And the Band Plays On...

I went to see the New York Philharmonic Tuesday, July 3 for a July 4th-themed concert, "Stars and Stripes." I chose that show because the music consisted of pieces i was familar with, from "West Side Story" and "Porgy and Bess." But as it was an hour and 45-minute show, there were other classical pieces I was introduced to that evening, including a piece being played for the very first time called "Mountain" by a young American composer, Kevin Putts.

The composer, an older British gentleman named Bramwell Tovey, had so much personality! He was our tour guide for the evening, using humor and passion and music vocab to walk us through the pieces. At times he used his baton to direct both the orchestra and audience...and somewhere between the swell of violins and clarion call of the trumpets, I relaized He is the same way. He effortlessly directs us all, even when we think we are on autopilot. I saw harps, English horns, violas, violins, trumpets, percussion, bells, flutes, clarinets and many other instruments, and the conductor with his huge book of music must simultaneously direct them all. He knows your place - you, whatever instrument you play, are intricately layered into a beautiful composition and while there are a number of people around, each one of you can still focus ahead on the same conductor, for He knows your place at all times. He tells you when to rest, start, crescendo and peak.

He pauses between each scores to explain the movements to follow. He explicitly warns you to listen for the tritone in the next piece, the symphonic dances of "West Side Story." He tells you the tritione has an ominous sound, that it's usually associated with the devil in movies. He says to also pay attention to the ending. Because the music is from a movie based on "Romeo and Juliet," and all the great Shakespearean tragedies end with a "why?", the music will as well. He gives you the instructions beforehand, now you must listen as the movement starts.

Sometimes the baton bounces softly, and the other hand makes grand, gentle waves. The baton is now only in his fingertips, flopping lazily because he's confident you know the right notes to play and you're keeping time.
At times the conductor's signals are frantic - he waves, jabs, points, flaps, raises his hands and quickly drops them, he's looking left, right, pulling those arpeggios, and moving the pace, telling you to play faster, shorter, lighter....the tone rises and everyone has joined in, it's clearly the climax and with a flick of the wrist - boom! Now there's silence. In the audience you think it's over...you go to applaud...but then you hear a lone, plaintive trumpet wailing through. Just when you think it's over, He gives you another chance. Other instruments join in softly. He's telling you you're not alone.

Now you remember the conductor telling you what to listen for and how the piece would end. But you got caught up in all the movement and forgot your instructions.
You had a copy of the sheet music in front of you at home...you were supposed to practice, but you figured you'd just wait until rehearsal. But we have to practice daily. We must play so much we memorize and internalize the notes. Then we will never forget the instructions. But when we do forget....there's the conductor. Who will whip us into shape, and guide us to play our instruments together perfectly in tune with the intent of the Composer.

Who is your Composer? Conductor? Where is your recital hall? For those who understand what I mean, all the word truly is a stage.