“To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable.” -Ludwig Van Beethoven
Music is temporal. It exists for only a moment as a vibration of air that disappears as quickly as it begins. Yes, recording technology can capture the sounds themselves with accuracy and clarity, but listening to a CD, a streaming audio file, or even a vinyl record on a ten-thousand dollar sound system lacks that special magic that exists in live performance, the delicate thread of connection from the musicians to the audience and back. The study of music is a key component of a Classical education, and May at Golden View features its culmination with the End of Year Concerts. Within a three day period we transform the Cafegymatorium into a concert hall with nearly 700 students ages 8-18 taking the stage singing and playing instruments. In band and orchestra, some of these students come into their first day of class without ever having touched an instrument before. Many aren’t able to produce a sound on the first day, or even the second or the third. Yet these students, after months of practice, find the courage to step into the stage light and make these inanimate objects sing for all those gathered in the audience. They can do this because they understand what Beethoven meant - making mistakes is part of learning. After all, we don’t call it “working” an instrument the way we would work a tool or a job; we call it “playing.” If we wanted our performances to be pitch-perfect, we would simply let AI synthesizers execute flawless renditions of songs of their own creation. Rather, what we have to offer as flawed, soulful human musicians is the Beauty of a flawed, soulful performance. At one such concert earlier this month, senior Lydia Shelley performed the violin solo from John Williams’ Schindler’s List. The notes, rhythms, and even any “mistakes” she played were fleeting, dissipating immediately. By contrast, the passion, the meaning, the expression, and the storytelling in Lydia’s playing were irrefutably, heart-wrenchingly transformative. If there was a dry eye to be found in the room, it certainly was not my own.
From Dr. Van Scoyk, Upper School Instrumental Music Teacher