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I have had a few strange things happen to me over the last month or so, and I’ve realised what has happened. Egos have got in the way.

Being a performer is a funny thing. You see, you walk onto some kind of ‘stage’ and you have to believe that what you are about to say (musically, or otherwise) is worth other people paying to listen to. It takes a fair amount of self-belief and self-confidence. And then people clap, and congratulate you, and want to talk to you, and so for a small amount of time, you feel very loved, and validated, and important.

And then everyone goes away. And you are just normal-old-you again.

As a concert organiser, sometimes you have to be really firm about what you will do, and remind people that you won’t teach-as-well-for-nothing, or perform-for-their-worthy-cause-for-nothing-because-you-have-to-pay-the-rent, and I think sometimes I am perceived as a bit of a problem.

So where does a I’m-just-trying-to-make-a-living stop and now-I’m-actually-being-a-prick start?

You see, I think sometimes performers forget that people don’t always love them, and their way is not always right, and what comes out of their mouth is not always the most important thing to listen to right now (actually, come to think of it, I know a few ex-principals who are like that too…).

In Timor there is a great saying – ‘We all need to eat the same sort of rice.’ I like it. I also like that the kids I teach remind me that they don’t give two hoots who I am on the weekend, and how many people I’ve played to. They just want a good music lesson.

But I seem to have stumbled over a few monsters over the last few weeks. I hope that I am not like that to others. It’s a good lesson to learn for me…..

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I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday – someone who I respect a great deal. She’s an artist, and when you walk into her house, it’s like walking into an art gallery. The walls of her converted warehouse are full of art (both hers and other people’s) and the house is a riot of colour, candles, books, records (yes – records) and a contented cat. I love the place.

I also love her, and her husband. They are both quite wacky, and choose to live slightly differently from society. Not hugely, but just a bit.

And I like this  lot. I find it refreshing, and inspiring.

It’s hard, as a ‘creative’, to know how to fit in. Do you completely shun normality? Or do you live with normalness on your own terms?

And then I take this line of thinking and hold it up to my cello playing.

Do I play this in the way it’s always been played? If I do what’s the point of playing it again? Some people would say ‘Oh, but you’ll play it slightly differently to insert name of musician here, because you are a different person’. Possibly right. But is that enough? And if I choose to play it differently, when does playing it differently just become artistic onanism, or disrespectful to the composer? Am I playing it differently just for the sake of doing just that?

The classical music word is full of tradition. Sometimes I find it stifling. Actually, a lot of the time, I find it stifling. It takes courage and a lot of strength to walk down a slightly different path. One needs very thick skin, and very broad shoulders. And bloodymindedness. Someone I loved once said to me ‘ Break as many rules as you can, but don’t hurt anyone. And if you get caught, own up immediately.’

But back to my friend (remember her? She’s from the start of this post…). She said to me yesterday ‘I was re-listening to the CD of yours with the accordion yesterday. You know why I like it so much? It’s completely different from anything else we own. And that’s why I’ll keep listening to it.’

I had a crappy day yesterday, full of frustrations and a faulty hard-drive. But that comment made my day.

Note to self – keep breaking rules. Just don’t hurt anyone else.

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No…. it’s not what you think. I am not writing about Schubert, Mozart, Beethoven or Schumann (or any others on that long list…).

I am totally fine talking to audiences. I think it started when I used to busk in Covent Garden, years ago. Also, I stand up in front of groups of children of varying sizes a number of times a week. So talking in public is quite ok (I have nightmares about other things, but not speaking in public).

I start every concert with a list of things to say – turn off mobile phones (why this needs to be said, I don’t understand, but there we are. Why don’t people just turn these damn things off more?), please don’t unwrap sweets, if you are in my line of sight please don’t fan yourself – and I’ve added a new one.

There are no real rules about clapping.

So many people seem to be worried about this. And this sentence seems to give them permission to just relax. I feel a collective sigh of relief from any audience I have said this in front of. The tension seems to disappear. Why did Classical music concerts get so stuffy? No performer I know really minds if people clap – or not.

I would rather you came to a concert, and clapped when you wanted (as long as I wasn’t playing), and really enjoyed yourself, rather than not come because you were worried about this.

So to anyone who is reading this, who worries about clapping – I apologise. I apologise on behalf of the classical musical establishment who has made you worried about this issue. We are stuffy, us musos. Pay us no attention. Clap when you please, as long as no-one is bowing, blowing, hitting, strumming or singing.

This music is meant to be enjoyed.

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The other day I was out with someone who said to me “You haven’t blogged for ages!”. I didn’t realise that anyone actually read these posts, but I’ll try and write more regularly. (OK – I’ll admit it. It was my mother. She’s probably the only person who reads this. Mum, I’m doing what you told me to do. What a good daughter….. well, sometimes.)

So – what’s been happening? Well, 2016 is a different year for me. I spent January recording a CD with my dear friend, former teacher and one of my favourite musicians to work with, David Pereira. We were in the middle of rural NSW, in the middle of a heat-wave. I hate recording – I find it really stressful, but actually, it wasn’t too bad. We had a grant from the Australia Council to cover most of it, so the financial pressure was off. I knew the music inside-out. The space was quirky and quiet and anything else that starts with ‘Q’. And David was lovely to record with. I’ve since heard a track as it’s been edited. Actually, it sounds really beautiful. I’m quietly excited…

I’m in two schools regularly teaching. One is in inner-Sydney. The kids are tough. The staff are incredible. And I love it. And another school I go to is in western NSW. The kids are easier – although tremendously excited every time I’m there (some of them have been known to tremble at the start of a music lesson – not from fear either!). And I love those staff too – they are also fabulous. I was in another school last year, but after a long time there, I moved on. Now, looking back, it was the right thing to do for so many reasons.

And I have lots of concerts coming up – and some really exciting things in the pipeline. The regular ‘Bach in the Dark’ concerts. Some special events at various places that haven’t quite fallen into place. But the performing year is shaping up to be a good one!

But the best thing about 2016? Well, there are two things that excite me enormously at the moment. One is my soda stream. I have ALL the soda water I want. For not-much-money-at-all. How good it that? The other is a particularly fabulous pair of flares. Crochet. Oh yes. They are excellent.

So…. Mum – I’ve blogged. And anyone else who has got this far. I’ll do it more – well, that’s the plan.Now off to fill up my glass with fizzy water.

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I talk at every concert I play….. One of the things I always ask people to do is unwrap all the sweets they are going to ‘need’ for the next hour. It gets a laugh every time – but it’s a real hate of mine. I don’t understand why people do this, because everyone can hear them doing it.

I have numerous people contact me after concerts to say thank you – and they nearly always refer to this. They tell me about other concerts they were at, and how all they could hear were sweet wrappers going.

Last week I was contacted by Daniel, who emailed me something he’d written, which I loved…. So I have copied it here for you all. Enjoy!

MOBILE PHONES OFF

“Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to the Concert Hall of the Sydney Opera House. Tonight’s performance is about to commence, so please ensure that your mobile phones are switched off. You are reminded that photography is not permitted in the auditorium at any stage. Please enjoy the performance.

If you are still in the foyer and are hearing this message, you have about 30 seconds to get to your seats as the policy has changed; you will no longer be admitted during the performance or during the break between movements. Future concerts will start dead on time. If you have trouble getting here by that time, leave home 30 minutes earlier or you will risk missing the first half of the concert.

[pause] Actually, tonight is my first night on the microphone and, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to get off my chest.

What I am about to say might be stating the obvious, but experience tells me it is necessary.

On the subject of mobile phones, please note that “off” does not mean “switched to silent” as, in the quiet of the concert hall, we can still hear the vibrations, and the light of the screen is very distracting, not to mention the fiddling around in your bag or pocket to get the phone out to read and/or reply to your text messages. Further more, electronic transmissions will interfere with our recording equipment. In case I have not been clear, “off” means powered down. Some of you may feel compelled to turn it on again at interval so I will be repeating this message, because mobile phones going off in the second half of the program are just as disruptive as in the first. Strange that.

Most obvious of all, do not talk or even whisper during the performance. No matter how softly you do it, you will be disturbing people’s listening. Other bodily noises such as sniffing, snorting, grunting etc are right out. Many people do these things unconsciously, so if you notice people glaring at you when you think you haven’t done anything, this is probably you.

Coughing is the scourge of the concert hall. Many people simply feel free to cough whenever and as loudly and unrestrainedly as they please. This is definitely not alright. If you are really sick, stay home. Otherwise be prepared to go to great lengths to avoid coughing. If there is any chance you may cough anyway, take out your handkerchief before the music starts and lay it on your lap so that when the cough does come you can muffle your mouth and nose and do it as quietly as possible. The same applies to sneezes. If an involuntary one cannot be suppressed, at least muffle it.

Enjoy the music by all means but tapping hands or feet, nodding your head or conducting are not going to impress those around you, no matter how much better than them you know the music. The wiggling of any body parts in time with the music, or out of time for that matter, is just not cool. Try sitting on your hands if your find it hard to restrain yourself.

As it happens I know a thing or two about acoustics and the physiology of the ear. If you have ever been exposed to very loud noise, including rock concerts in your misspent youth, you will have suffered permanent hearing loss, particularly in the very high frequencies above 15 MHz. Probably not badly enough for you to notice, but here is the thing. If you unwrap a cough lolly, move your arms while holding a plastic bag, turn the page on the program, fiddle with your bag, your clothing or just about anything, even if you hear nothing yourself, there will be people around you who do hear it, loudly and clearly. I have heard people unwrapping lollies across the other side of the auditorium. Unwrapping it slowly makes just prolongs the agony. If you must fiddle or are likely to need a cough lolly, get it out and unwrap it before the music starts. Plastic water bottles are another problem. The plastic crackles while you handle it; please take your swigs before the music starts; then put the bottle away. Eating of any sort is of course out of the question.

Items fall from people’s laps, usually with a thump. It is better to put all items on the floor under your seat where you won’t kick them. If you do drop something, don’t add insult to injury by then proceeding to make more fuss picking it up.

Please don’t clap between movements.  Check your program before the piece starts to see how many movements there are.  Usually the conductor will give you a visual queue by dropping their hands when the piece is done. Clapping between movements disturbs that magic moment of anticipation of what is coming next.

All this is common consideration for others. In short, sit still, absolutely still, do not move, do not make a sound. You may breathe, but only if you do so quietly.

At the end of the performance you will leave the auditorium having enjoyed every smallest nuance in the music because of the wonderful stillness and respect of the other members of the audience. You will have the music ringing in your ears. What a delight. A delight that is, until you have to walk past the Opera Bar where you will have all those lovely reverberations totally obliterated by garishly amplified noise being thumped out over their PA. Can one of those people who dash out during the final applause please “accidentally” knock the plug from the powerpoint as a service to the rest of us? Your lack of respect might as well be put to good use. The people who run the Opera House obviously think the noise is a good idea for a bit of extra revenue raising. One wonder’s what Jan Utzon would have thought of that: approach the Opera House steps like a temple with reverence; leave it swimming in aural pollution… The policy was probably signed off by some MBA who doesn’t know a bar of music from a bar of soap. When you get home, if all of you send the them an email and state the bleeding obvious, maybe some common sense might prevail.

I am sorry, I seem to have strayed somewhat from my original brief but in short, please have a good evening and enjoy the concert in utter peace and quiet.

 

[pause] Clearly by this time tomorrow I am going to be unemployed, but it was worth it.  So if anyone has a job for me…”