Joel McNeely

Imagine a 2000-year-old Roman amphitheater, made from thousands of stones (by slaves no doubt,) that was discovered only in 1933 buried under an apartment building perched on the highest hill overlooking Lyon. As they dug, they found two magnificent amphitheaters, the larger holding 4500 people and the smaller 1500. Imagine stone pillars the size of a refrigerator, strewn around the grounds like discarded cars, all with intricate Latin text carvings on them, which looked brand new, literally hundreds of them.

This was the setting for my concert in Lyon last Friday with the Lyon National Orchestra at the Les Nuits de Fourviere festival. We begin our concert of Hitchcock/Herrmann traditionally with recordings of birds from The Birds. This quickly became redundant as the swallow's feeding time coincided with twilight and our concert and they put on a wonderful show just before we began.

It is difficult to put into words how wonderful being in such a spot, on a perfect French summer evening is. And then to step out on stage and conduct 2 and a half hours of some of the greatest music ever written for film was something I will never forget. The orchestra was tremendous, playing passionately and with great attention to detail. Greg Cohen and the jazz quintet were fantastic, providing new and exciting interpretations and colors. Many thanks to all at Les Nuits de Fourviere for being so gracious and to the orchestra for such fantastic playing.

Just before the last piece, Taxi Driver, an epitaph is shown on screen with Herrmann's death date. As we began Taxi Driver I wondered how he would react if he could, to seeing two thousand people sitting in an ancient place in the south of France, on a spectacular evening, more than 30 years after his death, reveling in his beautiful music.

And then this last moment, which cemented for me, what a rare evening it was. The concert began at 9:30 and ended at midnight. After that they showed the movie Vertigo! I had gone to the after-party in a gorgeous villa that used to be a convent, next door. When returning to gather my things, I walked through the moonlit garden around the ancient pillars, hearing first a whisper and then the full strains of the passionate music from the Scene D'Amour sequence from Vertigo, soaring through this beautiful hillside. I peeked into the amphitheater, and a full 800 people had stayed past the concert to nearly 2 am to see Vertigo! No more guessing, I KNOW Herrmann would have loved this.

From 1935, to perhaps spark discussion, these words from one of the greatest composers who ever lived:

"The propagation of music by mechanical means (for instance, the disc) and the broadcasting of music - that represent formidable scientific conquests, which are very likely to spread even more - merit close examination as for their importance and their effects in the domain of music. Of course, the possibility for both authors and performers to reach the masses, and the fact that these masses are able to make themselves acquainted with musical works, represent an unquestionable advantage. However, it cannot be concealed that this advantage is dangerous at the same time. In the past, someone like Johann-Sebastian Bach had to walk ten leagues in order to hear Buxtehude perform his works. Today, any inhabitant of any country simply has to either turn a knob or play a record in order to listen to the piece of his choice. Well! It is in this very incredible easiness, in this very lack of effort that lies the vice of that so-called progress. In music, more than in any other branch of art, comprehension is only given to those who actively contribute to it. In itself, the massive reception is not enough. The listening of certain combinations of sounds, and the automatic growing accustomed to them does not necessarily involve the fact of hearing and grasping them, for one can listen without hearing, the same way one can watch without seeing. What renders people lazy is their lack of active effort and their developing of a liking for this easiness. People no longer need to move about as Bach had to; the radio spares them the traveling. Neither do they absolutely need to make music themselves and to waste time studying an instrument in order to know the musical literature. The radio and the disc take over. As a result, the active faculties, without which music cannot be assimilated, gradually atrophy among the listeners who no longer train them. This gradual paralysis leads to extremely serious consequences. Overwhelmed with sounds, the most varied combinations of which leave them indifferent, people fall into a sort of mindless state, that deprives them of all ability to judge, and renders them indifferent to the very quality of what they are served. In the near future, such disorganized overfeeding is more than likely to make listeners lose their hunger and their liking for music. Indeed, there will always be some exceptions - some people within the hoard will be able to select what they like. However, concerning the masses, one has all the reasons to fear that instead of generating love for and understanding of music, the modern means involved in spreading music will lead absolutely to opposite results; it is to say, they will lead to indifference, to the inability to recognize them, to be guided by them, and to have any reaction of some value."

Igor Stravinsky - "Chronicles of My Life" - 1935

Of course the idea that recorded music is in and of itself destructive, is not one I hold to. But one thing that I take away from Stravinsky's amazingly prescient writing is how much the over saturation or availability of recorded music can cheapen music's own value.

I once had a discussion with an (allegedly) educated man, who said that all recorded music should be free because record companies had ripped people off for so long. It was really hard not to hit him. Now obviously, for whatever reason there are a lot of people who feel perfectly fine about stealing music. If you think that it only affects the big labels, think again. Anyone care to look back and see when the last Varese rerecording was? File sharing has hurt everyone.

Because music is everywhere now, in the stores, in the malls, in the elevators, instantly attainable through free or paid means, somehow it's value is lessened. I remember so well, the effort to save for a certain album, and then going to the record store to look through the bins, sometimes even smelling the records. And then finally buying one and not being able to contain myself until I got home to tear off the plastic and put it on. There was something to that. Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE the convenience of iTunes. My son, who has grown up with virtually all music ever recorded, available to him at his fingertips all the time, thinks of music as something much less special. The accessibility we have to so much, and so many varied kinds of music is astonishing, but I think we have lost something in the process.

And finally, I think in general, people have lost the connection between recorded music and live performance. There was a time, when as a musician if you couldn't play live what was represented on your record, there was real shame and ridicule. Now that's the norm. I just don't get it. But there ARE bright lights. When Chris Thile and his merry band of virtuosi choose to make a record of the most incredibly complex and difficult music, standing around two microphones, playing live with no editing, my heart soars. Because the music is phenomenal and yes, the fact that they can play it live with no mistakes makes it even more phenomenal to me. Knowing that the notes haven't been tweezed to be perfectly in line or in tune makes that recording that much more special.