It was a Saturday when Keith called, or at least I think it was a Saturday. In this pandemic a Saturday can, and often does, feel like a Tuesday, or really any other day. While I thought it a bit odd that Keith would be calling at all (he’s more of an email guy), I was delighted to hear from my friend, and manager of the Toledo Symphony Orchestra (TSO). My delight at hearing his voice quickly gave way to surprise when I learned why he was calling—to find out how I would feel about performing in two weeks at the upcoming season-opening concerts. Less than two weeks, really, as rehearsals would begin in 10 days for Four Seasons Reconstructed, for strings, continuo, and harp, arranged by Max Richter. My initial reaction was surprise, followed quickly by apprehension. How would this work? I knew that the musicians had not approved the initial set of “Back to Work Health Protocols” that had been presented to us, and that the committee was working with management on modifying areas of concern.
The TSO, like many orchestras across the United States, was planning to start the season with a celebration of the 250th anniversary of Beethoven’s birth, which meant no harp. I knew that management had been in near constant meetings to restructure our 2020-2021 season since late spring. We had several Zoom meetings throughout the spring and summer, discussing proposed repertoire. Our management was committed to presenting concerts to a live audience, as well as live and on-demand streaming.
The night before Keith called, the TSO decided to change the original repertoire for the opening concerts to not use woodwinds or brass. The problem with aerosols emitted from these instruments, and the length of time they should be playing at one time (30 minutes maximum), forced management to rebuild the concert program. Richter’s Restructured Vivaldi, along with a concerto for four violins, originally scheduled for November, fit our needs exactly. This would allow the opening weekend’s concerts to proceed while buying some time to work on the aerosols issue later.
Our last performance with the full orchestra had been on March 13 when we performed to an empty hall, with the concert broadcast on our local PBS station. During that week, as our world was changing rapidly around us, my colleagues and I all wondered what we were doing still rehearsing. The concert—Brahms’ Third Symphony, Songs of a Wayfarer, and music of Boulanger—was musically thrilling, and we all played with an awareness of the gravity of the moment and of what might be in our future.
After the mandatory closing of almost everything in April, the path of our return to the concert stage was a long one. Toledo has a tradition of giving an annual outdoor band concert on the Fourth of July, with many members of the TSO in that ensemble. They decided to present the traditional outdoor concert to a small, socially distanced audience, but broadcast to a larger audience by our local PBS station. The concert was not only a huge success, but helped management with how to begin thinking about presenting orchestra concerts.
The next step was to begin negotiations between TSO management and our orchestra committee. We have always had an excellent relationship between management and musicians. Naturally, these negotiations were the first of their kind for everyone involved, and were totally devoted to musician health and safety. Most agreed that these talks were, without a doubt, the most difficult negotiations that they had ever experienced, in large part because all of the meetings were on Zoom.
After numerous proposals and votes on each, our health protocols were finally passed, repertoire was chosen, and musicians notified. Then, the TSO box office staff went into overdrive. Our regular Friday and Saturday night subscribers were divided equally between Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon. Each subscriber was assigned a new seat and emailed a detailed document entitled “Know Before You Go,” which outlined everything from which entrance door to use, mandatory masks for the entire concert, no intermission, and the availability of a digital download instead of a printed program. Also included were instructions on following large video screens, located on each side of the stage, for each section of the concert hall to be dismissed separately. Subscribers also had the option to stream the concert at home using a new TSO app and a newly-built streaming platform. Streaming tickets were also made available to the general public.
Many of my fellow musicians were questioning if it was not only safe, but wise, to push so hard to present a concert for a live audience. I was heartened by the words of our president and CEO, Zak Vassar who, in a message to the orchestra, wrote: “This year will force us to dig deep in many ways and embrace our call as artists in an uncomfortable time. Art and music can restore perspective. Live performances can communicate concepts that words cannot. Concerts can provoke moments of escape, calm, and introspection…we can bring peace to this troubled time.”
So, on that Saturday when I received the phone call, I told Keith that I would get back to him later that day with my answer, after discussing it with my husband and listening to the work.
I decided to play the concert, and very soon after that, a knot quickly formed in my stomach. On the day of the first rehearsal, just ten days after that phone call, the knot had grown a lot larger. There were so many questions and far too many unknowns.
As I approached the hall, two masked staff members outside the entrance to ask the requisite health questions and take my temperature. Entering the hall, I first walked past a small table with hand sanitizer. Arrows clearly indicated a one-way path to enter the stage. It all felt surreal, uncomfortable, and unsettling. There was no conductor for this concert, so I was seated front and center, with eight violins to my right, and four violas, four cellos, and two basses on my left. The harpsichord was directly behind me. We all were the requisite six feet apart, taking up about two-thirds of the stage.
As I was tuning and my colleagues began arriving, there was an unnatural stillness on stage. No one was engaging in the usual chattiness, especially after having not seen one another in six months of arguably the strangest time period of our lives. Instead, everyone remained in their pre-determined six-foot bubble. It felt odd and very uncomfortable. That feeling lasted through both rehearsals on day one, and through the first of two performances. I would have short moments where I enjoyed playing, and then I would notice my mask. I was always acutely aware that it was in my peripheral vision. We all were allowed to wear whatever face covering we wanted, including masks provided to us, branded with the TSO logo.
Masks were required the entire time, which included not only the musicians, but stage crew, camera crew, and support staff. Everyone was taking this very seriously. We did, however, need occasional reminders from management about maintaining the required six feet of separation, even when checking bowings with a colleague, or in my case checking with the harpsichordist about a cue. Oops—I thought it was far enough away!
Rehearsals were limited to 90 minutes with no break. Restrooms had a maximum capacity of two people, with stalls and sinks taped off. There was one way into and out of the hall, with arrows reminding the players which way to go. Our concert dress code, while still black, had been changed to less formal casual black. This was to allow us all to wear clothing that does not require dry cleaning.
For future concerts that involve woodwinds and brass, rehearsal order will be adjusted to have their participation limited to 30 minutes at a time, which is the suggested time as recommended in new health protocols.
With the rehearsals completed and the new protocols in place, returning to actually performing was something that I eagerly anticipated because I truly missed it. Putting on concert black on a Friday night, not putting on lipstick (Why bother?), and driving to the hall was something that was nostalgic, sad, but ultimately a little reassuring.
How did it feel to be making music again with others? There were moments of pure joy—I especially was moved to tears during the slow movement of “Winter,” when the harp does not play, sitting eight feet away from our brilliant soloist. I could just sit there, not worry about counting measures, and soak it in. It was a profoundly beautiful moment. But, truthfully, most of the time it felt awkward, tense, and rather cheerless. It was almost abnormal to the point of distraction. Almost. Because this is when my decades of performing experience kicked in, and I would come close to being able to ignore the masked couple in the otherwise empty second row that was right in my sight line through the strings. Or not be alarmed when the applause was a fraction of its usual volume. With each performance we all settled in to our new normal, and by Sunday, the day of the final concert, we all clicked and made musical magic again.
The TSO has tentative programs in two-month time blocks, with alternative scenarios embedded in each. Our Music Director is Canadian, and due to the border closings is unable to conduct for the foreseeable future. We all know that the repertoire, soloists, and conductors will probably change in the months ahead. As we proceed through a concert season unlike any other, I am grateful for the support of our TSO board, management, and subscribers; careful in following health protocols; and hopeful that we can fulfill our mission to bring live and living music to our audience. We all need live performances more than ever, and I was excited to help bring orchestral music back to my
community. •
