All for one, Part II

So, less than twelve hours after the final cutoff of "Broadway Rocks", I was on my way to Philadelphia for a concert at the Mann Center. Outdoor venues present their own complications (iffy acoustics, weather, flying/biting insects), on top of the usual challenges of producing a pops show. And this one had it's own special features; fog machines, lasers and on-stage projections. Yes, friends, I conducted a show with a Pink Floyd cover band, The Machine.

The orchestra-du-jour was the Delaware Symphony, and it was a reunion of sorts; having spent 9 years in Philly during my Curtis years (and beyond), I know many of the musicians in the area, including nearly a dozen members of the DSO. The orchestra didn't exactly know what to expect, particularly as there were quite a few who had never heard a Pink Floyd tune, much less entertained the possibility of ever playing one. Fortunately for me, the personnel manager of the DSO, who must have a fantastic sense of humor, hired my husband to fill in a hole in the horn section ("I think you know the conductor", he emailed). Paul's a big Pink Floyd fan, and he had originally planned to make the trip up to Philly to catch the show from the mosh pit. His presence in the orchestra ended up being utterly invaluable; more on that in a bit.

This is the kind of cross-musical collaboration that makes a good deal of sense, particularly because many of those Pink Floyd tunes have an orchestral bent to them to begin with. What made this particular show easy and logical (and this is an issue addressed more fully in Sam's previous post) were the arrangements, by violinist/arranger/pop musician Maxim Moston. Max's were the type of arrangements that make a conductor and orchestra happy; nothing too fussy or complicated, a few nice licks for the orchestra, straightforward/idiomatic writing, clean parts and logical rehearsal letters ("V1" and "B2" - "verse one" and "bridge 2", easy for the orchestra to identify and written in language that the band would also understand - a very savvy cross-musical touch).

The band, The Machine, was fantastic to work with (and if you closed your eyes, you'd swear you were hearing Pink Floyd!). This was the second go-around with this particular with-orchestra show, so some of the kinks had already been worked out. Sound levels are always an issue, even with sound shields protecting most of the orchestra; when we play with bands, the loudest element is usually the trap set, and there's no way to shield that save creating an entire plexiglass sphere around it. Standing right behind the drummer on the podium, my ears got a bit blasted.

Showtime brought a few surprises; this was certainly the loudest audience I've ever encountered at an orchestra show (although the enthusiasm is always energizing), and the level of illicit substance use, as far as we could smell onstage, must have been pretty substantial. Then, of course, there were the fog machines (what toxic chemical spews from those things anyway?) and the incredibly trippy laser show (a bassist joked "This is the only concert I've done where I've worried about both cancer AND epilepsy"). The performance-practice difference came when, during the first half, The Machine deviated from the set list that the orchestra and I were looking at and embarked on a 3-song digression that had me sweating for a moment (a lot of the recorded/synth openings of those tunes sound similar!); fortunately, my husband, from the horn section, sent me a note saying "That's 'Sorrow', not on list. Will tell you when 'Comfortably numb' intro starts."

When I took the stage at the second half, an intrepid audience member shouted, "We love you, Sarah!!", which satisfied my rock star fantasy for the evening. But more than that, it reminded me of just how much fun this audience was having; they were having a fantastic communal experience of hearing what was probably some of their favorite music being played by a great band with an added lush layer of orchestration. It was a truly participatory event, with the audience singing along to nearly every tune. And whenever The Machine acknowledged the orchestra, the audience gave a roar of approval, which is, of course, wonderfully gratifying.

Because, as I keep saying, we're all in this together; we're all musicians, we're all trying to reach other people in some way. Too often, I feel that the classical approach becomes exclusively cerebral. It's not that there's anything wrong with complicated music that requires the analysis of not only the musicians onstage but the audience itself (and sometimes the brain loves the exercise). But there's nothing wrong in performing and enjoying music that's immediately graspable, with an instant emotional effect either; in fact the ideal output of a performing arts organization finds a judicious balance of both.

Orchestras don't need to dumb down what they do; there will always be those who enjoy a straight-up classical concert (although the overture-concerto-symphony model is a bit tired). But there is a larger world out there, ripe for collaboration. And done in the right way (with music and arrangements that incorporate the best of both worlds), they can be gratifying musical experiences for all parties involved. What thrills me is the possibility of that larger world, and the chance to reach even more individuals. Because that is why I'm a musician.