MARCH 2012
the newsletter for Nuçi’s Space, a nonprofit musicians’ support/resource center
Life Out Of Balance
P
art of my weekday routine is to help corral our 3-year old daughter in the morning and take her to daycare before I arrive for work. Each morning, like clockwork, before the key even hits the ignition, the first command I hear from the car seat peanut gallery is “I want music. Turn it up.” After coaxing a simple “please” out of her, I usually fulfill her request. During her short life music has always played a part in our daily commute. When she was just a baby, she’d have to endure my out-of-tune voice as I serenaded her with tunes like Old McDonald, Itsy Bitsy Spider and Wheels on the Bus. As she got a little older I thought I could subliminally instill a taste for her daddy’s music by playing Nirvana, Radiohead and Led Zeppelin. However, once she learned to talk, she quickly let me know this plan was not going to work. The behavior that I’ve noticed most recently and find quite interesting is her ability to articulate, very clearly and without hesitation, what music she likes and does not like. If a song is playing on the radio that she likes, she’ll ask, relentlessly, to turn it up–LOUD. If she dislikes a song, she’ll have me turn it down just low enough as to know when the song is over. My interest in her behavior is compounded by a recent self-evaluation of how I listen to music. When I was younger I consumed music like most people watch television. I’d buy a record downtown, make my way back to my apartment and lay down on the couch while listening to every note pump through the speakers. Sometimes, if the record warranted it, I’d plug in a nice set of headphones and simply get lost in the music. I had very few things that demanded my attention and had very little responsibility at the time. Nowadays, well… not so much. Unlike my daughter, I have become less particular about what I listen to. Regrettably, I rarely seek out new musical experiences and tend to just consume what is put in front of me. A friend and former co-worker recently shared with me a story about a social experiment conducted by The Washington Post in early 2007. The experiment was the catalyst for a Pulitzer Prize-winning feature, “Pearls Before Breakfast,” written by Gene Weingarten. The email I received from my friend… A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that 1,100 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. Three minutes went by, and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace, and stopped for a few seconds, and then hurried up to meet his schedule. A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping, and continued to walk. A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work. The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally, the mother pushed hard, and the child
by
Bob Sleppy
continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on. In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money, but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the most talented musicians in the world. He had just played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, on a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100. This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste, and priorities of people. The outlines were: In a commonplace environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context? To be honest, I usually don’t get caught up in these sorts of “chain emails.” However, this email has stayed with me for the past few weeks. In Weingarten’s feature, he says “The poet Billy Collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother’s heart is in iambic meter. Then, Collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us.” I was crestfallen at the reading of this sentence. Not because I objected, but because I think I had let this become true in my life and how I interact with the world around me. I remember a time when I would hear a band practicing at Nuçi’s Space that was so good that the music would raise me from my office chair and I’d soon find myself standing outside of their rehearsal room door, eavesdropping on their practice. Unfortunately it has been years since I allowed myself to be open, listen and be aware of those opportunities. I’ve let the weight of responsibility and the quickened pace of life around me just sweep me up and dull my appreciation for new, unexpected experiences. As stated in the article, when Joshua Bell was asked about the experience in the subway, weeks after it occurred, he said that he was perplexed by only one thing. He said, “I’m surprised at the number of people who don’t pay attention at all, as if I’m invisible.” I’m embarrassed to admit that Joshua Bell most likely would have been invisible to me that morning in the subway. Somewhere along the path of my life I have lost the balance between honoring external responsibilities and the personal responsibility to grow through new experiences and consciously consume the beauty found in everyday life. I am hopeful that my introduction to this story is a reminder to not only slow down and experience the beauty that lies along my path, but occasionally take the time to wander off and seek beauty that is not so obvious. Maybe my path will cross with many of yours along the way? If so, I’ll look forward to seeing you there.
nuçi’s space 396 Oconee Street Athens, GA 30601 706.227.1515 space@nuci.org www.nuci.org
Newsletter Contributors
Bob Sleppy Will Kiser Laura Ford Matt Hudgins Chris Byron Photos
Pam Baxendale Jason Thrasher Chris Byron Design & Layout
Larry Tenner