Keep Classical Weird

From 8^th grade to high school, I went to St. Paul Chamber Orchestra concerts. I was at the point with piano where I was beginning to dig in, realizing I had a smattering of potential. I penguin dived into anything that would help me become a better musician, and anything that made me look like I knew more than I actually did. Faking it til you make it is not a bad rule to live by.

One concert I went to in high school featured a pianist named Jonathan Biss playing Schumann's Concerto in A minor. This was my first concerto to hear live, so I was partly blown away, and partly jealous that he had this talent at such a young age. The concert was at our church. Not having a backstage or secret tunnels for musicians to escape through, audiences would be milling around in the lobby (or narthex; to this day I have no idea what it means in Churchspeak) and be able to have these world-class musicians weaving through them all.  After the concert, my sister and were waiting for our parents, who were being ushers. Because I like to have a song for every occasion, I decided to entertain my sister by singing my rendition of “Manamana” in a very obnoxious manner.

 And who decides to walk by but Mr. Soloist himself.

In hindsight, since he walked straight by without looking at us, I doubt he noticed or cared at all. But I was mortified. For me, the old stereotype of classical music being a stuffy, no-nonsense place--with little time for weirdos like me jamming to my favorite Sesame Street tunes-- was still cemented in my brain. But since that concert years ago, I’ve realized that not only is there room for weirdos like me in classical music, but I am not the first weirdo and I’m certainly not the last. Any performer that can’t look at things with humor and humility will burn out fast. It’s our jobs to take the music seriously, not ourselves. In Princess Bride terms, we are as-you-wish Westlys and music is Buttercup, and our job is to get through the Fire Swamp.

Since hearing his performance, Jonathan Biss has become a name in the piano world, having several recordings, writing pieces for NPR, preaching the gospel of Schumann to the masses (somebody’s gotta do it), and having an all-around successful career as a concert pianist. And to my initial surprise, reading his bio was actually entertaining. That’s like, against the rules in classical music. The artist’s bio is supposed to be a dry list of degrees you have and competitions you’ve won and every Russian teacher you studied with. Instead, it was a bio filled with quirky humor. Behold, a weirdo in our midst! This is one of the many signs that the face of classical music is changing: showing a bit of humanity is more valued now than being a diva.