Last night was a triumphant night for my student Trevor Parker.  He came back to Carthage for a fifth year in order to complete a performance degree in music and to take some other things that were of interest to him- and opted to do a second senior recital as part of a special project for graduating with honors in the music major. He tackled quite an array of challenging stuff- songs of Gounod, Liszt, Schubert, and Charles Stanford- and arias or ensembles from the operas “Faust” “The Magic Flute” “La Boheme” “Orfeo” “The Elixir of Love” and “Otello.” And it all went wonderfully.  Trevor came to Carthage as a very fine singer but has grown tremendously over the last few years, vocally- expressively- musically- and last night was a real testament to that.   And it was so cool to see that played out last night for an audience which included Marshall, all the way from Whitewater,  the Barrows (Kate was Trevor’s supervising teacher at Walden),  and many students and professors and coaches- and even President Campbell himself.

Trevor, as always, was amazingly well prepared- and yet I was on edge because he had not felt up to par the day before- a little stuffy and physically exhausted- and I was on pins and needles, hoping that it was just a temporary situation which wouldn’t adversely affect the recital.  That’s one tough thing about this whole singing business: the human voice is fairly resilient but still terribly fragile, and bad things can happen when we least expect them or want them.  I’ve been a bit under the weather since Easter, and have avoided hugging Trevor or even shaking his hands since, as though I were carrying the plague.  Well fortunately,  Trevor never caught my bug or a bug from anyone else and went on to sing a truly thrilling performance last night.  And we could finally wrap each other in multiple bear hugs without hesitation, which was mighty nice.

I headlined this “Silence- the best compliment” because one of the neatest things about last night- and Trevor’s previous recitals as well- is the exceptionally high level of attentiveness in the audience, an audience which included plenty of football players and English majors who do are not frequent visitors to such events.  It’s a testament to them and their intelligence and maturity – and also to Trevor’s skills as a performer that you just find yourself drawn into the proceedings on a very profound level. I also love that you could look at his folks and other relatives and most of them were really following along with the translations – and afterwards could really speak perceptively about what they had heard.  I am used to family members who listen to their loved ones’ recitals or concerts in a rather uncomprehending, “that’s my daughter Suzie singing up there- isn’t she wonderful” sort of way, without really learning much about what they do- without really grasping what they’re trying to do or the ways in which they have grown.  I’m not saying that I wish every parent and grandparent had a music degree-  but when you have a child or grandchild who plays soccer or basketball or football, for instance- I think more often than not you learn as much as you can about the game so you’re not sitting up in the stands, waving a pennant and cheering mindlessly and forever asking “what happened? Why are we cheering?”  Maybe you do at first, but not forever. I applaud those parents – and Trevor’s are certainly among them- who have gone beyond “we love hearing you sing because we love you” – which is important, of course – and are listening with a deeper level of discernment and appreciation.  I felt that last night from them and from really just about everyone in the room- You can just tell when there is that kind of profound attentiveness and appreciation at play.

The great moment of silence came at the very very end of the recital, which ended with the final five songs from Schubert’s song cycle “Winterreise” or “Winter’s Journey.” (There are 24 songs in all.) The last song is an incredibly haunting piece called “Der Leiermann” or “The Hurdy Gurdy Man.”  I hope that the recording from last night turned out well and that Trevor will allow me to put a recording of it on my website so you can hear for yourself the magic which Trevor created.  The song ends with the sounds of the elderly hurdy gurdy man fading into the distance, and as the last hushed moments of music died away you could hear a pin drop- and it was more than people not clapping. They were hardly stirring -hardly daring to breathe- and Trevor told me last night that he felt like he could have stood there for an hour and no one would have applauded.  Such was the power of that moment.  Finally, after I have no idea now long, Trevor slowly broke the moment and the applause began- and I was reminded all over again of how in such a moment, silence is the supreme compliment which one can pay to a performer.  And Trevor earned that supreme compliment fair and square, singing all night with beautiful sound, nuanced expressiveness, and with an open-hearted generosity and love for performing that is impossible to teach- it’s a God-given gift. And to work with such a gifted and appreciative student is a precious gift, in and of itself, for which I am more grateful than I can say.  As I wept at the piano during that last song (apparently without anyone in the audience noticing) it was with tears of sadness that a rich, rewarding chapter in my teaching career is soon over – but mostly tears of gratitude and wonder that I have been so privileged to share magnificent music with such a student.  This is life at its very best. And I am a very happy man today.