(This is from John Miller Chernoff)
"Several years ago I had an opportunity to witness a concerto performance by the great Russian cellist, Mstislav Rostropovich. I have not forgotten how deeply I was moved at the extra dimension of feeling this man managed to give to the music. When he came on the stage, people in the audience were already excited, and he acknowledged their applause with brief bows. Then he sat behind his cello; the hall became absolutely quiet, and people sat a bit forward in their seats. After a nod between Rostropovich and the conductor, the orchestra began, and when Rostropovich entered, it was with a clarity and precision that made some people involuntarily open their mouths. He did not look up from his instrument, and as he played, his body came forward over it until he seemed to envelop it. As he reached the technically most difficult section of the music, his concentration became so intense and his playing so perfect that the audience was riveted to attention and the slightest note impressed us with his dedication and virtuosity as he communicated the beauty of the music. The intimacy of his involvement with his instrument fascinated me, and when with a few definitive strokes of the bow he brought the concerto to an end, we in the audience joined together in wild applause for his genius.
"On another occasion I had the chance to hear Koyate Djimo play the kora when he was on tour with the National Dance Company of Sengal..." "...M. Koyate is famous throughout Senegal as a virtuoso on the kora, but when he stepped on stage, few people in the audience I am sure, were aware either of his prestige among his countrymen or of the potential of the strange looking instrument which he carried. He barely glanced at the audience and he looked down at his instrument in deep concentration as he began to play a simple melody based on an uncomplicated rhythmic foundation of three against two. As he played this simple music, he watched his fingers, and he seemed to be meditating on the musical theme which he quietly established. As he elaborated on this theme in greater rhythmic and melodic complexity, he began to demonstrate his incredible technical virtuosity. Finally, at the moment when his improvisations were reaching their most difficult and wonderful point, he raised his head and looked out at the audience, smiling slightly as he turned his head and his eyes to survey the scene. His demonstration of coolness and poise gave those in the audience, more clearly than the drummers and dancers they had come to see, their most accurate understanding of the depth and meaning of the tradition he was representing, and as he looked at them and smiled, they acknowledged this insight with a spontaneous gesture of applause which transformed the concert hall from a Western to an African musical context. When he finished his piece, the people in the audience actually looked around to smile at each other while they applauded him again."
"Both these artists, each a disciple of a great musical tradition, brought their aesthetic command to effective display, but the meaning of thir virtuosity was in each case different. Rostropovich's aesthetic effect was implicitly moral, an inspiration to be appreciated and internalized; Koyate's aeshetic effect was explicitly moral, a display to evoke participation and respect..."
-John Miller Chernoff (p.142-143) African Rhythm and African Sensibility,1979, The University of Chicago Press
