This past week I've been playing in a volunteer pick-up orchestra that culminated in a concert this evening as a memorial for the victims of the Orlando shooting. I signed up for the concert partly because it was a memorial, but also largely because it was great repertoire and it is fun to play with people and meet others.
Upon arriving to the first rehearsal on Tuesday I found that there was only one second violin, two first violins (one of whom is primarily a violist), and not even one of each wind instrument (forget the brass). People had trouble counting basic rhythms, coming in on time, even starting at the same place was an issue. More than we could chew: Beethoven 9 and three additional pieces (Corigliano Elegy, Copland Quiet City, and Barber Adagio). But the cello section were cool people and the most reliable section in terms of attendance of any other, and I had a friend in the violins. I had made a commitment and I had no intention of backing out of it.
It has been interesting to be a part of such a project. I know this music very well. I've played in orchestras before and this is a different league. And yet, apart from worrying about how the conductor was handling his time (we've spent 2 hours and 50 minutes on one movement of one piece and the concert is tomorrow????) and the sheer fact of having to be controlled and rehearsed by a conductor, the transgressions of my fellow musicians bothered me far less than it has in the past. Things were out of tune and wildly (excitedly) not together.
But there was a sense of solidarity in the chaos that was really refreshing. No pretension, just working through it to make it happen. And few musical choices were dictated. Bowings were free, as well as many other aspects of the music. Everyone was just clinging to get through.
Maybe there could have been another way, but the fact that we were unpaid meant that people chose when to come to rehearsal, that there was no librarian, or personnel manager. It was a mess. But it was done because people felt it needed to be. The experience has made me rethink what it means for something to be "musical." As a trained musician this was entirely unmusical. Anything that I have learned about expectations in a rehearsal and in playing and listening was broken. But there was something there that is often missing from professional experiences which definitely could be considered musical in a human sense. There was a need and a love to do this from some people. And from others there was a commitment and camaraderie untied to monetary gain. It was a wonderful program (first half music composed by openly gay American composers, second half, Beethoven's call for unity), and it was truly offered as a gift. It was beyond our ability but people were there of their own accord.
It is a strange thing to make a living doing something I love. The same is true for teaching. What is my vocation? It is a common question: what do you do? How is that something other than what I am? I am me, here I am, doing and living. I think money can separate us from ourselves. Work must be something we wouldn't do otherwise. Almost by definition. What a world would that be, of people living and doing with no other motivation?
It was an interesting and strangely wonderful experience.
No comments:
Post a Comment