In terms of expectation management, I could have done better last night at the opening of the 79th Holland Festival. Rain showers would be defensible, and in any case did extraordinary things to the footwear of the hundred or so visitors who had gathered, with me, in Amsterdam's Wertheim Park: not a pump in sight. There, on the lawn in front of the Auschwitz memorial, we set up the app with which we were to form a live orchestra work, in a long march to Royal Theatre Carré.
This Holland Festival is all about ’empathetic listening’, and I was all set for that. Our phones loaded to the last ridge with fresh power, the gentle buzzing of individual instruments on the dozens of phones in our group began at precisely 7.30pm. Those sounds could be heard at seven different starting points around Carré. Notes, composed by American-Chinese composer and performer Huang Ruo, that were about to merge with the sound of the city. On this rainy day, the sun seemed to break through the clouds just for a moment. Mindful to the max, I joined those making their way to Carré.
Beregezellig
What could have been a silent march from the Auschwitz memorial through the historically charged Plantation neighbourhood, accompanied by a carried musical drone, became a thoroughly enjoyable walk where everyone enthusiastically saw the friends from the previous opening again, which necessitated lively conversation about the last holiday, the new job, the fresh grandchild. It got so loud that only tight to the ear was your own instrument audible.
Of course, you can't blame anyone that reuniting with friends was more important than a mindful walk to sacred music past the hundreds of stumbling stones with which the route is paved, but it gnawed a bit. Once in line at the entrance to Carré, most visitors had already turned off their phones.
Possibly it would work better at a regular performance: festival openings, of which I have now experienced almost 30 at the Holland Festival, are usually not the occasions where people come for the content. Many guests are there because they can play their role as invitee.
Surround
The programme itself, which began with the orchestral performance of the work we had been able to hear during the walk, was beautiful enough, to command silence. The arrangement of the orchestra, not only on the Carré stage, but also in a few spots in the stands, created a nice surround effect, which would not have been possible on the street.
It was all a bit woolly and full on at the dramatic climax, more of a wall of sound then floating sounds shall we say. The individual instruments went down in the din. So maybe my experience of the walk had been just the thing? Could just be. After all, Huang Ruo is quite a genius.
This was evident during the finale, which consisted of a wacky piece full of Asian sounds and an appearance by the composer himself as a jolly harlequin with unintelligible lyrics.
Laurie Anderson
The warmest memory, however, is of Laurie Anderson's tiny surprise performance. She only had a few minutes for her entr'acte after Emily Ansenk's opening speech, but that's all she needed to keep the audience glued to her with her electronics and empathetic humour. So clear, so pure, so listenable, that after enduring the horribly noisy opening drinks, I floated via the metro to the train and forgot to check in between.
The conductor listened empathetically.
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