This, I guess, is the way one feels whilst under the "heavenly influences." Sixteenth Century concert goers (actually concerts weren't "invented"
for another century at least; music was part of life, at least for the well to do. Everyone else was scrambling to survive, or at least keep their heads attached to their bodies) experienced performance far differently than we, their 21st century counterparts. Rather than the star theory of musicians, with their celestial bodies in action on stage, Renaissance musicians worked to bring down the very heavenly influences of the stars and planets.
Saturn not Sting; Mercury not Madonna. The performer functioned as a channel through which heavenly energy was attracted to earth, sent out around the audience who added their own energies, then back up to the heavens through the performer. Sounds suspiciously new-age, but no Yanni's back in 1585, and no cd's, t-shirts; no Oprah, Dr. Phil and no Sedona. OK, enough ranting, but playing well for an interested audience is about as good as it gets.
So this year's production closed, with only fours days cancelled due to weather; and I learned how difficult it is to play the same program day after day. Hats off to the many great recitalists touring the world and now I understand the reason for program changes (Good lord, can I really force myself to play that same piece again tonight!).
Since this piece is appearing as a diversion on the Rodgers Tuners website, I must say that playing outside in the summer, with temperatures varying 15 degrees (f) and humidity dropping from 85% to 65% during the course of one evening, my role would not have been possible without the accuracy and ease of tuning made possible by David and Rob's wonderful creations. Rodgers Tuners: "don't leave home without them."
JOHN F. DANA
jfdana@gmail.com
On the oblivious scale, however, First Prize goes to the family who decided to engage in a loud argument about where to eat their picnic.
I guess they didn't notice me, or decided I was a Disneyesque automaton rented for the occasion, but the upshot was their standing two feet away, between me and the crowd, and really going at each other. My vision shifted from "As You Like It" to "MacBeth," or more accurately Kurosawa's "Throne of Blood" to be precise: arrows flying by the thousand leaving the offenders resembling overfull pincushions. |
Fortunately, my forlorne hope's fancy (sorry, J.D.) was usually rewarded by several genuinely interested patrons who both appreciated the performance and were interested in asking (between tunes) about the music. It was fun explaining how Elizabethan music differed from Italian and Spanish by being strongly connected to folk music, with its jaunty melodies and strong dance rhythms overlying, and often disguising, the elaborately worked out counterpoint. Ialso explained the Elizabethan
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custom of rewarding less than stellar performances, not with hurled epithets (although that certainly was de rigeur), but with rotten fruit: for some reason spoilt oranges were |
| a favorite (perhaps they recalled the Queen's hair). So we all agreed that, although the music was reasonably authentic (guitar not lute; jeans not pantaloons), we would observe contemporary manners which, as suggested, usually meant listening, with the occasional family squabble or cell phone conversation thrown in for verisimilitude. The one thing about free music (or, I guess free anything, for that matter) is that some are bound to equate free with worthless, like an old washing machine left by the side of the road on "Big Dump Pickup Day." Fortunately, there were always at least a few, and frequently many, patrons enjoying the music. Perhaps curiously, I find that, when the audience show little interest in the music, I start daydreaming. | |
Conversely, when even one person shows interest, I become energized and focused and my playing becomes more expressive and alive.
| Shakespeare in the Fort |
writen by John Dana |
I suppose staging Shakespeare outdoors in the abandoned gun turret of a fort built to protect Portland (Maine, USA) Harbor from marauding British warships is just a bit ironic, but no one seems to notice. In fact, the British did attack Portland in the War of 1812, shelling City Hall. A local church bears the fruit of that attack (a cannon shot about the size of a fast pitch softball) in the chain holding its chandelier. The fort has long since rotted away, except for massive granite walls on the ocean and the circular foundation which now holds 150 green lawn chairs and a vast array of stage lights, cables, power supplies and a computer.
| This year, The Stage at Spring Point [http://thestagemaine.org] is presenting As You Like It, and I am playing period music, Dowland, Cutting, Holborne, with a bit of Spanish ( Milan, Narvaez, Mudarra) and Italian (Spinacino, Milano) thrown in to fill out the program. Don't get me wrong, I'm not actually in the play; I'm there to entertain the line of patrons waiting for the ticket booth to open at 6, and then waiting for the "house" to open at 7:10. Tickets are free, so I find myself playing for a long line of eager, but surprised patrons: eager to see the show, but surprised that so many others want to see a free Shakespeare play at an antebellum fort on the ocean facing Portland Harbor. (I mean it is Maine- "Vacationland"- in the summer, outside, at the ocean!). |
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So my job (if you're a volunteer can you call it a job?) is to entertain the line, as it were. With a hundred and fifty seats, the line was substantial. I had my stump to sit on, which I placed strategically somewhere in the middle, and just started playing away.
Fortunately, the part of the brain responsible for performing is separate from the part of the brain that governs speech. For some reason non- performers just don't comprehend that playing intricate music actually requires concentration, and having to answer questions in the middle of a piece can be a bit jarring. With practice I learned to mumble something approaching language which either did the trick or convinced the intruding patron that I was some kind of musical savant incapable of rational speech. Either way, I just kept on playing.
