Music makes world go round - Super Senior Smarts

Here I am listening to the achingly beautiful sounds of the second movement of Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2. As I sit, listening and contemplating the words I am about to type, I cannot help but acknowledge the tears that are falling gently down my cheek as the clarinetist plays what is, by far, one of the most sensuous solos in the repertoire.

Perhaps you don't care. But I urge you to consider what music means to you. Music, as I define it, is not limited to any type or era. It is, simply, a sound that stirs within you an emotion, be it mild amusement, rage, sorrow, whatever.

Imagine, for a moment, what the world would be like without music?

(silence)

A world without music is so horrible and devoid of character that I am literally pained every time I am forced to think of such.

As a double degree student, I enjoy privileged access into two realms, each with its own set of beautiful quirks and frustrating moments. More than ever, I find myself frustrated as my five-year stint at Johns Hopkins and Peabody begins to wind down. There are so many emotions that I've encountered in the past year that I have become a lexicon of possible human states. This last year I have had to come to terms with my own relationship with music, which has held a special place in my heart for almost 25 years now. I am pained because I am finally in the unenviable position of having to choose a career-path.

The sad truth is that I shall not be pursuing a career as a musician.

You can berate me, hit me, abuse me, ignore me, but nothing hurts me the way seeing the previous sentence on my computer screen does. It hurts so much that I have been putting myself in denial about it. For the last month or so I have been unable to get excited about music. I realize, though, that this lack of enthusiasm is nothing more than my unwillingness to leave myself susceptible to the pain of leaving behind a dream I once had; a dream in which I am sitting on stage and looking out into a sea of faces needing musical healing; a dream in which I, along with my musical colleagues, can offer solace to throngs of people who flock to hear music. One dream gone, I still have others, but none as long-lasting or meaningful as the one I lost.

Music is powerful. As I look back upon this last year, I keep seeing an image of our Congress gathering post-Sept. 11 and singing. For them and those watching them on television, music was key in uniting our efforts. The simple act of singing together in an imperfect, but genuine, harmony was enough for us to reach others across this country and to begin a collective process of healing.

Personally, I recall the first orchestra rehearsal I had after the event. It was on Sept. 12 and I remember being touched by the poignant words spoken by Teri Murai, our conductor. He was so overwrought with emotion that I could hear him choking up as he reminded us that our job was to combat such tragedies and evil by offering the best performances possible. Music was a weapon to be used in the war against terrorism. I don't think I've ever played a more intense rehearsal than I did that day.

I look back to John Lynch, hands-down the best conductor I've ever had the fortune to work with, and wonder what makes him so special. He has passion. His life is one that cannot be separated from music without an effort tantamount to violently splitting the earth in two. The fluid motions of his body and the emotion written on his face as he conducts is indicative of a man who pursues his life's passion. For him there was no choice. It was music or nothing.

Then there's Piero Weiss, who teaches a music history class at Peabody. Imagine an old, almost curmudgeonly old man who walks in a stooped manner, and you've envisioned him. He sometimes plays the piano in class instead of playing examples on the stereo. This week he played two short pieces. As I watched him play, I was taken with the beauty of the moment. While watching him play the piano, I realized that Weiss loves music. He has a genuine love for it. And to watch this man as he painfully performed these pieces made me realize that I have much more respect for him than I do for others who are capable of performing those pieces without a blink of the eye.

What tarnishes music, however, are those who seek to gratify their own egos by involving themselves in its creation. There is one conductor who fits this bill. It would be unkind of me to name this individual, so let it suffice that he still conducts and is alive. Working with this man was the worst experience of my life. He lacks the technical facility to properly conduct something as simple as "Mary Had a Little Lamb," and gets frustrated with the musicians when they cannot play. Truth be told, the musicians can play. They just lack any sort of direction from this conductor. And everyone is aware that the only reason he conducts once in a while is to stroke his own ego. It is an immense waste of time for everyone involved to go to a rehearsal in which a page turn with a meter change throws off the conductor to the point that he stops and feels he needs to find something wrong with the musicians to cover his own inadequacies.

Though I am saddened at the prospect of being an audience member and not a performer, I know that I'll find comfort in my brother's musical career. Eric is a junior at the Cleveland Institute of Music and on Monday he found out that he and one other man are finalists for the percussion opening at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. He never seemed to have talent and I remember him taking auditions for youth orchestras and summer festivals just because I was doing it. In fact, he almost quit playing percussion when he was in junior high school. I know that his present successes are in part due to my guidance, so I wish him the best luck in his future as a professional percussionist.

I could write on the topic of music and its meaning for ages, so I'll stop now. But I leave you with one request. Ask yourself what music means to you. Truly, there is something unique about it that reinforces the very ideals we strive for as humans. Even Augustine recognized this in his Confessions when he wrote:

"The tears flowed from me when I heard your hymns and canticles, for the sweet singing of your Church moved me deeply. The music surged in my ears, truth seeped into my heart, and my feelings of devotion overflowed, so that the tears streamed down. But they were tears of gladness.