Fata Morgana

a siren, luring sailors onto the rocks with her song // refracted light bent round the Earth’s curved surface so that we ‘see’ an object that is actually beneath the skyline. Fata Morgana is the theme of this year’s Oxford Chamber Music Festival.

Evelyn Glennie started with a whisper of a breath from a gong, that may or may not have been a sound. It took airy form sooner to those in the front row than to us on benches near the ceiling; earlier to the youngsters than to those who are used to straining to hear. Or perhaps not. Perhaps opening ears acutely makes a difference. With one bare foot she stepped on the pedal of a kettle drum and the small round-bottomed bowls on the drumskin vibrated. With a violin bow she charmed sounds from a sheet of suspended plastic and from the keys of a vibraphone. Was it music? What is music?

If their instruments allowed them to, the O/Modernt orchestra stood and expressed the music with their bodies as well as their instruments. In Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia on a theme by Thomas Tallis all I could feel below me was the sea: waves of sound and of bodies, rippling, rising, surging, whipped up, storm tossed, wind-blown, calming, fading, still, reflective…

What is music? Is it emotions? Is it the relationship between the performers or between the performers and the audience or is it just sound? When does it start? When you hear the sound or when you start watching the musician? When does it end? While the silent vibrations are still reaching your ears or when the musician relaxes away from the instrument?

What is going on in the spaces?

Jill Jarman talked about her ‘concerto’, Mindstream (for percussion and strings)* written for Evelyn Glennie and Hugo Ticciati both of whom were here to perform it. She challenged the idea of a ‘concerto’ being a chance to be a virtuoso and said that it was more an invitation to enter the world of the musician.

And that’s what this evening felt like. I came out with my head filled with oxygen: exhilarated, having experienced something quite new. It’s how I feel when I come out of an well-curated exhibition. I don’t have to like all the artworks but the way they have been assembled has created something new in the spaces among them. I’ve never before thought of a concert as curated but this was.

How has it taken me so many years of listening to and making music to recognise this?


* it's much better live, but just in case you want to hear it...