by natchaitkin | Nov 22, 2016 | Uncategorized
Roger screws up.
As many of you know, my quartet, 4-Way, has been teaching this year at Woodford Paideia Elementary School – we’re helping out the 5th and 6th grade orchestra classes, and giving some private lessons. We’re also getting to know some of the kids we’ll be working with starting in January, when our after-school program begins.
Last week at Woodford, I worked with several young cellists, and one moment in particular stuck with me. I was teaching French Folk Song (a staple of beginning string players from the Suzuki method) to a very enthusiastic 5th grader (let’s call her Riley for now) – a child whose photo should appear alongside the dictionary entry for the word “radiant.” However, she became very upset with herself every time she made a mistake. “I’m a perfectionist,” she explained.
I know that feeling all too well, as most musicians do – you can’t play an instrument well without setting high standards for yourself. I gently told her that her instinct to correct her mistakes was good, but that getting upset at herself wasn’t helpful or healthy. I reminded her that I made mistakes all the time, and that she should accept and indeed, embrace those mistakes as the critical learning tools they are.
Yesterday morning, I played a Youth and Family concert with the Cincinnati Symphony – 2,500 elementary school-age kids packed the Taft Theater for a program entitled “American Journey”. I love doing stuff like this – it is always fun to witness the energy of the audience right before the concert starts, with all the kids chatting and bouncing in their seats.
During the show, I was reminded that kids understand some things better than grownups do. During our performance of the slow movement of Dvorak’s New World Symphony, Chris Philpotts, the CSO’s marvelous English horn player, gave a beautiful rendition of the famous solo, and the kids (sadly unfamiliar with the classical music tradition of sitting still and shutting up no matter how much you’re enjoying yourself) applauded wildly, until they were quickly shushed by their teachers and chaperones. Audience training begins early – sigh.
What my lesson with Riley and the stifled enthusiasm of the kids both highlight are the dangers of overcorrecting behavior. In her case, she’s decided (as too many of us often do) that mistakes are something to feel bad about. Luckily, it’s fixable – if she enrolls in our program (and I really hope she does), we can work every week on putting that perfectionism to work for her in a positive way. In the case of the audience at the Taft, it’s a little more complicated.
I am sure that many of those kids had never been to an orchestra concert before, and that their teachers, with only the best of intentions, gave them strict instructions to be on their best behavior, which is certainly good. Still, those kids experienced what music is all about during Chris’s solo, and responded naturally – I bet that many of them thought, “That was awesome – why can’t I show my appreciation?” And just as this might have been their first orchestra concert, it also could well be their last, and if their takeaway was, “Don’t show it when you like something – it’s not appropriate,” well, I could hardly blame them for not wanting to come back later in their lives.
Now, I certainly understand the importance of crowd control in a hall with 2,500 kids – without it, anarchy would set in real fast. But maybe there’s a way to have both decorum and enthusiasm. What if the conductor had acted like a jazz bandleader, and told the audience before each piece – or even just one piece – which instruments would be featured, and that they should feel free to clap after each solo? I bet it would work just fine – it’s certainly worth a try. Maybe we could try it with the adults, too – remember, Mozart expected that sort of behavior!
For my part, I can’t wait to start working with Riley and her classmates at Woodford after school every week, and help them learn from their mistakes. I’ll be posting regular updates here and on the blog at 4-WayQuartet.com. In the meantime, we are hard at work raising the money we’ll need – if you would like to help us out, please click here and scroll to the bottom of the page to donate via PayPal. Thanks and Happy Thanksgiving!
Till next time,
Nat
by natchaitkin | Dec 8, 2014 | Uncategorized
I really hadn’t planned to continue this series, but more questionable behavior in the classical music world has given us a third installment. Today’s subject – audience noise at concerts and the out of proportion reactions it provokes from performers.
Nowadays, concert audiences are expected to be quiet, and any small disturbance by a patron can draw glares from their neighbors. It wasn’t always this way, as I’ve pointed out in previous posts – audiences used to be a lot rowdier. In any case, the “sit down and shut up” model of concert etiquette prevails now.
I am not against this entirely – it’s hard to play your best with a lot of ambient noise. I have also been momentarily distracted by some really out of bounds behavior in the audience – at one chamber music concert I played, an audience member opened up his newspaper (loudly) and read the entire time we played!
However, some recent reactions from high-profile performers to disturbances in the crowd suggest that maybe the desire for quiet has gotten a little out of hand (it sometimes makes me think of the Cone of Silence from Get Smart, above right).
Recently, violinist Kyung Wha Chung made a comeback from a long absence from the concert stage – an injury decades ago forced her to leave behind a very high profile career as a soloist. This was a really nice story, and I was very happy to read about her perseverance in an article in the New York Times in the days before the concert. However, what should have been a joyful occasion was spoiled – here’s the headline:
Apparently, there was a lot of coughing during the first movement of a Mozart sonata, and at its conclusion, Chung put her violin under her arm and looked at the child, indicating she would not continue until the coughing stopped. When it did, she is reported to have said to the parents, coldly: “Maybe bring her back when she’s older.” I wouldn’t bet on it – if I were that kid, I’d need a lot of convincing to ever set foot in a concert hall again. And I really hope she wasn’t an aspiring violinist!
You can read about the incident here. Critics who were there talked about the amount of coughing (a lot), and reminded their readers that Chung was under great pressure, giving her first public performance in many years. Doesn’t convince me she had the right to do what she did, but I agree it’s worth mentioning.
The article also recalls a similar incident a couple of months ago at an New World Symphony concert, where conductor Michael Tilson Thomas addressed a woman in the audience whose child was sleeping. Audience members say he asked the mother to leave, while Tilson Thomas claimed that he only asked her to change seats, as her patting the girl’s head was distracting. In any case, they left, and again, I’d be surprised if they ever came back.
There are many other recent examples of such imperious behavior in a very good article by New York Times critic Corinna da Fonseca-Wollheim. The grand prize goes to Andras Schiff, whose playing I really admire, but whose people skills seem to need work – to a coughing audience member, he said: “I am giving you a gift – don’t spoil it.” Please.
The article also offers some examples of much better reactions from the stage – my favorite is New York Philharmonic music director Alan Gilbert turning, smiling broadly and waving goodbye to two women sneaking out of a concert in between movements. The audience laughed – it must have been a nice change for them!
There are many people who say that absolute silence is required to truly appreciate the nuances of a performance, and I won’t argue that it is nice to have. However, most of the works we treat so reverentially were written long before audiences were expected to be so quiet! If Mozart expected noise when he performed his music (read my post about this here), maybe Kyung Wha Chung could live with some coughing when she plays it.
Many people already view the classical music world as pompous and overly serious, and it takes so little to fix that – a few words from the stage before a concert begins, or telling a story about the origins of a piece, or even just a bad joke are all that’s needed to break the ice! Make an effort, and please don’t act like people who paid to hear you are getting in the way – they are the reason you’re up there in the first place!
So, performers – an early New Year’s resolution proposal – in 2015, let’s behave more like Alan Gilbert, and less like Andras Schiff and Kyung Wha Chung!