When Silence Is Truer Than Music
The best concerts are not always the ones where the audience jumps to their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs, “Bravo!” The best concerts are sometimes the ones where the audience simply stands—and leaves. Who would have thought! Not me.
You might disagree and you are right! A cheerful audience might also mean a great concert. But...
Imagine this:
Luzern, Switzerland. A frilly 17th church, unfortunately renovated with such zealousness that it looks like a fresh whipped cream cake.
White. Blue. Pink.
It is as Baroque as it can be.
The orchestra, non other but La Petite Bande, completes the Johannes Passion.
It is a sublime piece!
No matter how it’s played or even not played at all: chances are, you—like me—can simply read the score and hear it in your mind and feel something very special. Like a great novel.
But this night it actually was special.
String players lifted their bows off the string.
The last chord rang and died out behind the last rows of pews.
And then—this happened.
Nobody expected that.
The audience just did not move.
Do you know how it is normally, right? Normally audience starts clapping, stretching, yawning, checking their phones. Life restarts!
But instead of the norm the silence was deafening.
It felt like an eternity.
A minute passed.
Another...
Our conductor, with an expression of genuine WOW on his face and a nod of approval towards his musicians slowly turned the thick, hard cover of his big heavy score, his back still facing the audience.
No, imagine you could hear the hearts of some 800 people. the audience.
I certainly heard mine.
I hoped the audience to start clapping—because, frankly, I was struggling to hold back tears.
Some musicians began to bite their lips, their red eyes filled with tears too.
You might be thinking, "You are just an old sentimental fool, Badiarov!"
And you are right! Actually, I don't know why music makes me feel anything at all. Some people don't. Not even among musicians.
You might suggest the audience simply fell asleep. And maybe you are right! I got it all wrong again!
But as fool as I am, I just sat, contemplating what had just happened. Violin in my left arm, bow - in the right.
You might suggest the audience simply fell asleep. And maybe you are right! I got it all wrong again!
It just cannot be that everyone was awake. It's a well documented fact: lots of people will miss lots of sublime things in life. In this part of the world, we deny they even exist.
But...
I felt it was something more than just a boring concert.
Maybe even special. I played thousands of concerts and I don't remember almost any, but this one? 20+ years ago and counting.
Bach - a total alien to the culture we created - signed his works with S.D.G. — Soli Deo Gloria (Glory to God Alone).
I am curious what he might have thought of that performance. In Baroque Music it is actually common to be curious not just about the product of culture, but also about the people who created it, especially in the past.
What would you call it?
A moment of magic?
A moment of truth?
Just the effect of silly neurochemicals and nothing worth speaking a about?
Just the effect of silly neurochemicals and nothing worth speaking a about?
I am only asking questions, because actually I do not know.
For some reason I still remember this silence and the audience leaving so carefully, as silently as it could be for a crowd of 800.
I am grateful that this Badiarov instrument has found a home in the hands of just such a player—one who creates moments just like this.
Either way—whether this story meant anything to you or more likely not—majority of people did not even read - I wish you many, many, many concerts YOUR audience won’t forget.
And whether your audience leaves in silence or after a thunderous applause they come back to YOU for more.
p.s. Grateful. At times the majority of violin-family instruments in La Petite Bande were actually was made by me. You might enjoy the Brandenburg Concerti recorded LIVE in Osaka. I was on stage too.
