This past Sunday, I attended two recitals--one in the afternoon and one in the evening. Although there were striking similarities between the two recitals, there were also some very extreme contrasts, which I found quite interesting. First, the similarities: both performers were young at 24 years of age. Both performers played programs of fairly standard repertoire with one contemporary piece and one "crossover" work thrown into the mix for variety. Both performers had the same level of education.
Now for the differences.
Difference No. 1: Stage presence. The afternoon performer played the entire recital (save the contemporary work) from memory. When this musician walked on stage, they exhibited confidence, comfort, and poise, if not arrogance and a youthful, immature cockiness. The afternoon performer danced around the stage and made the aging audience hang onto each overdone and carefully choreographed physical gesture as if a snake charmer was coaxing a cobra from its basket, making it sway to the sound of his pungi.
In contrast, the evening performer walked sheepishly onto the stage, bowed tentatively, and hurried to seek refuge behind the safety of the stand, seeming to find comfort in the fact that this stand--a barrier between the performer and the audience--would keep them safe, safe from the audience that wanted to be moved by the music on the well-thought-out and exciting program full of potential energy, which began to wane when one, two, three tuning notes from the piano weren't enough for the evening performer to find the pitch though the EP, who seemed to have decided that they wasted enough of the audience's time with tuning notes, decided to begin nonetheless, something like 5 or 7 cents sharp. When the piano began the introduction to the first piece, the performer tensed up and looked nervous and scared.
Difference No 2: Musical imagination. The afternoon performer took the music waaaaaaaaaaaaaay off the page to the extent that it seemed as though the AP may have been the (re)composer and not just the performer. While I might not have agreed with the afternoon performer's musical decisions or taste, I appreciated how they put their "stamp" on the repertoire they chose. Those types of decisions let you see into an artist's soul--never mind whether I saw Shangri La or a black hole.
Whatever I saw, at least I saw something (or nothing if it happened to be the black hole). The evening performer, on the other hand, did not share their soul with me. Perhaps they would have if the stand wasn't blocking the soul's path to the audience, not to mention the all-important view of the fingers moving. Rather than sounding spontaneous with a hint of the improvisatory, the musical statement made by the evening performer was too rehearsed, not dynamic (literally and figuratively), and crying out for approval--"Am I doing it right?"; "Is this the way it's supposed to be?"
Hearing the contrasts in these two performers made me wonder whether being a charismatic and engaging performer can be taught or whether some are just born with it. I'm sure it comes easier to some while others might "have it" but tucked away latently waiting to be unlocked. I think what it comes down to is that performers need to take risks, to make decisions, and to be willing to communicate their inner most feelings about the music they are playing. They need to believe in what they are playing. Did the evening performer not believe in what they were playing? This person probably did, but there was no personal conviction behind the music. Tell me the story, in your own words . . . I mean notes.
