A few days ago, as I was reading the New York Times, I came across an article entitled Global Anthems for Saxophone, by
Corey Kilgannon, about a musician that makes his living by playing the
saxophone on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.
At first, I was mostly wondering why the New York Times had chosen to
write about this guy, as opposed to the thousands of other music
performers. But it turns out that Isaiah Richardson Jr. has found the
key to entertaining the masses of people that walk in and out of the Met
every day: he plays different countries’ national anthems. As he put
it in the article, “Nothing works like playing something that people
know.” I find that so interesting and very true as well. Even in
classical music, there is something so wonderful about listening to a
piece you have heard hundreds of time already. And even people who know
little to nothing about classical music will recognize the opening of
Beethoven’s fifth symphony, and would probably like to hear the rest of
it if given the opportunity.
I
found Isaiah’s story particularly interesting, as I recalled Joshua
Bell’s incident in a D.C. subway station several years back. The
Washington Post had made a big deal about how the average person does
not recognize greatness even when it is right in front of them. Of
course, my own thoughts go to the fact that Joshua Bell was playing
during rush hour early in the morning. In my opinion the experiment
shed little light on whether people care about beautiful things or not.
I’ll admit that even if I heard a great violinist at 7am and was
rushing to get to work, I probably wouldn’t take the time to stop and
listen either, although I might appreciate the gift of beautiful music
as I’m walking by.
And
then, there’s also the fact that I’ve played in the Boston T several
times myself, (in the evenings) and while I’ve experienced a variety of
responses, most of my time spent underground has been a lot of fun,
eye-opening, and inspiring. As a violinist, I’ve made it my purpose to
learn and to know all six Bach sonatas and partitas for solo violin with
the idea that no matter where I go, I can just pull out my instrument
and play some really great music - and I’ve done just that in the T.
The first time I played, I found a spot at Copley station, and after an
hour’s worth of music, I packed up and counted $46. I can honestly say
that I was not expecting to make much money at all, and I was thrilled
to see that I could use this performance space not only to practice
performing but also to help with my general expenses. I continued to
perform and ventured to the red line at Park Street, where I more than
doubled my earnings. But what I found fascinating was the way people
reacted. Sure, many people went about their days and didn’t give me a
second look. But often, people sat near me and listened, or stood near
or far down the platform, but you could tell they were there and they
were listening. The experience also made me realize that appearances
are deceiving. Those who “look” like they listen to classical music
were rarely the people who gave me money. On the other hand, there were
so many young people who took the time to pull out a dollar and put it
in my case. I ventured away from Bach once, and decided to play Isaye’s
sonata no 2 for solo violin, which uses the dies irae theme
intermittently throughout the work. This young guy in dreads and baggy
pants sat there as I played, and when I finished he said, “dude, that
was sick!” What a huge compliment, and how fun it was to play gigues
and allemandes for him for the next half hour!
The
experience has done a lot for me in many ways, one of which has been
the realization that people actually like classical music. Its future
certainly lies in the hands of the younger generations, but I think it
might be easier to grab their attention than we think.
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