Crowded Music (Learning how to listen)

April 7, 2008 at 12:18 AM

Last night I went to see David Kim (from the Philadelphia Orchestra) perform with the Springfield Symphony. I've attended several concerts over the years, but this was beyond exceptional. First, Mr. Kim was flawless in his performance. Second, for the first time ever I actually knew what I was looking at. I was able to watch his hands and see things I was unaware of before I began taking lessons. Though I've always appreciated talent, I had to chalk several things up to "magic" because I wasn't sure what was actually causing the sounds and effects that were capturing my interest. I had the fortune of being directly in front of him, less than ten feet away. I was able to study his hands, posture, and track the smallest movements with his bow hand. For experienced players, I'm sure this is old news. But for a beginner, this was very exciting!

I remember an art class from long ago. My teacher explained that novice artists were afraid to leave any open areas in their paintings and the trademark of an amateur was a "crowded" painting. She gave an entire lecture on how empty space can speak as effectively as decorated space. In a writing class even further down the road, our speaker explained that you shouldn't have to explain everything to your audience; the joy of discovery is a reader's pleasure. In other words, what you don't say can be as effective as what you do choose to explain.

Last night, I finally learned just how much that also applies to music. Instead of his moments of silence merely being a pause where he did not play, I was taught the meaning of subtlety, variety and drama. I learned how the tiniest change can have profound meaning, and knowing his every movement was intentional only made it a better experience. I realize I've been playing "crowded" music. In my desire to be heard I was pushing my notes together instead of letting each one speak for itself. It made me think of listening to someone in a foreign language, how their words seem to blend into one long assault on the ears that you eventually tune out. Though planning for the next note is essential, I realized I was neglecting to enjoy the moment I was in, and my sound is suffering because of it.

A wise fellow told me a long time ago that I would never learn to play what I did not hear. I have listened to classical music most of my life, but I did not hear it. Not on the level that I do now, at any rate. My understanding of what goes into playing has added so much to the listening experience that I cannot imagine how I ever managed in the first place. Taking this new knowledge into account, I now get so much more out of what I listen to, and last night drove the lesson home. I came home and applied my theory, and the change was incredible. I could hear the improvement immediately.

These are the insights that give me hope. In one way, kids are blessed in that they don't always know what they SHOULD be sounding like. I am all too aware of what I want to play and how I am falling short of making it. But then I have these epiphanies that bring me closer each time, and I am reminded that every step is one step closer to making my violin sing. There really are a thousand steps between my humble first-position songs and the music I heard last night. But one triumph at a time I get to close the gap.

I think I'll go practice now. My teacher is going to get an earful the next lesson, when I bring all these observations and questions up for him to explain!

Bon

From Joe Fischer
Posted on April 7, 2008 at 12:30 AM

Oh,wow--what a great post !

Moments like yours,as a player,can-and do-have a profound influence.

Your words speak from your heart !

Very well done !

From Drew Lecher
Posted on April 7, 2008 at 1:41 AM

Bon,
You are going to do just fine with the violin — just improve something specific every 5 minutes and KNOW what it is, so you can produce it at will.

Thanks for the great post.
Drew

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on April 7, 2008 at 3:24 AM

That was a great post. You're obviously learning what music is really about. It is often said that in classical music, every note is there for a reason. The same is true for every pause. Thanks for sharing your insight with us.

From Karen Allendoerfer
Posted on April 7, 2008 at 11:25 AM

David Kim went to my high school for a year in ~1980. He was the concertmaster in the school orchestra and went to Juilliard for lessons on the weekends. The orchestra played Vivaldi's 4-seasons that year with him doing the solo part (I was a sophomore in the second violin section at the time). It was a privilege to have been able to play with him.

It's remarkable (but not surprising) that you mention learning something from watching his fingers, because that's how I felt too even back then. I still remember all these years later how his fingers looked like they were made to hold a violin and how they were very sure and confident in their placement. Glad you enjoyed the concert and learned so much!

From Bonnie Tindle
Posted on April 7, 2008 at 3:28 PM

Wow, thanks for all the response! I run another blog and I got more feedback in a day here than I have in nine months of mainstream exposure!

I'm really glad you guys understood what I was saying. It was quite an experience, but I'm always afraid I'm boring those who weren't there or just not communicating effectively.

What an honor it must have been to know Dave Kim. Not only is he brilliant, but I could tell he was genuinely kind and even humble. I've seen people who are more ego than heart, and I'm relieved that he isn't that type. He loves what he does, and he does it the best he can. In his case, that happens to be pretty darn good. Now he has yet one more fan to cheer him on.

I'll keep writing, but unfortunately it's time to head off to work. Thanks again for taking time to comment.

Bon

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Crowded Music (Learning how to listen)

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