Svetlana The Musicologist, And Other Artists

Perhaps it is simply being in one of the cosmopolitan capitals of the world, or just a city of some size. Perhaps it is the fact that people are outside – out of doors, in the trams, riding their bicycles where they have access to one another. But somehow, I find myself coming across the most incredibly interesting people with musical and artistic talent and interest. Case in point, the train ride up from The Hague today, in rapt conversation with the woman who sat next to us. Her name was Svetlana, a pianist originally from Bulgaria, who had become a musicologist, with a specialty in contemporary classical composition! And when John Cage is the first composer’s name she drops, you know it’s someone in the know.

So we had this wonderful conversation about contemporary composition and the differing American and European schools, and why the Netherlands has become a focal point for a new sort of “Dutch School” (due mostly to people coming intentionally to escape certain strict conventions in their home countries). We discussed the role of improvisation as a starting point for composition, and its place in modern classical performance. 

Just a wonderful thing! 

After the concert last night, I walked up to two of the violinists after the concert and we spoke for a while. I mentioned I was from St. Louis, and the one said, “Ah, Hans Vonk,” the late conductor of the SLSO after Leonard Slatkin. But how incredible to have a conversation with such people outside the concert hall! 

One sees guitars, violins, indeed instruments of all kinds being carried around town. Even cellists ride their bikes with the cello case strapped to their backs. There is also an incredible collection of street musicians around the tourist areas. Everything from pennywhistle to mariachi-style bands, to – my personal favorite – a string bass player who stands on a podium and taps his foot on a tambourine every backbeat (beats 2 and 4 for you non jazzers), and sings and plucks old jazz standards. All this while wearing a white shirt and tie, and loose fitting lightweight suit, and a fedora or straw boater. 

But there is also a melancholy side to it. Last night, as I was walking back from a late night watching the goings on in the Liedesplein (more on this in a second), a young fellow stopped me and asked if I speak English. He said he was from New Zealand and asked if I could spare just a Euro or two because he was saving up for a plane ticket home. He had come to Amsterdam, so his story continued, because he was a songwriter and wanted to find a place more open to his music. Now, after a couple of months, he found it as impossible to progress here as he had at home, and was giving up. 

Now, it seemed pretty clear to me that he had more challenging personal issues other than simply being a frustrated songwriter, but he went on at length to describe those frustrations: how to network into community where professionals will listen to his music, how a partnership with a singer turned out great for her, but not for him, whether he should buy an expensive hard disc recorder to record demos, how to get his demos in the hands of the correct decision-makers. In essence, all of the issues that “serious” musicians face every day of their careers. 

A cynical, self-defeating thought occurred to me as he spoke: this is exactly what I must sound like when I pontificated to my wife about the travails of the music business. She has very sincerely told me that when one of these spells overcomes me, she no longer listens to a word I say. No wonder; whether on the streets of Amsterdam or over the kitchen table, it sounds like crazy talk.

Hence the melancholy. I often relate a story about an acquaintance who claimed to have the ears of a world-renown celebrity’s staff with regards to his proposal that the celebrity lead the entire world in the simultaneous chanting of a mantra for world peace of his invention. I use this to illustrate how hard it is to tell the truly able and gifted artists from the crackpots: put yourself in the place of that celebrity staffer who has to listen to and sort out which are the serious proposals and which are the ranting of someone breathing too much of their own pixie dust. At first blush, Normal People, as I like to call them, have a tough time sorting this out. So do we Abnormal People, as well!

Still, it is a real joy to be in a place where art and music still feel generally loved and appreciated, that a little knowledge of such is a nice thing to have, and valued. Even my business-minded seminar-mates seemed to have amazingly advanced experience with performing, studying, and ultimately enjoying music. 

Here’s to more of that, everywhere!