By the time we arrived in Lenox, the clouds were scudding away and tendrils of a later afternoon sun filtered through the trees as we settled our folding chairs into a communable circle on the damp, closely-cropped grass. Wine and food were passed around, and the cooks were lauded with praise. Like any good potluck, each brought enough to feed nearly the whole group. And so we gasped in satiated pleasure as the sky muted, adjusted our chairs and waited for the concert to begin. Just as the chorus was filing in, and the crowd acknowledged the arrival of Michael Tilson-Thomas to the podium, a gorgeous array of color filled the western sky. I'd left my camera at home in case we were in pouring rain, so I managed to take a reasonable photo with my phone. Warm washes of pink, yellow and orange flitting through and over the treetops.
The program for the evening was Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms and Mozart's Requiem in D minor. As with last years performance of Beethoven's 9th, also conducted by MTT, the singers had memorized their music. I have been trying to convince my local choruses that this is possible for us as well, and that the results will be worth the effort. A group cannot sing as emotively or as organically unless they are off the written page. Only then do they listen. Only then does the music fuse. There is no flicking the eyes up and down. We are focused on the eyes and hands of the conductor and ears are drinking in the voices around us. We vibrate the music and are carried along with it, because we are not trying to assimilate a graphical interpretation of the music and reacting to it. We ARE the music.
I have memorized the last few concerts and several of my fellow chorus are starting to come around to my way of thinking on this, because they now see that it can be done by a mere mortal and they can hear and feel the increased emotiveness and cohesiveness of my lines.
The Stravinsky contained skin-chilling and bone-buzzing harmonic structures. I love these grating fusions of chord on chord, and their resolution into melody -or not, sometimes. Sometimes they leave you on a cliff. Shall we jump over into ether? Shall we just look over the edge and get dizzy? Shall we walk away into a pleasant tonic resolution? One never knows. I love the 'crunchy' stuff.
Mozart also threw out a few harmonic curves, but mostly it is structure, layer upon layer that builds the sonic atmosphere. The Lacrymosa, as always, pulled a few small tears from the corners of my eyes. Later on the bus ride home, a few of us sang an improvised trio on the theme.
Thanks to large screens and strategically placed video-cams, we were able to locate our former chorus-mate in the risers. Sometimes these video montages feel disjointed and jarring, and I do not like to watch them, but I felt these were well done and added to the overall experience.
I could spend more summer evenings like this. Many many more.
