The best medicine

Every orchestra has its particular proclivities; it’s part of what makes each ensemble a distinct entity, what makes one orchestra unlike any other. Critics have long bemoaned the homogenization of orchestra sound in this country – I suppose it has become more difficult to tell our top 10 bands apart in a blind hearing (although one can usually tell the difference between an American and European orchestra) – which is a HUGE topic for some other time. But what I’m talking about are the quirks that make any group of people unique, and the Minnesota Orchestra is one of the quirkiest (in the best sense!) groups I’ve ever worked with.

While I’m pretty sure Sam will have a more “insider” take on this one – the viola section in particular seems always a heartbeat away from dissolving into rehearsal-stopping laughter at an inside joke – I’m always delighted by the sense of humor that is almost the defining characteristic of this orchestra. Make no mistake; these folks are serious about what they do. The level of preparation and focus that they put into their work is nothing short of extraordinary, and watching that much concentration from that many people at any given time is truly inspiring. But they are always game for a laugh, to find the levity in any given situation, and it makes for some entertaining moments.

One of the odder (and to me, quite funny) traditions of this orchestra is what, in my mind, I call the “I didn’t do it.” When anything is dropped onstage during a rehearsal – a sheet of music, a violin bow, a tuba (no no, I’m kidding, although sometimes it does sound like a tuba’s been dropped) – everyone lifts up their instrument in the air, as if to say “I didn’t do it!” The genesis of this peculiar behavior (and this is the story the bass section told me the other day) is that about 15 years ago, one of the trumpets dropped a mute, causing a small ruckus, and our principal trumpet Manny Laureano held up his own mute to prove that it wasn’t him. And a tradition was born.

What’s particularly funny for me is how immediate a reaction it is – it’s not like everyone looks around wondering if anyone else is going to lift their instruments; they just do it. People will be turning a page of music in one hand, talking to their section, and instrument-lifting with the other hand. It’s gotten to the point where I kind of unconsciously do it myself – I’ll be on the podium and hear a pencil being dropped, and I’ll lift my baton over my head in an instinctive mirroring of what everyone is doing around me. And instinct is a funny thing; a couple of nights ago, sitting in the first tier during a concert, I heard a program book being dropped in a quiet moment of the Mozart symphony, and it took a lot of conscious thought to keep myself from raising up my own program book – “I didn’t do it!”