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Comfort in the Concert Hall
 The big problem I see in many places—from big cities to small towns—is the huge number of potential audience members who do not show up because they feel they wouldn’t be comfortable with the concert hall setting. No matter how much some people may like that setting, and the ritual that goes along with it, I think we ought to take this problem seriously. Why don’t they come? Why do they feel it’s too stiff? Are they uncomfortable because they don’t know when to applaud? Perhaps they find it boring that there is nothing special done with the lightning, or to make them seem welcome—just musicians playing in old-fashioned clothes!
Making potential audience members feel comfortable is really something we should focus on. There are many ways to improve the situation. I love it, for example, when gifted musicians speak to the audience. It can be embarrassing if a performer isn't particularly good at it—and in fact, many of us aren't. But contact should be made. It makes people see that the performer is a human being like they are. They can relate to what you’re doing as well as to what you're saying. I learned a few important things from my "Pictures Reframed" project and tour. We used tightly focused lighting when I performed Schumann's Kinderszenen. Only the keyboard was spotlighted: everything else, including me and the hall, was in darkness—even in the biggest halls. It was the only piece on that program that wasn't combined with a film component, so it was possible to compare it to other performances of that work. The result of that focused lighting was a kind of concentrated listening by the audience that left a powerful impression on me. It proves that even little adjustments can make a big difference in terms of the quality of the listening experience.
I could also mention how at the Risør Festival we noticed the impact composers made when they spoke before their pieces were played. It made a heck of a difference in how the audience perceived the music. Sometimes it doesn't matter what the composer says: the talk just puts a face on the music. Also, composers saying a few words about how to listen to different aspects of the piece seemed to help the intensity of the listening. By providing these focus points, I think the audiences connected with the work as they would not have done otherwise.
—Leif Ove Andsnes, 20 January 2011
Risk Verse Reward
 Is your spiritual life all that it could be? Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion”
Have you or one of your friends been diagnosed with AIDS? Springsteen’s “Philadelphia”
Have you lost a parent? McCartney’s “Let It Be”
Are you the child of divorced parents? Papa Roach’s “Broken Home”
Do you have financial problems? AC/DC’s “Down Payment Blues”
Do you feel an oppressive sense of loneliness? Schubert’s “Winterreise”
Every one of us must confront painful setbacks, difficulties and mistakes, invariably with serious consequences. For each such life-changing event, music offers profound balm. Listen to each verse.
Recognize that your reactions and individual suffering have been experienced countless times by your neighbors, friends, family… and much of the planet. Listen to each verse.
Seek out those people who have lived through similar experiences. When you have a broken leg, those around you will be sympathetic, they’ll offer to help, they’ll give support, but then they’ll leave without broken legs of their own, unable to truly understand. Music speaks to widespread human circumstances from a position of innate comprehension. Listen to each verse.
Music provides lasting rewards, and has done so for countless years. The risk is to remain closed, to be unresponsive to common experience and ready fellowship, to allow yourself to become frozen when life forces its inevitable snowstorms. Open yourself. Become receptive. While there are often no easy answers, comfort abounds through shared encounters in the company of those who have had to confront the very issues you’re dealing with. Your MP3 player contains abundant solace and wisdom upon a single touch. Listen to each verse.
—Robert Rimm, 2 February 2011
Aluminum Foil
What is it about the prevalent tendency toward one-upmanship? Why does the ego have to be stoked and nurtured like a growing child? Why is it that pride is not always limited to the more interior pursuits of quiet knowledge, of meaningful achievement, of security borne of discipline and hard work? Must everything be on display?
Credit-card companies, for example, began peddling Gold cards in the 1980s as a way to distinguish the truly elite from the merely creditworthy. The 1990s brought Platinum cards. The 2000s even saw Titanium cards. Will the 2010s offer a Palladium card? Can a Rhodium card be far behind? And will an Iridium card grant to access to Mars, having bought everything else our earthly life could imagine?
Just once I’d like to open my mail and receive a solicitation for an Aluminum card. To be sure, credit cards can be exceptionally useful, even indispensable in some quarters, but they are a tool, not an end. Security manifests itself in many ways, financial security reasonably among them, but as we cannot take it with us, does it make sense to devote lives to its accumulation at the expense of more lasting achievements and contributions, from children and families to communities and social innovation?
Humility and gratitude are the ideal foils to mercenary behavior. Sure, the stained glass in your home’s solarium is stunning, the oceanfront condominium glorious, the Mercedes 700-series a sanctuary, the five-star restaurants indulgent…. But set up a foundation, work for a nonprofit, raise families with integrity to the core—then discover the true meaning of precious mettle.
—Robert Rimm, 9 February 2011
Artificial Sweetener
 The human drive to become physically sated expresses itself in many ways. In the realm of food, to take just one of a hundred examples, the richer the better. Yet is all that saturated fat in beef, chicken and fish preparations really necessary? What purpose does our society’s overwhelming tendency toward sugar serve? Balance the passing moments of pleasure against diabetes, weight gain, inflammation, high cholesterol and blood pressure, and a whole host of etceteras. Yet these preparations overwhelmingly dominate the diets of those within the developed world (burger chains don’t sell billions in Bangladesh).
Would that those tendencies could be translated to become mentally sated! Such desires are nowhere near as pervasive within our culture, within our homes. The physical body has practical limits; it’s difficult to survive when toting 300/350/400 pounds. But can the brain ever get enough? Feed it every day. Push and stretch till it hurts. Work hard to become sated in this way and experience first-hand just how difficult it is to actually reach that point. When was the last time you pushed away from your desk, muttering, “I couldn’t learn another thing.”
Go into any supermarket and look at row upon row of sodas, frozen foods, canned goods et al. All literally stuffed with sugar, crammed with carbs, filled with fat. Go for that matter into any bookstore; witness the popularity of condensed editions and audiobooks. Why do people so hesitate to take their mental coffee straight up? Why are we constantly plied such soft-tissue cream and sugar?
Why else? Because they sell. Our free society gives us fresh steaks at one in the morning, and super-premium ice cream at every 24-hour convenience store at every intersection in every town. That same free society also provides the Internet and the widest range of educational options in history.
Gorge on every bit of it. Become mentally fat. By extension, your rich inner life will never want for calories.
—Robert Rimm, 16 February 2011
Heavy Brainfall
 The consequences of a lack of exercise are swift and severe, especially as the calendar continues its relentless passage. With an abundance of physical activity, though, the benefits are equally extreme and measurable. Low cholesterol. Strong heart. Vibrant bones and muscles. Little excess body fat. Increased creativity and stamina.
But society works against all that in the name of “ease of use.” The country as a whole no longer directly reaps the fields or catches animals and fish, instead sitting in offices day in and day out and ordering in. While passing through any thoroughfare in any town in any county in any state, one need not even get out of the car to load up on carbs and saturated fat, a circumstance ushered in by the glorious drive-thru window.
Yet often lost in all the press and proselytizing about exercise is that the brain needs at least as much of a workout each day, each week. People often fall into a comfort zone in daily life that approaches that cursed word, routine. No matter how challenging a particular job may be, by repeating the same mental tasks for weeks, months, years at a time, the brain is fed a steady diet of stagnant protein that does little to create new stimulation, new passageways, new energy.
Pursue new projects at work. Learn a new language. Study a musical instrument. Become familiar with an entirely new subject area. Read different kinds of books. Take trips with friends and family members to different places and foreign countries.
Curiosity is to the brain as adrenalin is to the body. Both create needs that sustain. All things being equal, why are some older people full of life, and for others, an exhausting day is when their favorite soap-opera character has a tough day at the office?
That which cannot be controlled has been exhaustively written about and fretted over. Enough already. Sure, it’s initially harder to choose cottage cheese over cheesecake, veggie burgers over hamburgers, sushi over salami. But the body adjusts. As does the brain. Feed the former a low-fat diet, and feed the latter rich servings three times a day; watch how they begin to crave that which is healthy, sustaining and vital. Reverse the process and experience just how familiar a hospital bed can become.
The pleasures of passive activity are as fleeting as they are deceptive, while living well requires discipline and hard work. “Ease of use” works well for cars and vacuum cleaners. Not so for mental exercise. Effort and reward go hand in hand. So do inactivity and ill health.
The forecast is largely up to us.
—Robert Rimm, 23 February 2011
 In both career and personal relationships, how often do disagreements come up—problems of interpretation or perspective, of contracts or property—that cause significant setbacks? How often does the divide seem irreconcilable, the gulf not bridgeable?
Take a moment, though, to consider the broader perspective. Are your days filled with humility and gratitude, or does pride take center stage? Are you graced with intelligence and good health, with skills and resources? If so, is this or that issue really so important for you to fight over? Is it worth the stress hormones and loss of sleep?
Make no mistake: when it comes to matters of health, the well-being of those you love, and consequences of far-reaching import, fight for your integrity with all of the calories at your disposal.
Yet how often do the day-to-day conflicts rise to those levels? Are the few extra dollars fought for really worth it? Is requiring the public prominence of your name worth alienating those around you? Is winning that argument truly worth sacrificing the warmth of home and hearth for something ultimately meaningless?
Frankly, what do we need in this world? After food, fellowship and faith, the list becomes tangibly thinner. Given that baseline, how many disputes really matter? Does the satisfaction of winning the occasional contretemps do much more than cushion the ego?
Do take that moment. Consider the broader perspective. Then don’t be afraid to admit how trivial, how miniature, that conflict.
What separates us pales next to what brings us close. Think about it. That wide gulf may be little more than a drop in the ocean.
—Robert Rimm, 9 March 2011
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