I just spent the weekend (Dec. 5-7, 2019) in the Pastoral Hotel at Kfar Blum, a large kibbutz in the north of Israel, overeating and listening to great classical pianists and other musicians. One of the highlights of the weekend for me, aside from a Beethoven piano concerto and virtuoso piano performances of pieces of Scriabin and Alkan, was a fascinating lecture on music and the emotions by a brilliant man who combines the highest level of musical performance and teaching with scientific work in brain science: Eitan Globerson.
Among the many things Globerson discussed was the mysterious way that music arouses emotions in us. He compared it to the expression of emotions in the pitch, prosody, and tempo of speech. The following day, listening to a performance of Beethoven's fourth piano concerto by Ching-Yun Hu, a dynamic and assertive pianist, I thought of Globerson's discussion of emotional expression and found myself noticing the rapid movement from one emotional state to another in each movement of the concerto.
Obviously Beethoven was closely attentive to the flow and ebb of his own emotions, excitement, calm, anger, solace, love ... And his audience expected to hear more than one emotion in every movement of the concerto.
No one suffered to hear the music at Kfar Blum, unless it was in paying for the event. The rooms were spacious and comfortable, the food was delicious and ample (an understatement), and the acoustics in the concert hall were fine. It's a privilege to have the music brought to you - once you've traveled up to the far north of Israel - rather than having to get to a concert hall.
Classical music doesn't draw a huge, young audience, but it still attracts listeners and brilliant young practitioners. My main problem with it is keying myself up to the highest level of attention at a concert. My mind wanders. I sometimes fall asleep. I don't hear a lot of what's in the music. But I do take in the sound of classical music, even if passively, and I love that sound.
By the way, the other great pianist who performed, Nicolas Namoradze, was a gentle and more self-effacing performer, and he played some music that he had composed. The differences between the two musicians added to the interest of the concerts.
Among the many things Globerson discussed was the mysterious way that music arouses emotions in us. He compared it to the expression of emotions in the pitch, prosody, and tempo of speech. The following day, listening to a performance of Beethoven's fourth piano concerto by Ching-Yun Hu, a dynamic and assertive pianist, I thought of Globerson's discussion of emotional expression and found myself noticing the rapid movement from one emotional state to another in each movement of the concerto.
Obviously Beethoven was closely attentive to the flow and ebb of his own emotions, excitement, calm, anger, solace, love ... And his audience expected to hear more than one emotion in every movement of the concerto.
No one suffered to hear the music at Kfar Blum, unless it was in paying for the event. The rooms were spacious and comfortable, the food was delicious and ample (an understatement), and the acoustics in the concert hall were fine. It's a privilege to have the music brought to you - once you've traveled up to the far north of Israel - rather than having to get to a concert hall.
Classical music doesn't draw a huge, young audience, but it still attracts listeners and brilliant young practitioners. My main problem with it is keying myself up to the highest level of attention at a concert. My mind wanders. I sometimes fall asleep. I don't hear a lot of what's in the music. But I do take in the sound of classical music, even if passively, and I love that sound.
By the way, the other great pianist who performed, Nicolas Namoradze, was a gentle and more self-effacing performer, and he played some music that he had composed. The differences between the two musicians added to the interest of the concerts.
