CreateWorkLive

I was in Parma, Italy earlier in the year, on a tour led by an erudite Englishwoman. In explaining the itinerary, she announced that arrangements had been made for our group to assist at a rehearsal at Parma’s Opera House.

I tried to image just what kind of assistance we’d be offering at the storied concert hall, with its elegant chandelier and its glittery gold trim and its fabled history. Would we be asked to move stage furniture? Sub in the chorus? Either seemed equally unlikely. 

As it turned out  she meant that we would be attending. I made note of the arcane usage and promptly forgot about it. But then she used the phrase again, this time for a concert we were scheduled to attend at the nearby Verdi Museum. And yet again, when she described how a private pallazo with a Collosseum-style performance space once held 3000 guests. 

I thought of the phrase recently, when performing at a local venue. The audience was enthusiastic and warm, and they tapped their feet and sang along. Their enthusiasm spurred us on, and there was that spark of electricity — the back and forth between audience and performer — that makes live performances so special.

Here is the most basic truth: A performance cannot exist without BOTH performer AND audience, and by being there — by clapping, and nodding, and smiling, and singing along — the audience helps to create the performance.  

Think of it as the musician’s equivalent to the old koan: “If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound?” If a perfomer plays, and no one is there to appreciate it, did a performance take place? 

It turns out that etymology supports this usage of the word assist. In French, you “assister a”  un concert  (you attend a concert — or a play, or a even a lecture). But you do not “assister a”  a movie. There’s no one on stage there TO assist. The movie will run whether you are there or not, and nothing you do — cry, laugh, throw rotten tomatoes at the villain – will change what happens on screen. You might go to a film, or watch a film, but you do not assist at one.

Live music depends on the audience. As performers, we need to appreciate those audiences. We also need to encourage them by advertising our shows and by being sure to send out invites and personal notices. But as performers, we also need to ASSIST in OTHER people’s performances: We need to show up at open mikes, put money in tip jars at local venues, drag our friends along to the concerts and performances and plays in our neighborhoods. As performers, we get back from the community what we put in. As artists, we know the pleasure of a performance — both as performers, and as audience members. It is our job both to perform– and to assist.

In the olden days — say a hundred years ago — every middle class home had a piano, and back then, pianos did a lot more than take up space in the living room or serve as a shelf for family photos. Pianos were the center of homes — the heart of a family. People played, and sang, and participated, and listened. These days, we don’t do that. It’s hokey, and besides fewer people play piano – learning the piano takes a lot of work, and who has time anymore, what with soccer and Little League and karate and garden club and Chinese sword dancing taking up so much of our schedules? Too often, we can’t even find the wherewithal to get out of the house: It’s too easy to stay home — to watch TV, or Youtube.

Still, we know the difference. We know what live performances offer our souls, our emotions, our hearts; we are reminded of it every time we attend a play or a concert or a dance recital. Performances take effort, but as both performers, and as listeners, we know it’s worth it.  

A performance can’t exist unless you perform — nor can it exist unless you assist. Show up! Do both! We need your help.