“I’m always learning. I have never given any best performance. I’m not satisfied. I may have become famous but the struggle continues at every stage. If people have enjoyed my music, I’m happy too. But when people come and tell me my concert was good, I’m confused. If they tell me which raga I played well, which part of the concert they enjoyed most, or which part did not impress them, that would be good feedback. I can learn and perfect myself only when I get critical opinion.”
I’d say that comments like “Great playing,” or something like that is always nice to hear, it gives you confidece and keeps you going. Feedback and critisism is more useful. I like it when I recieve both. The best thing is when people who know what they are talking about tells me what I did very good and what I could have done better.
So long as it’s fom my peers or my betters in my discipline, I’ll take the critiques gladly, as they are in a position to know how to help, knowing the art form as they do. An outsider’s criticism I’d deflect with a “thank you for the input”, but probably ignore it (and I’ve done that) unless there’s something to it (and I’ve done that, too).
I do solicit comments from people concerning audibility, the mix, etc.
But I understand Mr. Chaurasia’s sense of dissonance. When I’m performing, I’m my toughest critic, and it’s a strange thing when I really wanted to do better and people say they loved it! That’s the main thing, anyway: I’m there for them, not me. I usually know where I drop the ball, anyway, so it’s for me to correct.
Henke and Nanohedron, the maestro is not talking about receiving comments just from “people who know what they are talking about” or from insider’s or a peer group of fellow flautists but from the audience at large.
Performance appreciation is not just about feedback on technique but also very much about how the playing touched the soul.
Yes, I understood that. That must be my context, however, as most listeners don’t know how to put their finger on -and elucidate- what gets to them, be it good, bad, or indifferent when it comes to music. Ask for a description, and it’s “I don’t know how to put it”. And that’s not a put-down. That’s just how it is.
Yes indeed, and which brings me in part to the performer’s place in the equation. Appreciative feedback aside, I can generally tell when somebody doesn’t respond positively in some way to what I’m doing, but then I watch the audience and try to take its pulse. I can’t always know what it is that influences negative responses. I know it ain’t always me (although I always look to myself first). Could be a romantic disaster, musical narrowmindedness, a head cold, or hemmorhoids resulting in a listener’s bad mood for all I know. All the transcendent playing in the world won’t crack some hardcases. Then there’s alcohol if you play in pubs, as I usually do. People become embarrassingly effusive or sour and dissatisfied for the slightest reasons when you put that into the mix. I have to take a lot with the proverbial grain of salt, as you might understand. But I’ll take effusive any day.
Nano, I could percuss or dance but never play flute in a pub. I am not a snob. I just can’t do it. You can call it a disability if you like.
I was in the Rocks some years ago - the old maritime historic quarter of Sydney and a visiting Irish band was playing in a pub. I was with some friends I had been busking with and I had gone in with them as they wanted a drink. Well one of the Irish band members gets out this low D whistle and plays the most haunting air BUT, of course, you could barely hear it for all the noise and hubabub in the pub. He looked so miffed after he finsihed the piece. What can I say? Its a free country and the people in the pub are entitled to be what they want to be. Its not my type of audience though.
Pubs are NOT easy. Most of Mr. Chaurasia’s audience are there with an idea what to expect, are there to listen appreciatively (assuming mom and dad didn’t force one ), and have at least some exposure if not familiarity with Indian Classical Music. Last night, for instance, I dealt with the usual mix: the faithful, the by word-of-mouth newcomer, the critic, the total accidental stranger in a state of surprise, the numb-to-all, the philistine, and so on. I play for them all. That’s all I can do.
I like playing in pub enviroments myself but that might be because when I do it we (my band) are usually on stage and amplified. And the majority of the people who come’s there are there for the music, might not only be for us, but to enjoy music anyway. There are of course the occational drunk who can make a small mess but generally I like the feeling you get in Pubs, most people are there to have a good time. I like having our own concerts even more but that doesn’t happen too often.
On the other hand, a performer or performers in an auditorium setting don’t have it easy, either. In that case there is an attentive audience, and any sense of pressure would come from a sense of that attention, I think. Soloing would be the toughest of all. But you just go ahead and play. I’ve been there, and will be again, I imagine. Remembering that I do it for them makes it easier. It’s an offering. And above all I’d better play tunes I don’t have to think about! But Chaurasia, playing raags, has to improvise on a theme in a much greater way than one would do variations in a reel, for example. That’s care enough without having someone else’s evaluation hanging over your head.
Which brings me to this: I think that honest self-assesment is more important than outside input to the artist excepting that from one’s seniors in one’s craft. Even then, one needs to be true to oneself, for it is oneself after all that is being communicated, for better or worse. I would do myself and others a disservice if I continually try mold myself to what I thought was someone else’s wants. Not suggesting that Chaurasia is at risk of that; in fact, rereading his above statement I get the firm impression that he’s referring to the informed among his audience. That is a form of peer. I’ve accepted advice from nonmusicians who know ITM inside and out because it’s what they were steeped in. I guess this brings me back to my first post!
What do you find you are tempted to "percuss"in a pub, Talasiga ?
The flautists ?
It sounds like the people having a drink in the pub in Sydney were not the audience. They were just people having a drink. Perhaps that’s what they went in for.
My dictionaries do not fit with your idea of audience, but they are only American and English. I must get an Australian one, if such things exist, for emergency use.
When we talk of the audience here we are meaning potential audience. That is naturally implied. It is very probable that the pub owners engaged this Irish band from the other side of the globe because they thought that there was a potential audience for the band in the pub (along with increased custom from those who would have come especially to see the band). The whistle player seemed obviously miffed because he put his heart and soul into that piece and it fell on deaf hears mostly.
All I am saying is I am not able to play folk flute or other ethnic flute type music in such environments and I have praised those who can (please see page one).
That’s playing in pubs. You never know how the patrons will engage the performance on a given night. Even though there may be a raised stage and stage lights to call added attention to the act, I think it’s important to remember that part of the job description is to be ready to be consigned to the role of “auditory wallpaper”, especially if you’re playing traditional musics amplified to an easy-on-the-ears level. Some nights all the patrons are huddled in their groups furiously solving the world’s problems. Let the music aid in that, then! I consider that to be doing my job, too. The only “ITM-ish” acts I’ve ever seen where attention is invariably riveted to the performance involve extremely high-energy, brash, very loudly amplified sets, usually rebel, drinking or bawdy songs, rock influenced, and many guitars aren’t unusual. Some of these folks are even highly skilled. But you can’t help but pay attention because of the auditory assault, and it’s too loud to have a decent conversation without shouting. I don’t like bludgeoning the listener. It’s not all about me. If it is, maybe I need to reassess why I’m there.
On the other hand, some audiences honestly seem to like it loud and gritty. I just get irritated. Something for everybody, I suppose.
Alas, but … our band has observed that peoples’ enjoyment of our performances seems to increase proportionally with levels of intoxication (theirs, and heck, maybe ours too).
), and have at least some exposure if not familiarity with Indian Classical Music. Last night, for instance, I dealt with the usual mix: the faithful, the by word-of-mouth newcomer, the critic, the total accidental stranger in a state of surprise, the numb-to-all, the philistine, and so on. I play for them all. That’s all I can do.
