A “turned-on” concert experience

The good Ms ACB, over at The Concert, wrote a great post last week that riffed on the idea of “indie classical” groups trying to “shake things up” by creating alternative concert rituals that engage a contemporary audience more fully, more emotionally:

That’s how I want an audience to feel. Know what I mean? Excited, turned on, drawn in, breathless… not unlike the feeling I had seeing The Shins or The New Pornographers, now that I think about it. Or Die Walkure

This sort of engagement is something 8bb is very interested in (except perhaps for Wagner - although, come to think of it, who wouldn’t want to hear a fully memorized sextet version of the Ring, with 8bb singing all of the roles as well as playing), so it was great to see that in her post ACB used our Pierrot performance as one way a classical group can achieve this sort of “turned-on” concert experience.

Since its inception 8bb has consciously tried to alter the concert ritual, mostly in subtle ways. There is no marketing-driven cynicism to these attempts; they simply reflect our frustrations with the stuffiness of many classical chamber music performances. Patrons pay to come a show, so we want to give them a show.

We dispense with stands, where possible; introduce stage movement, which acknowledges that we live in a visual culture; cultivate an image more like a rock band than penguin-suited string quartet; keep percussion moves to an absolute minimum (an acknowledged master, Matthew spends a good deal of time early in the season working these out with mathematical rigor); don’t leave the stage between pieces; talk casually but concisely from the stage; keep concert programs as well as intermissions quite short (leave them wanting more rather than wanting to slit their wrists).

We encourage post-concert “talkback” sessions (here are two podcast examples), involving a moderator, in which patrons give us honest and unguarded reactions to what they have heard and seen. Recently, at our first Harris Theater concert, we tried a pre-concert “chill out with the performers” hour, and found it a satisfying way to warm people into the experience.

We are aware that this is basically tinkering around the edges. 8bb concerts still neatly fulfill many traditional western classical music rituals: we play in concert halls; well-dressed patrons stay silent and still during works then applaud afterwards (not nearly enough booing or heckling, like this, goes on); a printed program with notes is distributed.

In many ways we are locked into the classical traditions by virtue of the venues in which we perform. Our status - as a full-time, professional touring group that relies on performance income to balance our budget - restricts us somewhat. For example, we simply can’t afford to go the route of many exciting young new music ensembles who have found small but engaged and diverse audiences at clubs and pubs. Small venues such as these can barely cover even the costs associated with moving our percussion equipment.

There are other ways in which 8bb benefits by remaining a firmly “classical” ensemble. University residencies make up a significant portion of our salaries, enabling us to function as a full time group. Without our cred as an award-winning (and did I mention, Grammy-nominated) classical chamber music group, that would not be possible.

A final, random thought: All of last century, concert halls were home to the silent, quasi-religious ritual of attentive, concentrated classical music listening. Reflecting this environment, the music itself changed: composers wrote complex music designed for intense thought, requiring pre-concert study and post-concert reflection. This “difficult” new classical music makes up a significant portion of what 8bb plays. Surely, if the ritual changes, the music will again change. But how? Will composers again have to write music that needs to be heard above the clinking of glasses? Music that makes patrons want to mosh?

(A note that didn’t seem to fit anywhere else in this post: Unsurprisingly, many classical ensembles are trying the “old wine in new bottles” approach. There is one interesting example that I would like to share: a project called 4 Elements - 4 Seasons. It was a performance of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons performed earlier this month by the Akademie fuer Alte Musik Berlin in collaboration with choreographer and dancer, Juan Kruz Diaz de Garaio Esnaola, at the amazing new space, Radial System V. The orchestra memorized all of their parts and moved around the stage while solo violinist Midori Seiler physically interacted with the dancer, the two becoming intertwined while Seiler played.)

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