The following is written by Allison Ross, who I interviewed after a well-meaning, but tragically misguided attempt at resurrecting a symphony orchestra's performance schedule in wake of COVID-19....
"I set down my violin case, give a signed form to the nurse, and take a needle prick to the finger. How will that feel while holding the bow at this evening’s rehearsal?, I wonder. But there is no choice – a COVID-19 serology test is a requirement to play this concert. Next, the pre-service health screening: symptom inquiry, temperature reading, N-95 mask distribution.
We should be in the city’s performing arts hall; instead, rehearsal is held at a public-school sports complex. For the next few hours, our music director will compete with the volume of a booming voice announcing the football game on the other side of the wall.
I navigate to my seat and realize that we aren’t assigned stand partners. Each chair is placed exactly six feet apart, and we are admonished not to budge them at all or the stage manager will have to readjust with his tape measure.
We’re also told that our issued masks must be worn absolutely at all times. A wind player is called out for having crossed the area with his mask dangling from one ear. Winds are only allowed to remove their masks once they are seated with an instrument to their lips. For string players – even the bassists, naturally distanced due to the size of their instrument – the mask is to remain on from the time we enter the building to the moment we exit.
The situational protocol is not simply annoying. Performing masked means an erasure of basic communication: facial expressions, rhythmic breathing, and necessary cues. When the connection is already lost between performers seated mere feet apart, it’s reflected in the entire orchestra’s cohesion.
Lack of a stand partner is highly disruptive. Most instrumental sections (especially strings) rely on a hierarchy of passing notes: the principal turns around to relay bowing or phrase changes, and their message slowly ripples through the section. This method allows for the edited content to reach every player efficiently and with minimal distraction from the conductor. Additionally, with a stand partner, one player can continue playing the material while the other turns pages and pencils in markings.
But tonight, we are each responsible for our own stand. In the time spent taking down a note, while making sure not to budge our chairs an inch, we’ve missed playing an entire phrase. There are awkward gaps and missing themes as each section player hastily turns pages for themselves and scrambles to rejoin the flow of the music.
This situation will worsen the following day. Since the arts hall is off-limits, our dress rehearsal takes place in the middle of a baseball field, allowing the attendees to remain socially distant. (Though outdoors, we are still required to wear masks for the entire duration of our time
onstage.) The whipping wind gusts cause pencils, music, phones, and sunglasses to go flying across our playing area. Even with clothespins, we spend as much precious time unclipping and refastening our music to the stand than with the bow to the string.
The operations manager makes the call fifteen minutes into rehearsal: this is unsustainable. Everyone go home and we’ll hope things die down before the next service.
His words are a chilling microcosm of the larger issue: Playing orchestra music under restrictive virus protocol has become increasingly difficult – and sometimes impossible.
“It’s better than not playing at all,” has become the habitual response, accompanied by a wry smile and a shoulder shrug.
I do not accept this.
I am no longer willing to make concessions that hinder our work for the sake of nonsensical policies. When musicianship is compromised, it defeats the purpose of taking precautions at all.
Let us play.
Symphonies everywhere are in deep trouble. Some of my musical friends...