The story goes something like this: on the one hand, we have our daily lives full of secular activities with all of the associated worries and stress, while on the other hand, there is a ‘higher’ sphere, which somehow transcends and is separated from the quotidian. Of course, music is an example of this second sphere par excellence. Completely abstract, it seems to speak a language that can be understood only when we manage to free ourselves from our everyday reality.
The concert-hall experience likes to remind us of this separation in a form of sanctimonious silence, only to be broken by the occasional rattling of a candy wrapper, followed by a few nervous coughs and the inevitable tut-tuts from the neighbouring punters.
Satu Vänskä, ACO Underground. Photo © Daniel Boud
What would happen if music were knocked down from the heavenly heights and grounded to the stained carpets and the glass clinking of a club? What form will the seductive dimension of music take in this (arguably) unpretentious setting? Does the beer taste better listening to Bach or does Bach sound better drinking a beer?
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