EL SISTEMA (Part II)

...in a day filled with extraordinary highlights, there was still one moment that stood above others.

We had a Q & A session (the young orchestra members and I), and I was asked whether I have a favorite composer or favorite piece. Not an uncommon question for which my answer is that I spend countless number of hours with every piece before it gets to be presented on the stage, and I cannot go through such a process with a piece I would not consider as a favorite. In other words, I have no favorite piece or composer, but rather favorites!

To the principle cellist that answer did not suffice. Standing up, he asked me if I could play "something that I could identify myself with." Now that is different. With some hesitation I sat down and played the closing movement from Schumann's epic Fantasy Op. 17. This thirteen minute slow pace meditation or perhaps a prayer, a farewell, is one of the most heartfelt pieces ever written. It goes straight into our innermost. It is music which expresses such solitude yet is all embracing. It is probably meant for just one person, whomever you want him to be.

After playing it, I turned to my fellow musicians and asked for the reason for choosing this piece. The answers kept pouring.
The two answers that I will never forget came from one orchestra member who thought that this music represented "the way I would like the world to be"; the second came from Bruno, their twenty-eight year old conductor who said that while I was playing, he saw the gates of heaven opening up and beaming light shined upon us all. This reminded me what Schumann said when writing this movement: that he had "a vision of Heaven with its angels in solemn troops and sweet societies, that sing, and singing in their glory move, and wipe the tears forever from our eyes.”
I could not agree more with all that I heard.

Shortly after, a group of about fifty people came in and formed a half-a-circle behind the orchestra. At first I was not sure where they came from or why they were here. All of a sudden they started to sing Handel a-cappella, and continued with all sorts of folk songs.
This afternoon started with one climax and gathered many more along the way: the choir of four-year-old's, the nine-year-old concert mistress, the instrument restoration shop, the ten-year-old conductor, the Schumann Fantasy, the a-cappella choir, and so much more. I saw a miracle in all its glory – a new reality. Can this be real or should I look at today's newspapers to find out what is real? I have no doubt that everyone around felt they were part of something special. Through the power of music they were able to get away each day from their reality if just for a moment, and build a new one, much more hopeful.

Many mornings I wake up and spend time with a composer that through the power of music he was aiming to build a more ideal world – Beethoven. I decided to end the visit with playing the Finale from Beethoven's Sonata "Appassionata".

The orchestra made me their first honorary member. I told them that the real honor would be that next time, rather than play for each other, let us play WITH each other.
After all, they showed me what togetherness is all about.

Thank you!
Alon Goldstein (Nov. 2010)

EL SISTEMA

O.K. so I am going through my midlife crisis. My priorities shift. What interests me is changing dramatically and what brings tears to my eyes is becoming quite different.

First it was China. Now it is Guatemala.

Following two solo recitals in Guatemala not too long ago, I visited the youth orchestra of Guatemala City, which is modeled after the Simon Bolivar orchestra of Venezuela. The now famous orchestra that has taken kids from poor villages throughout Venezuela and gave them a home, a shelter, through a life in music, has become an inspiration to many. It was my first encounter with "El Sistema" – an encounter that lasted five hours, though feels like it still goes on.

As I walk up the uneven stairway of the old abandoned post office building turned music school in the center of Guatemala City, I help my hostess Alex to carry bags of used clothes. These are for the children I am about to meet.

One thousand five hundred kids, ages four to about twenty gather here daily between 2pm and 7pm to make music (and to give meaning to their life).

My first stop was at a classroom filled with the very young children most of which are four years old, who lined up to form a choir. They began to sing for me. What joy! They were so proud.

I will never forget the little girl who looked up at me. She did not remember all the words. She was shy. She was tiny, and yet she was part of something so big - bigger than her, bigger than me. Being together, singing together gave them a sense of purpose which was extraordinary. I became very emotional, and had to hide my tears. On the left side of the choir I noticed about a dozen older kids who were deaf and sang in sign language.
I was enchanted and did not want it to end but had to leave.

My next stop was the "six to twelve year old orchestra". All sorts of noises were coming from outside the building – cars, sirens, jack-hammers, and other unrelated sounds, however it looked to me that the children heard ONLY the sound of music making. Inquisitive eyes were staring at me – whispering, giggling. All of a sudden the nine-year-old concert-mistress got up and everyone was silent (including me). They tuned. Discipline is very important. In that classroom, it came out of respect for your peer as well as for what was about to happen. They played for me. I could not help but play for them also. They asked me questions. I, on the other hand, was speechless. I did not know what to ask.

We went to the courtyard where I saw a twelve year old coaching a six or seven year old kid.
Alex told me that one of the principles of the system is learning from the older brother – learning from someone who is just a few years older (under some supervision.) Consequently the twelve year old will learn from the eighteen year old and so the pyramid is constructed. This is a very close-knit web, where one nourishes as well as dependent on the other.

From the courtyard I went to hear a rehearsal of the twelve year old orchestra. If I heard correctly, then they have about FORTY-SIX different ensembles!

I was then introduced to a new program of "Instrument renovation and maintenance program". The teenage kids, who receive instruments from all around - instruments, which are usually in bad shape - learn how to fix them and bring them to a descent condition.

In retrospect, all of this was in preparation for my visit to the mature orchestra of children, which are in their late teens. They all sat in a large room that could barely fit them. A piano was waiting in the corner. There was electricity in the air. They started playing a Latin American piece, which was dedicated to me. My response was in the per(form)ance of three dances by Argentinean composer Alberto Ginastera - the closest to their musical language that I could get to.

At this point it was me who could not help it anymore and started to ask them questions about their upbringing, their goals, hopes, dreams. I heard stories mostly about their concerts all around Guatemala introducing music as well as themselves to the people of their country.

A ten-year-old kid then got up from within the orchestra and came forward to conduct the overture from Verdi's Nabucco.

In a day filled with extraordinary highlights, there was still one moment that stood above others.

...to be continued

An Unexpected Friend

There are tall friends and there are short friends. There are close friends, or friends that are far away. There are larger than life friends, and others who are just large. There are friends that you take with you when you climb your mountain, and others that you leave to rest by the sideline. But every now and again we discover that we also have an unexpected friend - one which defies any labeling.

Today I will write about one such friend. Alas, he is not a person, nor is he a pet. As a matter of fact this friend is not a living thing, though "he" is very much alive. This friend with whom I have so many memories and have been through so much together with is actually a piece of music - The Mendelssohn first piano concerto.

For one reason or another this delightful piece accompanied me on many happy occasions, and in the process also exposed me to the possibilities where things can go awry and as I like to see it... quite funny.

The first time I performed the Mendelssohn concerto I was an eighteen year old non-protege pianist. The performance took place in Israel in the southern city of Beer Sheba. Not a cultural Mecca so to speak, but definitely an enthusiastic community where music is appreciated and taken seriously... Very seriously, especially by one stage manager.

My rehearsals with the orchestra went well, playing an old scratchy piano (exhibit A: Steinway) which was o.k. When I came to warm up in the evening about 45 minutes before the concert I suddenly saw on the stage a different piano than the one I had during rehearsals. It was a beautiful shiny piano (exhibit B: Yamaha.) Somewhat agitated I went to the stage manager who politely at first, less so thereafter, shoved me to the side. I kept on being persistent and was finally told that in the morning I played on the "ugly looking" whatever piano (see exhibit A) and now in the concert I was lucky to get the shiny looking other instrument (see exhibit B.) Needless to say no explanation on my behalf helped in any way. He was NOT going to change the instruments. After all the audience is not going to tolerate such lack of aesthetic priorities. The situation got even more serious and ultimately I had to call the conductor to mediate. I finally got my wish to the stage manager's enormous anger.

That was not the end though of that experience. As I went upstairs to put on my tux, I discovered that I forgot to bring my black trousers. Looking for a solution, I saw one of the musicians pass by my door. As if taken out of a devilish cartoon, the next minute that musician was naked and his black trousers which were extremely tight were on me. I walked onto the stage. I was very nervous, and very concentrated.... NOT on the piece I was about the perform for the first time... but rather because the trousers were so tight, they could explode any minute.

A few years later came the next performances of the Mendelssohn. It was in January of 1991. The first gulf war was looming and I just won an important competition in Israel with the Prokofiev third piano concerto. At the announcement ceremony of the winner I was asked whether I can play the Mendelssohn piano concerto the next day with the Israeli Philharmonic under Yoel Levi due to cancellation of the supposed to be soloist. I have not touched the piece since that first performance over two years ago.

Good friends always are at your side, and so did this piece. The next morning I went to the rehearsal (the only one I had) playing from the music. After all, I had less than 24 hours to prepare which were spent on praying rather than practicing. That night, on the way to the concert I heard on the radio that "Zubin Mehta has just landed in Israel and he is on the way to the concert of the Israeli Philharmonic Orchestra". Well, I was way too nervous to remember anything that followed. But the maestro did invite me a few months later to play with him.... the Mendelssohn concerto.

But before the concert with Mehta, I also played the Mendelssohn under my very good friend, the late conductor Mendi Rodan. Again in Beer Sheba, and a couple of months into the first gulf war, at the concert a siren came on. It was the first time that Beer Sheba was attacked. I guessed the Iraqi dictator knew where I was.

Then I went with Mendelssohn and also Mendi on tour to Greece with the Jerusalem symphony in 1992. With that same orchestra I played the Mendelssohn under Yoav Talmi fifteen years later!

Two years ago Mendelssohn came to visit me very close to where I live in Rockville Maryland, when I performed it with Symphony of the Potomac just next door, and then flew to play with with the Shreveport symphony in Louisiana. Last month another happy reunion, this time with the Israeli Chamber Orchestra in a festival in Eilat. And just last weekend a very exciting occasion to celebrate with my friend and with the hope of having two new ones (an orchestra and a conductor) - my debut with the London Philharmonic Orchestra under the extremely intense and insightful Vladimir Jurowski.

This time though I need to thank the stage manager who ran to open for me the stage door that was locked when I came back from warming up in an adjacent hall. I heard the orchestra tune for me and I was outside. Well, all's well that ends well... Especially with such good friends as the Mendelssohn first piano concerto.


Alon Goldstein

To Being or not to Being Patriotic

Here is something I wanted to write about for quite some time:

I became an American citizen just over two years ago. Shortly after, I was playing concerts in the mid-west and was invited to a luncheon hosted by patrons of the orchestra that I was performing with. Upon learning that I recently became naturalized I was greeted with tumultuous applause, and a pin with an American flag was given to me.

Innocently I slipped it into my pocket, and sat at my assigned table. As it turned out, the hostess of this event was sitting next to me and apparently noticed that the pin was not attached to my jacket. Suddenly she exclaimed, "Look! He is NOT being patriotic!" That took me by total surprise, and I was somewhat hurt.

My former teacher - Leon Fleisher - once remarked about my talking capabilities: "all that Alon needs is a conductors up-beat... and he will start talking" he said. My hostess' observation was the "up-beat" for me to talk. It was an opportunity for me to open up and discuss about some of the things I love most and able to do in this country.

I told my proud hostess that when I am giving concerts throughout the US, I make it a point to visit and play at schools, retirement homes, and rotary clubs, to name just a few, in order to contribute as well as feel more responsible for the community around me. I went even further and shared with her two extraordinary experiences that I had while pursuing these goals.

Back in 2004, I was invited to play in the Quad cities by an organization called Quad City Arts. During a period of two weeks, in addition to performing two recitals, I was sent to nearly THIRTY different places to encourage growth and vitality in the community through the "presentation, development, and celebration" of music. One of these places was a mentally handicapped facility in Davenport, IA. My program included works by Bach, Beethoven, Schubert and Chopin accompanied by some commentary. At the end of the concert, I wondered whether people might want to ask questions. That happens quite often. With some hesitation I turned to my audience of about 250 people and asked just that.

About fifty people raised their hands and the first question already put me on the alert: "Why did the third song sound Russian to me?" By all accounts this is a terrific question. Right? The third song was Schubert's Moment Musicaux no. 3, which does sound a bit folksy. After a momentary thinking pause, I brought forth the possibilities of cross relationship in music that comes from different regions. Schubert might have heard musicians in the town square in Vienna - some Russians, some gypsies, as well as others from rural areas - and have been influenced by that consciously or subconsciously. All of a sudden, I remembered seeing the title... "A Russian Dance" on one of the preliminary drafts of this piece! I was shocked. What a discovery. I immediately told my enthusiastic crowd about this.

Here was someone who was perceived as mentally challenged; Yet, in something so elusive and so high-spirited as music, he was more capable, more CONNECTED than most other people.

The second story I shared happened just a week before this luncheon, when I gave a solo recital for Beaches Fine Arts Series in Jacksonville Beach, Florida. In the days before the recital, I visited several places in that area to do community outreach activities. One of these places was the Boselli Foundation, an organization striving to help children living in at-risk neighborhoods. There were about twenty kids aged twelve and thirteen. My program revolved around the Beethoven so called "Moonlight" Sonata. I constructed a story around the piece about a composer who went through crisis and cannot even come up with a melody, a tune, for his new piece. As the piece progressed we joined the composer and slowly emerged victorious and rehabilitated. Then I played the entire piece for them. The children were entranced, filled with delight. Was it about discovering something new? Maybe the possibility of understanding classical music? Well, it doesn't really matter. When I finished, a young girl raised her hand before I said a word and said, "Mister, you are WRONG. This music is about LOVE, not about DESPAIR."

Wow! A rebel! But she was absolutely and unequivocally right! Not because she knew what the music was about, but rather because she THOUGHT she knew what it was about. She allowed the music to enter her heart and open various possibilities for different stories emerging as a result of her integrity and imagination. How wonderful, how unique. The idea that music, in its essence, is above all stories, and consequently can live in infinite number of stories – that was a secret I tried to keep from the children until after the performance. I could not, because of a young girl who had chutzpa.

Afterwords, I opened the piano and showed the kids the mechanics, the inside of the instrument. I asked them to come closer. They came, but not to see. They wanted to touch – touch me!

These were just two stories out of many that I have experienced. Going out into the community, sharing the gift of music gives me also a great sense of belonging to this unique and complex society. It also makes me feel patriotic. I turned to my hostess for one last time to witness her reaction, to see the look on her face, the light in her eyes. Maybe a smile? A hug? What would she say? How would she respond?

The whole time she had not even been listening.


Alon Goldstein

It's a bird… It's a plane… It's a…… KID!!!

A concert tour in China, playing Chopin's Preludes Op.28 as well as his Piano trio Op.8 and the Cello sonata Op.65, with Nitai Zori (violin) and Inbal Segev (Cello).
Just landed from my first trip to China. This tour will require days if not weeks to sink in. While most of what I enjoy writing about ends up more like articles, this feels like it is going to grow into a "witness report" from a music scene that took me by total surprise. Here we go:

November 4, 2010 – Concert I - Wenzhou, China. A state of the art concert hall, with a beautiful new 9 foot Fazioli.
I walk onto the stage…
SHOCK
What is this? Where am I? Who are these "little" people? Are these kids? Young kids?! Is this yet another one of my school visits? Community outreach? I am confused!
It is 7:30pm, at a classical concert, and my audience consists of 400 people most of them children with their parents.
What?! Wait! Stop!
Concert halls are for people with gray hair, remember? "Retired people and their parents…"
What is happening here?
Nothing prepared me for this. I am playing for children at a formal evening concert!
They want to clap, they want to ask, they want to listen, they want to absorb, and I feel that I am being sucked into a surreal reality – Utopia! I open up completely. I am totally relaxed. It feels natural.
I have never been to this place, let alone heard of it, and within an instant it becomes an experience never to be forgotten.
I propose to have Questions & Answers with the audience following the concert. When it finishes shortly after 10pm most of the kids go home, while the students are staying as well as some adults. They ask fascinating questions – "how can we make practicing interesting? Does music need to have a story? Why do some of the preludes have descriptive titles? Who gave them? Will a piece benefit if it had a title?"

November 5, 2010 – Concert II – Wuhan, China. A state of the art concert hall, with a beautiful new 9 foot Steinway.
I walk onto the stage…
CURIOSITY
1200 people in the audience, most of which are very young.
OK, Pause.
These people do have a choice. They can do other things, go some place else, but they choose to come to listen to a concert instead.
At the dinner after the concert I ask for an explanation.
Answer: "the old people don't know much about classical music so they are less likely to come, but for the young ones this is something new and exciting, and they are very hungry for it". Interesting answer, though, there has to be more.

November 6, 2010 – Concert III – Zhengzhou, China. A state of the art concert hall with a beautiful new 9 foot Steinway.
I walk onto the stage…
EXCITEMENT
By now I start to believe audiences here are mostly young people.
Result: indeed. Consequence: I play better. I grow. We all grow. My colleagues feel the same.

November 7, 2010 – Concert IV – Beijing, China. Forbidden City concert Hall. Beautiful Steinway.
I walk onto the stage…
HOPE
About 1000 people come today.
Children – Yes
Students – Lots of.
Now I am in a "Hope mode". Hope that we (out west) learn how to turn our priority system to include regular attendance of concerts with our kids. I am sure that the parents of these kids here in China work as hard as we do, and still they find the time and strength to take their children to listen to a classical concert. We have to do the same if we care about this music.

Oh, and one more thing…
I also hope… to be back here.

A secret note...

My opening remarks (more or less) to recent solo recitals which I gave at Tannery Pond concert series, NY; Baruch College, NY; and the Friends of chamber music in Reading, PA.

"In earth's variegated dream, a quiet sustained note is heard through all other notes, to those who secretly listen".

This poem by Friedrich Schlegel was quoted by Robert Schumann on the first page of his great C major Fantasy.

How ambiguous can one get? A quiet, sustained note, that is heard through all other notes to those who secretly listen?
What note?
Is it a note? a chord? a harmony?
perhaps a theme, a melody?
or maybe it is a character, a person?

Ambiguity is central to unveiling some of the mystery in the music of Robert Schumann, whose 200 anniversary we are celebrating this year. A composer that was as passionate about music as he was about literature. Above all, he was highly inspired and influenced by the literary works of Jean Paul and E.T.A. Hoffman.

A beautiful yet horrifying short story by E.T.A. Hoffman tells the story of a simple neurotic man who falls desperately in love with a young beautiful girl - the daughter of a famous professor. The poor man expresses his love to her, his wishes to be with her, to dance with her, to touch her. She is indeed special, so special that his friends tell him she is made out of wax! The man, however, sees only heavenly beauty in her eyes, in her silence, in her strange walk.

Is this a dream? Is she for real? Who is right? the poor man or his friends?
The author does not take sides. He allows us, the listeners / the readers to go along with this individual on his emotional journey which will most likely lead to his pitiful end, or to stand with his friends in the realm of reality. Or is it not?

Robert Schumann also falls in love with a beautiful young girl - the daughter of his famous piano teacher. And he goes on an emotional roller-coaster ride which manifested itself in some of the greatest and most important masterpieces of the nineteen century. His love to the young Clara against the strong opposition of her father is an integral part of his early music: the unattainable love - which is such an important characteristic of the Romantic era.

But that is not all. To immerse oneself in the music of Robert Schumann, is to walk within a very fine delicate line were the implicit is explicit, and the explicit is redundant. His Fantasy which you are about to hear was originally conceived as a one movement piece, "a deep lament to you Clara". Shortly after it was transformed into a three movement "Grand Sonata for Ludwig van Beethoven", with added names to the movements - Ruins, Trophies, Palms. And ultimately the names were omitted, and the title was changed to "Fantasy". So.... Beethoven will "visit" us in this grand work, as well as Clara, and her father. We might also find ourselves in the company of Liszt and Chopin, Mendelssohn or Paganini, and definitely his alter-egos the demonic Florestan as well as the introverted Eusebius will be there.

And there is more... much more! But this is where you, the listener, will decide what to believe and what not; who is invited, and who is left alone; what is true and what is imagined... what is real, and what is just... a FANTASY.

thank you!

Alon Goldstein

Rule no. 1 - The composer is always right!

Rule no. 2 - When the composer is wrong, look at rule no. 1...

Wait! Stop! It is slightly more complicated than that.

These past few months I have been juggling between two different piano concerti. Both are new to me, and although at an opposite realm, interestingly they raised similar questions. I am referring to Chopin's concerto no. 2, and Avner Dorman's new piano concerto "Lost Souls". The first of these has already proven itself through the test of time, while the other is barely four months old.

When learning these two wonderful works, a number of times I came across places that made me wonder whether the composer perhaps made a mistake. Maybe a wrong note... should I change it? a wrong choice of register... should I take it up an octave? possibly too many notes... can I drop a few?

The Dorman concerto, in a way, is still a "piece in process and progress"... It is not "finished", and I have the composer "at hand" to ask. A great and unique partnership is created when composer and performer collaborate and nourish each other. With Chopin, though, it is somewhat different. Can I have any doubts about what is in front of me?

What was fascinating was that through working on the Dorman concerto (with the composer), and experiencing the evolution of the piece, I began to challenge the Chopin concerto with questions. These questions Chopin did not need to answer. This was my "job". The questions ranged from choice of dynamics, articulation markings, texture, and even form. A real conversation emerged which at times became a loud argument between me and the piece.

I belong to a "school" that proclaims that the performer is at the service of the music. He needs to convey the message behind the notes. The music is at the center – it is "the star", while the performer, although absolutely indispensable, is the tool that translate those black dots on the page, and inject life into them.

I said "at the service of the music". Does this also mean at the service of the composer? Can the composer be separated from his music?

The late composer Ben Zion Orgad told me once that "if a piece is good, then at a certain point it spreads its wings and fly away from the composer. It becomes independent of its creator." This is a profound statement! It can be liberating for the performer but also dangerous. The composer is the creator. He knows what he wants! The performer, however, is the one that will make the work… work. What happens then when the performer has a different view of the piece than the composer? This is a VERY delicate issue.

I remember years ago when Ben Zion Orgad gave me his newest piano work.It had no dynamics or articulation markings! He asked me to add them. In the process of learning the piece I added my interpretative markings (including articulations and dynamics). He then showed me the same piece, this time though, with all his desired markings and we compared. To a large extent we were identical, and at the places that we differed, it was very difficult for me to accept his requests. By making me part of the creative process, I also became the creator. Taking this a step further, however we look at this, we - performers are also creators! Fortunately, I played Orgad's new work numerous times, and gave it different interpretations - with his markings, and mine – both sounded convincing.

Several times throughout my life I was asked about the opportunities to work with living composers. And my response always came as somewhat of a surprise. To work with composers such as Orgad, or Dorman is a revelation, regardless of whether it is on their pieces or someone else. I learned a lot from them because they are very creative, imaginative and I trust their ears. That applies to whatever piece I play for them. It might actually be theirs...

I believe that everything there is to know about the music is on the page, and the answers are between those little black dots. What is between those "dots" tells the performer the message, the story of the piece. The beauty is that it can and should tell different stories to different performers, which may be indeed different than the composer's story. I guess this is part of what we call interpretation.

At a Gala presentation event in Kansas City before the world premiere of his concerto, Avner Dorman shared with the audience the narrative behind his new piece. This narrative I did not hear until that point. By that time, I already developed my own concept and story of the piece, and it was quite different. Who is right then? No doubt, Avner!! After all he wrote the piece. However, if we want the piece to have a life of its own then new narratives, new stories, new questions about interpretation, articulation etc, are all relevant and are all an integral part of the internal dialogue that is created between the music, the performer, the audience and.... oh, yes, the composer as well.

Alon Goldstein