Confessions of a Square Peg

I’d wager everyone reading this has had a disappointing concert experience or two. You get all dressed up, venture out into the night, and try really hard to learn something, but a few hours later you trudge home disappointed. Sometimes this is because the composers or the performers aren’t willing or able to meet the listener halfway—insufficient rehearsal time for ambitious pieces and democratic programming by committee, for instance, are practices that can produce unsatisfying results despite the finest of intentions. But sometimes it’s because the listener doesn’t hold up his end of the bargain. Confession time: Bless me, NewMusicBox, for I have sinned. I was in dereliction of my audience responsibilities last night.

As the work in question began, I set about figuring out what it was meant to communicate. I’d heard a piece by this composer years and years ago, and it had left a very strong impression on me; I wanted very badly to like this piece, to be able to place it alongside the older one on some sort of developmental continuum. I had my conceptual boxes pre-labeled and at the ready. Bring it on.

But the piece didn’t do what I expected it to. It even seemed to repudiate the things about its predecessor that had embedded it so firmly in my memory. Panicked, I tried to make it fit into the box I’d prepared for it. I turned it upside down, desperately jamming it into the ill-fitting container at every possible angle. By the time I realized it just wasn’t going to fit, the piece was over. It was a waste of my time, and it wasn’t particularly respectful to the composer or performers, who might as well have walked off the stage after the first phrase. I heard the music in exactly the way I don’t want listeners to hear mine. It’s a mistake I don’t plan to make again: Next time, I’m going to admonish myself to keep my brain on and my ears open.