Beda Vining

The Cybernated Symphony: How will Music Technology Help or Hinder Live
Musical Theatre?

It's opening night at the Annapolis High School auditorium. Parents and relatives
shift uncomfortably in itchy cushioned seats, fanning themselves with colorful playbills.
A familiar overture swells through the house, though it's not coming from below the
stage. What audience members may not be aware of is the 20 something high school
band students occupying the costume storage loft above the stage, our only hints of
existence being our tiny LED music stand lights shining like stars behind (and 35 feet
above) a cardboard New York City skyline.
Traditional live music. It's a luxury being spotted less frequently in the past few
decades. Noticeable by the DJ’s influx at dances and large gatherings, the worship of
the home stereo system, and the shifting (and graying) demographics of attendees of
small music venues. There’s a remarkable advantage of being a click or tap away from
listening to your favorite artist play your favorite song at any given moment. And one
can greatly appreciate the revolutionary sounds emerging from the invention of
electronic instruments (who doesn’t get in a dancing mood when the 80s drum machine
kicks in?).
But for many live musicians, there’s plenty anxiety from these technological
developments, and what they mean for the music’s future. Broadway producers’
discussions of implementing money-saving digital devices such as the Bianchi &
Smith’s “Virtual Orchestra” (VO), a program that can perform entire scores along with
unexpected tempo and dynamics changes, would make any instrumentalist
apprehensive. Thinning out live musicianship simply makes financial sense. Even at the
high school level, our drama company’s recent adoption of the score-playing software
“RehearScore”, had me feeling nervous for my position as rehearsal piano accompanist.
Considering these advancements, it's no wonder technology has been associated as an
enemy to live musicianship.
Most would agree that it is a depressing thought. The idea of dwindling live
performance certainly doesn’t invoke a lot of majesty. There is solace in the fact that
this technology has a far way to go, complaints of the VO experience leaning towards
the “metallic” and “depressingly synthesized”, along with its issues with crashes and
rebooting. And even with RehearScore, my drama company has still found my live
rehearsal accompaniment vital to teaching and rehearsing pieces. And beyond the
stage, there’s been refreshing recent pushes for unplugged music, such as the revival
of the indie folk band movement. However, while this is comforting, it doesn’t alter the
path of technology’s constant progression to a more authentic and high-quality feel.
 A saddening development, right? Fortunately for live musicians and their
admirers, it's only part of the truth. The reality? Let's go back to my high school
auditorium for a moment. In the months leading up to opening night, the pit orchestra’s
usual area, occupied instead by a makeshift thrust stage, is a no-go. The proposal of
the storage-loft-made-performance-area is pitched. A reach, given it's lofty (sorry)
technological demands around issues of staying coordinated with actors and cues, with
no sight-lines from the stage and a cinder block pony-wall insulating sound.
Weeks later, as opening night unfolds at Annapolis High School, I and the rest of
the sweaty, under-rehearsed students in the pit band plow through the overture. In the
otherwise pitch-black loft, illuminated by the cold glow of LED music stand lights, there
are the outlines of mics pitched forward over the ensemble, carrying the sounds of
quieter instruments throughout the house. Strewn about the concrete floor are amplifiers
and a spaghetti of trip hazards (cords) connecting us directly to the auditorium’s
loudspeaker system. I and few other musicians share the privilege of sight lines to small
visual monitors that depict choppy live footage of the stage far below. The section
leaders and I sport audio monitors clipped to our belts, allowing us to hear the actors’
mics in plastic earbuds. We can dimly make out our conductor (and band teacher) on
headset, communicating with the booth and stage managers for cues.
We’re haphazard but effective. A piece of scenery falls before the lights come
up? We repeat the transition music until it's repositioned. An actress skips 30 seconds
of One Hand, One Heart? We skip to the right measure. Tony sprints back on stage
after having forgotten to declare his love for Maria? We backtrack to repeat those last
few measures of romantic mood music. Can the VO do that?
This is an amateur, yet prime, example of what happens with a proper marriage
of live musicians and music technology. Without our messy array of sound tech, our pit
couldn't have performed at all. And without our live pit, actors and stagehands would
have no flexible support system. Technology is making live pit music a more accessible
and engaging part of the musical theatre world.
This is what makes the development of music tech so exciting for the future of
live music. Go to any Broadway performance, and you’ll see dizzying arrays of
loudspeakers lined up on either side of the stage. In the pit, there will be teeny visual
monitors clipped to music stands aiding musicians with no sight lines to the conductor.
And behind you, larger ones mounted to the balcony of the mezzanine, serving the
same purpose for stage performers. With the help of the FoH mixer, the pit can be
easily balanced with vocalists. With the capabilities of high-quality projection through
houses seating thousands, there can be better audience engagement. And all these
descriptions barely scrape of the surface of modern sound reinforcement technology.
With improving music tech, the live theatre experience is enriched and made
more accessible. Music technology is creating exciting new opportunities through
innovation. Let's not fear it, but embrace it. And while methods to thin out live
musicianship are disquieting, I find plenty consolation in the goosebumps we all get
when house lights dim and the conductor rises from the pit as the overture lurches forth;
a feeling that will always, and invariably, be irreplaceable.