The Abode

April 1, 2009

Alter Bock, a dedicated amateur string quartet player, has just announced plans for the creation of a home for retired chamber musicians. “I’m concerned that these wonderful musicians I’ve heard and admired most of my life have a nice place to spend their golden years.” He spoke to me from the music room in his home, the site of regular Friday night reading sessions with his fellow amateur players. Mr. Bock explained that he was prompted to action by present events. “The Guarneri and Mendelssohn String Quartets are about to retire, the Vermeer String Quartet, the Alban Berg String Quartet, and the Beaux Arts Trio have already done so, and there must be dozens of other groups out there on the verge of throwing in the towel that I’ve never even heard of.” Bock worries that these artists will have a large void in their lives after retirement. “Are they just going to sit around and watch old Seinfeld or Judge Judy reruns?” he asked. Bock acknowledged that many would continue to play on their own, teach, and do other things of significance for years to come. “But let’s face it, sad as it might seem, sooner or later their hands will stiffen up and their minds will make a ritardando poco a poco. What then?”

Bock came up with the idea of a home while playing at his weekly chamber music get-togethers and witnessing the aging process in his colleagues. “It’s not pretty to hear intonation rattle your teeth and see bows quiver like jello,” he said sadly. Bock imagines a place of refuge where older musicians can feel secure and productive with people of their own kind and with shared interests. “‘Old age home’ sounds so dismal, don’t you think? Why not call it something like the Abode for Aged Chamber Musicians?”

What would Alter Bock’s abode be like? The emphasis, he insisted, would be on music. “No matter how old chamber musicians get, there’s no stopping them from playing for the sheer pleasure of it.” Bock plans a Haydn room, a Mozart room, and so forth, in which the chamber music treasures of each composer can be rehearsed to heart’s content. Sign up sheets would be posted every morning. “I’m trying to think out of the box,” he said. “What about a guru and a psychologist on hand. Say you’re playing trios and someone calls you a dumkopf in the Dumky. A bummer. One of those guys could help you deal with it.” Bock’s face suddenly lit up with another idea. “We could have a musicologist to instruct us on interpreting those pesky dots and dashes. You wouldn’t want to bump into Wolfgang or Ludwig in heaven and hear either say: “That was a dot, not a dash, you dunce.”

A well-known quartet second violinist, who preferred not to be identified, expressed doubts about the home. “I know what’ll happen. They’ll be practicing virtuoso concerto passages loudly in the halls, talking incessantly about how they really could have been soloists, and passing around old rave concert reviews at the dinner table. Frankly, I’d rather grow old by myself.” Bock, undeterred by these kinds of comments, talked of his dream of informal concerts that would take place in the abode from time to time, but he tries to be realistic. “I know I’ll have to post signs asking residents to turn down their hearing aids. Have you ever heard those things go off during a performance? They’re annoying and usually in the wrong key.”

I asked Bock how he plans to pay for the abode and for the first time, his up-beat demeanor seemed to flag. “You know, I thought about imposing a tax on each chamber music concert fee, but musicians are not exactly the richest people in the world.” Then he smiled. “What about taxing conductors?”

Alter Bock had one last thought as our conversation wound down. “Chamber musicians can be so serious. Why not have a little fun at the abode once in a while? Why not have a performance, say, of Mozart’s Musical Joke on every April Fools Day?”

April Fool! (my birthday)