A concert that took place in the Great Hall earlier in the
month may supply clues as to why this is.
Yefim Bronfman is one of the greatest pianists in the
world. So, when he comes to Wharton
Center to play a concert, we expect first and foremost, wonderful music making.
And when Bronfman was here on April 2, we got just that.
But we live in a different world now. It’s a world of
entertainment, a world of personalities, a world of stage production.
At Bronfman’s concert, things had changed little from the
hundreds of years of classical recitals.
The wide Wharton stage – the same one that played host to huge Broadway
productions like Phantom of the Opera
and Lion King– had a total of three
items placed in the center: A Steinway grand piano, with one set of potted
plants on either side of the large black instrument. No microphone, no projection screen, no
lights, no nothing.
Without introduction, Bronfman, a large gentle man dressed
in black, strode on the stage, bowed, and sat at the piano to perform. He played three major works interrupted by an
intermission. After the program was over,
he added two (or was it three?) encores in quick succession. Then he left the stage.
The concert took about two hours and the appreciative audience
gave the soloist a standing ovation.
Never once did Bronfman utter a word. He did not say anything about the music he
was about to play, nor did he announce the identity of the encore pieces (which
are never listed in the program book).
The concert experience has changed drastically over the
years, but apparently not for many classical performers.
What can we expect from these soloists without them thinking
that they must “entertain” the audience rather than just play the music? Are we
allowed to look forward to some sort of interaction between the soloist and the
listeners? Every actor and singer talks
about the communication that flows between the audience and themselves. It’s
what makes a live performance a live performance.
If music lovers wanted to hear the music only, they could
simply listen to a CD in the comfort of their living room without paying for a
ticket.
Not all classical soloists are as old-school as Bronfman. Yo
Yo Ma, James Galway, Renee Fleming, Joshua Bell, Itzhak Perlman and others are known
for their gracious personalities and their warm stage presence. They speak
freely to the audience and share their thoughts about the music.
In today’s concert world, classical performers may find that
they will have to make an effort to reach out to their fans to develop or even
maintain a following. Show their humanity. Talk about the music.
I fear that in the future, concert goers will not want to
pay their good money to hear someone like Bronfman, even if his piano playing
is stunning.
There is a delicate balance. Classical performers should not
feel that they have to “stoop” to acting like they’re on a talk show. But
modern audiences want to have some sense of who these people are and what they
think about the music. Building a relationship between the artist and the listener
makes the concert a richer experience for both parties.
What do you think?
6 comments:
I was struck by the feeling that Bronfman was playing for himself, not for the audience. He enjoyed playing the piano--the fact that we were there to listen appeared immaterial to him. I was not offended by this, I was amused by it. My thought was, "Wow, what an introvert! He spent his whole childhood at the piano, rather than interacting with people."
I enjoyed the concert tremendously--and, yes, I think it was 3 encores. Amazing that he was willing to play 3 with all he had already given us. But, wait--he wasn't being generous--he was just doing more of what he loved to do. The music appeared to pour out of his fingers with no effort, and no strain. I loved it. No theatrics were needed.
Hi Ken,
Coming at you from Paris, France at the moment. Your review of Mr. Bronfman's concert, and live performance in general, struck one of my pet peeves. For better or worse, I am in many ways, "old school". I agree that today's audiences want to be entertained.
Fine, but a certain segment of the so called serious music performers are better suited for the "rock" stage, or the contortionist ring at the circus.
Many of those performers who attempt to express the composer's musical ideas though theatrics of unnecessary physical movement, facial expressions, or bodily contortions, do both the audience and the music a disservice. Nevertheless, many members of the audience fall for that as "music-making". No such thing. It is simply distracting.
My experience with conductors who love to talk to the audience (as well as to the orchestra!), mostly are wasting time, particularly when they simply regurgitate information already printed in the program notes. Yet, the audience loves it.
You are correct; speaking to the audience does seem to bring people into the concert hall. I personally think it's pandering to those who don't invest a small amount of time to learn something about the composer of the works being played, IN ADVANCE.
I do think that if the performer is presenting a new, or unfamiliar work, it is a good idea to make a SHORT speech.
None of this should take away from Mr. Bronfman, who is an excellent musician. Maybe he had a sore throat that day :>)
To bring trant to a close, hope you're well and thanks for your continued work with the blog. By the way, I'm still playing some chamber music concerts and the occasional solo recital in Toronto. Also, check out my radical change of perspective in my photographic work; www.ronaldhurwitzphotography.com
Best wishes,
Ron
If I am spending money to see a live show, I prefer at least a bit of personal interaction with the artist. It doesn't have to be wildly theatrical or superficial. Too many of today's pop stars try to distract us from lack of talent with a bunch of crazy stunts. But I want enough to feel SOME connection. Otherwise, I can save a lot of cash and just plug into my iPod at home. As Ron said above, yes, I can do my own research into these works and the composers. But it's interesting to me how that particular artist feels about the music, too. To be completely ignored as a spectator is insulting. Just a few sincere words here and there at a classical performance is all that's needed. As a performer, I would NEVER go without acknowledging an audience. I feel extremely grateful that someone came to see me do something I love and hopefully I brought them some joy! The audience is the reason for the performance. Music only for my own personal gratification can be done at home. Don't like audiences? Don't do live shows.
I feel the artist has spoken through his/her/their interpretation of the work. In this context, I prefer a minimal stage, a confident entrance, nonverbal connection between musician and audience, the respectful bow, the grateful applause. In his article about Alfred Brendel’s Mozart performances, Nicholas Cannariato wrote in The Atlantic, “The performer and listener each can think of ... [the] productive tension as between sound and silence. Loving music, Brendel suggests, means embracing its fleeting moments as well as the silence out of which they come.” For me, the performance itself says it all.
The performer you mentioned was showing the audience who he is by his lack of commentary. Expecting every performer to entertain the audience is unrealistic, especially when it comes to piano players. Many of them DID spend long childhood hours at the piano instead of developing social skills and continued to do so to maintain the level of performance we expect them to create. To require them to become glib onstage would be to limit our exposure to some of the greatest players in the world. I saw Arthur Rubenstein perform a solo recital near the end of his life. He had to be helped onto the stage and onto the piano bench. No words were spoken the whole time, but it was one of the most emotionally packed performances I've ever witnessed. I heard no complaints from the audience.
However, that said, as a performer myself who enjoys using multi-media presentations as part of my performances, I think that can be a valuable part of drawing in today's audiences....but that's me.
I think the venue can make all the difference. Most of our performance spaces, whether grand neo-baroque palaces or modernistic auditoriums, reinforce the "frontal" model that distances the person on stage from the masses sitting in the dark.
The Europeans have started to break down the barriers by building halls with seats behind the stage. Last year I heard an opera in concert performance at Berlin's Philharmonie, sitting just a few feet behind the double-basses. Thanks to the binoculars we use in Michigan to watch sandhill cranes, I could read the music on one of the second violinist stands, as well as being privy to all of Simon Rattle's gestures and connections with the performers. Even the soloists, obviously aware of our presence behind their backs, frequently swiveled around and sang to us.
Now Berlin has gone a step further. Daniel Barenboim commissioned Frank Gehry to design the new Pierre Boulez Saal. This is an intimate venue for music in the round (or more accurately, in the ellipse). Performers and audience members can look each other in the eye and communicate nonverbally.
So for me, it's not about expecting a show, but rather about going beyond our designated roles so there's a possibility for genuine human connection, and to create spaces that support this.
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