Translator: Tijana Mihajlović Reviewer: Mile Živković
So, it should be pretty obvious
that the talk about to happen involves music.
But I'm going to start with an idea
of the British author and scholar Karen Armstrong.
And the idea comes from her book "The Battle for God."
She claims -
and fairly convincingly, I think -
that throughout human history, societies have responded
to what is usually a mysterious and terrifying world
by turning inward,
creating a spiritual world inside us,
and placing that very same sense of mystery
at the very center of our spiritual lives.
This is most obvious in the three monotheistic faiths
of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam,
where the sort of defining quality of God
is that God is mysterious and unknowable,
impenetrable to objective thought and reason.
So, this was for me kind of a revelation;
I was really taken by the idea when I read it.
And then a second revelation followed shortly after -
that's a little bit more personal -
and that was that the place of music in our lives and in our societies
follows very much the same paradigm:
that all of us, all of humans,
have experienced at some point in our lives
a musical experience that transforms you emotionally,
takes you to a sort of a very heightened state of emotional being,
whether it moves you to tears or makes you ecstatic, energizes you;
you all know what I'm talking about.
It could be an actual concert that you went to for music,
it could be music you heard on the radio,
a background in a movie or a TV show.
It just sort of happens
when there's the right coincidence of circumstances.
And the ability to respond to music in that way, the emotional way,
is part of the human condition.
It's something universal to us, to our kind of creature.
And that ability of music to access our emotions so directly
comes from very much the same kind of mystery
that Karen Armstrong places at the center of our spiritual lives.
So, when we're experiencing any art form,
in very much the same way that a religious devotion works,
the better you know that art form,
the closer and more intimate you are with the way it works,
the more open you are to experiencing the mysterious side
of what happens when that piece of art is part of your life
for whatever period it is.
And in keeping with the theme of today's talks,
the idea of being engaged in building community and culture,
the same way we can appreciate music when it's happening
to understand the language of a composer,
the grammar and the syntax of a composition,
and the performer's response in the moment of performance.
The more you appreciate that,
the more you're actively engaged in the performance
and not just in the same space as somebody doing music.
And that makes you more open to, again,
the mysteries beyond the things we can talk about.
In other words, the better you know the things that we can talk about,
the more powerful are the things that we can't explain for you
when we're talking about art.
So, I'm not here to explain the mystery. Otherwise, it wouldn't be very mysterious.
(Laughter)
What I am going to do now is take you with me
through a little bit of what goes on up here
as I approach and prepare to perform a piece of music.
The piece of music in question is the "Meditation"
from the opera "Thaïs" by Massenet.
My hope is that by kind of giving you a window
into my mind and to my ears,
that that makes you more engaged when we do perform the entire piece,
and that that makes you more receptive to whatever magic may happen.
So, to start, something really simple.
Most music has contour.
Most music from any society, from any time in our history has contour,
and that means high and low.
So, if I say "hello," and then I say "hello,"
there's a difference in the sound.
Even if I didn't have words behind the sound,
the sound itself would mean something to you
because it takes a different kind of energy from me to produce it.
And it carries meaning.
So, usually in music, when something goes up,
it gets more intense, and more expressive,
and more passionate.
And when it goes down, it relaxes.
The "Meditation" begins with two kinds of things
going on with contour.
One of them is the main point of this part of the piece.
The composer is trying to make the music go up;
he's trying to create intensity and create expression,
and generate some kind of musical momentum.
And these drops keep happening.
They keep thwarting his striving, his purpose.
That's basically how this part of the piece generates drama.
So, it starts here,
(Violin music)
and generally speaking, we're going up,
(Violin music continues)
and we fall.
(Violin music continues)
And we go up again
(Violin music continues)
to fall again.
(Violin music continues)
So, we'll try a little bit harder.
(Violin music continues)
It seems to be working.
(Violin music continues)
But you can guess what happens ...
(Violin music continues)
next.
(Violin music continues)
And this one really does seem to be working
just to bring us back here.
(Violin music ends)
So, contour works this way.
(Applause)
So, that's contour.
Remember, contour doesn't go away; it keeps happening.
But we're going to move on to rhetoric.
And musically, one of the most common rhetorical devices is repetition.
So, you've heard already this.
(Violin music)
So, when you hear it come back,
(Violin music)
you're like, I know, and I expect ...
(Violin music continues)
this.
But if the music does this,
(Violin music continues)
then you're surprised and a little confused
because it seems like I'm stuck.
But what I really am is taking a turn to:
(Violin music continues and ends)
Remember, contour. This is a high note.
(Laughter)
So, it's intense.
The next thing that happens is actually kind of surprising
because we got high,
and now he's going to do something with rhetoric.
Remember, repetition.
How many of you have kids?
OK, how many of you have a spouse?
I mean, somebody who you have to repeat things to?
(Laughter)
Okay, so when you repeat something a number of times in a row,
you can't do it statically.
Every time you say it again, it gets more intense,
whether you want to or not.
(Laughter)
So, after the high note
(Violin music)
we get one,
(Violin music continues)
two,
(Violin music continues)
three,
(Violin music continues)
four,
(Violin music ends)
four repetitions of the same little chunk of music.
What's sort of genius about this?
This is where Massenet goes, "I'm a genius."
It is that, remember: high things are intense,
and when they go down, they relax.
But he's just repeated something four times
to generate lots of tension,
descending the whole time until he's here
(Violin note)
which is about -
I mean, it's almost the lowest note you can play on a violin,
and that's when he says the most meaningful, passionate thing
that he's going to say in this entire beginning.
(Violin music begins)
And finish.
(Violin music continues)
(Violin music ends)
It doesn't finish; it goes on, but finish the section.
(Laughter)
So, I think-
We'll go on and perform the piece now.
And what I would like to leave you with
is certainly the ideas that I've put out into space.
But more importantly, probably not to suggest
that you try to think your way through what's about to happen.
But just that this mode of listening makes you receptive in the same way
that you are when you have a conversation with someone,
and that a musical performance is not a one-way street,
that you're bringing as much as you want to to the table
when you hear anything,
especially when it's a live performance.
And that that interaction makes the experience happen for you.
It's not something that's entirely the responsibility of the people up here.
So, speaking of the people up here,
I'm going to be joined by Maya Lindas who is from Warhead
and is currently going into her junior year
at Williams College in Williamstown,
studying math,
which makes us very different people.
(Laughter)
(Applause)
We hope you enjoy the "Meditation" from "Thaïs" by Jules Massenet.
Oh, by the way, we should give a round of applause to Tim, the sound guy,
because he did all this without actually sound-checking it.
(Laughter)
(Applause)
(Music starts)
(Music ends)
(Applause)