An Instrument in the Hands . . .

Last night, I had the opportunity to go to a recital and hear Bion Tsang (currently teaching cello at the UT Austin) and UNT's own Gustavo Romero playing the two Brahms cello sonatas. Now, aside from the fact that I love Brahms so much that I continue to swear that he and I are soulmates, and if we'd lived at the same time he would have given up on Clara altogether, I enjoyed the recital quite a lot.

The thing that struck me about Mr. Tsang's playing was how deliberate everything was. Each note was played with a specific part of the bow, on a specific part of the string, with a certain stroke . . . every detail was thought out.

In my church, we often talk about becoming an instrument in the hands of God (in fact, it's the theme of the visiting teaching messages this year), but I wonder if we really consider what that entails. Yes, we know about the power of the Master's touch, but do we really understand what that means?

There are a few things that struck me:

1. The instrument is completely incapable of creating anything by itself; it is the Master who creates beauty and meaning and breathes life into the instrument.

2. When I play my cello, it has its own ideas sometimes about who is in charge. The challenge is learning to get it to submit to my will rather than have it tell me what I can and cannot do.

3. GREATNESS TAKES PLANNING. This idea admittedly caused me problems, because I am not much of a planner. I like to fly by the seat of my pants. Especially where major life junctions are before me, I am not one to know where I am headed. My realization, though, was that it is not my duty to know. If I am the instrument, it is the duty of the Master to have planned everything out--and He has.

While I'm on the topic of music metaphors (a favorite of mine; I could go on all day), there is something else I've been thinking a lot about lately. I'm a pretty tough critic when it comes to expressivity in musicians. Rarely do I find players who can truly move me, who can conjure up emotions from the depths of my soul. I'm a very emotionally sensitive person, which is a blessing and a curse, but it means that I can sense when people are holding back, and I don't find it convincing at all. I've heard it said before that it's not what you give that gets you to heaven, but what you hold back that condemns you. I think the same is true for music.

At its best, music is a completely personal, vulnerable art. However, I think people don't often invest enough of themselves to make it so. I'm not talking about hours of practice or anything like that--I'm talking about people's SELVES. When you watch a person perform who strips themselves of the pomp and to-do about performance and presents him or herself for you to accept or reject, THAT is moving.

I've recently come to terms with my complete avoidance of vulnerability. I do think, however, that the only times in my life that I have allowed myself to be absolutely vulnerable have been in performance situations. I may not be able to tell you my feelings if you ask me, but if you ask me to play my feelings, I can certainly do that. Somehow it's less scary that way, maybe because fewer people try to understand you and just want to hear pretty music.

Well, none of you asked for my dissertation on musical expression, but if you ever want to talk about it, it's something I'm very passionate about. Ask anytime, and I'll talk for hours about it.