Participation and Presentation

After working fairly often over two years mentoring Yari, an Orff music teacher I’ve trained over the past three decades, we did something different this year. I talked with him at the beginning of his year, suggesting pieces and helping him with arrangements and then jumped in again at the end, a couple of visits a month before his Spring Concert and then a few days before the concert up to the concert itself. The concert was last night— and it was glorious!

 

Some thirty 6^th graders exploring the territory of old jazz standards (my contribution), old Beatles songs and Zimbabwe marimba (Yari’s) and some Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, U2, Journey and songs from Barbie (theirs). It was a grand array of styles and the kids seemed to enjoy all equally. More importantly, they played them so well on so many instruments—the Orff Ensemble, guitars, ukuleles, piano, drum set. And sang them, both as soloists and a group, equally well. Most importantly, they were having such a great time, feeling the music down to their bones, moving to it while they played, supporting each other, smiling and verbally appreciating Yari at the end while he appreciated them. Comparing this to concerts three years ago, it was so satisfying to see the tangible growth, not only from Yari, not only from the kids, but also from the parents, fellow teachers, admin taking a few steps forward to own this as an inextricable and oh-so-important part of their emerging school culture. 

 

At the end, two of Yari’s friends who attended took him out for dinner and he later reported some of their comments. I believe they congratulated him, but I was surprised that they also gave detailed critiques about all the little things that they felt went wrong. 

 

Of course, by Carnegie Hall standards, there was much to improve. My job as mentor was to see the trees as well as the forest and I believe I did a good job spotting the details that needed attention before the performance. But once the show is on, my attention is all on the forest. Are the kids enjoying themselves? Are they communicating that enjoyment and deep-tissue musicality? Are they feeling connected with each other? Did Duke Ellington perk up his ears in the other world and stop by to peek in? (I think he did.) Was the overall tone of the event a joyful celebration of community? If the answer is yes (and I believe it was to all of the above), is it really worth it to nitpick those tiny details? 

 

This is something I’ve noticed in Europe when I attend concerts with highly-educated musicians. I’m immersing myself in the overall feel and tone of the event while at the end, they say things like “Hmm. That tenor was flat in bar 3. And the oboe player didn’t quite get that ornament right.”

In his book, Music As Social Life: The Politics of Participation, author Thomas Turino makes a distinction between music as performance, created for a staged presentation, and music as participation, as occurs in various festivals worldwide. One requires the witness of a mostly silent audience paying 100% attention to music (or dance) that has been meticulously rehearsed to present on a stage. The other is music and dance as the center of a grand celebration, ceremony, festival, religious rite, that invites and often requires the participation of all who are there and continues while people eat, drink, talk, sleep, amidst it all. And then there all the steps in-between. Music and dance like samba that grew from party time to then be presented in a show where people pay money for tickets. 

 

This is a big topic, one that could frame the entire history of jazz, for example. But keeping it within the bounds of the Orff music concert, I would say that this event grew from the freewheeling participatory process of a music class and organically developed to the presentational performance of the Spring concert. But these are kids. The criteria for judgment is less the perfection of every note played and more the joyful atmosphere of kids making great music together and sharing it with the full measure of their kid nature with others. 

 

Trying to corral these thoughts from the hotel room in Vancouver where I’ve just arrived at the Carl Orff Canada Conference. Here I’ll give 3 workshops that will lean heavily on the joyful participatory side and will not be performed presentationally at this Conference. And if someone sings flat in bar 3 or misses the xylophone ornament, no one will care. For now.