On Music

Finding moments that go beyond description

Photo by Jaunathan Gagnon

Exhausted and sore from a long day of classes and rehearsals, the last thing we wanted to do was continue standing on stage to receive notes from our university choir director. An animated man, clearly on fire for music, he poured energy into us, hoping to receive a portion in return, begging for us to reach our highest potential.

In the audience during our rehearsal was the composer, stoically watching as we rehearsed his music. Morten Lauridsen, one of the finest choral composers the United States has ever produced, watched as sweaty, overworked college students labored to put every note precisely in place in his lush setting of the poem “Sure on This Shining Night” by American poet James Agee. The concert was scheduled for the following day— this was the last chance to get it right.

After the director finished offering his impassioned guidance, Lauridsen rose from his watchpoint and strolled to the piano. Relieving our accompanist, he began to play the introduction to his own piece, lightly improvising as he saw fit.

When he initially moved, panic began to set in. “Is he about to level some criticism against us?” But when he began to play, all thoughts left my mind as the beauty of the music washed over me.

Sure on this shining night of star-made shadows round the poetry begins, and I was consumed with awe. The achievement of flow was instantaneous; the choir, the director and the composer/accompanist all acted in perfect synchronicity. Never before had I experienced such a stunning intersection of artistry, beauty and embodied participation. 

This night lives on in my memory, with that rehearsal far outshining even the performance, where Lauridsen joined us yet again. This rehearsal demonstrates one of the things I love about making music: the magic is in the process. There was no audience— only the singers, the director and the composer sharing an intimate moment of connection. We were making music for ourselves and for each other, but no one else. 

Musical rehearsals are some of the most live creative spaces in existence. A good director has meticulously planned each moment— a great director is adjusting to the feedback loop created with the performers. The process of being together, learning together and creating together is one of the reasons I have a music degree at all— it’s in this process that the depths of humanity can be experienced.

Writer Noah Cherry and Dr. Eph Ehly at a conducting masterclass, 2015

Dr. Eph Ehly, a renowned choir director who mentored my mentor, once said to me: “never apologize for lacking words to describe how music makes you feel.” This is the power of music— it reaches far deeper than words alone ever can. Even my description of that transcendent night is a pale shadow of the experience. No one can ever know what it was like to be there— aside from those of us who were.

That is what it means to be human. To find moments that go beyond description. To see the beauty of what is out there and, better yet, help create it. To have a living collection of timeless memories to reflect upon, providing guidance to the next.

Edited by Jeremy Harr and Abigail McKay Cherry

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