“This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely,more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.” ~ Leonard Bernstein
There was no addition of La Marseillaise at last night’s Salt Lake Symphony concert. Nor was there any French repertoire; rather a decidedly passionate program of Rozsa, Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky. I also made the decision not to mention anything about the Paris terrorist attacks in the pre-concert lecture or from the stage. I felt personally raw and unable to talk about my own feelings on the subject. Nonetheless, the concert was a deeply personal experience for the musicians and for members of the audience, some of whom have shared how the concert helped them come to grips with their feelings about the events of the week.
Part of the effect lies in the power of Tchaikovsky’s music to touch us in different ways, particularly his Pathétique (6th Symphony). No one really knows what the symphony is about, although there are clues. Tchaikovsky suggested there was a hidden program after the premiere. He was dead only 9 days later. Some consider it Tchaikovsky’s farewell, some an actual musical suicide note, others merely a profound reflection on the journey of life. I tend to agree with the latter, and consider it the composer’s finest writing, an unrealized preview of what was never to come. But regardless of what anyone thinks the music is about, the symphony has survived as one of the most striking examples of how music can have a personal affect on the audience and musicians. It is one of those pieces that touches us to the core.
Music has that potential, certainly. But last night there was also a need that audience members brought to the concert. It was a need that did not exist the prior week. The events in Paris had opened a hole in all of us.
People who attend and perform concerts come from a wide variety of personal places—some happy, some sad; some successful, some struggling. But when a major tragedy touches the larger population with shock (or horror), a communal empathy emerges to rock our normally individualized space. At these times, music operates in a similar way inside all of us. It brings us out of ourselves and opens us towards healing and empathy for others.
Last night’s concert was a communal experience. There were tears after the performance. Each was shed from a different space; a different personal place. But Tchaikovsky’s music was not merely music that spoke to us individually. It became cathartic for a population, the people of the concert, both the patrons and the musicians. It was a small dose of healing amongst the chaos. A little hope for the future.
Je suis musique. Merci, Tchaikovsky
Copyright 2015, Robert Baldwin, Before the Downbeat