Working classical

It's late at night, and in the corner of the bar are musicians: violinists, violists and cellists, playing a string concerto by Bach. They’re intensely focused, even more than usual, struggling to hear each other over the din of the bar. In the concert halls where their music is usually heard, they rely on respectful silence. Out here, anything can happen, so their concentration on the sheet music in front of them, as well as listening to each other, is proving especially challenging.

To the musicians, it’s hard to tell how they’re coming across. But the audience can feel a sense of stillness and mastery in the music that draws them out of the environment. It’s unlikely that most are listening too critically to what’s being played. Some are just trying to figure out what exactly that big violin is between the cellist’s knees, or how a person learns to do that wavy thing with their fingers on the strings. The others, those who have done their homework, are just enjoying the show. Any mistakes only enhance the intimacy of the experience.

These tense, uncertain, often chaotic moments are what characterize the performances of the collective known as Classical Revolution. For these accomplished string musicians, playing chamber music in bars, outdoors, and open mic settings is an exciting way to get out of their comfort zones.

“The booze helps,” laughs Dustin Budish.

Professionally, Budish is section leader of viola in the Reno Chamber Orchestra. He’s comfortable on a big stage in front of quiet people. To a rock band or a DJ, a drink ticket at a venue is spent without much thought. But to Budish and his comrades, the novel concept of drinking and playing adds a new layer of uncertainty to how the performance will take flight. Plus, the drinks help take the edge off for those musicians who drink (and not all of them do).

“I have seen moments when musicians are talking from the stage to the audience and laughing and joking—unthinkable at the symphony,” says Michael MacMillan, who hosted Classical Revolution at Studio on 4th. “When was the last time you saw a cello player with a beer at their side?”

“The lack of structure is part of what makes Classical Revolution great,” says member Heather Gallagher. “Without the freedom to take risks and make mistakes, classical music becomes clinical and unapproachable.”

Gallagher stands beside her comrades in stressing that Classical Revolution isn’t about compromising the source material to keep it relevant or hip, but to strip the pretense and the localization of their art and take it to new ears.

“In classical music, we’re not totally concerned with giving people what they want,” says Budish. “We’re more about getting you to sit alone with yourself for two hours and experience something that can give you goosebumps.”

“We don’t have to be cool,” adds violinist Jessica Escobar. “As classical musicians, we have our own culture. We provide an element of class and formality that people really respond to.”

While Classical Revolution performances request a degree of compromise from their audiences, the feeling is mutual for the performers, who are often flung far out of their element just to meet their listeners halfway. Instead of being meticulously rehearsed, performances are sight-read live in front of the audience. Often, it’s anyone’s guess which instruments or performers will arrive, so they bring extra sheet music just in case. Once it’s time to start, they burn forward, whether they have enough musicians or audience members.

Escobar likes to think of the movement as a “classical jam session.” As a result of the freewheeling attitude they express, they often occupy themselves with the same trials and tribulations that an indie rock band might face on a daily basis: posting flyers, and wondering if there’s going to be a good turn-out.

For some members who harbor career aspirations, the fear of being seen in such a casual setting can sometimes dampen their excitement. A cellist once had to track down an audience member who had been filming the show with a cell phone, to try and keep his less-than-perfect performance from getting posted online. The cellist was auditioning for some serious outfits, and didn't fancy the idea of a video of his slip-ups out in the world.

Through these issues, the element that persists is a passion for the music.

“It’s truly amazing how complex our brains have to be to even respond to music at all,” says Escobar. “A lot of anthropologists believe that our capacity for music predates even our capacity for language.”

As ingrained in our consciousness as rhythm and melody may be, the ways we have created it are in constant flux. Music wasn’t always performed in acoustically engineered concert halls for people in tuxedos. Considering this, Budish and others see Classical Revolution as a catalyst for change.

“It has to evolve,” says Budish. “Like everything else.”

The concept of Classical Revolution started in San Francisco in 2006. Violist Charith Premawardhana founded the group in an unassuming Mission District location called Revolution Cafe, with a desire to breathe new life into the Bay Area. His idea to take chamber music into unconventional places took off, leading to the creation of over thirty chapters across the United States, Canada, and Europe.

While living in Wildflower Village, Jessica Escobar had the idea to bring a version of Classical Revolution to that venue. Kati Dayner first organized the local chapter a few years ago with the blessing of its original San Francisco founder, violist Premawardhana.

These days, Escobar is at the helm of the ship, and is always open to new ideas for where to perform. She says Classical Revolution has been successful in Reno, with one impromptu session pulling over eighty heads at Wildflower Village. But other times, her comrades lament the shoddy turn-out. In San Francisco, they will say, the Revolution Cafe is always packed on a Monday night.

“Yeah,” says Escobar, “But that’s San Francisco.”

While Classical Revolution has faced difficulty drawing a crowd in Reno, they’ve also experienced the other side of the city’s music scene: its diversity, as well as its amount of disparate musicians collaborating together. At Wildflower Village, Classical Revolution shared a line-up with country singer Tex Weir, and a performer calling himself Limerick Larry. To an unsuspecting audience, the chamber musicians come no further out of left field than anyone else with an instrument and the desire to put notes together.