Comments on: Concord Chamber Players with Dicterow, Barker Offer Treats and Trifles http://classical-scene.com/2010/03/08/concord-chamber-players-with-dicterow-barker-offer-treats-and-trifles/ a virtual journal and blog of the classical music scene in Boston Wed, 23 May 2012 03:34:37 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.2 By: Christopher Greenleaf http://classical-scene.com/2010/03/08/concord-chamber-players-with-dicterow-barker-offer-treats-and-trifles/comment-page-1/#comment-1851 Christopher Greenleaf Tue, 09 Mar 2010 16:34:24 +0000 http://classical-scene.com/?p=2982#comment-1851 In writing about the Concord Chamber Players concert this past Sunday, Mr. Koven draws attention to — these are my own words — his heightened sense of pitch at revealing moments in the program. This invites the comment that, in the often unresonant venues where much of our regional chamber music is presented, it is both difficult for the audience to accurately perceive the pitches of instruments at certain ranges and challenging for even experienced musicians to look to the performance acoustic for accurate tuning support. A month or so back, my own pitch sense was in annoyed disarray in this same multi-purpose hall at Concord Academy. In my assigned seat, the transformer and air handling noise level was so great that I moved the moment I could do so, only to land in a different mix of the same noise floor. Strong first reflections off the high ceiling above the stage chased me to yet another seat. A further move would have been disruptive that sold-out afternoon. It could be that, as a classical recording engineer, I am ill-equipped to just settle for what’s available in rooms not originally designed for the subtlety of acoustic music, but this particular experience was especially off-putting. When I hear repeated odd intonation from musicians whose ability and ears are beyond question, I tend to want to know what’s going on acoustically. That’s part of my profession. Most dry venues substantially absorb certain frequencies, subtly or markedly emphasize others. Flat walls and shells project strong first and subsequent reflections (echoes) to unpredictable reaches of the seating. How well and enjoyably a listener then hears a performance is a matter of luck. Skilled ensemble placement on stage and the reduction of ambient noise levels throughout the room yield good results, but this is not always enough. What can a concerned, life-long music lover do when these experiences are common, even the norm? Voting with one’s feet means missing fine music making. Sitting in noisy, dead halls is a dreadful way to try to pierce through to committed music making and profound scores. Politely, neutrally drawing the attention of hall personnel to loud lighting buzzes or the persistent thunder from big vents overhead is not often constructive. Comments of this sort predictably elicits frost or institutional defensiveness. I hope with all my being that the new halls the Constellation Center has promised us will encourage our public to demand excellence in acoustics, and to become consciously pro-active in the process. The availability of not just one, but four profoundly well-designed new sets of acoustics may well startle folks into an awareness of what a quiet, uncolored, mildly (and tunably) reverberant ambience can do for the enjoyment of music. This exchange of views will have to follow the sinking of a silver spade into Kendall Square sod, of course. Christopher Greenleaf, Avondale, RI In writing about the Concord Chamber Players concert this past Sunday, Mr. Koven draws attention to — these are my own words — his heightened sense of pitch at revealing moments in the program. This invites the comment that, in the often unresonant venues where much of our regional chamber music is presented, it is both difficult for the audience to accurately perceive the pitches of instruments at certain ranges and challenging for even experienced musicians to look to the performance acoustic for accurate tuning support. A month or so back, my own pitch sense was in annoyed disarray in this same multi-purpose hall at Concord Academy. In my assigned seat, the transformer and air handling noise level was so great that I moved the moment I could do so, only to land in a different mix of the same noise floor. Strong first reflections off the high ceiling above the stage chased me to yet another seat. A further move would have been disruptive that sold-out afternoon.
It could be that, as a classical recording engineer, I am ill-equipped to just settle for what’s available in rooms not originally designed for the subtlety of acoustic music, but this particular experience was especially off-putting. When I hear repeated odd intonation from musicians whose ability and ears are beyond question, I tend to want to know what’s going on acoustically. That’s part of my profession. Most dry venues substantially absorb certain frequencies, subtly or markedly emphasize others. Flat walls and shells project strong first and subsequent reflections (echoes) to unpredictable reaches of the seating. How well and enjoyably a listener then hears a performance is a matter of luck. Skilled ensemble placement on stage and the reduction of ambient noise levels throughout the room yield good results, but this is not always enough.
What can a concerned, life-long music lover do when these experiences are common, even the norm? Voting with one’s feet means missing fine music making. Sitting in noisy, dead halls is a dreadful way to try to pierce through to committed music making and profound scores. Politely, neutrally drawing the attention of hall personnel to loud lighting buzzes or the persistent thunder from big vents overhead is not often constructive. Comments of this sort predictably elicits frost or institutional defensiveness.
I hope with all my being that the new halls the Constellation Center has promised us will encourage our public to demand excellence in acoustics, and to become consciously pro-active in the process. The availability of not just one, but four profoundly well-designed new sets of acoustics may well startle folks into an awareness of what a quiet, uncolored, mildly (and tunably) reverberant ambience can do for the enjoyment of music.
This exchange of views will have to follow the sinking of a silver spade into Kendall Square sod, of course.

Christopher Greenleaf, Avondale, RI

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