
May 29, 2006 at 2:46 PM
O, vos omnes, qui transitis per viam,O all ye that pass by the way,
attend and see if there be any sorrow like to my sorrow.
The idea is that you are sitting on the side of the road, asking the travellers that pass to stop and observe your pain, because you have suffered so much more than anyone else, and to take pity on them - to pray for them, or give money or something.
Singing the words (even words in a different language) can be difficult, but to put yourself back into the 16th century (when Croce wrote his O vos omnes) can be extreemly difficult. There aren't many people these days who have been to the 16th Century.
Our director asked us to think about all the many people who are suffering at the moment - survivors of the earthquake in Indonesia, people affected by famine and poverty in Africa. In 400 years, the amount of suffering hasn't changed, it's just moved.
Putting a meaning behind the lyrics that we could relate to (in a sense) made all the difference and the piece came to life. Now, with songs, you get a bit of a hand with the text - it helps you out and can put meaning into the performance. But what about pieces? What about that violin concerto, or our latest sonata. Putting meaning into our performances is just as important.
But where do we find that meaning? How can we interpret notes on a page, and come up with meaning? What about music that apparently has no meaning and is just music for music's sake?
Well, I can't answer that, kind of...
Each piece is different, and each person will have a different interpretation. It's this that makes music such a versatile art form. With visual art, once the paint is on the canvas, it's there for the world to see. Someone won't walk into the Lourve and see the Mona Lisa wearing green while the person next to them sees her wearing purple. But in music, interpretations of pieces can vary wildly. And the great part about it is that there's no wrong answer. We aren't the composer - we don't need to get into their head to figure out what they were thinking when they wrote it. Sure, there are some pieces that have obvious meanings in there, but there are others that you can leave it up for yourself.
For example, the Presto from Bach's G Minor Sonata (BWV 1001). To me, when I play this, I picture a grand european cathedral (probably German). There's no-one else in there, apart from me and my violin. I'm standing in the centre and playing this piece. As I play, the reverb comes back and I just hear lush harmonies. Now when I play that in the dead of a practice room, I might be lucky if I get a reverb to the next note - but I'm imagining it going for a couple of bars. When I do this, the piece takes on a meaning that is unique to me. Someone else might see this piece as Bach describing a river he lived near. It's this interpretation that allows music to be performed again and again.
Take your musical performance to the next level, and get inside your piece.
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