Kids' Recital vs. Traditional Concert: Stuffiness Optional

On Saturday morning, Joy and I presented a concert for the Kid's Club series the Community Music and Dance Academy hosts every year. We've done this sort of program before (back during our time at Millikin University we took an interactive classical music program into area schools), but it had been long enough that I had forgotten the differences between a traditional recital and one presented for ages 18 months to 8 years. So here, for your edification and amusement, are the top three differences between a Kids' Recital and a Traditional Concert:

1. Audience members talk back - Generally when we give a concert, audience members dutifully sit in silence, either enthralled with the rapturous sounds we're producing or sleeping. We really never know. At a Kids' Recital, the audience speaks up loudly and frequently. They let you know if they are having a good time. Or not having a good time. Or just thinking about their dog.

2. Audience members like to move - Attending a Traditional Concert is a bit strange. You're stuck away from home, unable to leave until someone else lets you; you keep hearing strange sounds that you can't always identify; it's too dark to read your program so you never know what's coming next; and water and food are scarce, even though you are thirsty and hungry. Throw in the possibility of sudden death and it's almost like being on Lost. But at a Kids' Recital, almost no one sits still. Kids are running around the hall, almost falling off the stage, wiggling fingers and toes and arms and legs and heads and anything else that wiggles. They are fully engaged in the performance.

3. Audience members are vocal in their response - Let's face it, even if you are horrible in a Traditional Concert, you'll at least get golf claps. But at a Kids' Recital, if they like you they really like you, and if they don't, well, you should best get home quickly. It isn't uncommon to find loud shouts of approval or guffaws for a successful concert or constipated-looking faces peering back at you for less than stellar performances.

We had a great time with the performance on Saturday and thankfully received more guffaws than sad looks. Exposing children to classical music in an interactive and fun setting is a delightful way to spend a Saturday morning, and it seemed as though the kids had a great time. I gauge our success by this response: Joy asked for jokes at one point during the program. Afterwards, about ten kids came up to us to tell us their joke because we didn't have time for them during the show. Have I ever mentioned that Joy is excellent at what she does?

Sam was able to come with his May and Pop, although he spent most of the time going up and down stairs. Every once and a while he would stay on stage for a while, bounce a bit to the music, and then shoot off again. That's ok; he'll have to sit still for concerts soon enough.

Musicircus Redux

Just a quick report - the Musicircus last night was a triumphant success. Sitting in my spotlight at the prepared piano, I wasn't able to see any of the event, but I was washed with stray sounds that drifted in from other works down the hall. People moved freely about, lay underneath the piano on a large mattress, reclined on the cushy pillows we had strewn about, and stuck their head inside the piano to gaze at the preparations as they rang with my performance. Most notable to me were the children enthusiastically taking in the event. (except for the one child who inexplicably covered his ears while listening to the toy piano. I still haven't figured that one out.) They ran around, entranced by both the music and the freedom to move, dance, and experience a concert completely on their own terms.

Here's one example to give you an idea of the evening's atmosphere: While I was playing, someone came up and stood beside me while a friend took our picture. I have no idea who this person was, but if you're reading, I'd love a copy!

Piano Prepared, Dream Accomplished

I've long harbored a secret dream. It began as an undergraduate when I first encountered John Cage's Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano. I was mesmerized by the delicate sounds that were so unlike anything I'd ever heard the piano produce. The work immediately found its way into my honor's thesis, and I began scheming to play it, or another prepared piano work, on my senior recital. Visions of three pianos littering the stage danced in my head: one for my Classical and Romantic requirements, one for an electronic work, and one prepared piano.

I ended up having two pianos on the stage; the prepared piano there in spirit only. I went to graduate school, focused on the academic side of music, and played when and where I could. But still no prepared piano.

Then, last year, I began developing a new course on a few of the American Mavericks - Charles Ives, Henry Cowell, Harry Partch, and John Cage. I came up with the idea of having my students experience Cage's music first-hand by performing it in a Musicircus. Here was my chance, I could finally prepare a piano and perform the Sonatas and Interludes.

If you aren't familiar with the prepared piano, here's your quick and dirty introduction: In 1938, Cage was asked to write music for a dance. At the time he was mainly composing for percussion orchestra, so he planned to continue that trend. But when he showed up at the theatre, it was tiny. The stage would barely hold a piano. So he began putting things inside the piano. Eventually, in later works, the items grew to include screws, bolts, nuts, pieces of weather stripping, pennies, and even an eraser.

Preparing the piano takes a long time, as Cage was initially very specific about the sounds he wanted, but I had a blast putting things between the strings of the piano. I felt like I was playing hooky from my job and vandalizing a piano to boot. Piano prepared, dream almost accomplished. Now it just waits for me to play it next week. I'll keep you updated.