Time has a profound effect on music. This seems to be true in many ways, but specifically length of exposure has a profound effect on how I receive music into my psyche.  Take, for example, my current dealings with the Houston Ballet.  I am singing with a male chorus from the orchestra pit while the male dancers perform onstage.

We are singing Martinu’s Soldier’s Mass.  I have to admit - at first I was unimpressed.  I seem to have a vague disdain for what I would describe as “German Angst” in music.  German Angst is music that, in my opinion, seems wrought with heavy pathos, dark tragedy, and unnecessary erudition.  And while Martinu is Czech, not German, the same applies in this case.

Despite my dislike for German Angst, it seems that I have fallen in love with the Soldier’s Mass.  I have a sneaking suspicion it is connected to the dancers.  Movement gives so much vitality to what we hear.  Somehow it helps to see with our eyes what we are hearing with our ears.  There is part of me that wishes that I was not susceptible to this phenomenon.  I fancy myself to be such a trained musician that my ears alone are able to receive a musical work.  But alas  - it seems that I am hopelessly a sucker for visual stimulation like everyone else.

At any rate, I am finding myself anticipating each moment of this piece as we perform it.  The colors of the orchestra, the wide dynamic range in the vocal lines, and rhythmic hiccups - every moment of this work is a feast for the ears.  In addition, I love being able to catch what is happening onstage with the dancers out of the corner of my eye.  Truly, there is nothing like extended exposure to music to increase one’s appreciation.

That said, I have experienced the negative effects of extended exposure in music as well.  Consider performing with Opera to Go!, in which our company of singers performs the same 45-minute show over 80 times during a couple months.  There comes a point with such an experience where only variety will produce appreciation.  A change in tempo, new stage business, an unsual performance venue, an out-of-tune piano, unusual reactions to our performance, or simple improvisation onstage - these things remind us that variety truly is the spice of life.

I have also observed a special thing that happens when I experience a musical work for the very first time.  I love the magic of watching an opera plot unfold for the first time or hearing a creative harmonic progession with a surprising turn.  I will never forget my first-ever hearing of the Bach St. John Passion. I listened with open ears and no previous knowledge of the work.  I actually got out a pencil and started circling my favorite moments or jotting down notes about things I was hearing.  (I know…nerd!)  I did some research about the work after the performance and, to my delight, discovered that music scholars frequently mention many of those favorite moments I noticed.  I will never have virgin ears on the St. John Passion again, and that actually makes me kind of sad.

Thankfully, there is countless music in the world yet to be experienced.  And re-experienced.  And re-experienced.