I have played the violin since I was three years old, although my practice has fallen off over the past two and a half years for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, I think that I have lost much skill in that time, and I do not know how long it will take to get it back, later.
Over the years, I have participated in several quartets, the best of which were those organized for adolescent musicians of advanced ability by the Virginia Symphony. (In my b77 post “On Youth and Inexperience,” several of the mentors I was referring to were adult professional musicians, Juilliard-trained and the like, who gave selflessly of their time to coach us.) I also have organized trios and quartets on my own. I have played in concert orchestras (strings) and full symphonies, in high school and college. And of course, since my sister also plays the violin, we have played and performed duets for as long as I can remember – both privately and publicly, everything from churches to nursing homes to large weddings in different venues.
Each type of musical collaboration has its own rewards and challenges.
When playing with trios (violin, viola, cello) and quartets (1st violin, 2nd violin, viola, cello): the quartet is my favorite type of collaboration, and the one in which I’ve played most, so I will just focus on that. I have always played first violin. There is a saying popular among 2nd violinists and violists: A quartet is like a bottle of wine. The cellist is the bottle. The violist and 2nd violinist are the wine inside. And the first violinist is the cork (:roll:).
Ignoring the doubtless-unintentional (:roll:) snipe at first violinists, the analogy successfully communicates the unique, important role that each member of a quartet plays in generating the ultimate goal. I think that the biggest reward is coming together with three other people you respect, and creating a melody in which each of the four individual voices shines through. Voronwë, you wrote, “When it is going well, it is possible to completely lose one's self in the moment, and truly become one with the universe.” Yes, a million times, yes. For me, this experience is most possible when playing with a small group.
And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.* That is the greatest reward of chamber group collaboration, in my opinion.
There are, of course, challenges. There is no truly designated leader in a quartet. To some extent, the first violinist provides cues, leads off, etc. However, because the first violinist isn’t “officially” in charge in the same sense as a conductor or a concertmistress might be, the first violinist might have to deal with ego-related objections from others. On the other hand, the first violinist might himself be too egotistical, leading to a different set of problems. With a chamber group, the importance of compatible personalities cannot be overemphasized. Also, with any small group, each member bears more responsibility for flawless performance, to state the obvious. If you are one of eighteen first violinists in a symphony, a small error will not throw the entire ensemble off, most likely. However, if you are the only cellist in a quartet, and you err, the entire group may pay for your mistake.
Playing in a symphony is at once the most exhilarating and the most humbling experience of them all. On one hand, you are participating in something grand and magnificent – with dozens of other people, creating something sweeping and beautiful, something bigger than any individual person could create alone. To be part of a group that is performing, say, Liszt’s “Les Preludes” – it is incredible. As the music sweeps over you, you cannot believe that something so beautiful can exist, and it is still more difficult to believe that you are a part of it. On the other hand, the group is led by a conductor (the “benevolent dictator”
![Wink ;)](./images/smilies/icon_wink.gif)
). In every symphony in which I’ve played, the conductor bears the ultimate responsibility for coaching the various sections and connecting the pieces of the puzzle. Although it’s helpful and necessary to have a clear leader in a symphonic setting, it lessens the reward of mutual collaboration – the reward found in the chamber setting. Also, each musician’s contribution is lessened significantly, causing the humbling effect I referred to at the beginning of my post.
This is long enough for one post, but I will definitely participate more in this discussion. I now feel wistful for college and the preceding years, fourteen in total, when music was something that took up several hours of each day, without fail.
*Haven’t read the book from which this quote is taken, so I might be misusing it.
PS I have also performed with many choirs, also through college. However, I think that the choral experience differs from instrumental experience in a number of ways. One more topic for further discussion.
EDIT BTW, what on earth was I thinking? From the last week of May...
VtF, I'd love to see you perform, but it's a little bit of a drive (I'm in the South Bay), and I know you won't even be able to talk afterwards.
*kicks self repeatedly* After reading your description in the first post of this thread, I can't believe I missed out on the chance to see this. Palo Alto to Emeryville - such a doable drive -
and we've since made you drive longer distances more than once.
![Mad :x](./images/smilies/77angry.gif)
I must remedy this forthwith. Whatever your first performance is after the second week of May 2006, I'm there.
Edited again because I belatedly caught a typo.