I Reached With My Ears

Every time I heard Nathan Milstein perform it was a revelation. He was that good. On one occasion, however, the opening minutes of a recital were quite alarming.

It wasn’t his playing.

You see, due to reconstruction of UCLA’s Royce Hall, an old ‘depression era’ auditorium was pressed into service for a season of concerts.

I believe the architects were thinking spoken word, from a microphone, when they designed it. For sure they weren’t thinking acoustic music.

My first inkling that things weren’t going to satisfy my normal expectations came as he walked on stage.

‘My,’ I thought, ‘this is pretty light applause’ – normally his welcomes bordered on thunderous.

He began tuning. ‘Umm, quieter than usual,’ I thought.

Yet I still braced myself for the strong piano chord and the cascade of violin notes that opens Respighi/Vivaldi’s ‘Sonata in Re.’

What came out were mere powder puffs of sound. Dumbfounded, my brain struggled to bridge the gap between expectation and reality.

I’d say it took a matter of 2 or 3 minutes. It was akin to walking out onto a darkened street after being in a brightly house. The need eyes several minutes to dilate and begin pulling in the stars and planets that fill the sky.

And sure enough, within minutes my ears, too, had locked on to the unfolding aural drama coming from the stage.

In the second half he played the Brahm’s D Minor Sonata. The visceral effect his playing of it had on me is felt even as I write this.

Now, here’s the point of my telling this story.

If you project a quality tone out there for people to listen to – you know, with ‘put something’ behind it – and back it up with musical content, the message will ultimately be heard; loud and clear.

Your focus must always be on the Feeling of playing the violin, and of making music. Let the listener’s ears come to you rather than you trying to fill a space that can’t be filled.

Remember, the most powerful and memorable moments of a performance are often the ones ‘on the threshold of sound,’ as my old USC conductor used to say. Just don’t forget the ‘put something.’

All the best,

Clayton Haslop

P.S. There’s plenty of ‘put something’ in my Bach and Kreisler for Violin Artistry
course.