Mozart’s Singing Violins

I will admit it now, before going any further that I know next to nothing about Classical music. It’s a genre that simply never found any traction in my aesthetic wheelhouse. Some twenty years ago, I stumbled across the great Cellist, Yo Yo Ma while watching a PBS series and found it intriguing, but only that. Then, once again on PBS, I discovered a documentary, “Speaking in Strings” about violinist Nadja Salerno–Sonnenberg that I found quite engaging. Although both gave me a deep appreciation for their individual talents, the idea of purposely listening to a symphony just didn’t follow.

Now fast-forward a decade or more and catch my surprise at finding myself at the Schermerhorn, watching my first Symphony, which I found surprisingly enthralling. Simply watching world class musicians do their thing had a visceral effect on me, particularly with a specific violin concerto. Although I failed to catalog the musician’s name, it was this specific performance that shifted the paradigm for me, for at one point in his solo, he played a few tender notes that transcended anything I had ever heard before. Time literally seemed to warp during those few seconds as my mind attempted to calculate the scope of what I was hearing. It was quite literally the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.

So, when I came across an advertisement regarding an upcoming concert of Mozart’s ‘Sinfonia Concert ante for violin’, I snatched up tickets immediately. An added bonus was that the violin to be played would be a rare Stradivarius, made in the 17^th century, and one of only a handful remaining in the world. In addition, the tickets I purchased were purposely selected for a Saturday night performance, because weekend shows always seem to generate more energy from the musicians….and audience alike.

As I anxiously sat waiting, clothed in the ambiance of that stunning theater, I was buzzing with anticipation. In fact, I was fidgeting, which is rare for me. I should also mention that part of my anticipation was due to our seating. You see, once the tickets were announced, I knew precisely where I wanted to be, which was directly in front of the violinist, and to my astonishment, I found tickets on the 5^th row, just several feet away from a world class violist who would be playing a concerto written by Mozart, while playing a 325-year-old Stradivarius….so yes, I was buzzing with anticipation.

Of course, most of what I just mentioned should not be taken too seriously. I say that because I have never heard a Stradivarius, or had I heard of this particular composition by Mozart, nor did I know of the violinist commissioned to perform the piece, Roberto Diaz. I simply remember what I heard and felt that first time experiencing a top-flight violinist do what it is they do, which gave my ears the most exquisite sound they had ever heard, and my heart a moment of absolute rapture. It was that experience that I hoped to repeat again with this performance.

Concerning the performance itself, I will not attempt to critique it in anyway, because frankly I’m far too ignorant to provide any type of meaningful insight, but even with that admission, I walked away with an intuition that I simply have to make note of here.

My first takeaway involved the sound of the Stradivarius, which I’ve since learned is not a violin, but rather a Viola. The body was larger than a typical violin, so it produced a deeper tone, and although the sound it produced was full of depth, it simply could not match the energy and clarity of a violin…but I would soon understand why Mozart chose it.

When I purchased the tickets, I had no idea what the show would consist of other than hearing a Mozart concerto and a Stradivarius, so when the stage was being prepared and two chairs were positioned in front for the soloists, my anticipation ratcheted up several notches. I could not believe my good fortune. I was about to watch not one, but two world class violists…and they would be just a few feet away.

Once the piece was underway, it soon became apparent why there were two separate instruments, a violin and viola, for each spoke (sang) in uniquely different tones. The Stradivarius with its deeper tone seemed to take on an adult, more seasoned voice. As the composition progressed, it felt to me that it was the voice of maturity, while the violin, with its higher pitch sounded playful and carefree. The effect was unmistakable to my ears.  As the two musicians worked their way through the composition, it was clear that a conversation was passing between the two; the voice of wisdom and the voice of youth, and what I found so engaging during their stunning duet was that at times they appeared to conflict with one another, playing opposing melodies, clashing and resisting each other, while at other times they played in complete unison, playfully bouncing off each other’s responses.

There is a deep wisdom at play here, and one that must be considered. Perhaps Mozart’s intent was to inform us that it’s possible, if not also a necessity, to live with both voices singing in our lives; that innocence and wisdom are not as mutually exclusive as we tend to believe. It may sound quaint, but I believe both voices offer their own unique aroma to the life we experience; one gives us the opportunity (and it’s only an opportunity) to experience our life with childlike fascination, while the other can give us the wisdom to understanding what a privilege that is. And when both voices have equal footing, life can occasionally become sublime.

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As a side note that must be mentioned here. Of the two violinist that played tonight, I noticed that one was acutely focused on the music sheet in front of him, as if faithfully following the prescribed notes before him was of paramount importance, while the other soloist only referenced the sheet as needed and seemed to let go and experience the music as he played.

Quite prophetically, the former was the Viola…the voice of maturity with its preoccupation for order, but the player more focused on experiencing the music (i.e., life) was the violinist…the voice of youth.

It’s a lesson certainly not lost on this soul.