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While much of what I do as a musician tends towards the popular side of things…pop, blues, jazz, rock, gospel…my roots are still in classical music. I studied classical piano all the way through college, studied classical voice, and studied classical composition. After my many years studying classical music, I can honestly say that there are many revered works that I don’t like. I used to get into arguments with singers who adored the Brahms Requiem. It’s a wonderful piece to sing. I find it uninteresting to sit and listen to it. On the flip side, there are many pieces of classical music that I think are totally amazing. Caroline Shaw won the Pulitzer Prize for classical composition in 2013 with her Partita for 8 Voices. It’s an amazing piece, and the most delicately balanced use of non-traditional vocal techniques in a choral setting.

One thing I keep in mind with all of classical music is that the average listener often lacks a context to really understand what they are listening to. I think Beethoven’s work is a great example of that. Yes, we revere Beethoven. Yes, his music is incredibly well crafted. What gets left out is that Beethoven existed in a special time in the history of music and society that enabled him to push the boundaries of music forward into an entire new era. In music history classes we identify Beethoven as a composer in the classical era, but we mark the beginning of the next era, the Romantic era, with his death. Over the course of his life, he ushered in changes in style, structure, harmony, and melody that influenced 100 years of composers.

Beethoven sat in a unique place in time where advancements in music publishing and printing in Germany enabled composers to more widely publish and distribute music. Essentially, Beethoven was living at a time where printing was doing for music what the internet did in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s. Prior to Beethoven, composers and musicians were primarily supported by the courts and the churches. Beethoven was in such demand in Austria that he was able to accept commissions from multiple courts, and was never beholden to one patron. At the same time, there was a strong working class that often took an interest in chamber music. Beethoven was able to supplement his income through publishing works like his piano sonatas.

It’s in this spirit, that I took it upon myself to learn the first movement of Beethoven’s “Pathetique” Sonata No. 8, Op. 13. It’s hard to imagine this work being played as parlor music in a working class household. I’ve been playing piano all my life, and it took me five months to get to a point where I could record it! But it isn’t hard to imagine the joy that listening to the household pianist play through the work would bring. Before the days of recorded music, people were having house parties around the piano. The first movement is a study in immense contrast: the slow “Grave” opening followed by the ripping fast “Allegro di molto e con brio.” The soft passages juxtaposed against loud crashes on the piano. The short, brittle staccato contrasted against the flowing, languid legato passages.

Learning it has been a great joy for me, a return to my classical roots. It’s also been a challenge, pushing my technique and artistry ever further. It also challenged my ability to hold focus for a solid eight minutes. So now, I want to invite you into my parlor to take a listen to Beethoven how others might have heard him, in the comfort of friends and family. My parents cat even joined me at the piano because, in this day and age, how can a piece be more culturally relevant to our internet age than with the inclusion of a cat.

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In the wake of the Baltimore riots, I recorded a song to try to make some positive contribution. Prince did the same thing, releasing the song “Baltimore,” and putting on a concert in the city…same idea, just a different scale. At the core of both our efforts is the notion that music holds some sort of power in this world. I often contemplate how what I do is one of the most unimportant things in this world while paradoxically being one of the most important. I’m not a doctor saving lives or curing the sick. I don’t build a house or a computer. I don’t paint a mural or a painting where there’s a physical object left to be viewed. Sure, I can create little videos or recordings, but at the end of the day music is temporal and experiential. It’s my job to create an experience for people. It’s my job to think about and reflect on the world I see about it, about my own feelings and experiences, and to bare my own humanity raw for others to see themselves. And that’s why it’s so important. That’s why music is so powerful. Music holds the power to move others to dance or to cry, to ecstasy and catharsis.

We sell the power of music short, a bi-product of music becoming ubiquitous in every mall, grocery store, car, cell phone. When you hear music everywhere, it becomes a drone that gets tuned out. We’re inundated with the profundity of lyrics such as “Patty cake, patty cake with no hands. Got me in the club making wedding plans,” and with the musical complexities of Taylor Swift’s “Shake It.” Maybe what we really need to shake is our sense of complacency about music. What happened to all the great protest songs? To the socio-political messages? I think these songs are starting to make a comeback. Musicians are starting to reclaim the power of music. Since the Baltimore riots, I’ve been more observant to where that’s happening.

One of the amazing powers of music is to provide context. We see this in film scores all the time. The music tells us when to feel sad or scared. We hear the long sustained strings slowly building, and feel the anxiety well up in us in a suspense movie. Maybe the swell of brass leads the charge in a historical battle scene. We use music to provide context in our own lives with the song of the summer, or with that break-up song that captures our feeling of lost love from one particular moment of our life. We use it for a work-out mix to get us pumped when our heart is pumping or to keep us going when we are cleaning. Recently, a video went viral on YouTube of a sousaphone player walking alongside a Klu Klux Klan march while providing a comical soundtrack to their march. It totally changes the context of the protest, dissipating the power and anger in it while making it look foolish and, well,  comical. The march was an attempt at claiming power and respect, and one man turned it into a farce. That’s the power of music.

Another video that popped up on my radar lately came from a trio in Germany who borrows a homeless man’s bucket to add the percussion to their song while they busk for him. People who had just been walking by start to stop, start paying attention if just for a moment. Isn’t that part of the power of music? To direct attention, to call for people’s eyes and ears and hearts for just a few minutes of their day? I should counter this by saying that world famous violinist, Joshua Bell, spent an afternoon playing in a subway being nearly ignored. It’s hard to get people to stop the routine to truly listen, and it takes more than talent. It’s the event of it, the theatrics and sense of importance. I find that especially important in this visually driven age of video.

Lastly, music can just be divine. I will never forget the experience of singing the fourth movement of Beethoven’s 9th symphony, “Ode to Joy,” with the National Symphony Orchestra and several hundred singers. To be in the midst of such a sound was a joy like no other. Search google for “U2 concerts are like church” and a list of blogs and articles come up. And I know that I’ve had more intimate moments of deep connection and peace in moments of music throughout my life.

I’m at a point in my life where I want to be engaged. I want to use my talents and the power that music carries to have an impact. I want to write and sing the protest songs. I want to change the context, change the story. I want to draw attention, to wake people up. And I want people to do it with me. I don’t want to be a lone voice in the wilderness. I don’t know what this looks like yet. Tell me what you think it looks like. Tell me what you will bring to this song. Together we can start a song-riot that shatters hearts, not windows.