Marley

Marilyn Anderson, Contributor

IN ONE part of the city, under the lofty roof of a well-known venue for the performing arts, an event of some importance is clearly about to take place.

Well-dressed humans, many holding important positions in the body politic, are milling about in the foyer, greeting each other, exchanging pleasantries. There is an ambience of expectancy, a slight tension in the air.

No one is in fear of his neighbour, no uprising or raucous behaviour is expected from those in the cheaper seats, even though the normal human social hierarchy is preserved via the price system.

This environment of relaxation probably leads to a general slackening of blood pressure and lowered pulse rates. Suddenly, a lone male struts front and centre on the platform, and his arrival is greeted by a loud percussive sound caused by the simultaneous smashing of hundreds of human palms against each other. When he is seated at the grand piano, silence reigns. Protocol is supreme.

NO GUN SALUTES

There must be no audible humming along, coughing or spitting, talking, fighting, kissing, or gun salutes. Muscles relax, physical activity is at a minimum, but in hundreds of brains there are unbelievably complex processes of interpretation going on, from the reptilian part of the human brain (which is almost exactly analogous to that of the entire brain of lizards and crocodiles) to the frontal lobes.

In the auditory cortex there is tremendously heightened neural activity as cascades of vibrations and thousands of reverberations bounce off walls and roof, and are received by ears which ultimately report them to the brain as pulsing electrochemical signals.

The vibrations of the music, muffled somewhat by the tons of human flesh gathered to experience their production, were planned by masters of their craft and were originally written down on the spatio-temporal system of Western musical notation, probably hundreds of years ago, but with such intricacy and complexity that audiences still pay considerable sums to witness live performances.

OVERWHELMED

Most present, unless trained in the relevant musical conventions, are overwhelmed by the task of sorting patterns from the waves of sound and the skill of the specialist performer, who is by now probably playing at a rate faster than the human eye can consistently report to the brain, so there is no score, everything is produced from memory.

Some brains just enjoy the music on a sensual level; others may find their consciousness elevated to the spiritual, energetic level in some mysterious space-time fourth dimension; still others just give up and go to sleep, surrounded in an ecstatic cocoon of sound waves, and awaken only when jerked back to reality by the ritual of smashing of the palms. The louder and the longer the smashing, the greater the appreciation.

The pianist returns the compliment by bowing and perhaps playing an extra piece, but he remains relatively unscathed - although some of his profession (like an ailing Dinu Lipatti during an emotional all-Chopin recital) have been known to collapse at the piano and die onstage while performing.

TRIBUTE IN MUSIC

Not all audiences show appreciation by the innocuous activity of clapping. In some cases music audiences are much more robust in their reactions when moved by the power of the music. In the New Guinea rain forest, guest performers enter a Kaluli longhouse where they pay tribute in music to the sacred traditions of their hosts - their ancestors, the homeland, and so on.

When this audience is greatly moved, tears flow abundantly, and the audience show appreciation by grabbing torches from the walls of the longhouse and singeing the arms and shoulders of the singers and instrumentalists.

This violent act, amazingly, only spurs the performers to greater efforts, and so the weeping and wounding continue all night until by dawn when the musicians leave to go home, they are able to proudly display the badges of their prowess in the form of second and third degree burns.

DRINKING BEER

At still another venue, this time in upstate New York, hundreds of young people are packed indoors waiting to be thrilled by the over- amplified electric guitars of a rock band. The rock fans are drinking beer, some are already semi-drunk; others nearer to the stage will leave the concert with permanently damaged hearing.

A 'light show' is also in progress. This is designed to 'enhance' the assault on the senses being maintained by the sounds of the music.

In the confusion a fire is started from materials used in the 'light show' and only then do the panicked, stampeding fans realise that the promoters have not made provision for adequate exits or firefighting equipment.

Tragically, nearly a hundred bright college-age young persons, with everything to live for, perish in the flames and many more are injured in the stampede to the available exits.

In our churches in the Christian west, music is an essential component of our liturgies and service-books, or our free flowing charismatic-type orders of service, and reflects the cultural divergence of Christianity.

Music in the Christian religion includes many forms such as psalmody and plainsong in the older branches to the cantata, the anthem and service hymn and gospel song. In some of the newly-emerging churches, electric guitars and rock band instruments are used to accompany the faithful in congregational singing.

This latter practice may be frowned on by purists, but it should be remembered that in early puritan America, organs imported from England were attacked and often destroyed at night by extremists who called them the devil's clutch of 'whistles', totally unsuitable for worship (as also were 'manmade hymns'), since only the god-given natural, untrained, human voice singing 'psalms' could render proper homage to the creator of mankind.

The most rapidly growing churches seem to be those where the young people are most able to express themselves in the music of their church.

In my own faith - the Seventh-day Adventist church - it would be difficult to find a young member who does not sing or play a musical instrument, whether in the traditions of gospel music, Caribbean steel pan music, choral ensembles, folk music, or the classics.

NEXT WEEK: Raising music to a science. Marilyn Anderson is the Dean of the College of Arts and General Studies and music educator at Northern Caribbean University.