Resolutions for Chicago jazz, classical music
leaving in the midst of sets; volunteers parading through clubs with huge signs indicating the next shuttle was about to leave; and listeners experiencing more noise and confusion than music. Now that the club tour is coming back, its organizers need to find a way to handle transportation without ruining the music.
Smarten the screen. By all indications, we’re stuck with the gargantuan LED screen that’s permanently positioned in the worst possible place in Millennium Park: high atop the back of the Pritzker Pavilion stage, where it overshadows the performing musicians. So when the Chicago Jazz Festival and Grant Park Music Festival show live video footage of a concert in progress, the brilliantly lit images reduce the musicians onstage to tiny, dark, insignificant figures. In addition, the herky-jerky camerawork edits the listening experience for us, telling us what to focus on and what to ignore. The only way out of this unfortunate situation, short of switching off the screen (by far the best option), is to use it more creatively. Rather than merely projecting what’s happening onstage (and doing so poorly), the screen could be used to enhance the proceedings, perhaps with other imagery apropos to the music at hand. This could happen on June 17, when the Grant Park Orchestra will share the stage with two dance groups (Polonia Ensemble and Tango 21 Dance Theater), leaving the camera operators to illuminate the choreography rather than the musicmaking. The more alternatives that can be found to distorting the musicians’ work, the better.
Elevate the monologues. Give some people a microphone, and they drone on and on. And on. This happens at Orchestra Hall, the Pritzker Pavilion and other venues where musicians, emcees and others consider their wit and wisdom indispensable. They are wrong. The music always speaks most eloquently for itself. But if these talkers insist on sharing their deep wells of knowledge with a captive audience, at least they ought to find something worthwhile to say. That means not repeating what’s already in the program book, as happens more often than not. A better model would be Chicago Symphony Orchestra music director Riccardo Muti, who rarely addresses the audience before a concert. But when he does, as in the aftermath of dramatic news events, his carefully chosen two or three sentences resonate long after the concert has ended.
Police those phones. Is it really possible that, at this late date, people who pay high prices to attend state-of-the-art productions at Lyric Opera, Harris Theater and other darkened venues still get away with scrolling on their cell phones during performances? Every major venue makes a pre-concert announcement urging everyone to shut off their devices, and most people do. But at virtually every concert, there always are oblivious souls who don’t heed the instructions, shattering the silence with a ringtone or disturbing the darkness with the bright lights of their screens. Music presenters should start responding to offenders, particularly those whose glowing phones render them easily identifiable.
Conceive a recital hall. OK, let’s dream big. Orchestra Hall, which opened in 1904, was remodeled in the 1990s to sit in the grandiosely renamed Symphony Center. But the place — home to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and, therefore, the city’s most prestigious musical address — never really has felt like a “center” bustling with multiple performances (a la Lincoln Center in New York or the Kennedy Center in Washington). Though some Symphony Center performances unfold elsewhere in the building, none can be considered permanent, first-rate listening rooms. Ultimately, Symphony Center should have a medium-sized recital hall to present musicians who can’t fill Orchestra Hall’s 2,500-plus seats; to draw new audiences to the grand old building; and to make it a bona fide center of multiple musical activities. The space behind Symphony Center, including the parking lot that faces Wabash Avenue, is the obvious location to develop; and philanthropists love to give money for nothing more than brick and mortar. It’s time to start thinking about helping Symphony Center live up to its name.