“The video was meant to be a musical hug”
THE TORONTO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA CREATED ONE STUNNING PERFORMANCE FROM 29 SEPARATE LOCATIONS
double bass for the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, and on March 13—Friday the 13th—we got an email telling us the TSO had shuttered. I was glued to the news, but I still practised my craft. I kept doing what I’d done every day since I was a kid—playing my bass, doing my exercises
But I was missing my colleagues and the vitality of sharing live music with audiences in Toronto. And I was plagued by this existential question that we’re now all asking ourselves in every medium and industry: how can I help? I had some skills. Not just as a musician, but also as an arts leader: for the last two and a half years, I’ve been artistic director at Yo-Yo Ma’s Silkroad in Cambridge, Massachusetts. It’s basically an all-star team of musicians who get together to demonstrate that globalization is not a scary thing. I was on Zoom long before we all had to be.
On the first day of spring, I recruited 28 of my colleagues for a project: we would perform, separately, from our home studios, the “Simple Gifts” melody that Aaron Copland uses in “Appalachian Spring,” and I would edit the recordings into a video. Copland was commissioned to write the suite by Martha Graham; the original title was “Ballet for Martha.” It was also partly in response to the GIs coming home and the millions of deaths caused by World War II. Copland has this unbelievable ability to take the dissonance of that time period and transform that sadness into love. It goes from melancholy to joy and community and prosperity.
I spent about 12 hours listening to the score and transcribing every part into a software program so I could create a click track like you’d have in a recording studio—that is, a synchronized metronome. But a click can be very isolating. The MP3 I sent the musicians had all the parts in addition to the metronome, so they could experience the warmth and comfort of the other voices. I asked each musician to flip their phones around, put in their earbuds, press record and send me the file. I cut it together to look as if we’re playing together; it’s a bit of sleight of hand.
I’d edited other videos using decent apps—like, $5.99 apps. But for this one, I bought Final Cut Pro for $299. I was like, Okay, time to put on my big-boy pants. I started getting the videos on Friday and then I worked for 48 hours straight. My girlfriend would be like, “Here’s pizza, you need to eat.” Then I would turn around and it would be morning.
I felt a calling to do this. As much as we’re all connected now on our phones, we can’t get what we need, which is a hug. This is sort of a musical hug. And thinking of Martha Graham’s choreography, I wanted the images to dance. For what it’s worth, I also thought this would be a very hummable hand-washing song.
I could have spent another 48 hours polishing, but I gave myself a deadline—it just had to go out. I know there are a million blemishes, but perfectionism is not the point. I cried while watching it. I’m proud of it. One reason the video is so powerful is the unification at the end, that last Brady Bunch screen—it’s a demonstration of community. It got traction instantly, and oh, to hear the comments coming in. The most meaningful was from a mom on Facebook. “My daughter was having a hard time and she stormed into her room crying,” she wrote. “And then I heard this music—her music teacher had sent it to her. And she came out and gave me a big hug.” I’m, like, hashtag mission accomplished. Because that’s what we’re supposed to do: help our communities get through tough times like these.
“I KNOW THERE ARE A MILLION BLEMISHES, BUT PERFECTIONISM IS NOT THE POINT. I CRIED WHILE I WAS WATCHING IT”
Paul: I’m a 47-year-old business analyst. I live in Oakville, but I’ve got Tinder Gold, which allows you to set your location anywhere in the world. One day, in February 2019, I set my location to Tokyo. I saw Saori and just said, “Wow.”
saori: I live in Tokyo and work as a secretary in the investment banking industry. One day on Tinder, I came across Paul. I love bald guys, and he had a sweet smile.
Paul: We both swiped right. I tried to say something in Japanese. I wrote: “ohayo” (good morning) and “douitashimashite” (you’re welcome). That was all I had. But her English was amazing.
saori: I’ve studied it since I was six. Paul: We flirted. She was wearing a Yankees hat in one of her photos, and I said she’d better switch to a Blue Jays cap. It was so easy—Saori was so open.
saori: We started talking about marriage just a few weeks after we met. Yes, we were far apart, and there’s the time difference. But I liked him, and he liked me. A week after we matched, I asked Paul if he wanted me to move to Canada.
Paul: I said yes and bought a plane ticket to Tokyo so we could meet in person.
saori: I was happy. It wasn’t rushed— it just felt right.
Paul: At the airport, after a 13-hour flight, a little jet-lagged, I laid eyes on Saori for the first time. She ran up to me saying, “Baby, baby,” and jumped into my arms. We kissed. It was love at first sight.
saori: When I saw him in the airport, I was like, phew. I was so relieved. He was the same guy from his pictures.
Paul: We hit the ground running. Saori had planned out every minute of every day. I met all her friends, her mom. Then Saori came here in July, and I officially proposed. I gave her my mom’s engagement ring.
saori: My mom and friends thought he was so good. “Finally, you found the one,” they said.
Paul: We technically had two weddings, both in Tokyo. The first one was at city hall, just us, in September. And then we had our formal ceremony on Valentine’s Day at a Shinto shrine. It was something out of a dream. You have to cleanse yourself with water first, then pass through the gate and into the shrine, where there’s a garden and koi pond.
saori: It was the best day ever. It was small—just 32 guests. One of them was my grade school English teacher, who first taught me this language I love. Once we were married, the plan was for me to apply for permanent residency and come to Canada. But the pandemic changed everything.
Paul: It was only at the beginning of February, before I flew to Tokyo, that I got all our paperwork together—109 pages, 20 photos, our digital conversations, all my tax information. Then, in March, Canada closed its borders. Now we don’t know what’s going to happen.
saori: Every day it gets worse, every hour. Will I ever get to Canada?
Paul: I’m trying to be upbeat for her, but I’m frustrated too. I live alone. And now I work from home. I keep wondering: if I’d put the paperwork in sooner, would Saori have her permanent residency by now? Our life is on hold. We want to have children. But you can’t have kids when you’re 10,000 kilometres apart.
saori: Attitudes about coronavirus in Canada and Japan are so different. Life in Tokyo is still so normal. I still go into work every day. Tokyo isn’t taking Covid-19 as seriously as other cities are. When the cherry blossoms bloomed in late March, people were still having hanami, little picnic parties, underneath them. I just need to be patient and see what’s going to happen.
Paul: The immigration website says immediate family members of Canadian citizens are allowed to come to Canada, but only for “essential reasons.” I’m not sure what that means, and I haven’t received clarification from any government body. We’re still in limbo, but we have some hope. In the meantime, we talk to each other every day across time zones. She’ll say goodnight to me when she wakes up, and I’ll tell her to have a good day. I’ll say “matane,” which means “see you again.”
saori: My lunchtime is his nighttime. I say, “Sleep tight, and dream about me.”