If you had asked me before I left why, exactly, I wanted to hear this concert, I couldn't give you a compelling answer. I'm not a Messiaen fanatic (I've sung "St. Francois D'Assise", and five hours of Messiaen is about as much as anyone should ever have to endure in one go, thankyouverymuch), although I like his creative energy. It's not that I was sick with a sinus infection and had a bit of cabin fever (although I did). It's not even a piece I'd go out of my way to hear again. The movements were performed perfectly, in a supremely suitable environment, but I've had many an opportunity to hear similar musical offerings in similar environments.
I realized, about two-thirds of the way through the hour (despite its being nine discrete movements, it only takes about 55-60 minutes to perform the entire piece), why, in fact, I wanted to hear Jonathan play it--because I had read an interview with him in SF Classical Voice in which he described the experience of playing the Messiaen, in almost ecstatic terms:
"By the time I get to the end, to those last chords, I am moving out of my body, my skin can't hold the dimensions of the music, it's as if my fingers are exploding. It's then that I feel like a channel rather than a performer. I realize it's not about me."
The real reason I was there was to see WHY Jonathan was so passionate about it. I wanted to see what it felt like--to have that almost out-of-body experience while performing--since I so rarely felt that moved by my own performing; and never, to my recollection, as a soloist--I've always felt my 'peak' moments came within the context of a group. I've never felt that sense of transcendence as a solo artist--I think it's because my performance anxiety precludes that.
The times I've felt most lifted, most alive, were when a group with whom I was singing did everything 'right': moved, breathed, thought as one entity. The most magical moments for me came out of the symbiosis, where one is part of a larger whole, integral but not individual.
It's the same thrill I get when watching the Blue Angels perform their aerial acrobatics, or a synchronized swimming team at the Olympics--the ability to put one's individuality aside for the good of the whole, and the generosity inherent in that precision of agreed-upon mutual movement. One plane alone, one swimmer alone, just isn't as exciting or interesting to watch, no matter how beautifully executed the routine may be. It's seeing two or more people, doing the exact same thing, in perfect sync--in perfect harmony, really--with each other, that makes us gasp.
It occurred to me then that that's why I've never really been a 'solo' artist--at least, not a very successful one....in that sense. I feel too naked, too unsupported. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy singing solos when I get them--but performing solos in front of an audience isn't the point for me: I honestly don't care much for that. For me, the validation comes from being Alpha dog for those few measures--first among equals. That's when my ego fluffs with pride. And that's enough for me--I can meld in with the rest of the pack, after that.
So, when I look at my 'career' from THAT angle--that of being respected among my peers (if the generous feedback from them, all of whom are soloist-worthy in their own rights, are any indication!)--I can consider myself pretty successful, after all.
RM
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