Intellectual and Cultural Events Journal

The Chagal Trio Performance

I'm always reminded of a couple of truths when I listen to a live concert like the one given by the Chagal Trio this morning during Common Hour. First, even if I happen to know the musical piece well (and I had never heard the piece that the Trio played this morning) I notice something new about it each time I hear it. Sometimes the performers accentuate their particular parts, and sometimes the conductor (or in this case, the whole group) decides to do something different with tempo or intensity than what I am used to. What's interesting to me about this phenomenon as a listener is that it reminds me how important it is to re-read a work of literature several times in order to get a sense of its complexity. Just as there were three performers working together this morning, weaving together their particular parts to make up the whole musical piece, there are different aspects of fiction, poetry, or drama that a writer is using all at once to make up the whole literary piece. If I concentrate on only one thing, such as plot (which is common to do on a first reading) I miss the complexities of characterization or setting. If I get fascinated with something I find symbolic, I might miss other things entirely. If I dislike a character, I may get turned off to the whole story or play. If I don't understand a word or phrase, I may miss the point of the poem. What's helpful about reading a text, as opposed to experiencing a performance, is that I can go back and re-read a passage or look up a word in the dictionary and then pick up where I left off. The energy of a musical (or dramatic) performance keeps right on going, whether or not I'm up to speed.

A second thing that I'm reminded of every time I experience a performance is that seeing something performed teaches me how the art is produced. Of course, the composer produces the text, and I don't have insight into his or her process of composing unless he or she explains it. But I noticed this morning that when the violinist put the mute on his bridge, the sounds made by his instrument sounded like distant horns rather than a violin, especially when he was playing double stops. Listening to a recording of the piece, I might not be aware (unless I played a stringed instrument or had listened to enough performances of pieces for violin) how the sound was produced. Seeing the violinist move the mute on and off his bridge at certain times reminded me that he was responding to a direction in the musical score put there by the composer. The composer had to know the difference in sound between a muted violin and an unmuted one, and he or she directed the performer to use the mute or not use it in order to achieve a particular effect. It is easy to be a passive listener when I put a CD into the player in my car. The music may soothe or entertain me, but my thoughts are elsewhere. Sitting in a concert hall, watching the musicians (re)create the music, I am reminded of how physical a thing it is to make music, and of the intimate relationship the performer has with his or her instrument. (This is why I like to sit where I can see the musicians' hands as they play.) The performance this morning was like a complex dance, one that involved not only three performers but also three instruments and an absent composer. If I'm to get the full effect of the performance, I have to be as focused a listener as the performers are focused players. Actually, if I'm to get the truly full effect of the performance, I should have studied the musical score before coming into the hall.

Because the Chagal Trio performance was not a required Intellectual and Cultural event for this class, students are not required to respond to my posting. Those who attended the performance and would like to comment are welcome to, however.
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The whining strains of the violin,the dark, rich sound of the cello, and the distinct undertones of a finely tuned concert piano, all coming together under one roof, one name, one piece- The Chagall Trio, what an exquisite performance! Being a musician, I listened for the harmonies, the melodies, and the different rhythms that were played, but being a member of the audience I was able to sit back and truly enjoy the performance. It was the first live performance I was able to attend in quite some time, time well spent. I entered the Concert Hall expecting great things, and I left fulfilled, with a greater understanding and appreciation of music, as well as, another story to tell. Many people think music is a series of notes played to a beat in a space in time, and it is but it is so much more than that. Music tells a story. The composer begins this story with notes to the musician and the audience, but then he steps back and allows the musician to add his magical touch but it does not end there. The musician plays the piece the way he feels it should be interpreted, allowing the instrument to do the talking, boasting in some parts and quietly whispering in others. Did you hear it? I did. In fact, the Trio did not tell a story, but rather, carried on a conversation. Some parts were fast-paced and exciting, others were downright drawn out and boring, but all were necessary for a clear understanding of this unfamiliar piece (at least it was for me). But that is the beauty of music, it can be heard by an audience of diversity- people from different races, religions, genders, naionalities, languages, and creeds- and understood by every last one. It speaks to the soul. We, as an audience, can choose to passively listen, and not hear, or we can become actively involved in the music, and take away something we did not expect. The Chagal Trio is not still physically performing in the Concert Hall anymore, but if I listen close enough I can still hear them playing in my soul. Bravo for the Chagal Trio; it was (and is) an outstanding performance.