[Music • Performance Art, United States • Adelaide Fringe Premiere]
 

Do classical musicians typically stuff down a Subway sandwich in front of the audience before they perform? Not usually, no. But Karen Hall does. From the outset she strives to deconstruct the whole notion of what it means to be a classical musician. She scoffs at the idea of playing music that is 300 years old. Surely there are other more modern pieces more relevant to current generations?

Hall says she loves playing music and being good at the cello but actually seems to also seriously doubt its value. Spending 10,000 hours mastering an instrument, or mastering anything in fact, is akin to insanity she suggests. You become a slave to that expertise – you excel at just that one thing, and without that one thing you’re effectively useless.

Between these reflective meanderings Hall returns to her cello to play another movement from the music of J.S. Bach, and everything settles as she uses the instrument to evince joy, sadness, confusion.

But further she wonders if she plays for love of the music, or just because she’s good at playing music. Or is it for the money? Or is it because she is expected to? She was told she had a gift for it after all. She wonders if she needs the elegance and grace of a long black dress to play the cello well. Stripping back layers of herself she amusingly tries playing the cello in jeans, hot pants, and even her gym outfit to see if it makes a difference.

Anyone who has been driven to become a professional musician, or athlete, or anyone who has aspired to reach the top of their field might relate to Hall’s self-doubt about the worth of what they’ve achieved.

But can one possibly just overthink things? If you truly love what you’re doing, if music is indeed your calling, then all the sacrifices are worth it surely? Or is the cost too great?  These are the questions Hall asks her audience to consider in between some exquisite musical interludes.