Luxembourg Once Again!

This past weekend I was fortunate enough to perform with a festival orchestra in Lintgen, Luxembourg. The ensemble was made up of players from a number of countries, with a large contingent of Canadians (or players with Canadian connections).

Usually when I perform in a concert which is quite a distance from Switzerland, the orchestra is made up of players who I haven't met before. While there may be one or two familiar faces, for the most part I'm the odd one out in an ensemble made up of performers who have been playing together in various formations for years. It's a sort of impersonal experience: you do your work, play the concert, have the beer, and maybe make a few connections along the way. This weekend was different.

The ensemble, styled Les Go?ts-Réunis, have been performing in the festival rencontres musicales de la vallée de l'Alluette since 2014 and were described to me by one of its regular members as an ensemble which exists 'to have a good time with friends and play a concert'. While I had met a few of the musicians before (three of us studied together in Basel and I had played in Montreal-based groups with three others) I was surprised how quickly I fell in with the whole ensemble. There were numerous 'dots to connect' with a number of players: common friends; the Montreal scene; the Schola; even the timpanist, a native of Calgary, asked me right out if I went to Canterbury High School!

Working with them was a real change of pace. The breaks weren't just a time to decompress, they were alight with conversation. We were also lucky that on three occasions the whole ensemble had a meal together which, along with a gathering the night before the concert made for a really memorable project. As an added bonus, we played at a high level! Both socially and musically, the continuo section came together very quickly, which made for a real stress-free experience. Almost everyone I had played with in other formations before, but not all in the same section. 

The continuo section.

What made the program special for me was that half of it I had first performed in my veryfirst tours with EUBO. Coincidentally, those first EUBO programs had been rehearsed in Luxembourg. There was a real feeling of being 'at home' mixed in with nostalgia for another time. This was especially the case when rehearsing "The King Shall Rejoice" from Handel's Coronation Anthems.

Coming home on the train, I really felt that this was no ordinary project. I do hope that I can be a part of it in the future!

[Emotionally] Leading and Audience

Months ago, in a MoMo class at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis, I saw a performance of a harpsichordist who was presenting a work in progress. The piece was a very flashy ciaccona by some unheard-of 17th century composer/performer and it was played very well for us that afternoon. Most of us were impressed not only by the performance, but by the fact that there had been such a development in that player's technical abilities in such a short time. The performance, like any, did have a few moments of insecurity but they did not detract from our reception of the work overall.

The most interesting part of the lesson was the discussion that followed it. A listener in the room asked the performer how he understood the piece emotionally. After a detailed description of what he felt and following another run-through of the work, the audience's comments became almost exclusively focused on whether they themselves interpreted the performance along the same emotional lines. In effect, following the description of what the performer saw, the audience adjusted their interpretation of the work by making judgements on whether they did or did not feel what was described to them before the work was performed again.

Let's look at an interesting parallel. Wikipedia writes, "in common law systems that rely on testimony by witnesses, a leading question or suggestive interrogation is a question that suggests the particular answer or contains the information the examiner is looking to have confirmed.

While I absolutely encourage performers to make the exercise of analysing a work on an emotional level, I wonder whether we should share our findings with our audiences for fear that we 'cheapen' their experience. Think about it: in the moments before a performance you want to do your best to focus the attention of the listener as well as prepare them for the emotional experience you wish them to have. If you were to give away what they should feel, would they not spend the performance comparing their experience with their expectations?

(Title)

For the last 6 months or so I've had an unfinished composition sitting on my desk next to my laptop. The piece is a multi-movement fantasia (of sorts) for solo baroque bassoon. The piece is written in a shorthand which, like a number of my own compositions for solo bassoon, allows me the freedom to explore my musical ideas from one performance to another. The composition hasn't been finished because the inspiration for it comes from a rather dark memory which I've been reluctant to dig up. The reason I write about it today, however, has to do with the title.

While I am no expert in the realm of new music, I can imagine that the variety in stylings which their titles take today are only increasing. Most instrumental works in centuries past were not given a name. We know them by the ways we categorize them; their form, key and, if they were published, by their order of in the collection (e.g. Suite in G major, Op. 3 no. 1). Of course, exceptions to the rule existed - take the instrumental repertoire of the French baroque, for example. Free today are we, however, to break from this tradition.

So I took it upon myself to title the work and its movements hinting to the particular memories they were inspired by. While I'm not bothered by the thought of performing a work born out of a personal experience to a public audience, for some reason I'm fighting the urge to explicitly identify what brought about the work. Funny to me is that, though I am plausibly fearful of ridding myself of a comfortable space between me an my audience, I think my apprehension here stems from the fear that I am effectively creating a work of 'low' art.

Think about it, I'm writing a piece about a woman. Elements of it do have some real sophistication which I spent time working out: it incorporates a notational shorthand which I developed after studying early western musical manuscripts, for example.

It's a puzzling fear to have. I suppose it boils down to an adherence to The Poietic Fallacy. A theory of Richard Taruskin, which points to the hegemony within western classical music of valuing the particularities of a work's construction over its reception or ability to move an audience. While a dedication of a work would fit within the canon, betraying that the compositional process was driven by an emotional response somehow seems to me to be too revealing. Even discussing the topic has been hard: a draft of this post has been sitting in my outbox for two months now.

For the moment I don't know if this circle can be squared.

Our Very Own returns to Ottawa this week

For the first time since 2015, Our Very Own will perform in the Ottawa area. Performing a project of German works, Marie Bouchard and I will perform a recital with special guest soprano Marianne Moore.

I hope to see you there!

The concerts are as follows:

Friday, February 16, 2018

12:00PM

Carleton University

Patrick Cardy Studio (Loeb A900)

Free Admission
*a shortened program

Friday, February 16, 2018
7:30PM
St. Paul’s United Church
25 Gore St W, Perth, ON
Tickets $20 at the door

Saturday, February 17, 2018
7:00PM
Southminster United Church
15 Aylmer Ave, Ottawa, ON
Entrance by Donation
($30 recommended)