We’ve all seen the adverts. Jarring visuals and startling music combined with a voiceover that’s as close to hysteria as is possible without actually exploding. Easy to clean! Removes unwanted stains! (As though there’s any other kind) Turns a sandwich into a banquet! The problem with these commercials is that when the product is ultimately unveiled, it’s impossible to be anything but underwhelmed. Usually, the device is little more than a plastic lump with a metal attachment, resembling the results of an appendectomy if performed on a washing machine. Plastic surgical off-cuts are seldom much use. There’s only one thing that can truly do everything.
We’ve all seen the adverts. Jarring visuals and startling music combined with a voiceover that’s as close to hysteria as is possible without actually exploding. Easy to clean! Removes unwanted stains! (As though there’s any other kind) Turns a sandwich into a banquet! The problem with these commercials is that when the product is ultimately unveiled, it’s impossible to be anything but underwhelmed. Usually, the device is little more than a plastic lump with a metal attachment, resembling the results of an appendectomy if performed on a washing machine. Plastic surgical off-cuts are seldom much use. There’s only one thing that can truly do everything.
When most people think of an orchestra, they either think of an uptight bunch of classical musicians existing in the rarefied world of classical music or, possibly, the words ‘Electric Light’. But an orchestra is so much more than just a hundred person cover band churning out the greatest hits of Beethoven and Mahler. Better than anything, orchestras set the mood. Forget candles or incense; if you really want to control the emotional temperature, music is the way to go. And when it comes to the heavy artillery, nothing packs as much punch as an orchestra. That’s why almost every film you’ve ever seen relies on an orchestra to pull the emotional strings.
Let me be the first to say I love the Oscars. They’re cheesy and, to borrow from David Niven, succeed in squeezing two hours of entertainment into four hours. But more than set the mood, the Oscars let an orchestra display its versatility. Besides giving the occasion a sense of gravitas, the orchestra is an indispensible tool for getting people to shut up. Often, an actor, actress or, more horrifyingly, one of the guys from the special effects team will win an award and mistake it as an invitation to thank everyone they’ve ever met by name or, worse still, attempt to tell their life story. As the entire viewing audience starts to turn rigid with fear, the orchestra cuts in and brings proceedings to a merciful end. There should be more of it. Who amongst us hasn’t wished for an orchestra to cut off someone mid sentence?
Last week, I was at a conference. It included a panel discussion moderated by a man who, perhaps thinking he had just won the award for best sound editing, took it as an opportunity to tell his life story and to not allow the panel members to get a word in edgewise. Even when it was pointed out that he had used up all the allotted time and the next session was now delayed, he continued. It is difficult to convey how awful it was and I began to lament that lightning strikes are almost unheard of indoors as I wished for any calamity that would shut this turkey up. If only there had been an orchestra on hand.
But more than just the ultimate silencer, there’s so much more a fully functioning orchestra can do. For decades, local councils have used classical music to deter young people from hanging around train stations and shopping malls. To be fair, such locations are logical places for young people to lurk, particularly if they want to catch a train or buy something. But imagine how much more effective such programs would be if, instead of a compact disc, an entire symphony orchestra was squeezed in between platform two and the kiosk? Rather than drive young people away, it would give them a chance to properly appreciate the awesome mind-blowing power of classical music. Local hoodlums could develop a passion for Rachmaninov. That said, Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring is more likely to encourage anti-social behaviour than curb it, having nearly caused a riot when it premiered in 1913.
For myself, although I’ve been in lots of bands, I was only ever in one orchestra and, even then, for a very brief time. In high school, I studied percussion. Inspired either by Tito Puente or, possibly, Sheila E, I turned up for two lessons before my teacher decided it was time for me to join the school orchestra. Right from the outset, I could tell I was different from the other seventy members of the group. For starters, the others were able to play their instruments with a degree of proficiency. To make things worse, the other members of the orchestra had practiced their parts; something I considered unnecessary.
As the music started, everyone else paid a great deal of attention to their sheet music. In contrast, I decided to improvise. And whilst I hoped that my contribution would be lost in the cacophony, this was unlikely given that I was playing the drums. Indeed, as I flailed like a Muppet it became obvious that I was playing as though I was in a different band, if not performing a different piece of music. The conductor was aghast and stopped the performance solely for the purpose of asking me what it was I was doing. As one hundred and forty eyes focused their attention on me, it was clear that no answer I could provide would be good enough. In an ideal world, I would have picked up my sticks, made a short concession speech and left the room as the remaining members of the orchestra gave me a suitable musical send off. Sadly, it was not to be. I simply had to take it, with humiliation as my only accompaniment.