Silence of the Heavens
RCC’s production this year was unexpectedly simple. Silence of the Heavens is a depiction of an idyllic pond, inhabited by dragonflies and lotus leaves. The movements and music by the members vividly illustrate the brief moments in time as the sunlight breaches the clouds, dragonflies dart about, and lotus buds delicately bloom. That’s it. RCC’s straightforward show this season can simply be summed up using a few succinct sentences.
Yet somehow, when I watched this performance live, it left such a profound influence on me, of which I never experienced before in a winter drumline show (and very rarely in any piece of contemporary art for that matter). This impact was not created in spite of the shows simplicity, but rather because of it. By surrendering to the show’s simplicity, I discovered insurmountable complexity.
For a show ostensibly about tranquility, one would think of adjectives such as “still”, “calm”, or even “spiritual”, and the opening does seem to follow that spirit. As soon as the members finish setting up, a solemn tone fills the stadium. The members on the floor enter a deep bow while sitting in seiza. Their costumes are vibrant, warm and inviting. The music begins with a lone timpanist and a hollow sample from the synth. As the rest of the front ensemble enters and the battery begins to move, we feel a beautiful melody slowly rise from the vibes, we hear a narrator describing the water and it’s inhabitants, we see delicate movements from the battery as they imitate a water’s ripple, curl up to resemble an insect egg, personify a dragonfly, and longingly reach for the heavens.
However, the audience is never allowed to settle into this depiction of tranquility, the tone shifts as our previous illustration of serenity becomes disrupted. Instead of the soft gentle tenor moment, we witness rhythmically and emotionally intense snare features. Instead of poignant meditative body language, we experience chaotic and high velocity movements from the members. The lilypads stable foundation is disturbed as the members imitate thrashing waves and scatter them throughout the floor. Instead of the delicate melodic climb, we hear a flurry of mallet runs played at aggressive heights. Then, just as sudden as the transition into this thematically antithetical tone, we abruptly shift styles again, re-entering the picturesque view of serenity.
As the production progresses, more contradictory ideas can be seen strewn together as if completely natural. Musically, there is the stark contrast from the playful and rhythmic second movement of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Trio Pantoum to the heavy and poignant third movement Passacaille. Visually, there are a collection of small moments that silently sow the seeds of contrary notions: members emulate the sporadic and restless movements of dragonfly while adjacent to the still and patient lilypads, body lines depicting the rigid lines of wings smoothly transforms into the soft curves of leaves, the floor’s density continually changes (quickly transitioning to and from a boisterous floor to one bereft of life) as members move around the lilypads. The cymbal players transition from their loud and rigid metal on metal technique to a feature that communicates through expansive and delicate motions by replacing one cymbal with a wooden stick. Even within the show’s title, the word “silence” seems at odds with the typical characteristics of any form of musical production.
Of course, contrast isn’t anything new. It is a common tool that not only creates excitement for the audience, but also allows the performers to display their range of musical and visual competence to the judges. But there is a key difference in how RCC uses this contrast. Silence of the Heavens dances at the intersection of juxtaposition, making unannounced grand jetés to and from the seemingly incompatible. The shifts in mood defies expectation, unafraid to completely ignore the motifs the performers were actively setting mere seconds before. Yet, most importantly, all of this is happening under the guise of the same theme, as if there is no disparity occurring whatsoever.
As the dull green lilypads turn over to reveal vivid pink flowers, the bass drums are quietly placed on the ground off in a corner of the floor; the members tilt their head down, respectfully bowed, as if the sacred spirituality of the moment demands their humility. Next, one of the most awe-inspiring bass features I’ve ever seen comes to life, as the members skillfully and casually display their technical prowess. The tenors join in to aid and cooperate in this moment as split singles cavort from drum to drum. Finally, the feature decelerates and diminuendos to a halt, ending just as modestly as the feature began. This must be the true essence of “purity”, just like the narrator dictated. But immediately after, there is a minute-long snare feature. The snareline initially seemed to follow the established demeanor of the bassline, but slowly, this moment transforms into an overt display of self-assertion and swagger (as far away from any hint of modesty and humility). Not only is this shift unmotivated, the narrator continues to describe this segment as uniformly as the one that came before; his booming voice echoes throughout the venue: “beauty, serenity”.
While some of the contrasting ideas are more drastic than others, all of these narrative devices establish an extremely conflicting sentiment. To say that this left an unsettling feeling in me is a vast understatement. I fell deeper and deeper into this jarring dissonance; my idle spectating became an internal struggle, begging for any modicum of consistency or meaning. This internal strife voraciously grew, consuming every single one of my sense up until...
Silence. Silence disseminated throughout the stadium. The battery stripped their instruments, their bodies free of those tools that so easily sowed the seeds of disparity. Sounds of water penetrated the air. The members coalesced into a lotus bud, to actively craft one final blossoming.
As if nothing at all had happened, the lotus bud quietly waited for it’s moment to blossom. In such noble decorum, I can sense the silent music of the heavens.
The emotional instability carefully crafted since the beginning of the show was swiftly purged in those last few seconds. The narrator’s words were straightforward yet cathartic, the silence uncanny yet welcoming, the lotus flower indifferent yet purposeful. As I sat in awe, I realized how limited my world-view was compared to one of a simple lotus bud. Where I saw inconsistency, the lotus bud saw normalcy. Where I saw disarray, the lotus bud saw opportunity. Despite all of the discrepancies that were transpiring within this pond, the lotus bud patiently waited and fulfilled its purpose. It was beautiful.
With RCC, I discovered a repudiation of my myopic perspective of life. I continually tried to find the causal mechanism behind the dramatic shifts, but instead, I should have been striving to understand the relationships between these contrasting tones. Peace is not the absence of strife, but found through realizing the inextricable nature of calm and chaos; it’s about acknowledging that the inevitable triumphs and tragedies that consume us are one and the same. Presence is not found by always looking towards the next thing, greedily coveting pleasure; it’s found by fully living in the moment, expecting anything and nothing at the same time. Fulfillment is not the single minded pursuit of happiness; it’s strengthened by actions that precipitates great suffering as well. Meaning is not crafted in spite of death; it’s produced and pursued because of the ephemerality of existence. Learning how to die is the equivalent of learning how to live. This is the essence called life.
The brilliance of this performance was due to the show’s simplicity and openness. I am confident that nobody else in the audience had the same response to the production as I did. My interpretation was allowed to become special and unique, because of the trust placed on me, the viewer. Instead of overusing various narrative techniques to force a single message to be conveyed, the members mainly utilized imagery to craft an evocative landscape; how this landscape is formed allows the production to become an empty canvas, ultimately a reflection of the viewer's’ thoughts. In essence, Silence of the Heavens transports the audience to this pond so they can feel the water sprinkling their feet, experience the light breeze and sunlight caress their face, listen to the melodious chorus of nature, and observe the interactions of the insects and plants, all to better cope with this contradictory substance known as life.
