The inspiration, and "Classical" music at yet another crossroads.

First, let me say that I'm aware of the (somewhat) obnoxious cliché in this post's title, but I wouldn't use it if it wasn't warranted. This is an experiment in an interactive recital experience. It could work really well, or it could tank. Either way, it's an experiment in having a web-friendly, social network-y recital.

Why on earth would I want my audience to play with iPads and smartphones during my senior recital? Classical music performances are supposed to be about breaking away from technology and connecting with history. Right?

Maybe. It depends who you ask, and where you are.

The Orange County, California-based Pacific Symphony held a concert in July, encouraging the audience to live Tweet the performance. Yes, this was an outdoor concert, and yes, outdoor concerts are often relaxed experiences. But there's definitely carry-over to indoor settings, and even to my undergraduate non-degree senior recital.

I aim to incorporate technology, with a sprinkling of social media, into my recital. Why bother? I'm never going to be a famous cellist, and the extent of my recital publicity is a line on the UD Music department calendar (which, by the way, has been down for a few weeks...) and a Facebook event. In other words: I'm no big deal. I'm hoping to fuel a grassroots trend in the industry by creating a spark at UD. If I use technology, maybe other people will do the same. They'll tell their music-major-friends at other schools, and their friends will tell other friends. Voila, a movement! A precedented movement, no less. Professional organizations are incorporating media into classical music performances, but these additions have yet to make their way into colleges and universities.

Cartoon from The New Yorker's Tumblr site.

I don't know how I feel about live tweeting a funeral. It's probably tacky, but I'm not prepared to make that argument. Instead, I encourage (pretty please!) you to tweet this recital. The hashtag is #rebeccarecital. If you have a full view of this site, you should see a Twitter box on the right side of the home page that will collect tweets to my hashtag. I'm told there's a delay of several minutes, so don't be afraid to tweet early and often! Say whatever you want--I won't be offended.

Classical music, also known as is at a crossroads. This is an old story. It's no secret or surprise that the audiences are getting older and older, and "young people" aren't attending performances. I find this slightly fascinating, because we college students can get tickets to the Philadelphia Orchestra for $10, but most of us would sooner drop $60-$90 to see Katy Perry. Math time: want to see Philly six times, to theoretically pay the same amount as one Katy Perry concert? Instead, we can buy a $25 season pass for rush tickets. Two and a half college students can have unlimited access to a (the?) top US orchestra for the same price as one ticket to see auto-tuned lip syncing. (As an aside, I'd like to say, for the record, that I like Katy Perry. Haters, step aside.) I'm not the only one making this connection. Deceptive Cadence, a blog from NPR Classical, recently posted about the not-so-outrageous cost of an opera excursion versus something like an evening at a basketball game or breakfast at Starbucks. The classical music industry is making it incredibly easy for my generation to get into concerts, but we aren't biting.

My generation is all about technology and social media. We live our lives on Facebook, and we wouldn't have it any other way. We wouldn't know how to have it any other way. We probably wouldn't want it any other way. If all our typical interactions are enhanced by the internet and social media, why shouldn't our art include that technology? There are jokes about how the smartphone killed the bar conversation, because we can so easily go on Google and find out if John Cleese is still alive and kicking (spoiler alert: he is). But what about music?

I can't count how many times I've sat in performances, and wondered about some tangential musical detail, wishing I could instantly break out Google-to-the-rescue. I'm giving you permission to take out your phone or your iPad or your tablet or iTouch (did I miss anything?) and mess around on the internet during my recital. No computers, though. Keyboards are loud, and the cello can be very quiet. In a perfect world, you'd be reading the information found on this site, and maybe searching for additional information about the music or composers on my program. But utopias can't exist, even for an hour. Please don't do anything on the internet that you wouldn't want your grandparents to see, but feel free to do what you need to do. I will be on stage playing a particularly lovely program, so you'll probably want to pay attention to that at some point.

The purists out there will criticize me (to my face or otherwise) for perpetuating the growing disconnect between performer and audience we musicians strive to maintain. As audience members, we can be lucky to enter into an unnamable state of total connection with a performance. When we experience that connection, we become judgmental of anyone less engaged. We especially get frustrated or even angry when someone moves too loudly or a hearing aid starts humming. Whether we admit it or not, we don't like when other people ruin our personal concert-attending experiences. I can't please everybody, but I'm willing to bet that some sort of social media-infused concert is the way of the future. I apologize to those desiring a more traditional concert experience, but I stand by running my experiment through this recital.

I'd love feedback about this process. Talk to me, e-mail me, write on my Facebook wall, leave comments here, or send a carrier pigeon. Is this too gimmicky, or could it have staying power? I thank you for participating and hope you enjoy the performance!

Peace.