The Meaning of Music

​Last night, I had the wonderful experience of hearing a concert performed by the Dallas Street Choir and several remarkable guest performers from the Dallas Opera’s current production of “Great Scott.” It was one of the most powerful and moving musical events I have ever attended, and I was inescapably reminded what music really does for us.

The Dallas Street Choir is, as the name may suggest, a choir whose members literally come from the streets of Dallas. These homeless and dispossessed people – people whom one might pass on the sidewalk downtown without giving so much as a glance – come together once a week at Dallas’ Stewpot service center to take part in the pleasure of making music. The choir is one of the most recent additions to Dallas’ vibrant musical scene; its premier concert took place just this past January. But in that short time the Dallas Street Choir has garnered a great deal of attention. Stories about the group have appeared in local and national news outlets, and, as last night’s performance made abundantly clear, the choir has drawn support from musicians of the very highest caliber.

When we took our seats last night shortly before the concert started, I knew that this concert would be unlike any other in my memory. As the singers filed in to take their seats, the sense of excitement and the hum of energy emanating from the choir was unmistakable. Because we were seated in the first row, we were very much face-to-face with the singers, and I took time to really look at them – how often have I ever really looked into the face of a homeless person? It is sometimes said that a person’s life is written upon their face, and perhaps there is some truth in that: the faces I saw were faces of hardship and deprivation, faces of weariness from having carried burdens one could only guess at, faces that had known rejection and rebuff. Many of these people were missing some or all of their teeth, for dental care is not something that a homeless person can access, and many were scarred or bore other evidence of injury or abuse. Some of these people walked with canes or crutches, and some were in wheelchairs. This was, in sum, a group of people who exampled of how crushing life on the streets is, and how indelibly it alters a person.

The singers were dressed in an assorted range of clothing, whatever garments each person might own, but they each wore their concert uniform which was, in a bit of brilliant practicality for those on the streets at this season of the year, a grey hooded sweatshirt with the Choir’s name and logo printed on it. I marveled at what good thinking went into such a choice. And for all that these people were without privilege or resource, for all that they had no fine, pressed shirts and no silk-lapelled jackets, they were nevertheless as clean and as presentable as they could be. And they were so plainly proud to be up on stage before the hall that I could not help but be a little choked up as I considered what I was seeing. Before me was a group of about 75 people who had clearly been at some of life’s lowest ebb tides, but who had by their very presence in the choir determined not to give in.

Then the choir’s Artistic Director, Dr. Jonathan Palant took the podium, the choir rose and gave us their first song. Perhaps I did not really hear that first number. I certainly did not experience it the way that – unfortunately – I so often experience music (that is, all together too often, when I hear music performed, I listen in a way that is too analytical, too critical, and too attuned to noticing the flaws and imperfections.) The reason I cannot be sure that I really heard the music is because I was so completely enwrapped in and even overwhelmed by looking into those people’s faces as they started to sing. Their collective enthusiasm for their performance was clearly displayed on every face. The sheer, unalloyed joy of making music was conveyed from each and every singer. They were proud to stand up in front of us to sing their hearts out, to share with us their joy, joy that had not been erased by years of hardship.

I was truly and deeply humbled.

I often tell of how very important music is to me. I share the great good that making music does for my own mental and physical well being. And I regularly relate the immense treasure trove of friendship that I have amassed through participation in many musical groups. Yet I may well have forgotten the most powerful and potent aspect of making music in a group, and these 75 people instantly and immediately reawakened my awareness. Music making is fundamentally and foremost about sharing our passions and joys together. Together. Passion and love and joy and reflection and heartache and sorrow and all that we human beings experience. Together. Making music is not foremost or even primarily about precision and perfection. Making music is about doing and sharing together. The Dallas Street Choir’s members clearly know this and they reminded me clearly last night. I was genuinely moved to tears as I let their joy wash over me like a flood.

The choir’s guest artists represented a range of musical mastery that one rarely hears in such an intimate setting. Led by opera star Frederica von Stade, members of the cast of Jake Heggie and Terrence McNally’s opera “Great Scott” which is currently in its premiere run at Dallas’ Winspear Opera House, performed an array of works of their choosing. The talents of Joyce DiDonato, Ailyn Perez, Rodell Rosel and Anthony Roth Constanzo, as well as the composer Jake Heggie at piano complimented well the Street Choir, because these musical masters were also clearly having a great time and these musical greats truly shared their passion and joy as well. Doctor Palant addressed the choir to tell them how it came to be that Federica von Stade and such a host of musical luminaries had befriended and become supporters of the Dallas Street Choir. He told them, “I wrote a letter and asked. You’ve got to ask.”

When the concert was over, I went up to thank the singers and to shake a few hands, and I was again overwhelmed. As I was shaking the hand of one of the singers to say, “Thanks,” she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said, “I need to hug you,” and I was enveloped in a bear-hug that was a perfect reinforcement of what I had just experienced. I spent the next ten minutes or so trying to shake as many hands and to convey my thanks to as many of the people who performed as I could.

I left the hall with a renewed appreciation for the power of music and the power of people working together.

Thank you, Dallas Street Choir.