What happens when a concert is canceled?

I had tickets to see pianist Jeremy Denk perform on June 29 at the Shalin Liu Performance Center in Rockport, Mass. The program was The Concord Sonata by Charles Ives and The Goldberg Variations by J. S. Bach. On the day before the concert I received this email:

"We regret to inform you that due to the passing of his father today, Jeremy Denk must cancel his concert as part of the Rockport Chamber Music Festival on Sunday, June 29. We are truly saddened for his loss and our thoughts are with him.

"If at all possible, we hope to reschedule for a date later in the summer.... If we are unable to reschedule the concert, you will have the opportunity to exchange for another concert, donate the funds or receive a refund."

An hour later I got a phone call from an employee of the Rockport Music Festival confirming the same information. I expressed my appreciation for getting the word out to ticket holders beforehand. Imagine showing up for the concert and only learning the difficult news at the door. Imagine being the one having to give that news.

Given the choices, I would rather see a concert rescheduled than receive a refund, but this situation led to awkward pondering. How much are public performers allowed their private lives? How much are they bound by contractual obligations? How does an artist determine the time needed for personal grief before resuming a performance schedule? The balance can't be easy. Perhaps mourning and career need to happen simultaneously.

Rescheduling a concert presents several challenges. The Rockport Music Festival calendar shows the hall already booked most Thursdays through Sundays for the whole summer. Jeremy Denk's schedule shows him performing in France and the US through much of September, October and beyond. Within two weeks of the cancellation I got this email:

"We are pleased to announce that the concert has been rescheduled for Monday, August 11, 7:30PM. Your new tickets will be mailed on July 28."

The new date feels right. Denk had already been slated to perform the same program at Tanglewood on Wednesday, August 13, so travel and repertoire are economized. Monday is not a typical night for concert going, but Rockport in August is easy inducement to take a day off work and stroll the shops and shore.

As a stranger in the general public I feel I can only offer feeble condolences, but what I hope to express at the concert is my gratitude to Jeremy Denk for sharing his gift with us.

Finding Neverland too loud

You can't miss Finding Neverland – turn right at Harvard Square and follow the din coming from the Loeb Drama Center now through the end of September. The American Repertory Theater is presenting a new musical about Scottish author J. M. Barrie, his encounter with the widow Sylvia Llewelyn Davies and her four boys, and the genesis of the stage play Peter Pan. Barrie is a sympathetic character throughout the show, so credit must be given to performer Jeremy Jordan and the story arc provided by James Graham. But the music of Gary Barlow and Eliot Kennedy is a tidal wave of post-80s power pop that jars with England of the the early 1900s.

I was optimistic with my first peek into the orchestra pit. The violin, viola, cello, flute, reeds, trumpet and trombone suggested a chamber music setting that would evoke the style of the era. But then I saw the rack of electric guitars and the listing of three keyboard players and two percussionists. The score is firmly grounded in the punchy contemporary Broadway soundscape – more Wicked than Secret Garden. 

And, my god, this show is loud. Let me amplify: THIS SHOW IS LOUD! The volume level could easily fill an arena, and the body mikes rob the performers of a sense of direction. The actors might be left or right, but their disembodied voices, even in dialogue, hover somewhere above center stage. There was a quiet moment in the second act between Barrie and the young Peter Davies with a poignant silence that could have played on forever. But the moment soon devolved into a ballad; why do musicals have to do that?

The stagecraft admirably bridged the transitions from Edwardian reality to the surreal fantasy of J. M. Barrie's imagination. The finest scene was a five-minute recreation of the opening night of Peter Pan in the Davies's home. There was low-tech magic (bodies took flight when other actors picked them up and carried them) and high-tech magic (a glitter cyclone!) that left me wishing A.R.T. had just performed Barrie's original play instead.