Chapter 5 General findings

Many specific findings to the works performed, the settings and presentation of the concerts, and ways of interacting with audiences are already presented in earlier chapters. This chapter is devoted to general findings, personal reflections, and discussions with audience members and colleagues.

If nothing else, this study has again reminded me of the size of the divide between trained musicians and untrained listeners. Throughout our Deep Listening sessions, untrained listeners often needed a lot of focus for exercises which came very naturally to the trained musicians in the room. To give a very simple example, Oliveros' distinction between “hearing” and “listening” can illustrate this gap. She defines “hearing” as the physical means of perception and “listening” as the attention one gives to what is perceived.[Deep Listening p.13] Highlighting the manner in which we give attention to sounds (as opposed to just perceiving them) can be very rewarding and new experience for untrained listeners, who often don't think about this difference. Through my conversations in the course of this research, I learned that some untrained listeners appreciate music in a new way when they realize that there is a difference between “hearing” something, and “listening” to something. The idea that they themselves have the power to give their attention to a single line in an orchestral mass is already a big step for many people.

Although I found this gap in listening to be frustrating at times, I also see it as a huge opportunity for musicians to question and revisit the core principles of our art. How we connect and communicate with audiences is so essential to what we do, and because of this, the ways that we choose to go about it can cause true revolutions in our own musical practices, if we are open to them.

5.1 The responsibility of the audience

For many listeners, the desire to listen more deeply and the ability to do so is there, if they are given the tools and direction. However, the work involved can be tiring, and the right motivation and enthusiasm for this work must come from both the listeners themselves as well as the musicians presenting the music. Inspiring our audiences with the motivation to search more deeply is one of the great challenges of art music in the 21^st century. Art music gains depth and meaning because of the efforts and challenges it presents to the listener. But this comes in stark contrast to our modern way of life, in which our needs and desires are increasingly available at our fingertips, without effort.

After a Deep Listening session and a concert with audience participation, I spoke extensively with a colleague, Cristiano Viviani, about motivating the audience to listen differently. I confessed that I found it difficult to even tell an audience that they come to a concert with a responsibility as listeners. I thought of the theater director Peter Brooke, who writes that “it must be very hard for spectators to be told of an audience's responsibility. It would be a sad day if people went to the theatre out of duty.” [Brooke, 21] Throughout the course of my research I was told, repeatedly and by different people, that many audience members come just to be entertained, and don't want to be challenged on what is for them a free evening. Cristiano replied that “we should all dare to say very loud” that the public has a responsibility. I agree, however hard it may be. If we don't acknowledge this responsibility, art music and entertainment/popular music become one and the same thing. Our role as musicians would then not be anymore to invite people to “weigh and consider” (to paraphrase Francis Bacon), but only to amuse and distract [Bacon quoted in How to read and why p21]. The arts will no longer be, as Brooke describes, “a vehicle, a means for self-study, self-exploration; a possibility of salvation.” [Brooke 59]

Brooke, in The Empty Space, writes of how an audience can understand the power that even their own silence can have on the interpretation, understanding, and emotion of a work. Using a very shocking example of a description of a gas chamber from Peter Weiss' play about Auschwitz, The Investigation, and juxtaposing this with a list of the dead from the battle of Agincourt as quoted in Shakespeare's Henry V, he led a conversation with an audience which raised the following exchange within the audience:

“Agincourt's in the past.”

“But Auschwitz is in the past.”

“Only fifteen years.”

“So how long's it got to take?”

“When's a corpse a historical corpse?”

“How many years make killing romantic?”

After this, a volunteer from the audience was asked to read the list of the dead from Henry V, and was requested to stop for a moment after each name:

“the audience was to endeavour silently in the pause to recall and put together its impressions of Auschwitz and Agincourt, to try to find a way of believing that these names were once individuals, as vividly as if the butchery had occurred in living memory. The amateur began to read again and the audience worked hard, playing its part. As he spoke the first name, the half silence became a dense one...Now the audience's concentration began to guide him: his inflexions were simple, his rhythms true: this in turn increased the audience's interest and so the two-way current began to flow. When this was ended, no explanations were needed, the audience had seen itself in action, it had seen how many layers silence can contain.” [Brooke 25]

By asking them to consider more deeply, not only did the audience feel a stronger connection to the meaning behind the words, but even the untrained person speaking them found a more true approach to the text.

The framework in which we present the audience's responsibility is very important. It can be presented in a context which gives them an opportunity to enrich their experience and bond with each other. Much like Oliveros' Deep Listening sessions, a concert therefore becomes a context in which community and trust become central to its success. With the right feeling of trust, audiences can then be encouraged to remove their preconceptions (in a similar fashion to Oliveros' “Lifting of Judgement”), in order to find new meanings in what they hear and how they listen.

5.2 Listening with others

In the final analysis, listening is a solitary exercise. However, the community around a solitary listener can have a huge effect on what happens. Kristin Norderval told me “I never cease to be amazed how differently I listen when I listen with somebody else", saying that when she listens with others, she believes that she receives more information unconsciously. I agree that in my own experience, even when listening to a recording at home, I experience the music very differently when someone else is listening to a recording with me. And what musician cannot say that they experience their own playing differently when they know somebody else is in the room with them, listening to the sounds coming from their instrument? Even a microphone – which is only the future possibility of someone listening – can change the way we play and feel about our performances.

Because of this, the setting and community surrounding a performance is of utmost importance. In my career, I see more and more that my colleagues, ensembles, and orchestras take this into account when creating concerts. Spoken introductions to pieces, which can create connection with the audience, are much more common now than 20 years ago, attention is given to how performance spaces can be used so that the audience feels more connected to the performers, lighting and concert clothing are more malleable than in the past, and conservatories are now much more active in teaching their students that they will be performing for people, not a faceless mass of bodies. There are many ways in which we can continue to connect with our public. At present I am happy to see its role growing in our current performing practice.

5.3 Deep Listening as musical training

When I started this research, I hoped that by lifting certain methods and concepts from Deep Listening, that I could help audiences hear more and give more meaning to music. However, Sharon Stewart and Kristin Norderval also cautioned me that translating the practice of Deep Listening into a traditional performance would be impossible. The practice is as much about being as it is about listening, perhaps it is not too much if I say that Deep Listening is closer to religion than it is to performance. I was told by Sharon and Kristen that the bodywork, meditation, and sense of group trust which needs to be built before diving into Oliveros' text scores is the reason why a Deep Listening workshop takes between 90 minutes and 2 hours. Without this preparatory work, there is a high risk that Oliveros' music would be viewed as a fun silly game, without any real musical or personal value. The introductory bodywork and meditations serve to prime the participants into a feeling of group togetherness and “Lifting of Judgement”, which are central concepts of Oliveros' music and philosophy.

While Deep Listening cannot be used in the context of a concert, it is very possible for Deep Listening to catalyze a kind of ear training for audiences. By drawing attention to different modes of listening, practicing “Lifting of Judgement”, and understanding the value of a community of listeners, audiences and musicians alike can find new ways to appreciate the sounds that they are hearing.

When I questioned participants, I did encounter criticism of the Deep Listening practice, most notably from Jacqueline van Veldhoven, who had advised me with the rephrasing of Oliveros' From Unknown Silences, and was following the sessions. Her first response to Deep Listening was that it seemed to be quite technical and geared towards musicians. She told me that when we were given instructions, and on the whole “with Oliveros' scores, I have the feeling that I only understand about 75% of what is asked of me.” However, I believe a big factor for this feeling could be because Jacqueline was often one of the few non-musicians in the group during our workshops, which consisted mostly of students from the Koninklijk Conservatorium. Had the group been constructed mostly of non-musicians, I believe the work would have been presented in a slightly different context. She also initially questioned how genuine we were being in our “performative” elements of the workshops, and I noticed as well that as time went on over multiple sessions, people became more comfortable with the activities. I believe this is one of the reasons that Sharon Stewart recommended multiple workshops with a core group – like any “practice”, Deep Listening needs to be repeated in order to find a real benefit from the work.

On the whole though, responses were very positive to the Deep Listening experience. Almost all participants I asked said that joining in the workshops was a unique and positive experience. People enjoyed the serious attention given to listening, the opportunity to connect with music in a free unstructured way, and looking for ways of expression through sound. I was told that people enjoyed the “appreciation for all kinds of sounds, space to perceive the sounds and investigate experience”.

One cellist told me that Deep Listening changed her intention of how she plays the cello. In her warm-ups, she takes the time to appreciate the sounds, and works to give more value to the sounds she makes without trying to “get better”. She found that the work in Deep Listening has helped her be more open to what is happening in her playing as she does it.

There is much room for further research of using Deep Listening in situations such as:

• A 90 minute Deep Listening session, followed by a 1 hour concert

• Working with an entire audience repeatedly in the context of Deep Listening over the course of many months

• Working with composers in the context of Deep Listening, to catalyze new approaches to composition.

• Integrating aspects of Deep Listening into conservatory curriculum. (It is interesting to note here that Kristin Norderval mentioned this to me very early on in my research process, saying that even the act of sitting in a circle would give traditional conservatory training a very different feel. Marlon Titre, head of the Classical Department at the Koninklijk Conservatorium, told me as well that he thought certain aspects of Deep Listening would be interesting to explore in the context of teacher training.)

5.4 Integration of participatory works into concerts

Many new ideas and ways of connecting with audiences came through this research, and I intend to keep developing programs which involve audience participation in the future. Reactions from audience members were mixed, with some people practically having musical revelations through their participation, others found it interesting food for thought, and still others found it a waste of time.

One of my most interesting discoveries, though, was that the performance of James Tenney's Koan seemed to have as big of an impact on the audience as any participatory work I did in this research. Apparently, in the right context audiences can still be brought to a point where they question their perception without having to break the fourth wall.

If the audience is asked to join actively in the performance of a work, I have learned not to underestimate the importance of the context around the participation. Many factors can change the way people respond to active participation, including the way a work is introduced, the actual setting in the hall itself (such as the setup of the stage, chairs, lighting, etc.), the context within a larger program, and an understanding of the audience's musical background.

5.5 Final thoughts

I return again to Peter Brooke, who writes:

“Lecturing on these themes has taught me a great deal. I know that at this point someone always leaps up in the audience to ask whether (a) I think that all theatres that are not up to the loftiest standards should be closed or (b) whether I think it's a bad thing for people to enjoy themselves at a good entertainment or (c) what about the amateurs?

My reply usually is that I would never like to be a censor, ban anything or spoil anyone's fun. I have the greatest regard for the repertory theatres, and for groups all through the world struggling against great odds to sustain the level of their work. I have the greatest respect for other people's pleasure and particularly for anyone's frivolity. I came to the theatre myself for sensual and often irresponsible reasons. Entertainment is fine. But I still ask my questioners whether they really feel on the whole that theatres give them what they expect or want.” [Brooke 39-40]

Music, like the theater, can serve many different functions for many different people. Our job as performers is usually that of a medium. We aim to present the intention of the composer to the listener in a way which inspires and lifts us all. For listeners who are not fully satisfied with music giving them “what they expect or want”, we must ask ourselves what is lacking, and search for new ways to fill this void.

Music is a constantly evolving art form. Interprative traditions have changed immensely over the years, for example, interpretations and approaches to Mozart are very different now than they were when I was a student, let alone 250 years ago. But the music itself gains new properties and new meanings from these changes. Music is very flexible and depending on how it is played and listened to, it can mean as much, or as little as we want.

It is not only the sounds in music which change throughout history, but also the way that music is presented, consumed, and listened to. Especially in today's world, musicians and musical institutions are often asked to reinvent themselves, to find new audiences, new formats, and new innovations. As musicians, we rightfully spend endless hours learning how to perfect the music we play. We must also continue to remember that music, like any form of communication, is a two way street, and that a better understanding of how our work is received can only help our cause. And when we present a piece of music, we can ask what Peter Brooke called “the only vital question which measures the whole structure...Why [music] at all? What for? Is it an anachronism, a superannuated oddity, surviving like an old monument or a quaint custom? Why do we applaud and what? Has the stage a real place in our lives? What function can it have? What could it serve? What could it explore? What are its special properties?”

5.5 Outcomes for the future

Since beginning my research I found that there is a lot of interest in this topic among musicians, audiences, festivals and concert programmers. This has led to new directions in my own presentation of this repertoire, as well as among institutions which are also interested in presenting these new ideas in different contexts:

I am currently developing a series of workshops with Cristiano Viviani, to be presented at Amare in 2024, which will build on this research. In these workshops, audience members will sign up for a trajectory which allows them to 'prepare' their listening for a concert in a way which reflects the preparation done by the musicians.

I will be presenting works of Oliveros, Tenney, and Cardew in concerts at the Amsterdam Muziekgebouw and in the Sounds of Music festival in Groningen in the fall of 2023, which will involve audience participation. These performances will build on concepts I have learned throughout the course of this research.

Other institutions have also reached out to me to discuss how concepts from Deep Listening can be used to create new musical events and connect with audiences. I see that among concert programmers there is a strong desire to reach audiences in non-traditional ways, especially after the COVID lockdowns.

As musicians, we rightfully spend endless hours learning how to better present the music we play. We must also continue to remember that music, like any form of communication, is a two way street, and that a better understanding of how our work is received can only help our cause.