Last week's column suggested that, according to two recent surveys, classical music was in deep trouble, and that eventually live opera, chamber, choral and symphonic music might come to a withering end, as audience attendance continued to decline. The tipping point is fast approaching and would be irreversible within 10 years.
Do I believe it? Not on your life.
There have been dire prognostications about the demise of classical music for several generations, and yet it's still here. Classical music doesn't fit the archetypal model of the law of supply and demand, and conservatories continue to attract lots of supremely talented young people year after year.
International talent used to be primarily European. In the 1950s, Japan and South Korea fostered national agendas to nurture homegrown talent to compete with the finest the West had to offer. Today, China is the new source, with significant numbers of gifted young performers enrolled at music schools and conservatories. Many are on the cusp of recognition, waiting for their chance to build a career in music, both at home and abroad.
The unique thing about live performance is that it always has been about communication - better, communion - between performer and listener. When the bond is established, there is the feeling of being "in the moment," sharing a sometimes nonlinear, three-way conversation between composer (C), performer (P) and listener (L). The correlation can function on several levels, not just
In CPL, the composer (the source of the music) "speaks" to the performer, who, through her powers of musical understanding and interpretation, explains, teaches or serves as a sort of musical oracle to the listener, illuminating and divining the "truths" of the composition.
Another scenario: Serious listeners, including professional musicians, are a breed apart; they "know the score" and will have brought a lifetime of listening and learning about composers and favorite works to the concert hall as they partake of "their" beloved masterpieces. You often see such devotees at Ozawa Hall at Tanglewood or summer weekend performances at Music from Marlboro. This is the LCP approach, where, in effect, the listener and composer appear to commune, to collaborate in sharing and reinventing a beloved masterpiece. Here the performer is the (not insignificant) conduit.
A great performer, a Casals or a Rostropovich playing a Bach suite, a Rudolph Serkin or a Wilhelm Kempff lovingly evoking the intimacies of a Schubert sonata, will create a PCL paradigm. The performer knows and "lives through" the music to such an extent that it seems to have been composed - is being composed - in the listener's presence by the performer. In the 1930s, the great Austrian pianist Artur Schnabel (1882-1951) was one of the first to record all 32 Beethoven sonatas. Schnabel averred that if all the scores were to vanish from the earth, he would be able to write out the entire 600 pages of music from memory. Shades of Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451."
We are, understandably in these trying times, fixated on markets and their response to economic forces beyond our control. Yes, audiences are graying, but one also notices that it's often the young that rule the stage. I've observed that seniors (I'm one myself) enjoy wonderful music thrillingly performed as much as anyone. Concerts may be poorly attended, but the intimacy between performer and listener increases.
Last week, I opined that high-definition broadcasts and the Internet might, through the power of numbers, ease of access and influence become the dominant performance and distribution medium for music worldwide. Forty million people love their music on the Web, downloading songs and symphonies every day. But, as far as classical music goes, it's not about the numbers.
You can drive past Courthouse Towers or Fiery Furnace Viewpoint at Arches National Park in Moab, Utah, with the windows rolled up, the AC blasting and the pedal to the metal, and maybe you'll catch a fleeting glimpse of something magnificent. Or, you could park the car, take a hike and experience the grandeur of nature at its most spectacular, communing with the mystical majesty of it all - nature's symphony.
Live musical performance will never die because the experience is equally glorious; there's nothing like it. You just have to park the car, get out, explore and partake of the splendor that's out there.
Stephen Dankner lives in Williamstown. Send your comments to him at sdankner@earthlink.net. Find him online at stephendankner.com.
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