Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Golan, Holst, Lamont Symphony, Phoenix Youth Symphony, Rous, Sailer, The Planets
Sunday afternoon, January 17, the Lamont School of Music at the University of Denver gave a very exciting performance of one enormous and very difficult work: “The Planets” by Gustav Holst. This was a cooperative effort between the Lamont Symphony, conducted by Lawrence Golan, the Phoenix Youth Symphony, conducted by Benjamin Rous, and the Lamont Women’s Chorus, conducted by Catherine Sailer. The combination of the Lamont Symphony and the Phoenix Youth Symphony created an enormous orchestra comprised of college age and high school age musicians. This orchestra was combined with the Lamont Women’s Chorus which was required for the performance of “The Planets.” The Phoenix Youth Symphony is quite similar, of course, to Denver’s own DYAO.
Holst was an English composer whose grandfather was from Latvia and emigrated to England where he became a very well known harp teacher. Gustav Holst (1874-1934) was always interested in Hindu spiritualism and became quite interested in astrology through his friendship with Clifford Bax, the brother of English composer Arnold Bax. He began work on “The Planets” around 1913 shortly after Stravinsky’s “Rite of Spring” was premiered, and there is no question that “The Planets” bears some influence of Stravinsky, particularly in its complex rhythms. “The Planets” is an enormous orchestral suite with the names of the planets Mars, the Bringer of War; Venus, the Bringer of Peace; Mercury, the Winged Messenger; Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity; Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age; Uranus, the Magician; and Neptune, the Mystic, the only movement to use a woman’s chorus. Notice that Earth is missing. The reason for this is that the suite does not depict or have anything to do with planetary science, but has everything to do with Holst’s interest in astrology. Holst composed almost 200 works, but “The Planets” was the first composition of its kind to come from an English composer. No English composer had ever used the orchestration evidenced in this composition, nor the harmonies and the complicated rhythm.
Make no mistake about it: this is a difficult piece, not only for a university orchestra, but certainly for a youth orchestra. The Phoenix Youth Symphony deserves a great deal of credit for being able to perform this piece, but also both orchestras deserve a lot of credit for putting it together in two days. It was an absolutely enthralling performance, and the audience automatically, and without hesitation applauded after every movement.
What was so noticeable was the conductor Lawrence Golan’s ability to inspire the students in this vast span of ages. Before the performance, many of the students were in the lobby talking about everything that concerns young people today. Some of the PYS members were mingling with the Lamont Orchestra members. But when it was time for them to go into the hall, every one of them sat down and became serious professionals at their art. It was abundantly clear that members of both orchestras are excellent musicians. In another review of a student conducting recital that I wrote, I make the comment that the Lamont Symphony Orchestra played in tune. I certainly say that again, and it also applies to the Phoenix Youth Symphony. If these young musicians can play in tune, why can’t our own community orchestras play in tune? And again, every orchestra member on the stage in Gates Hall played with incredible intensity and conviction which is sometimes missing from our own community orchestras. It was plainly obvious that these musicians were being strongly moved by the music itself, and I saw at least one member of the Lamont Symphony who was moved to tears because of the music. That is the way it should be, and that is the kind of conviction and soul and understanding of music that it takes to become a career musician. Watching Dr. Golan conduct made it obvious that he was communicating with them in a very profound way, and that they cherished this experience of playing with a university orchestra. There were some outstanding solos in this concert, but unfortunately I do not know the names. The concert master, who I believe to be Hannah Barton, gave a wonderful violin solo in Venus. In Mercury there was a wonderful oboe solo – Katrina Maxcy? I simply could not see who was playing. And a great cello solo – Peter Eom. But you must realize as well, that the members of the Lamont Symphony Orchestra, for this performance to be done so well as it was, had to have provided quite a bit of guidance even through their attitude for the members of the Phoenix Youth Symphony. They are to be given credit for that influence even if they were not particularly aware that they were setting an example for the younger students at the time.
Of course, it must also be recognized that the conductors Lawrence Golan, Benjamin Rous, and Catherine Sailer, are individuals who like what they do – and it is also apparent that they like teaching – for they gave everyone on stage the stamina and courage and confidence to make everything musical a very special case.
Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Ace Edwards, Alix Corboy, Catherine Sailer, Lawrence Golan, Michael Galvin, Natasha Colkett, Pieto Mascagni
Friday evening, January 15, I attended a student conducting recital at the Lamont school of music at DU. It was presented by Ace Edwards, who already has in his possession a music degree from California State University at Sacramento, and the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow, Scotland. Currently, he is completing requirements at DU for a Master of Music in Voice and Choral Conducting under Catherine Sailer, and he has just begun studies for an Artist Diploma in Orchestral Conducting with Lawrence Golan.
I must say at the outset that this was a very refreshing program. The orchestra that Mr. Edwards conducted was the Lamont Symphony Orchestra which, of course, is the orchestra comprised of students at the University. I know that is obvious to everyone, but it was terrific to see an orchestra play with such enthusiasm and dedication – it was very easy to tell that they loved what they were doing. I could name at least three community orchestras in the metro area whose members could use that kind of enthusiasm. Not one single member of the Lamont Orchestra sat like a lump in their chair and just dragged their bow across the strings. And, guess what? They played in tune, which is something else a few of the community orchestras need to work on. I found myself being envious of Mr. Edwards because he had such a dedicated orchestra to work with.
Mr. Edwards also put together a really fine program, even though I’m sure it was all carefully chosen to show that he could conduct pieces from representative periods of music (that is often what student conductors have to do). He began the program with the suite from Appalachian Spring by Aaron Copland. He also chose to use the scoring from the original ballet which is only thirteen instruments: two string quartets, base, flute, clarinet, bassoon, and piano. Every conductor has his own particular style, and because each conductor is different does not mean that one conductor is more correct than another. Some conductors have a tendency to conduct the phrases, while others are quite structured and firm in conducting their beats. It seemed to me that Mr. Edwards used a combination of both. Some of his authority came from the fact that as soon as he mounts the podium, he is ready to go, and it behooves the orchestra to be ready as well. Keep in mind that I am not a conductor, but it did seem to me that sometimes his movements were a little bit inside his body outline. In other words it seemed to me that he could use some more expansive movements. But of course, the real test is this: did the orchestra respond to him? They certainly did. The Copland was full of sparkle and energy where it was called for, and in the slow opening, as well as the Sixth Section of the overture which Copland entitled “Calm and Slowing,” the orchestra played with conviction and introspection. It was quite enjoyable to watch the orchestra work so hard for their conductor, and truly enjoy the music.
The second work on the program was the delightful Concerto in D minor for Two Violins, Strings, and Continuo (BWV 1043). It has certainly been a very long time since I have heard this work performed live. The violin soloists were Natasha Colkett and Michael Galvin. Alix Corboy played continuo. Colkett and Galvin are students at DU and Ms. Corboy is a freelance musician in Denver who has a Masters Degree in piano from DU. She has much experience performing with a variety of chamber groups in the Denver area. From the outset, it was very clear that Colkett and Galvin had performed together before. There was superb eye contact between them and they played with a great deal of vigor as did the entire orchestra. Mr. Edwards depended a great deal in this work on facial expression while keeping his movements at a minimum. But again, the orchestra responded to every move that he made. It must be difficult for the conductor to decide how much control to give to the soloists. Therefore, the soloists and conductor must work out the tempos and nuance even before the first rehearsal, and I must say the Bach seemed very well prepared. The slow movement was excellent, and the only way I can think of describing the last movement is that it simply rollicked. There is no question that Bach would have liked it as much as the audience did.
Next, Mr. Edwards chose the Intermezzo sinfonico from the opera “Cavalleria Rusticana,” by Pieto Mascagni. What a great addition to this program, as this is another work that used to be performed with some regularity, but now it is seldom heard. It is a beautiful lyric piece and it was clearly moving not only to the audience, but also to the orchestra. It is always wonderful to see musicians truly care about what they do. It was certainly clear that they were responding to Mr. Edwards.
The last work on the program was one of the great symphonies of all time, and certainly one of the best Mozart symphonies: Symphony Nr. 38, known as the “Prague.” This symphony was written in Prague and finished on December 6, 1786. It was premiered a few weeks later on January 19, 1787. As far as we can tell, it was written and dedicated to the people of Prague because of the high esteem they held for Mozart and his music. This symphony was very well done by the orchestra and by Mr. Edwards. Personally, I think that it takes a certain amount of bravery to perform such a work. In saying that, I am not intent upon insulting Mr. Edwards conducting ability by any stretch. It is simply that this work is hard. And I hasten to point out that Mr. Edwards did the job. Certainly he knows Mozart, and once again, the orchestra responded to his every request. I would, however, like to make a small suggestion to Mr. Edwards, while reminding him that I am a pianist and not a conductor. In the second movement (which is also a sonata form) about eight bars before the development section, the violins and low strings in this small coda have repeated eighth notes which are slurred together on the first and second beat (if one is counting six and not two). These notes are incredibly important in bringing the exposition to a close and must be done very meticulously so as to emphasize the harmony in the woodwinds scored above. Exactly four measures before the first ending of this movement, these repeated notes form the basis of a Neapolitan sixth chord which resolves to the new tonic, and which, in my humble opinion, needs to be brought out in a very subtle way. It is a perfect example of Mozart’s chromaticism which, at times, can be quite startling and moving. Everything else about this movement Mr. Edwards did in a very sensitive manner thoroughly befitting what Mozart wanted.
This was a very enjoyable performance by a conductor, who I think, will find it not quite so difficult (as conducting goes) to establish himself with a good orchestra. He certainly has the ability to pick an extremely appealing program. Now, all he has to do is work.
Filed under: Reviews | Tags: Lawrence Golan, Moravian Philharmonic, Pathetique, Peter Boyer, Tchaikovsky
I have a new recording of the Tchaikovsky Sixth Symphony.
It was done by the Moravian Philharmonic conducted by Lawrence Golan, who, of course, teaches at the Lamont School of Music in Denver. Golan has conducted worldwide and throughout the United States, conducting symphonies, ballets, and opera. He is also the Resident Conductor of the Phoenix Symphony as well as the Music Director and Conductor of the Portland Ballet Company.
A native of Chicago, Lawrence Golan holds degrees from the Indiana University Jacobs School of Music (B.M. and M.M.) and the New England Conservatory of Music (D.M.A.). In addition, he studied at all of the major conducting festivals including Aspen and Tanglewood, where, in 1999, he was awarded the Leonard Bernstein Conducting Fellowship. The long list of distinguished conductors with whom Dr. Golan studied includes Robert Spano, Jorma Panula, David Zinman, Seiji Ozawa, Gustav Meier, Leonard Slatkin, Marin Alsop, Murray Sidlin, and Harold Farberman.
The Sixth Symphony is known as the Pathétique, however it should be pointed out that that is the translation and transliteration of the Russian word which means “passionate” or “emotional.” It has nothing to do with the aspect of pity. Tchaikovsky did have a program for this symphony, and even considered calling it the Programmatic Symphony but decided against that – not only did he dislike that title, but he was afraid that people would ask him what the program was, and he never divulged the program to anyone, not even his brother. It was his brother that came up with the nickname for this symphony. Because of this nickname, and because of the unusual slow movement that ends this symphony, many have tried to ascribe a program to this work wherein Tchaikovsky predicts his own death. While it is certainly true that Tchaikovsky died (from cholera) nine days after he conducted the premiere, and it does seem that he sanctioned the nickname of this work by his brother, and while it is true that the first movement contains a theme from the Russian Requiem, there really isn’t any evidence that this symphony is in any way autobiographical. Tchaikovsky did consider this symphony to be the best work he had done.
Every conductor that can be named has recorded this work which was finished in 1893, and several have recorded it more than once. Toscanini did two studio recordings, Pierre Monteux, Fritz Reiner, Charles Münch, and Eugene Ormandy all have done recordings, and, of course, they all had their individual styles. Leonard Bernstein’s interpretation of this symphony was certainly the longest at just under one hour. My own favorite recording of this symphony, until now, was conducted by Marko Munih (1936 – ) and the Radio Symphony Orchestra of Ljubljana. Munih is very faithful to the score while imparting a great deal of emotion. Many other composers seem to take a great deal of liberties, even with the composer’s markings. For example, Maurice Abravanel, in his recording with the Utah Symphony, delays the actual Allegro non troppo tempo indication immediately after the slow introduction for almost two measures.
I hope that these brief comments will allow you to see what I expect from a recording of this remarkable work. In this current recording, conducted by Golan, the emotion is ever present, as is his fidelity to what Tchaikovsky wrote. This symphony places several traps for the conductor that require several moments of thought and study before the first rehearsal. For example, in the first movement before the development section of this standard sonata form, Tchaikovsky indicates a pianissimo with six Ps – thus pppppp for the bassoon. While that may be an unprecedented marking, can you convince your bassoonist that he can really play that softly or, as some conductors have done, do you give it to the bass clarinet? Also to consider, is the fact that the second movement of this symphony is a waltz, but in 5/4 time, rather than the usual 3/4 meter. And I have to point out that this movement is what makes Golan’s recording so remarkable. Many conductors perform this movement so that it has taken on the nickname “the limping waltz,” because of its unusual meter. In other words, it sounds as though it is a regular waltz with a missing beat. But in this recording, if one counts the beats, there are indeed five, but there is no way on this earth that this movement “limps.” It is fluid and mellifluous. In all of the movements, the tempos that Golan takes are absolutely perfect. Even in the slow introduction to the first movement, there is a sense of forward motion which is missing in many other recordings. Golan gives the bridge to the recapitulation in the first movement special emphasis, so that when it comes, we truly arrive there. Again, this emphasis is provided by the tempo which is not exaggerated, and the phrasing which is controlled by dynamics. Thus, the architecture of the sonata form is apparent – and the sense of architecture is what is missing in other recordings. In the last movement, the feeling of lugubriousness which makes other recordings feel so heavy, is simply not there. This is a world-class recording of this deservedly popular symphony. And remember this – Golan lives here in Denver, and we can hear him almost anytime we wish.
Also on this recording, are three compositions by Peter Boyer, who is an important American composer.
Before the Tchaikovsky is performed on this CD, there are two short compositions of Boyer’s; his Celebration Overture which was premiered in 1997 by the Henry Mancini Institute Orchestra (who commissioned the work) and the Silver Fanfare, which was written for the 25th anniversary of the Pacific Symphony in California. This work was premiered in 2004.
Peter Boyer’s orchestral works have received over 200 public performances, by more than 80 orchestras. He has conducted recordings of his music with throughout Europe. Boyer has received seven national awards for his work, including two BMI Awards, the First Music Carnegie Hall commission, and the Ithaca College Heckscher Prize. Boyer was recently named the 50th annual recipient of the Lancaster Symphony Orchestra’s Composer’s Award, given each year to one American composer “who is making a particularly significant contribution in the field of symphonic music.” (Previous recipients of this award include Howard Hanson, Roy Harris, Walter Piston, William Schuman, Gian Carlo Menotti, John Corigliano, and Joseph Schwantner).
Boyer’s music has been praised by critics in America and also in Europe. Boyer was born in Providence, Rhode Island in 1970, and began composing at the age of 15. His first major composition was a large-scale Requiem Mass in memory of his grandmother, composed while only a teenager. Boyer received his Bachelor’s degree from Rhode Island College, which awarded him an honorary Doctor of Music degree in 2004. He received Master of Music and Doctor of Musical Arts degrees from The Hartt School of the University of Hartford, which named him its 2002 Alumnus of the Year.
Both of the above mentioned compositions, the Fanfare and Overture, are very energizing pieces that are quite reminiscent of Aaron Copland. But mind you, I am not speaking of their similarities as overtures or fanfares. I am speaking of the similarities harmonically. Also keep in mind that I have not seen a score for these pieces, and I am basing the following on what I heard on the CD, but both of these works seem to display what Copland referred to as “white key diatonicism.” I am certainly not going to give a theory lecture in this review, but to be very, very brief, white key diatonicism is basically where key signatures and enharmonic equivalence are taken as points of departure for the use of the diatonic-chromatic relationship. The resultant chords and relationships do not depend on any past convention or rules. This is what gave Aaron Copland’s music its distinctive sound, and it is that sound that pervades the first two pieces on this CD. I also would point out that the orchestration in both of these works are not at all like Copland’s orchestration. In addition, I would point out that Boyer is relatively young to be so well-known, and one of the reasons he is so well-known has to be because his orchestration is so confident. These are very good pieces and they are a delight to listen to. Add to that the fact that Lawrence Golan is conducting. The partnership is excellent.
On the other side of the Tchaikovsky Sixth Symphony is a work by Boyer entitled the Tchaikovsky 6.1. This composition was commissioned by Lawrence Golan, and was specifically to be performed after Tchaikovsky’s Symphony. It was Golan’s intention in the commission to begin the new work with the same mood and ideas that ended the original work. So, Boyer chose to begin Tchaikovsky 6.1 with generic material from the end of the last movement of the original Symphony in retrograde. This is an absolutely fascinating work, and it is quite possible, for a while at least, to follow this work using the score from Tchaikovsky’s original composition. It, in no way, uses white key diatonicism, and it certainly does not sound like anything done by Copland. It is a wonderful work where, in the middle section, Boyer has placed the haunting theme from the first movement of the Tchaikovsky. This theme, which is stated verbatim, is placed against a celesta, percussion instruments, and harp, to provide a very ethereal sound. In the program notes for this CD, Boyer states, “I hope that Tchaikovsky would forgive me this fanciful re-orchestration!” For my part, I am quite sure that Tchaikovsky would.
This is really a fine CD with some traditional and not so traditional music that is wonderful to listen to. The Moravian Philharmonic is a fine orchestra, and so is its conductor, Lawrence Golan. It is refreshing to hear a recording of a well-known work of concert repertoire done so honestly and so beautifully. This recording was done on the Albany Label, and the catalog number is TROY1027.
A friend, who is a musician, sent me what follows. It speaks for itself.
Welcome Address to Parents of Incoming Students
The Boston Conservatory
by Dr. Karl Paulnack, Director of the Music Division
September 1, 2004
One of my parents’ deepest fears, I suspect, is that society would not properly value me as a musician, that I wouldn’t be appreciated. I had very good grades in high school, I was good in science and math, and they imagined that as a doctor or a research chemist or an engineer, I might be more appreciated than I would be as a musician. I still remember my mother’s remark when I announced my decision to apply to music school– she said, “you’re wasting your SAT scores!” On some level, I think, my parents were not sure themselves what the value of music was, what its purpose was. And they loved music: they listened to classical music all the time. They just weren’t really clear about its function. So let me talk about that a little bit, because we live in a society that puts music in the “arts and entertainment” section of the newspaper, and serious music, the kind your kids are about to engage in, has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with entertainment, in fact it’s the opposite of entertainment. Let me talk a little bit about music, and how it works.
One of the first cultures to articulate how music really works were the ancient Greeks. And this is going to fascinate you: the Greeks said that music and astronomy were two sides of the same coin. Astronomy was seen as the study of relationships between observable, permanent, external objects, and music was seen as the study of relationships between invisible, internal, hidden objects. Music has a way of finding the big, invisible moving pieces inside our hearts and souls and helping us figure out the position of things inside us. Let me give you some examples of how this works.
One of the most profound musical compositions of all time is the Quartet for the End of Time written by French composer Olivier Messiaen in 1940. Messiaen was 31 years old when France entered the war against Nazi Germany. He was captured by the Germans in June of 1940 and imprisoned in a prisoner-of-war camp.
He was fortunate to find a sympathetic prison guard who gave him paper and a place to compose, and fortunate to have musician colleagues in the camp, a cellist, a violinist, and a clarinetist. Messiaen wrote his quartet with these specific players in mind. It was performed in January 1941 for the prisoners and guards of the prison camp. Today it is one of the most famous masterworks in the repertoire.
Given what we have since learned about life in the Nazi camps, why would anyone in his right mind waste time and energy writing or playing music? There was barely enough energy on a good day to find food and water, to avoid a beating, to stay warm, to escape torture-why would anyone bother with music? And yet-even from the concentration camps, we have poetry, we have music, we have visual art; it wasn’t just this one fanatic Messiaen; many, many people created art. Why? Well, in a place where people are only focused on survival, on the bare necessities, the obvious conclusion is that art must be, somehow, essential for life. The camps were without money, without hope, without commerce, without recreation, without basic respect, but they were not without art. Art is part of survival; art is part of the human spirit, an unquenchable expression of who we are. Art is one of the ways in which we say, “I am alive, and my life has meaning.”
In September of 2001 I was a resident of Manhattan. On the morning of September 12, 2001 I reached a new understanding of my art and its relationship to the world. I sat down at the piano that morning at 10 AM to practice as was my daily routine; I did it by force of habit, without thinking about it. I lifted the cover on the keyboard, and opened my music, and put my hands on the keys and took my hands off the keys. And I sat there and thought, does this even matter? Isn’t this completely irrelevant? Playing the piano right now, given what happened in this city yesterday, seems silly, absurd, irreverent, pointless. Why am I here? What place has a musician in this moment in time? Who needs a piano player right now? I was completely lost.
And then I, along with the rest of New York, went through the journey of getting through that week. I did not play the piano that day, and in fact I contemplated briefly whether I would ever want to play the piano again. And then I observed how we got through the day.
At least in my neighborhood, we didn’t shoot hoops or play Scrabble. We didn’t play cards to pass the time, we didn’t watch TV, we didn’t shop, we most certainly did not go to the mall. The first organized activity that I saw in New York, on the very evening of September 11th, was singing. People sang. People sang around firehouses, people sang “We Shall Overcome”. Lots of people sang America the Beautiful. The first organized public event that I remember was the Brahms Requiem, later that week, at Lincoln Center, with the New York Philharmonic. The first organized public expression of grief, our first communal response to that historic event, was a concert. That was the beginning of a sense that life might go on. The US Military secured the airspace, but recovery was led by the arts, and by music in particular, that very night.
From these two experiences, I have come to understand that music is not part of “arts and entertainment” as the newspaper section would have us believe. It’s not a luxury, a lavish thing that we fund from leftovers of our budgets, not a plaything or an amusement or a pass time. Music is a basic need of human survival. Music is one of the ways we make sense of our lives, one of the ways in which we express feelings when we have no words, a way for us to understand things with our hearts when we can’t with our minds.
Some of you may know Samuel Barber’s heart wrenchingly beautiful piece Adagio for Strings. If you don’t know it by that name, then some of you may know it as the background music, which accompanied the Oliver Stone movie Platoon, a film about the Vietnam War. If you know that piece of music either way, you know it has the ability to crack your heart open like a walnut; it can make you cry over sadness you didn’t know you had. Music can slip beneath our conscious reality to get at what’s really going on inside us the way a good therapist does.
Very few of you have ever been to a wedding where there was absolutely no music. There might have been only a little music, there might have been some really bad music, but with few exceptions there is some music. And something very predictable happens at weddings-people get all pent up with all kinds of emotions, and then there’s some musical moment where the action of the wedding stops and someone sings or plays the flute or something. And even if the music is lame, even if the quality isn’t good, predictably 30 or 40 percent of the people who are going to cry at a wedding cry a couple of moments after the music starts. Why? The Greeks. Music allows us to move around those big invisible pieces of ourselves and rearrange our insides so that we can express what we feel even when we can’t talk about it. Can you imagine watching Indiana Jones or Superman or Star Wars with the dialogue but no music? What is it about the music swelling up at just the right moment in ET so that all the softies in the audience start crying at exactly the same moment? I guarantee you if you showed the movie with the music stripped out, it wouldn’t happen that way. The Greeks. Music is the understanding of the relationship between invisible internal objects.
I’ll give you one more example, the story of the most important concert of my life. I must tell you I have played a little less than a thousand concerts in my life so far. I have played in places that I thought were important. I like playing in Carnegie Hall; I enjoyed playing in Paris; it made me very happy to please the critics in St. Petersburg. I have played for people I thought were important; music critics of major newspapers, foreign heads of state. The most important concert of my entire life took place in a nursing home in a small Midwestern town a few years ago.
I was playing with a very dear friend of mine who is a violinist. We began, as we often do, with Aaron Copland’s Sonata, which was written during World War II and dedicated to a young friend of Copland’s, a young pilot who was shot down during the war. Now we often talk to our audiences about the pieces we are going to play rather than providing them with written program notes. But in this case, because we began the concert with this piece, we decided to talk about the piece later in the program and to just come out and play the music without explanation.
Midway through the piece, an elderly man seated in a wheelchair near the front of the concert hall began to weep. This man, whom I later met, was clearly a soldier-even in his 70′s, it was clear from his buzz-cut hair, square jaw and general demeanor that he had spent a good deal of his life in the military. I thought it a little bit odd that someone would be moved to tears by that particular movement of that particular piece, but it wasn’t the first time I’ve heard crying in a concert and we went on with the concert and finished the piece.
When we came out to play the next piece on the program, we decided to talk about both the first and second pieces, and we described the circumstances in which the Copland was written and mentioned its dedication to a downed pilot. The man in the front of the audience became so disturbed that he had to leave the auditorium. I honestly figured that we would not see him again, but he did come backstage afterwards, tears and all, to explain himself.
What he told us was this: “During World War II, I was a pilot, and I was in an aerial combat situation where one of my team’s planes was hit. I watched my friend bail out, and watched his parachute open, but the Japanese planes which had engaged us returned and machine gunned across the parachute cords so as to separate the parachute from the pilot, and I watched my friend drop away into the ocean, realizing that he was lost. I have not thought about this for many years, but during that first piece of music you played, this memory returned to me so vividly that it was as though I was reliving it. I didn’t understand why this was happening, why now, but then when you came out to explain that this piece of music was written to commemorate a lost pilot, it was a little more than I could handle. How does the music do that? How did it find those feelings and those memories in me?”
Remember the Greeks: music is the study of invisible relationships between internal objects. The concert in the nursing home was the most important work I have ever done. For me to play for this old soldier and help him connect, somehow, with Aaron Copland, and to connect their memories of their lost friends, to help him remember and mourn his friend, this is my work. This is why music matters.
What follows is part of the talk I will give to this year’s freshman class when I welcome them a few days from now. The responsibility I will charge your sons and daughters with is this:
“If we were a medical school, and you were here as a med student practicing appendectomies, you’d take your work very seriously because you would imagine that some night at two AM someone is going to waltz into your emergency room and you’re going to have to save their life. Well, my friends, someday at 8 PM someone is going to walk into your concert hall and bring you a mind that is confused, a heart that is overwhelmed, a soul that is weary. Whether they go out whole again will depend partly on how well you do your craft.
You’re not here to become an entertainer, and you don’t have to sell yourself. The truth is you don’t have anything to sell; being a musician isn’t about dispensing a product, like selling used cars. I’m not an entertainer; I’m a lot closer to a paramedic, a firefighter, a rescue worker. You’re here to become a sort of therapist for the human soul, a spiritual version of a chiropractor, physical therapist, someone who works with our insides to see if they get things to line up, to see if we can come into harmony with ourselves and be healthy and happy and well.
Frankly, ladies and gentlemen, I expect you not only to master music; I expect you to save the planet. If there is a future wave of wellness on this planet, of harmony, of peace, of an end to war, of mutual understanding, of equality, of fairness, I don’t expect it will come from a government, a military force or a corporation. I no longer even expect it to come from the religions of the world, which together seem to have brought us as much war as they have peace. If there is a future of peace for humankind, if there is to be an understanding of how these invisible, internal things should fit together, I expect it will come from the artists, because that’s what we do. As in the Nazi camps and the evening of 9/11, the artists are the ones who might be able to help us with our internal, invisible lives.”
