Whether it is Chinese vs western music; “classical” vs other genres; Schubert vs Beethoven; or even two Adagios from the same composer, there will be different nuances. Recently had a conversation with my friend @jessicang about mood and emotions in music-making. Sometimes music isn’t even about emotion, but states. This applies especially to performers, I believe. We’re often told to “express”. But what does that even mean? As interpretive performers, we tell stories written by someone else. But I’d argue that even for first-hand creators (composers, writers), they don’t express as much as construct the reality of a story. And the expression naturally takes a backseat to this story-telling process. 

But, expression does come, though in spite of. The alchemy of the entire work process which makes it inspite of, instead of deliberate, is the music, the art. I feel it is in the despite of that true “expression” becomes authentic and honest. (And therefore having the malleability to be spontaneous and dynamic.) The true artist to me is not the one who repeats every performance in exactly the same way (freakishly impressive accuracy!), but one who brings to life the unique essence of any given moment in time in a performance. 

I believe one way to get into these states is to find in our whole being in notes, intervals, phrases, and pieces as physical states that include moods and feelings and everything else (that is “unsayable”, as Rilke often wrote). The state of playing in the string section the most sublime pianissimo passage in a Mahler symphony, and a violin duet that needs to fill the hall-it’s not about loud and soft but the state and presence of how we feel our presence in a space. And a part of it can be a very tangibly PHYSICAL process. 

A lot is said about how to use the body to play “well”. But if music was just that, it wouldn’t be an art. We are musicians, but we need to feel what it means to embody expression and moods like dancers and actors, while also having the acuity of a stage/film director to understand the technique to transform a story from one medium to another. So that whether we’re transitioning between genres or phrases or movements in a piece, the body can seamlessly and fluidly move from one state to another, in congruity with our moods and feeling, and in congruity with movement we need to play. Everything-physical, intellectual, emotional, aural, and all senses integrated as one dynamic process. Some particularly gifted musicians are so tapped into this that they don’t need help at all to get there, but that’s not the majority. There are so many young professionals that I’ve coach who shy from singing and moving their body with music, or some people who feel us pros should be above doing this sort of thing. But if one feels inhibited doing that, how do you find that state of being to play “with expression”? These are not separate, discrete processes, and this cognitive dissonance needs to be addressed. To learn to play well also means that one needs to let go of such inhibitions that prevent one from finding that fully-embodying state to really play. 

I love being able to do different things from time to time. Getting into different sound worlds sensitizes one further to what one is used to normally in contrast. Even if it’s music I wouldn’t necessarily listen to myself, there is always a distinct physical pleasure to find my way into something that I don’t normally do. In this case with Chinese music, it’s another distinct experience to play something that I really already “know” in my blood even if I was never trained in it, but which also somehow feels like a completely novel language for me. 

By the way, these pieces are written by the HK composer Doming Lam. I love the imaginativeness in the string quartet-I wish I’d gotten to meet him.