As soon as Yo-Yo Ma took the stage, cello in hand, the entire grounds of Tanglewood erupted in monumentous applause, despite the fact that he had not even played a single note. The summer air buzzed with palpable excitement as he prepared, and we, to be transported into the world of Bach.
A part of Yo-Yo Ma’s ambitious endeavor, titled “The Bach Project,” to perform the suites at 36 locations spanning six continents beginning in 2018, the Aug. 11, 2019 concert was only one of many stops on the Bach tour. In addition to an uninterrupted performance of all six suites, each stop included a “day of action” in which the community, and Ma, participated in local activities in an effort to promote culture.
Listening to Ma’s recordings of the Unaccompanied Suites recently, I was reminded of this spectacular performance, which was also the last time I had attended a live classical concert since COVID. With declining attendance at classical music concerts since the beginning of the pandemic, this year it has only continued to plummet, even as select audience members have resought the unique experience of live performance.
During quarantine, I often tuned into live streams on YouTube, including Ma’s performance of the suites directly from his home in Massachusetts. While this digital experience via my laptop offered a far more intimate and raw space for listening, coupled with a chat box that overflowed with comments from listeners across the world, I sorely missed the dazzlingly intimidating experience of attending a live performance.
A key aspect of any performance involves not only the performer, but also extends to the audience members, who help to provide a holistic experience. The fans who had flocked by the thousands to come see the world class cellist perform in the Koussevitzky Shed, an open air auditorium, had themselves come from all over, evident in the myriad of languages heard from every corner of the grounds. Traffic was so static that the concert had been delayed by a half hour. My fellow audience members, however, would wait much longer than that seemingly brief delay to hear Ma perform.
While online performances during the pandemic have made premier classical music more accessible, they stop short of recreating the kaleidoscopic and immersive experience of live music. Three years later, I distinctly recall Ma’s opening slurs of the first suite resounding in a beautiful arc as the rich, vibrant tones traveled past the listeners warm on their blankets all the way to the mountains and valleys in the distance. For two some hours we were transported into a world uninterrupted by the demands of technology, our attention transfixed on the music as we delighted in the pure beauty of Bach. “I want to thank you all for making time,” Ma said at one point, “for taking the time out for us to be together tonight.”
The rest of the evening had passed by blissfully, as suite after suite flowed into another. The listener could not discern one movement from the next as Ma glided his bow into the next phrase, slurring the lines between courante and allemande, sarabande and gigue. Each told its own story which together formed a miraculous journey that took us far beyond the ways we had traveled, transcending cultural boundaries and uniting us under one unforgettable evening.
Ma had happened to note something that carries more prescience now than it did then. Before the fifth suite, in a few carefully chosen words, Ma reached out the piece to anyone who might be experiencing loss—either of a loved one, loss of health, or dignity.
From the moment his bow touched the string, my emotions swirled as I felt within the intensity of Ma’s playing the intentions Bach poured into each note. The mournful chords and the relentless gigue now bring to mind both the sorrows and joys we have all experienced over the past two years, and reminder of our common humanity. Back then, I remember waiting breathlessly for the next movement in a way that only Bach can leave the listener.
Just as the final notes of the sixth suite receded into the distance, fans were pleased to hear James Taylor join Ma for a sweet rendition of “Sweet Baby James.” Even after the notes had faded, the audience could sense that the melodies would stick around for days to come, and in my case, years.
Like the music of Bach, which is always being newly reinterpreted, classical music as both a genre and a community has certainly transformed since my fateful live exposure to Bach three summers ago—coincidentally at the tipping point of our pre-COVID world. However, in light of declining attendance in 2022, even as the pandemic has made more avenues of entertainment accessible online, we must remember that the future of classical music exists only in the endlessly rich and varied potential of live performance.
Photo courtesy of Martin Herrera/Flickr
