar Association. The million dollar conference spared no expense and included an opening ceremony in which I performed choreographed Native American flute music and improvisations on African tribal rhythms with 50 dancers and two aerialists spinning 100 feet above the avocats’ heads.
In his bestselling book, Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell claims that in order to excel in any field one must commit at least 10,000 hours of training. But while my own total more than triples this, an artistically rich weekend like this one reminds me why I have chosen to make less than that number of dollars annually in order to pursue my passion as a career. But what has truly driven me to stay in this rewarding but challenging profession for two decades has been the quality of meaningful collaborations it has afforded me. A pianist I’d never met ended our first rehearsal by giving me a huge hug. The Grammy-award winning singer in the Bielawa , with her friendly face and sunny disposition, cracked me up when she’d slip in the “f-word” at lunch breaks. The leather-clad clarinetist arrived to every rehearsal on motor bike. The long-haired, tattooed cellist made eye contact every time we got to my favorite parts in the Ravel. The new music festival producer offered chocolate and sushi to all of the performers back stage. And the composer and I enjoyed swapping shoe shopping tips all weekend. These profiles confirm only one true stereotype in my field. Participating in such joy reminded me how fortunate I am to be surrounded in my work by people who truly love what they do.
