Results tagged “live-blogging” from Life's a Pitch

To begin, I'm posting this entry from over 10,000 feet. If we're being completely honest with each other, I did start writing it at LaGuardia two days ago, but I finished it and am pressing 'Save' among the clouds. Raise your hand if you love living in 2009! The fact that $12.95 gets me internet in mid-air for my entire flight almost redeems Delta after having me land in Salt Lake City, de-board the plane for 35 minutes, get back on the same plane, sit in the same seat, and continue on to Boston. The one benefit, if we can call it that, of this aerial pit stop was seeing a man wearing two wedding rings on two separate fingers, to whom I gave the I-saw-Season-1-of-Big-Love-on-DVD-buddy stink eye.


I was sitting on the steps at the Bang on a Can Marathon last weekend, and near the end of the (or at least my) evening it occurred to me that I - ever a creature of habit - had plopped down at the exact steps-spot on which Greg Sandow and I sat last year.  Greg was out of town this time around, so I texted him at 8:42pm to tell him about my location. He texted right back, and our exchange continued until 9:35pm, on and off, including but not limited to subjects such as there being a pianist playing a drum (Greg has his own piece with a pianist playing a drum) and whether or not the concert was streaming live on WNYC (at which point I walked over and asked the marathon publicist Christina Jensen about this on his behalf). For a few select moments, I got the sense that the journalist who was sitting with my friend and me was throwing "what does she keep doing on that phone" looks my way. Was I being rude? I figure it's Bang on a Can: everyone's coming and going and texting and standing and talking and snacking. And besides, for those 53 minutes I was spreading valuable information about the marathon and the pieces being performed in real-time; one might call it "the A1A1 virus" marketing. So I clicked away to Greg, confident that I was doing everyone on stage a great justice and decidedly not being disrespectful to anyone or anything.

Reading the reviews of the marathon later, I had a few moments of "wait  - when was that piece?". It seems I had missed a few things whilst clicking. I did stop texting during Julia Wolfe's Thirst because that was the new work I was most looking forward to - wait, looking through my phone now it seems I did send one text to Greg to say it was fantastic - but the rest of that hour was kind of hazy. Whoops.

I ran into publicist and proud Twitterati member Steven Swartz at one point that Sunday. While not a usual participant or advocate in/of Tweeting during concerts, Steven had been recruited by the marathon administration to be part of a Bang on a Can Twitter Team, which ended up generating 9.5 hours of Tweets.  When I ran into him, Steven told me how much he enjoyed David Lang's new piece, For love is strong. "I even stopped Tweeting at the end!" he said, "It was so moving." Steven and others were charged with the task of live-Tweeting as a form of media coverage, but it seems that when he actually wanted to focus on the music, he stopped, watched and listened. My texting and Steven's Tweeting led me to wonder: there has been a lot of writing on this blog and others (see Greg on the topic here and here, Opera Chic here) about Tweeting, texting, taking photos, live-blogging - just about anything a person can do with their fingers - during classical music concerts. "People do these things at rock concerts all the time, and look how much more popular rock music is than classical music" is the overarching argument we make.  But are you really listening if you're thinking about spelling a composer's name correctly in your live-blog entry? When you're fiddling around with the zoom and color swap settings on your camera? And if you're commenting on something that just happened, wouldn't logic dictate that you're missing the thing that's just-happening next?

I thought I was paying attention while texting Greg, and Steven thought he was paying attention while Tweeting. Maybe we were, in a way. It seems, however, that the line between passive and active listeners is thin.  Is one audience member's viral marketing another's I'd-rather-be-elsewhere sentiment?  And who defines the difference between "rude" and "comfortable"?  Would it have made me more comfortable to not have food and wine and chocolate* at my apartment when some friends were coming over to watch the Tonys on Sunday? "Comfortable" in that it would have saved me two subway stops and some money, yes, but why invite people over at all if I was so concerned with the extra errands? I could have just watched the Tonys by myself in my underwear and messy, foodless apartment; Lord knows it's happened before. Additionally, when bloggers (including myself) and presenter marketing departments decide texting/Tweeting/painting their toenails during performances will Save Classical Music, do they think about or ask the artists? Are pieces and performances created and intended for audience members who are also doing something else? I agree that these initiatives can raise awareness about artists in great and organic ways, but has anyone asked the artists what they think?

Fortunately, I happen to know some artists, so I asked: how do you feel about audiences live-Tweeting/texting/blogging/photo-essaying during performances of your music, David Lang, and how do you feel about the above when you're on stage, Hilary Hahn?

David:

People texting or blogging during concerts doesn't bother me.  I think one of the best things about listening to music is that you get to decide how much attention you want to spend on it, while it is going on.  And I guess it is sweet to think that something live may be so exciting that a listener simply has to share it in real time.  But I wonder if the idea of connectedness is changing the the way people experience things now.  It could be that the ability to stay in constant touch may make listeners come to feel that they themselves are not having a valid experience unless they are letting someone know about it. And if the action of music is some kind of mystic direct communication between the person making it and the person receiving it that is a big loss.

Hilary:

I'm all for Tweeting and spreading the word, but not during performances. Between pieces, maybe, if you can stop when the music starts up again; while standing in line for the restroom, definitely; at intermission or on the train afterwards, definitely. The problem is that acoustic performers rely on the audience's attention and focus and can tell when the audience isn't mentally present. Your listening is part of our interpretive process. If you're not really listening, we're not getting the feedback of energy from the hall, and then we might as well be practicing for a bunch of people peering in the window. It's just not as interesting when the cycle of interpretation is broken.

If you are Tweeting, then you might as well check your emails, and then you might as well just turn on the camera and make a recording for YouTube, and then you might as well have a little chat online while you're at it, or play a game of Tetris or Scrabble, or write down ideas for that presentation you have to give next week. In that case, really, the question is, why are you here? Are you enjoying the beauty of the live concert experience, in which moments are fleeting and you have to get caught up in the flow because it will never be the same again?

There's also the distraction factor. The stage is a great vantage point and a prime spot of acoustical convergence. It may be possible for you to do multiple things at once, but the same may not be true of the performers and your fellow audience members. They may not be able to keep themselves from wondering what you're writing instead of just listening and concentrating on their own individual experiences. You may not be able to delve into your own listening experience if you're thinking about what other people should be thinking.

Finally, it seems to me that listeners make things difficult for themselves by observing themselves in the third person and putting their thoughts into a narrative before those thoughts can fully form. I feel that concerts can be a break from outside pressures and influences. For audience members, a concert should be like a vacation on a distant beach with a stack of good books. Comfortable seats. No one trying to call you. No one breaking into your trains of thought. No way to reach the outside world. Just a time to shut off and calm down and treat yourself to something truly wonderful. If we can't sit through a classical concert we pay decent money for, and we can't take two hours out of an evening to shut out everyone else's demands and opinions and thoughts, where does that leave us?

*I'm not going to pretend I don't always have chocolate in my apartment, guests or no guests. I just threw that in there for dramatic effect.