'Music of Silence' - Concert 1 - reflections

As Storm Eunice raged outside yesterday, 27 listeners were introduced to Mompou's 'Musica Callada', books 1 & 2 book-ending the 63-minute 'immersion in music' that was Pianoscapes #44.

After having been immersed in the preparation of the music over the past couple of months, I found it a real joy to share it. The quiet and reflective nature of most of the programme made for a very focused experience: intense concentration for me, of course, but also drawing the listeners in closer, and casting its spell over them all. By requesting the audience to refrain from applause, an uninterrupted sequence of music was allowed to unfold over an extended duration; and the cumulative effect of all those bell-sounds, harmonic twists and turns, the space between the notes and the weather outside, made for a hypnotic  and consciousness-altering experience - for me, and, from the feedback I received afterwards, for the listeners too. I was very happy not to have to stop for applause, across a programme of 22 pieces: it's 'not about me' - it's about the music, and the journey that the music takes you (and me) on.
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The construction of the chords in Mompou's music seems derived from the overtones of bells, and to me feels designed to affect the alpha, theta and delta brain waves - brain activity associated with attention, focus, sleep and dreaming. These are more than pieces of music: they are magic spells and they change the listener who is able to submit to them. I hope the audience will go back to the music and hear it again, and again, maybe listening to performances by different pianists: the more you get inside these pieces, the more the language speaks to you.

I also enjoyed the balance of notated music and improvisation that I had planned into the design of the overall concert: I was able to move between 'reader of the notation' - bringing what poetry I could to the dots on the page - to 'free-channelling', doing my best to enter a state whereby improvised music could speak through my playing. Moving between these states is a great discipline that I relish working on.

In her book 'The Beauty of Gesture: The Invisible Keyboard of Piano & T'ai Chi', Catherine David states "The art of playing the piano could be defined as an attempt to touch music."
 
This is a very neat and accurate summation, in my opinion. Whether 'reading the dots' written by others, or trying to subjugate the ego to allow 'inspired' improvisation of our own to happen - we are always aspiring to 'touch music'. It's why we work on technique - the physical skills required to play the instrument - and why we eat, drink and sleep music through our listening, developing a reflective and thinking ('mindful') approach to our musicianship.

And if and when we are fortunate enough to 'touch music', then how lucky we are!  "Music doesn't come in a gift parcel", writes Catherine David at the end of chapter 2: "It is the mirage of the quest." She writes eloquently about the process of work on technique, the meaning of 'practice' and the goal of 'touching music', in the 2 chapters that I've included below - well worth a read for all who aspire to develop as musicians. 

And finally from me, a quote from Michael Pisaro, in his liner notes for James Rushford's recording of 'Musica Callada'. Perhaps if we were to touch music too deeply we would, as mere mortals, be burnt up. Perhaps the best that we can do is keep striving, and maybe we come close, and that's enough...       Discuss!

"Notes wander in the pale light, seeking their place in the melody and the slats on the floor. They are hesitant, reluctant to assert themselves, don’t want to be observed too closely... We spy on the music, listen indirectly, around the chords, to the silences between them... Looking directly at the heart of the music would be like looking at the sun"

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Chris Long,        Monday 21st February 2022

From 'The Beauty of Gesture':