Guest Post: Sing A Fakening

We are super-keen to have the amazingly witty Bonnie provide us with this first guest post!

Samuel Beckett once said that nothing is funnier than unhappiness.

Wise words

“Nothing is funnier than unhappiness”                  - Samuel Beckett

That should serve as a decent enough segue into how unhappy I am about certain musical adaptations of plays, and how I hope it will be an appropriately amusing and ranty guest blog for Semantic Marmot which, you will know as regular readers, is all about music, random images, and very occasionally, marmots.

If you know much about theatre from the 19th and 20th century and some of the bold statements therein, you enter a world of protest that ranges from fierce and shocking, to subtle and bittersweet, with a few bland imitators thrown in the cracks.

Frank Wedekind’s Frühlings Erwachen, better known to us as Spring Awakening, was one such fierce production which made clear the attitudes of the bourgeois community, in particular towards sex and education. The play is not an epic or a satire, but rather a gritty and morbid tale surrounding a few school children featuring masturbation, underage sex, abortion, rape and suicide. Not quite one for those fans of Legally Blonde, or the fifth instalment of the Wizard of Oz.

Also unlike those, Spring Awakening has been banned and censored many times since its publication. In the play, silence is so important to the storyline it is a character all on its own, like NYC in Sex and the City, only less idiotic. The silence of the adults, where their words would have saved lives, is of great importance. The unknown and the unknowing are key where children begin to live and behave dangerously as they are left to their own devices, ultimately leading to tragedy. The key thing to take away is how this silence is a catalyst to destruction by sexuality, rather than the more modern dangers of rock music and celebrity fetish.

We must relish the awkward silences in response to those metaphysical questions where we all know the answer, but cannot say it, and even if we did it would not alter the fate of the characters. Similar to our friends at the cinema yelling at the half naked blonde girl to ‘watch out for the killer lurking in the basement’, the movie would carry on, the girl would be stabbed, no tragedy would be averted. But when the tragedy is the point of the play or the cheap slasher movie, we just have to embrace that.

voldemorthug

So why, for the love of god, did someone feel the need to make this a rock musical?

I get it. Rock music, as I’ve said, is associated with youth rebellion, so that tired trope can easily be applied. But with a real understanding of Wedekind’s statement, the deafening quiet realism is enough to stir an audience with any real empathy or artistic appreciation of the words said, and unsaid. Adding the rock and roll musical element means everything will become over-explored, over-dramatic and dare I say it, dumbed down.

This isn’t to say that tragic theatrical plays cannot make great musicals, just look at Les Miserables. Most of the good ones actually do, even those more abrupt shocking pieces. But the difference is often how expertly they are put together, with the synergy of music and storyline expressing the characters as they were presented by the playwright (at the risk of intentional fallacy) and also how the production is later portrayed to an audience who is unfamiliar with the original text.

Büchner’s Woyzeck is a play which provocatively invokes the dehumanising element of war on a young man’s life and mental state. The brutal ‘working class tragedy’ was then made into an intense opera by Alban Berg, who himself was exposed heavily to the military. Berg was able to use music to present an appropriate and original avant garde production, free of classic techniques such as arias, highlighting individual characters with unique leitmotifs, while the expression of madness and alienation is amplified with the use of atonal music.

Candide, originally penned by Voltaire as an ironic statement about optimism and human misery, was transformed equally well into a musical by the great Leonard Bernstein, with help from many others with the libretto including Lillian Hellman and Stephen Sondheim. The production perfectly and uniquely mimics the attitude of the main character from Voltaire’s text, who frequently insists that happiness will always come, the world is truly good and everything is as it should be, all while falling witness (and victim) to violent crime, rape, theft, war and heartache.

And this

And this

All these scenes are played out on stage as they are in the original novella with the enhanced inclusion of ridiculously lighthearted and optimistic music to achieve the ironic juxtaposition that Voltaire intended. Think Gavroche’s death in Les Mis accompanied by some Mary Poppins tunes and you’ve got something along the same lines. A difficult thing to swallow and not necessarily appreciated at first, but critics soon came to realise its value.

Then we come back to Spring Awakening, doomed to become a dumbed down rock musical with cliche melodies and characters dressed as punks and rebels, portrayed by middle class players who delight in oozing sex appeal and perfecting their belt voice. The onus is no longer on the characters as good decent school children corrupted by ignorance, but rather a door to a semi-erotic playground where sex may as well be commonplace. The play’s point is that it’s disturbing – not just because it’s focus is taboo, but because it is explored by the young who know nothing of them.

les-patterson

Children having sex, children dying, children having abortions, children who are not impoverished or unable to attend school but who are simply misguided. This is not sexy. This is not the stuff of rock and roll and the underprivileged or wannabe models. This is not, as explained in the musical synopsis, about ‘the general trials, tribulations and exhilaration’ of the teen years.

The young girl, Wendla – who doesn’t even know where babies come from – falls pregnant, is forced to have an abortion and dies, yet she has to also be described as ‘beautiful’ meaning her sexual encounter and subsequent tragedy are almost purely a result of her looks, rather than her ignorance. Melchior, the confused and angry male protagonist, is apparently ‘brilliant and fearless’. His friend Moritz is only ‘distracted by puberty’ and can’t concentrate on anything, which actually means he is plagued by constant sexual urges, he does badly at schoolwork, leaving him alienated and suicidal.

The idea that the characters are considered beautiful and fearless is an insult to Wedekind’s expressionism, as it seem to ignore the real subtext. Many of those performing it prefer to trivialise the issues and instead try to make it look sexually provocative in between breaks to discuss the latest trends and instagramming their latte. They truly believe that Spring Awakening ’celebrates the unforgettable journey from youth to adulthood with a power, poignancy, and passion that you will never forget.’ This almost makes me want to hurl myself into the nearest freezing river.

There’s a strong irony however, in how these middle class twenty somethings try to provoke audiences, as the world is now far too obsessed with sexuality. Lower classes are now potentially more at risk of ignorance with fewer opportunities for decent education, while middle class kids know too much about sex with exposure to mainstream media and societal pressures to be sexually mature at a younger age.

So, to those paying attention, the existence of this musical (at least how I have seen it presented by theatre groups – I’m hoping some might do it justice) makes a strong statement on how societal norms regarding sexuality and the young have changed, with sex now so openly discussed and practiced that whole new problems exist.

P.S. Something about marmots.

Samuel Marmot

Putting the ‘Phil’ in Ph.D

It's Good!

It’s Good! It’s Brahms Raising Raisin Brahms.

GUTEN TAG! (Enjoying your Raisin-Brahms?)

I have just emerged from a rather trippy and viciously-cyclic period of PhD proposal development, hence the lack of posts in the last couple of months. It is in many ways a huge leap of faith finding an interesting and relevant topic (especially in a music-world heavily populated by scholarly types) that hasn’t yet been written about for no good reason.

Whenever I got close to narrowing a field and finding there was little existing research previously, I felt like being in the proverbial room of replaced-monkeys with the banana up a ladder that no-one is touching from second generation fear of the cold water spray but no-one actually knows why. If you don’t know that story I won’t go into it, but I just did.

In any case, my frustrations lurched between “Damn, this is a good topic but someone’s already written about it” and “Damn, no-one has written about this topic – there must be a reason why it’s not valid.” So in the end a leap of faith was required and I am presently in mid-leap… hoping there will be solid ground with no natural predators or environmental hazards on the other side. Just lots of fruit and chocolate.

Along the way I encountered some interesting PhD stereotypes. It is often tempting for ‘pure musicologists’ (aka people who write about music but have no/little musical experience) to end up with an absurdly specific and useless topic only tangentially concerned with music. Topics like:

Not much it turns out.

Not much it turns out.

“The histrionic effects of Franz Joseph Haydn’s brother Michael’s slow sonata movements for harpsichord on the emotional development of hatching red swamp crayfish.”

“Variations on the double constrictor knot formed in ipod headphones by accident in adolescent male coat pockets from 2005 to 2008″

“Why I like Bolognese”

Another recurring PhD type is from composers and more-aged-than-I performers who are lucky enough to draw on their experience and/or folio work to write about themselves. While this would indeed be a fascinating exercise my own effort would most likely turn into:

“Writing a PhD dissertation: An auto-ethnographical and self-aware study on itself”

Perhaps though the most frustrating variety tends to come from those undergoing PhD programs around the beginning of the modern scholarship era – around 1970. Those fortunate ones were at liberty to take advantage of a generally unexplored musical world, often with such reckless abandon as to propel themselves at entire fields in a single sitting, or able to simply just present very basic and fundamental facts as ground-breaking research, leaving future scholars to scavenge feebly in the muddied waters, eking out a merge existence on whatever niche topics can be found. Truly 1970′s scholars are the carp of the musical world, with dissertations such as:

“How to play the pianoforte well”

“I got here first! An analysis of everything ever by George Gershwin with specific focus on 90 other important American composers. Acknowledge me”

“Music: A summary”

All of it.

All of it.

I’m just am glad it’s over now. Many apologies (to those who accidentally stumble upon this website looking for marmot photos – you know who you are) for the delay and hopefully I’ll have a little more time and inspiration soon.

Marmots and their Orchestral Rationale: Part II

INTRO: They say that pigeons develop odd and repetitive behaviours (such as hopping on one foot) should you feed them pellets at random intervals, presumably made of seed or some such food that pigeons like. The theory here is that they believe whatever they happened to be doing at the time triggered the pellet dispensing and if they manage to do it again (in just the right manner) then they will get more pellets. When the next one inevitably arrives it simply reinforces the behaviour and the cycle continues ad infinitum.

HYPOTHESIS: Anyway, it has been over two years since the early days of this blog and I thought it’s a spectacular time to revisit my inaugural rant about orchestral repertoire. I actually had attempted this about one year ago but it remained in draft from and I think now time and some more far-reaching data can provide a three-dimensional-time-instalment on the topic! Basically, we will look at the concert series for 2013 not only of the original Australian orchestra but three separate seasons of another very well-known orchestra in the UK and see what’s what.

METHODOLOGY: The pieces played fall into categories of:

  1. Works by popular European Composers
  2. Works by unpopular European Composers
  3. Works by popular non-European Composers
  4. Works by unpopular non-European Composers

A word from the recapping porpoise:

Recapping Porpoise

The definitions of European and non-European is quite simple but the former includes Russia (as part of a highly integrated ‘Western’ music culture). The definition of ‘popular’ I probably defined earlier in my last rationale post, but for apathy’s sake will re-make it up here and then for obsessive-compulsiveness’s sake compare afterwards anyway, (to test my own consistency).

Popular composer (My 2013 Definition): “A composer who is mainstream enough to be known by a regular concert going audience and can be expected to appear regularly (anywhere from extremely frequently to once every few years) in an orchestral concert series.”

Popular composer (My 2011 Definition): “A well-known composer (Beethoven, Mozart, etc) that a typical Classical concert-going audience could expect to hear every few years or so.”

Close enough! Anyway now we are all on the same (web)page here are the results:

RESULTS:

For the original Australian Orchestra:

Original Orchestra ANew Orchestra AWell that’s slightly more promising 70.3% of the series (down from 81.8%) made up of  European classical standards.

Now let’s take a peak of three 6-month seasons of the UK orchestra.

January 2012 to June 2012

1st Season Orchestra B

July 2012 to December 2012

2nd Season Orchestra B

January 2013 to June 2013

3rd Season Orchestra B

This is a little bleaker…

Just a little bit

The percentages chronologically here are 93.4%, 90.4% and 85.5%. Although it’s a slight downward trend the average is still 89.8% of the repertoire is typical European, and in one and a half years only one non-popular, non-European composer is featured.

CONCLUSIONS: I’ve been wondering a little recently about what would happen if orchestras (or classical artists in general) dropped the facade of being part of a ‘living tradition’ and dedicated themselves only to playing what is considered the classical music canon. With this repertoire already making up around 90% of a season (or much more if you include the popular non-Europeans) I doubt the regular concert-going audiences would complain or even notice if it was upped to 100%.

It seems to me that when these orchestras explore or innovate its out of begrudging tokenism and perhaps it would be healthy to say/admit “Wait, this is for all intents and purposes a museum-culture (not that there’s anything wrong with that) and you should go elsewhere if you’re not a part of that.” I think modern composers deserve better then to be lining up for meagre pellet distribution from a culture that is demonstrably against them… it is not good for one’s mental state. Or maybe perhaps what I mean is they should rebuke the insinuation that they are the latest edition of the classical ‘tradition’ and instead be seeking to be relevant to other groups who may be more interested rather than forcing new things on a audience obsessed with the past.

CODA:  The humble pigeon is actually quite exceptional for a commonplace bird*, unlike the ibis, which is unexceptional for a much-worshiped deity symbol. Look them up. Yes, both of them. And remember, nothing says ‘Deutsch touristischen’ more emphatically** than excitedly taking photos of the colloquial dump-birds.

You can even eat them!

*You can even eat them!

**This is not strictly true… a LOT of things say ‘Deutsch touristischen’ emphatically, not least themselves.

It Would be Unimaginative to Make This Title a Pun on ‘Liszt’

Throughout history and beyond, there has been a relentless stream of musically prodigious acts in almost all disciplines, and the field of music has in no way been lacking. Beethoven himself was said to have composed the ninth symphony at the age of nine while floating in a lake. That is not strictly true,* but more of a literal misunderstanding of the scene towards the end of Immortal Beloved. Rather, it proves the point that some of the legends surrounding musical giants are allegorical; the truth is harvested from the cocoa tree of reality, crushed and fermented by the dual catalysts of 19th century sensationalism and controversy, roasted by flamboyant business acumen and finally undergoing the conching process of time. The result is a smooth and tasty confectionary that does not at all resemble the hard, bitter pod of its origins.

*At all.

Anyway, many of these super-human feats by musicians are indeed true, or in the case of earlier, un-verifiable-by-NASA generations, generally unprovable to not be true. People can be clever sometimes and so I don’t doubt the plausibility of something like (W.A) Mozart’s transcribing Allegri’s Miserere after one hearing.

Crest of the NASA Anagram Society

Crest of the NASA Acronym Society Addicts

However, I was reading in 2006 the Alan Walker biographies of Liszt and as one can probably imagine here was a composer whose reputation was built on such Paganini-esque mystique.

Yet an incident recorded herein caught my doubt and curiosity and strangely it was not regarding Liszt whose accounts and legends troubled me so, but one of his students, Ernesztina Kramer (1864-1936). Thanks to our friends at the interweb here’s the account in question:

Of special interest are the recollections of Ernesztina Kramer, who was Liszt’s student for three years from 1882 to 1885. Ernestina had been an infant prodigy, and by the time she was ten years old she was a student of Erkel at the academy. The day dawned when she, like others before her, was introduced to Liszt. He asked her to play something, and since she had been specialising in the music of Schumann, he suggested one of the latter’s sonatas. Nervous and trembling, the poor girl lost her composure and started to play the sonata a semitone high. Liszt did not interrupt her, but let her continue in the wrong key to the end of the piece. The girl then noticed what she had done and cried out: “My God! How unfortunate I am! I can play anything in any key, and that is what happened here.” Liszt consoled her and said: “My child, thousands would be happy to be so unfortunate” (1997, p. 297, Walker).

Artist's Impression

Artist’s Impression

Nawww… But seriously, this raised a lot of questions and seemed highly contradictory. Here are some doubts I’ve been festering for the last six years:

  • This is Ernesztina’s own account which doesn’t seem to have been echoed anywhere else… and neither does she really (at least in the digital realm).
  • Despite being an 18 year-old prodigy (assuming she saw him soon before he started teaching her), she didn’t notice the tactile, pianistic implications of the ‘unconscious’ transposition, nor the harmonic implications. Which kind of means she performed music entirely thinking only about relative intervals. Not the note, key or chord names, not the absolute pitches, and not even the feel of the piano under the hands (and a semitone higher is a long way in circle-of-fifth world).
  • Again despite being a prodigy, she had a loss of composure at an activity she’d be doing since birth.
  • Again despite being a prodigy and apparently having excellent relative pitch skills, she did not notice it sounded a semitone high.
  • Again despite being a prodigy, and well aware she could ‘play anything in any key’ did not seem to have been told at any point in her history that this was in fact a talent.
  • Furthermore she seemed under the impression it was a curse.
  • Ernesztina did not go on to have a career significant enough to be noted by the interwebs over a century later. Which is a post-humous death sentence.

Anyway those are the bulk of my concerns. Could something like this really happen? Put it this way: I’d happily believe it if she walked into the room, sat down at the piano and said “pick a piece, Ol’ Abbé Liszt. Oh! And while you’re at it the key too.” People are clever sometimes, we’ve established that. But not simultaneously clever and yet ‘blundering’ along with massively fundamental and basic mistakes and then not even recognise the resultant phenomenal feat as anything other than ‘misfortune.’ It seems a talent is negated by a lot of weirdness about the situations.

The Reggae Liszt

The Reggae Liszt

One other thing. It seems that alternative explanations either partially or completely discredit her story, there’s no realistic, middle-ground explanation. To wit:

The Idealist says: Ernesztina’s account is true and she was raised by a wild pack of absolute-pitch-hating wolves. Its been known to happen.

The Optimist says: Ernesztina could play transpositions intuitively, but on this occasion did so deliberately and only pretended it was a mistake to appear humble.

The Realist says: I don’t know. I’m still watching the perfect-pitch dog video.

The Pessimist says: Ernesztina went and learned the Schumann sonata a semitone higher. Then pretended she believed it was a horrible upsetting mistake/curse so Liszt wouldn’t make her try it in other keys to verify her talent.

The Cynicist says: It probably didn’t happen at all. Aaaaand there’s no evidence other than a self-account. Idealist: People don’t ever lie about themselves … do they?

Are there other considerations missing? I’d certainly like to know! Of course, humans are capable of spontaneous transposition and even more amazing things, but if they’re talented enough to do it subconsciously, they should probably also have the much lesser observational abilities to be able to realise they’re doing it. And even if not, to recognise or have been told at some point it’s more of a super-power.

Well, now I feel somewhat bad that I’ve stayed up to 1:30 am to rant about and criticise the account of a long-dead woman I’ve never met who left no discernible mark on the world save a paragraph in Alan Walker’s biography about someone else. However, she can rest easier knowing that now when people google “Ernesztina Kramer” (with the quotations) they’ll get a third result. Thousands would be happy to be so unfortunate.

A Non-Post on Three Precious Fluids

So I have some scotch… Quite good scotch too, of the Signet variety (Glenmorangie) and from a much beloved birthday present-er. In the past I’d encountered the Blue Label of Johnny Walker though was not really ready for it and with this bottle I have become accustomed to drinking it what they call ‘neat,’ that is, straight up with no ice.

edmund barton.JPG

That’s right it’s Edmund Barton!
Australian Prime Minister 1901-1903-ish
No-one really knew what they were doing back then.

Happy New Year to all readers! By the way.

It draws close to midnight and amidst a bundle of other more-productive things I think there is some correlation between writing on this blog and my positive mental state. I don’t know why exactly, though it could probably be to do with being a source of tangible creative output and a thinly veiled outlet of frustration in all things music. It has been an odd sort of past 20 days full of lots of sub-standard writing ideas and pondering fascinated-ly over overly topical stories. But each voice should be its own, and if I may quote the much-loved Ives:

…[one should break away] , when necessary, from easy first sounds, or afraid of admitting that those half-truths the come to him at rare intervals, are half-true; for instance, that all art galleries contain masterpieces, which are nothing more than a history of art’s beautiful mistakes (Essays 97).

Bleak. But go on, give him a clap.

Dame Edna Everage

Dame Edna Everage

So we’ve discussed whisky and Ives (are people not mostly liquids?), I also wanted to cover bleach. Bleach is a fascinating substance we are all taught to fear from birth, like a wrathful deity able to drain the very colour from our lives. It must be pacified with abundant offerings of diluting water before it deigns to use its powers on our mould/staining issues without retribution. The bleach currently in my storage cupboard makes different demands however. It refuses to do anything in the presence of water, which makes me slightly apprehensive, but we have a jolly old time, my bleach-god and I; painting the house and furniture in concentrated goodness, hand-in-hand from room to room until the coughing fits start. Bleach is magical.

Furthermore! We can all look deeply forward to the first ever Semantic Marmot Guest Post in the coming days.

Thank-you for bearing with this outburst.

ADD PICTURES I SAY!

It's Bob Hawke everyone! Australian Prime Minister from 1983-1991

It’s Bob Hawke everyone! Australian Prime Minister from 1983-1991

Well. That was a poor effort. I’m going to bed.

Marmots: Uses and Their Disambiguations

So it transpires that my number one search term that overwhelmingly draws people to this site is the word “marmot.” It accounts for roughly a quarter of all my visitors, yet as actual marmot studies and related literature are sparse in this blog (to say the least), I get the feeling most people go away disappointed. Surprisingly the top ten search terms are all to do with animals: including angler fish, dairy cows, phytoplankton and Martha Argerich.

Blah

Blah. Crotchet equals 100.

[Apologies in quasi-advance for the relative lack of pictures - I can't seem to upload them properly at the moment and it took an age just to include the two here... but I can put text in colour as a pretty substitute]. The Emperor’s New Text?

Therefore, we must take a short break from ranting about music and whatever else I normally write about and contribute something to marmot-lore. To be honest (a very British phrase I’ve picked up) I knew hardly anything about marmots, and googling ‘uses for marmots’ digs up very little dirt on our friends (pun intended). Apparently, it is the name for some debugging software, so that’s a plus.

Basically marmots are little burrowing European critters – mammals I assume – that best function as prey animals. I hesitate to suggest what exactly constitutes a ‘predator’ in good ol’ Europe. Do they even have wolves? Maybe bears. I don’t know anymore. Also they seem to enjoy living at altitude OH I KNOW, WHAT ABOUT EAGLES - and hibernate during nine-freaking months of the year, often preferring to starve to death via depleted fat reserves than prepare more effectively during their awake times. They drift towards the more exotic side of the pet spectrum with their dispersal tendencies and destructive landscaping capabilities, again not to mention the extreme part-time nature of the hibernation. So kids remember to have your proper marmot licensing as well as parental permission and don’t play outside in thunderstorms, even with your marmot as they provide little protection and are not suited to heat.

Not the most threatening of animals, the marmot and it’s small ground-dwelling rodent-esque ilk instead bide their time and allow major natural disasters to wipe out enormous chunks of larger and/or cold-blooded lifeforms before over-populating and evolving into more creative and nihilistic structures. Cowards.

I'd Rather Charleston

I’d Rather Charleston.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this refreshing summary of the marmot – one of the most mediocre creatures our planet has to offer.

Death at a Funeral March

We’ve all heard the stories, but how likely is an audience death during a Classical concert?

Well, listen closely.

According to the UK Office for National Statistics the fashionable mortality rates (for 2010) are roughly as follows:

Although the number of deaths are well recorded, we do have to be selective and take into account the fact that only ‘sudden non-accidental deaths’ are likely to occur within the gentile confines of the concert hall; thus ruling out things like homicide and bear-maulings. Also nothing that would have prevented a person going from the concert hall in the first place.

With my decidedly non-medical opinion I made use of this handy mortality statistics graph to work out that there are around 133963 potentially ‘sudden non-accidental’ (hereafter referred to as ‘sudden’) deaths each year (well…2009 and in the UK). Thus accounting for about 27.264% of all deaths.

Next we have to make an assumption that these are spread evenly across all age groups because I am unashamedly lazy. Having achieved this, we can work out the probable numbers of sudden death for each age group. We get this:

Actual figures are a bit fuzzy for accurate age-demographics so let’s approximate and say it was equal (6264100 people each) except for the 80+ group which is significantly less – let’s guess half as populous (3132050 people each). Now we can say the average likelihood of someone dying in a given year:

…and in a given hour in that year: (for example, if you have 47662 men over age 80 in a room for an hour, one of them will die of sudden causes.)

Now in terms of the average concert age there is obviously much variation, but generally there seems to be a vague consensus that the median age of classical concert audiences is over 50, with a 10 year study of classical radio showing listeners have a median age over 65. For this study I will assume that 60 is the average age and that half any given audience will be in these higher risk categories.

So in an audience of 1000 watching a concert of an hour, here are your mortality statistics (last table I promise!)

Ergo(!) there is 0.5349% chance (roughly one in 200) that for every thousand people per hour at a classical concert, there will be someone in the audience who does not applaud at the end.

“Put it away and sit down… no I don’t find it funny… don’t know why I bother bringing you to these concerts anymore”

Thank you for bearing with me! Now for some fun facts :D

  • If you assume that everyone at your concert is over 60 and half are over 80, there is a 2.6468% chance! (1 in 38 concerts).
  • If the 1000-people concert contained something appropriate like the Chopin Piano Sonata No.2 there is a 0.0007429% chance that someone will die in the 5 seconds of silence before the famous funeral march. (1 in 134607 concerts)
  • Similarly, the odds of that person being the pianist (if they are under 60) are 1 in 112.700 trillion.
  • Assuming the performers are under 60, the odds of any performer dying during a concert is roughly 1 in every 156.5 billion. Musicians dying on stage thusly has happened before; it’s not as unlikely as you might think given that there are now a lot of musicians in the world and each of them putting in a lot of performance hours.
  • In Pablo Casal’s questionable* autobiography he mentions an orchestra in the Caucasus Mountains in the Soviet Union made up of male members over 100 years of age. In the UK over 90s are currently 11% of the over 80 population according to the Office for National Statistics. According to a very approximate regression from this data, it seems that over 100′s die at a rate of 10% a year (1 every 876.6 hours). Therefore, in a 70-piece orchestra 1 in every 125 concerts would contain a musician fatality. Alternately, in rehearsals, if they were weekly and two hours long it would happen about once a year.

So there you have it. Highly inaccurate statistics but at least you get a rough idea.

* I say questionable because, like Grizzly Man, you read/watch the story and end up liking him less and less, or at least realise that here is a person who doesn’t realise that they are unreasonable, and in this case, a massive diva. If you don’t believe me the whole thing is here. Or one particular excerpt where he refuses to play because the conductor doesn’t like the music and then drags Debussy into an argument and finds himself isolated in his opinion:

The conductor, Gabriel Pierne, and I had agreed some weeks previously that I would play the Dvorak concerto. Shortly before the rehearsal was to start, Pierne came to my dressing room to go over the score and discuss my approach to the work. Something in his manner struck me as odd-he seemed almost uninterested in what we were discussing, but I thought he was probably preoccupied with other matters. Then, all at once, he tossed the score down and exclaimed with a grimace, “What a ghastly piece of music!” I thought at first he was being facetious-I couldn’t imagine his really meaning such a thing. He was, after all, a composer himself who had studied under Massenet and Cesar Franck. But he added, “It’s hardly worth playing. It’s not really music at all.” He said it in such a way that there was no doubting he was serious.

I stared at him incredulously. “Are you out of your mind?” I said. “How can you talk that way about such a magnificent work?” Didn’t he know, I asked, that Brahms considered it a classic and said he himself would have composed a concerto for the cello if he’d known such effects were possible?

Pierne shrugged. “What of it? Was Brahms infallible? You’re enough of a musician to know how bad the music is.”

I was almost speechless with anger. “If that’s the way you feel about the work,” I said, “then you’re clearly not capable of conducting it. Since I happen to love the music, I couldn’t take part in its desecration. And I won’t. I refuse to play.”

Members of the orchestra began pressing around us. Someone said the hall was full, and it was time to go onstage. Pierne told me, “Well, we have no choice. You’ll have to play.”

“On the contrary,” I said, “I’m going home.”

Pierne rushed onstage. He stood there with his hands raised, his hair and beard disheveled. He declared dramatically, “Pablo Casals refuses to play for us today!”

A great commotion broke out in the hall. I wanted to explain what had happened, but I couldn’t make myself heard above the din. People started crowding onto the stage, arguing and protesting that they had paid for their tickets. I caught sight of the composer Claude Debussy standing nearby. I told him about the situation. “Ask Debussy,” I said to Pierne, “if he thinks any artist could perform under the circumstances.”

To my astonishment, Debussy shrugged and said, “If you really wanted to play, you could.”

I replied, “That may be your opinion, Monsieur Debussy, but I can tell you I haven’t the slightest intention of doing so.”

I got my things together and left the hall.

Profound.** Also, his highly unimaginative composition as a 20th century musician is of a level of classical inanity even Haydn would have turned his nose up at.

**I do not mean profound at all.