Getting Through

Whenever I give a concert for regular folks I get the same pieces of advice: play a variety, keep it short, play stuff they know and like. Also, play Phantom of the Opera.

This can be a little disconcerting if you are a classical pianist, but over the years I've developed several ways to make even some pretty heavy repertoire go down favorably. I've found you don't have to pander in order to be successful. Which is a good thing, since I'd like to do more than scratch the same limited musical itches all the time. But I do understand people's fears that I might tie people to chairs and make them listen to the complete works of Beethoven and that it might be long and boring. I get it.

A couple of months ago I signed up with a group called Musicians with a Mission which goes into area Assisted Living communities and plays concerts. I was told by its founder what types of programs they like, and of course, it was light, short, and for every heavy piece on the program, I should play at least three that were short, happy, and hummable. The all-Bach program someone had present recently hadn't gone down very well.

I took that advice and prepared a program which consisted mostly of short pieces, some classical, a couple of my own vintage and some ragtime. I tied it together with a theme, talked to them about each piece before I played it, and they told me they loved it and wanted me to come back soon.

I blithely assumed that I would be playing the same program at several other facilities over the summer and into the fall, but for some reason after only two iterations of the same program I got scheduled in the same place, for which I needed a new program. Being immersed in several other projects at the time I had to hurriedly assemble the new program, and for various reasons, it ended up being entirely classical, with two complete piano sonatas, and generally heavier than I would have wanted. I called it "Storms" (that last had been "A Concert about the Weather" by way of introduction, the weather being something you talk about when you are first getting to know someone)--it was called "Storms" and included some emotionally darker music than the last program.

Although I worried that this would not go down very well, I did the usual things to seem approachable. Talking between pieces, explaining the program idea and some things to listen for in each piece, often with some humor. And they loved it.

In fact, I think it was a bigger hit than the first time. One lady said something to the effect that she had been moved in ways she wasn't used to. The way they expressed their gratitude generally said that they had been emotionally touched by what I played. It was more substantive than they were probably used to, and it was quite welcome.

I'm sure it helped that I didn't just sit down and play, although several comments focused on the quality of my playing as well, suggesting that good art doesn't bother folks as much as is generally believed. But the artist's job is to communicate what it is to be human, and to share the heights and depths of our shared experience. It is a lofty goal, and it is not to be ignored except at our peril. We may think we'd all rather have musical cake and cookies, but if you don't mix in some vegetables from time to time, the soul starves or gets diabetes!

I'll probably go a bit lighter next time, but the risk and the reward of really saying something important will always be with me, thanks to my friends Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and Schubert. And to the human experience.
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don't forget to check out this week's edition of pianonoise.com. It starts off with a lighthearted recording of Debussy which makes fun of overly serious composers, like in the cartoon above of Wagner trying to stuff notes into the poor concert goer's ear with a hammer!