Us and Them

Us and Them

Our orchestra has got its Christmas concert on Friday…

 

With a large orchestra, especially if playing on a stage, the boundary between the orchestra members and the audience is quite evident. The conductor also acts as a handy barrier with his flailing arms and pointy stick.

 

A smaller ensemble playing at a social occasion can be another matter entirely.

 

Earlier this year I played in a string quartet for a friend’s wedding party. The cellist and I hadn’t played at such an occasion before and enlisted the support of a well-seasoned first violinist and violist.

 

We had practised our wedding repertoire for months and, although nervous, felt quietly confident that we could give a pleasant performance and not ruin someone’s big day.

 

It was all going very well. The guests seemed to be enjoying the ambiance and politely ignoring us, as they should. All ignoring us apart from a small boy who developed a fascination with the cellist.

 

He inched closer and closer and started to talk to her. His mother seemed to be delighted by his admirable interest and seemed unaware that her son’s face was at the precise height of the cellist’s bow.

 

The normally robust bass rhythm was reduced to a whisper as the cellist was forced to play with the merest tip of the bow and stopped entirely when the child squeezed between her and the music stand to kindly offer her a drink from his bottle.

 

This sort of audience participation is quite common apparently.

 

A cellist friend told me that a dinner party guest sidled up to her and said “You see that violinist? She’s playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik!”

 

“Oh that’s good, so am I!” said my friend before promptly losing her place.

 

Maybe cellists look too cool for their own good and could do with adopting the standard violinist expression of sheer panic.