As with most arts organizations, but perhaps particularly the HPAC Orchestra, a great deal of our existence depends on the benevolence of politicians. Today we warmed their meeting chamber with out presence, performing our annual Hyogo Prefectural Assembly Concert. They sat in huge chairs behind long shared desks with their names on placards; behind them was the general public, perhaps activists scouting out questionable intonation. We played a thirty minute program ending with Furusato (Homeland) a beautiful, simple, traditional song to which our conductor had the whole assembly sing.
It's really moving to bring music into spaces generally untouched by it. One can imagine the sounds which normally grace the meeting chamber–voices arguing, debating, demanding, compromising; shuffling papers, pushing in and pulling out chairs, footsteps taking bodies to and from their seats. A world of epiphenomenal sounds, unheard, buried and lost under the intention of their action. Ears have been waiting to hear, bodies have been waiting to feel– to remember something of the act of living. One of the members of the assembly teared-up as he sang. Where is it, and how can it be touched?
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