Ecstasy and obligation

[kimmoor@mindspring.com (Kristen Immoor)]

Hi everyone,
        While we're (sort of) on the topic of GG's/Helfgott's music as a
spiritual experience and the ecstasy of live performance, I would like to
bat around the concept of ecstasy as it relates to artist's responsibility.
Off-list with one or two people I've broached the topic of GG's
acceptance/denial of the concept of the artist's responsibility to the
public, and though it didn't occur to me at first, I feel that the concept
of ecstasy must fit in to this responsibility somewhere. Most of this is
rhetorical and possibly even hypothetical, but it does give some food for
thought, I think.
        Leaving the demands of contract and record labels aside, examining
the recital in its most simple form, there must be a strong conflict within
the musician between the desire to satisfy one's own thirst for ecstasy,
and the obligation to share ecstasy with the listener. If there were not
such conflict, we could assume that all musicians would be content to play
in the privacy of their own homes and live performance would not be the
popular medium it is. I imagine the debate to be along similar lines to the
one outlined in The Latecomers, between the soft-spoken novelist who writes
only for himself and the pretty-voiced young woman who feels that
creativity must be observed to be validated.
        It could be argued that, music being the purely subjective and
utterly passionate calling that it is for the artist, the musician's sole
motivation to perform must therefore be to channel the divinity within
himself and revel in the ecstatic moments the music will bring him. The
very nature of this craft would seem to dictate that it would be a most
personal activity, and that anyone who performed in public would be either
attempting (quite magnanimously,) to share his ecstasy with others, or
satisfying an exhibitionist urge to have others witness his ecstasy. And
yet, despite any conflict live recitals continue, so one must then ask: in
live performance, whose satisfaction takes on the primary importance; the
performer or the audience?
        If the artist is indeed trying to bring the audience to a state of
ecstasy, is it a conscious ambition or a coincidental one? That is to say,
does the musician perform in the hopes that the elements he finds
pleasurable will happen to coincide with the desires of the listener, or
does he deliberately tailor a performance that he feels will have the most
appeal to a group? The latter option seems to be the pragmatic objective of
recital; why take the stage at all if not to enrapture the audience?
However, the latter option would also seem to make demands of excessive
martyrdom on the artist; such conscious attention to performance would
undoubtedly minimize any pure ecstasy for the musician, thereby
invalidating the very essence of performance. Does this denial of personal
ecstasy betray the artist's gift or ennoble it? When a musician takes the
stage, must his own need for fulfillment take a backseat to the obligations
of a performer? Conversely, if a musician who chooses to perform for an
audience consciously decides to play only as his whim dictates, satisfying
his own need for ecstasy above all others', is he giving an honest
performance... or an egomaniacal one?
        Gould, for example, observed that live performance "contaminated"
his interpretations, adding to his performance all manner of frills and
"party tricks" that he would have otherwise deemed wholly inappropriate to
the work. In an effort to communicate to the man in the third balcony the
themes of a given piece, he made the music over-obvious. Further, under the
terrifying pressure to "perform well", Gould found himself rushing through
recitals, pushing tempi to lightning-like speeds in an effort to impress.
He was unable to luxuriate in a piece, make unconventional decisions
mid-movement, savor his playing. The end result of these collected
affectations, though pleasing to the audience, was completely abhorrent to
him. Though audiences came to his recitals and found bliss, Gould became so
consumed with his obligation to not disappoint his listeners that he seemed
at times to forget his primary obligation: to please himself. His own
personal fulfillment denied, concertizing became hell. He could not allow
his own ecstasy to be so compromised on a regular basis, and he abandoned
the stage. Striking an unusual bargain, in effect GG told his public, "I
will allow you the product of my ecstasy, the most perfect performances I
can give to you, but only on my own terms, and in my own time." And so, to
the studio.
        Helfgott, by contrast, seems to approach live performance like a
whirlwind, and if we accept that his unorthodox interpretations are indeed
played from the heart and not simply the manifestations of a person
mentally incapable of recognizing the sounds of his performance, then
Helfgott emerges as a performer truly oblivious to the conventions of the
concert hall and live performance. He is self-indulgent, not reliant on
critical praise, concerned only with pounding out the music as he alone
hears it - a combination that universally offends the critics and the
classical elite, and yet the audiences are ecstatic! In his carnival-like
concerts, Helfgott manages to combine his musical selfishness with a
playful honesty that compels tolerance. Beyond tolerance, even, in most
fans it commands affection and admiration. I can't say with any certainty
what runs through DH's mind as he takes the stage; I have read interviews
during which he mutters to himself between questions "Must practice, gotta
practice, gotta get better, must play better." This would seem to indicate
that he is under more pressure to perform well than his ebullient stage
presence lets on. If Helfgott has cognizance of his disabilities and
recognizes the effect of his lack of traditional musical training, then
perhaps no one is as conscious of their performance as he. Remarkable then,
that he is able to maintain such affable honesty when standing before a
hall of thousands. Similar circumstances to a personality like Gould's
would have been a recipe for disaster. I think, then, that ecstasy for
Helfgott must go beyond the interiority of the music, and be a product of
the music and the listener combined. He enjoys the reactions he gets from
his listeners even more than he enjoys performing the piece itself, as
evident in his complete willingness to interrupt a work to acknowledge the
crowd, smile, and take a few bows before continuing the piece. If they're
happy, he's happy. This behaviour of DH's has led some critics to refer to
him as a "performing dog", an animal who measures his worth by the love of
his audience, but I disagree. I think Helfgott may love us far more than we
love him.

Just a few ideas mulled over while eating ice cream.
Kristen

____________________________________________________________________________

"I have several titles for diseases which I am expecting to use in later
life and have not yet had occasion to make use of. I always find that a
good disease title will impress your average concert manager to no end."

                                                              -- Glenn Gould