There is something that has been going on since the earthquakes, something that doesn't seem to be getting resolved, and I speak from personal experience, as everyone has a different perspective on where we stand after that tragedy. My surroundings changed completely; as you know, music is what surrounds me, it has always been my daily life. I believed that, alongside God, music itself could heal souls, at least the souls of those devoted to this craft, but sadly, I have discovered things that apparently were always there, yet I never saw clearly. Not everyone was making music with the same passion, and the earthquakes and their aftermath finished destroying what was already on unstable ground, and I don’t mean structures...
This Friday, we’re holding our first concert since the day that changed the city, and I still don’t feel right about it. I don’t want to be the kind of person I described in the paragraph above, since music is my life and my passion, but beyond my own personal struggles (of which there are many right now), there are the burdens carried by the musicians around me; and the fact is, the concert hall isn't even ready for events yet, even though the music is prepared. This first concert will take place in a different, much smaller venue than our usual hall, featuring a powerful yet limited repertoire and no formal dress uniforms, just all-black attire. Yet, despite all these details, what matters most is the soul and musical spirit of the group performing, because that is the area where I feel we haven't even reached a fraction of the necessary level.
Don’t get me wrong, in general, everyone shows up and does their job: the musicians, the administrative staff, security, the teachers, the cleaning crew, and so on. And while the work is well done, sometimes I feel like we’re operating like robots. That wouldn’t be a bad thing in any other line of work, but here it’s about music; it’s about sharing what we carry inside us. Sometimes, I can hear in the chords that, deep down, everything is broken... Yes, I’ve been feeling really down these past few months—especially these last few days, but I know what I’m talking about. In fact, harmony among people is part of what has always helped me keep my sanity in a job involving so many of us, and the lack of it might well be contributing to why I don’t feel quite so comfortable right now.
This post isn't about facilities left cracked and damaged, even though we are working in such conditions; it’s about broken souls: people who lost family members and possessions, people changed by fear and economic hardship, people who need to convey emotions through music, even when we don't fully grasp the composer's original intent. There is a significant musical difference between understanding and conveying a composer's vision and simply delivering a technically proficient performance that lacks connection, turning us into mere machines. This phenomenon has always existed, though those who behave this way are generally in the minority. I want to believe that we are still reeling from this collective grief and that things will improve over time; in the meantime, we must smile for the audience, because the show must go on...
