Are We The Only Musicians Here?

This past Tuesday, I, along with several of my friends, attended the last concert given by the New York Philharmonic in Central Park as part of the Concerts in the Park series. I was so excited because the concert was all Dvorak, a composer very near to my heart. (My entire high school orchestral bassoon experience can be summed up in his works, especially considering we played his 8th Symphony for two years straight) But just like before when I went to the concert in Cunningham Park in Queens, I wondered; just who exactly is coming to these concerts, and why?

Now of course I can't not give the people of New York City their due --- that's part of the reason why I live here, for the slightly exaggerated myth and persona of the intellectual and cultural elite who spend their time mixing with literati and glitterati alike, drinking champagne at fabulous art nouveau opening night parties and galas. Yes, those people do exist in New York but that's just a small part. So besides the fireworks (which by the way were highly disappointing), the chance to have wine and cheese on the Great Lawn and some damn good music, why go?

Well those are all incredibly good reasons, reason enough for anyone to go but it was hard for me to fathom because for me, as a musician, it went deeper than that. And because of that feeling, it led me to propose a question (or maybe a few questions) to myself --- is there ever a time when I can just go for the fireworks, wine and cheese and is there anyone else out here on this enormous patch of grass like me? Because every once in a while, I'm overcome with the feeling, no the need, to sit with people of the same persuasion and discuss the surprising and disconcerting ritenutos that Maazel orchestrated himself in the second movement of the 9th Symphony, the elegance and flawlessness of Thomas Stacy's english horn solo and how disappointing it was that the crowd roared over Lynn Harrell's powerful performance of the Cello Concerto. I almost wish that everyone around me is thinking these things, just waiting to put in their two cents. But that leads me back to the first question. I pose this to many of my other collegiate musician friends. Can we ever divorce ourselves from that of our calling? And if we could, would that be wise?

Now I'm sure you're saying, "Imani, I'm sure you can listen to classical music just to enjoy it and not analyze it like a musician." and of course I can but that "listening" is predicated on all of the things that I've ever learned over the past eleven plus years that enable me to enjoy the music even further. Because I know Dvorak, I love listening to it even more. I think back to when I was in third grade learning about Haydn's "Suprise" Symphony and learning what made it a suprise. After I knew that, the second time around was much more enjoyable than the first with which I had the horrible experience of being scared so much that I fell over in my chair.

So yes, there are days when it's all about the fireworks, wine and cheese and I relish those days but there is a voice in my head, constantly nagging me, asking, 'are we the only musicians here?'. Well, little voice, maybe not but even so, its not that bad of a thing. Maybe someone sitting behind me will be as anxious to hear the second theme in the exposition of the first movement of the 9th Symphony or maybe they'll just be drinking their glasses of merlot, looking at the stars. But in the end, the most important thing is that they're all there --- the laypeople, the struggling music students, the noveau-riche --- for some reason or another, under the opening sky, enjoying a little Dvorak.