In the act of playing music, it is impossible to separate the process from the product. Or, it was. In an important piece of journalism, Eric Felten turns a floodlight on the technological airbrushing of live performances in an effort to insure perfection. Felten’s Wall Street Journal essay emphasizes that two recent massive public events in the United States masked actual performance. One was the Super Bowl, with Jennifer Hudson singing “The Star Spangled Banner.” The other was President Obama’s inauguration, where Yo-Yo-Ma, Itzhak Perlman and associates played “Simple Gifts.” In both cases, the performers mimed over pre-recorded sound tracks. Here are two paragraphs from Felten’s article, which is headlined, “That Synching Feeling.”
My, what a standard of perfection is now demanded. No longer is a good or even a great performance good enough. Now we must have performances free from the “slightest glitch.” And since no one — not even a singer of Ms. Hudson’s manifest talent nor a violinist of Mr. Perlman’s virtuosity — can guarantee that a live performance will be 100% glitch-free, the solution has been to eliminate the live part. Once, synching to a recorded track was the refuge of the mediocre and inept; now it’s a practice taken up by even the best artists.
Whatever the motivation, the fear of risking mistakes has led musicians to deny who they are as performers. The most disheartening thing about the Inauguration Day quartet’s nonperformance was the lengths to which they went to make sure that nothing they did on the platform could be heard. Cellist Yo-Yo Ma put soap on the hair of his bow so that it would slip across the strings without creating even a wisp of sound. The inner workings of the piano were disassembled. There is something pitiful and pitiable about musicians hobbling their own voices.
Looking back at the video of the performance at the Inaugural, I noticed something that made my head shake with sadness. Not only did they have microphones prominently placed in front of the musicians — most notably in front of the clarinetist — but the microphones had blue foam wind-screens over them. Because of course you have to keep the blowing wind from whistling in the mic that isn’t really turned on in the first place. Just one more indication that the charade was meant to fool. Watching it when you know it is pantomime, the performance seems over the top — the phony facial expressions and vigorous bowings and swayings. All very convincing as long as the recording is unknown, but all very embarrassing if one knows that it is all just for show.
Happily, jazz, as an improvisatory art, resists such nonsense, if for no better reason than that it is nigh unto impossible to fake-finger a solo that you improvised in the studio. (Think of that wonderful movie short of Lester Young et al, trying in vain to synch to an earlier recording).
The cold weather was the problem. As a singer, let me explain that once one’s body begins shivering, singing is impossible. I’m quite sure that a cold temperature would have the same negative effect on both instruments and players. In this instance I believe the deception was justified, and didn’t involve egos.
(In that case, why not briefly superimpose two words in the lower third of the screen: “Audio pre-recorded.” — DR)
Doing a bit of surfing about the Hudson recording, “the web” seems to think it’s okay, mainly because everybody is doing it. Not only that, defenders seemed to believe that the pre-record was what allowed Ms. Hudson to PERFORM, shed as she was of the requirement to actually sing. Just a bit later Springsteen was able to present HIS music live. What were the changed conditions that allowed him to do so, but not Ms. Hudson?
Eric, I appreciate your comments but I don’t share your feelings. It has been widely reported that Ma, Perlman and company decided that the cold would likely make it impossible for them to play their instruments in tune and without risking their permanent damage.
This was a ceremonial moment, and only secondarily a musical one, and the ceremony was all about the incoming president. Surely no one offered the performers a chance to announce that they were synching.
Nor would the announcement have been appropriate. The music wasn’t live, but the feeling their faces conveyed surely was. And to the great majority of the public who watched with little knowledge of classical music, the performance surely conveyed the proper impression, i.e. the momentousness of the occasion.
There is this alternate rendition/”hypothetical satirical document” of the performance which might make you feel better (turn it up when you listen!)