BY ANGELO VALDIVIA
Silence with your ASO
Adelaide Symphony Orchestra
Grainger Studio, 21 June
When you think of an orchestral concert, do you associate it with an eerily silent atmosphere where the whole audience is restricted from giving any applause? How about an aesthetic of darkness, with very little mood lighting? Reserved ‘seating’ for people to practice meditation and even yoga?
The Adelaide Symphony Orchestra dared to try something different in its own Grainger Studio by doing all of the above in a concert called Silence with your ASO. For disclosure, I may have done a bit of an eye-roll when I first heard of this idea. But after going in with an open mind, and looking at the demographic surrounding me, I kind of ‘got it’.
While waiting in line at the entrance, I made sure to observe this demographic of people also heading in: it was a combination of middle-aged people with a few younger ones dotted about the place. Shout-out to the businessman standing behind me with sunglasses on, sipping a bubble tea; and also to an (in?)famous ABC radio presenter accompanied by his wife. When I finally found my seat, I saw the sold-out, premium priced yoga mat ‘seats’ were quickly filling up – all 40+ of them. I specifically noted a woman sitting right up the front, perfectly upright in the meditative lotus position for the whole hour.
The concert was introduced by ASO’s former managing director Rainer Jozeps, evidently an advocate of yoga and who divulged how this particular concert had “been long in the making”. It was in this monologue where we asked to hold applause entirely; between each piece would be a minute of silence, and there would be no more announcements or spoken words for the next hour. Jozeps also requested we turn off our phones — not just made silent, but powered them down — so as to delve fully into the experience. When the concert concluded, the orchestra would quietly stand and walk off stage, and patrons should exit in a likewise fashion: “Take the calm, stillness with you into the city.”
What occurred during the next hour was one of the most tranquil experiences I’ve ever had in such an environment. Sitting in a somewhat soundproof studio elevated my sensitivity towards the sounds made by the reduced orchestra – no brass here, other than a couple of French horns, thankfully (the irony of that statement is not lost on me, a trumpet player). Every delicate stroke of a bow. The soft air of a clarinet drone. It was almost like listening to one of those ASMR videos that get you tingling just that little bit too much.
But of course, every orchestral concert has its unintended aural cameos: the humming of the air conditioner; someone sneezing, another coughing; tummy gurgles; the obligatory person who decides right now is the best time to wrestle with the plastic wrapper of a lolly; my seat number sticker ripping from my chair because it somehow stuck to my back instead…
All of these sounds seemed louder because of the sensory-deprived environment.
Every piece was played with such care and precision. The downside to hearing these beautiful performances in such an aurally dampened space was, in the end, none of the pieces particularly stood out to me. The program consisted of Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten by Pärt, Sospiri by Elgar, To His Servant Bach God Grants a Final Glimpse by Koehne, Peer Gynt Suite No 2: Solveig’s Song by Grieg, Veni Creator Spiritus: 1. Puro e tranquillo by Edwards, The Lamb by Tavener, and Claire de Lune by Debussy (arr. Caplet). However, no concert programs were distributed, and towards the end I couldn’t recall what had been played or if a piece necessarily shone more than the one that came before.
But perhaps that was the nature of this concert. To sit and focus inwards, towards the self, as the yoga enthusiasts had; rather than outwards as the orchestra played. Perhaps the ideal scenario would involve us following the meditating lady’s lead and sitting in the lotus position.
But I digress: there was one standout section of the concert: John Cage’s 4’33”. Treated as the finale of the concert, this often-controversial work was claimed to have made its Australian premiere here. Jozeps made the point that 4’33” had only been performed by pianists in Australia, which was an interesting piece of trivia (though our editor notes may not have been entirely correct, as the Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra had presented the work in a 2017 Dark Mofo concert, also curated by Jozeps himself; albeit ‘featuring’ pianist Tamara-Anna Cislowska).
What made the experience more interesting is how it was performed by this orchestra; maestro David Sharp conducted the first beat of the piece, and the rest of the ensemble remained poised to play while the entire movement ‘plays out’ in silence. At the end of a movement (of which there are three), Sharp then cut off the ensemble to conclude. Cage’s piece was written to challenge what the concept of a performance can be, also challenges the audience to take in the living sounds happening all around them, rather than from the orchestra. In this performance, one of those sounds happened to be an airplane flying overhead. (Another interesting nugget of trivia surrounding this piece is it must be purchased to be performed legitimately. The more you know.)
When the orchestra concluded the concert and walked off stage in silence, it certainly felt awkward — even uncomfortable — to be sitting there, not conveying any sort of response to the musicians’ efforts. But when I left Grainger Studio, I came out feeling…moved.
While I found it difficult to remember what any of the music sounded like the moment I stepped outside, I could at least still recall how I felt from the atmosphere the ASO delivered. I felt calm, even refreshed, despite the bustling urban life at 2pm. It’s unlikely everybody would have a similar reaction to me, and I was certainly sceptical in the lead-up. However, sitting in darkness among 200 people and listening to slow, calming music was a performance that influenced me in a way I wasn’t expecting.
I wonder if the meditating lady feels the same way.
Image supplied.
