David Kelly: ‘New music’

New music Gunther Schuller concert Though some was just a bit off how we’re clapping this new stuff making more than welcome the Yank composer/conductor. Schuller shuffles back (Penguin from the old TV Batman) gets the trumpeter to stand (louder clapping from all hands), surges over to the flute, sweeps her up, up, to her feet, somehow keeps moving, anoints the softly plucking harpist and, to share the happy noise, makes the whole orchestra rise. We clap them all—clap and clap and clap until .

.. well, we stop.



Then they all drift off backstage and a scruffy quietness reigns before we stand up and walk out for interval and talk. And that sound torrent is worth mulling, tossing back and forth: ..

. the jazz-based bit we both liked ..

. the slow bit that somehow lacked the hone of musical speech (uncommunicating screech when we couldn’t hear the harp due to the crushing burp-burp from the—was it the trombone?) ..

. another part where the tone invoked the shimmer of bronze and coppery gold colours. So we walk around a bit and swap our thoughts and feelings, stand in the foyer, gaze at the freshly-painted ceiling and at the audience who, like us, came for something new.

No, we’re not here from habit— there’s a big purpose tonight. We will, with handfuls of yes, make this hall a holy place for these new music makers, these stubborn sound fossickers. Our long applause will help them unearth unheard melodies from the wide flat lands up time.

The bell rings. We go back in, change seats for a better view. This concert is only on once and all of it is new, created by the chosen for us, the curious few.

So, when Schuller shuffles on beaming from the side stage door he’s encouraged with still more clapping. He waves the baton. Music prowls and shrieks and hums.

The sound we have come for comes. Old man, young music; sweet, raw. Come back often.

Bring us more. David Kelly.