An Evening With Yo-Yo Ma

When I bought the tickets for “An Evening With Yo-Yo Ma”, I had no idea what program Yo-Yo Ma would present at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall in Portland, only that he wouldn’t be performing with the orchestra. Oh good! He’d bring a pianist along for a cello recital! The last time I attended a Yo-Yo Ma solo recital was almost 40 years ago, on the stage of the Shanghai Conservatory concert hall. My mother was the pianist, and I was the page-turner.

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One lone chair on stage, accompanied by five black square boxes (I later learned were called “Lighting Totems”); half the stage was taped with a black reflective floor covering; a huge projection screen hung at the back.

Oh, no piano! What is he going to play for the whole concert? I had a fear that it was going to be a disappointment—I was there for a true classical concert, you know.

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The evening opened with “Appalachian Waltz” and “Over the Rainbow”.

“Over the rainbow, bluebirds fly, why oh why can’t I?” Yo-Yo Ma recited softly, bringing the audience along with the contemplation. And while the question mark was still lingering in the concert hall, he announced, somewhat in a defiant tone, “I am an immigrant.”

That was a declaration. A declaration that brought the full concert hall to applause; a switch that brought tears to my eyes.

I knew at that moment, this wasn’t going to be a typical concert, but more than that.

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With a six-decade-long career behind him, here was Yo-Yo Ma, on stage, accompanied by his cello, in the most polite voice—gently, as only Yo-Yo Ma could—he delivered an unmistakable message to his audience: our world is in crisis; humanity is in crisis.

Music was his escape as an outsider trying to fit in and find stability and safety. Music is now his way to connect and be in harmony with nature.

With Bach’s cello suites woven throughout and images of nature played on the back screen, he shared his immigrant childhood, his struggles and triumphs, and his dreams. He talked about how human power can be destructive, and what that energy could be steered into creating something beautiful. He explained that when we cared to listen, we would find us having more in common than different. He asked us to imagine the kind of world we could leave to our children and their children, while folk songs and dances echoed on his cello.

More than once, he brought the audience to their feet, and more than once, he brought me to the emotional edge.

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The strictly classical musician in me might not be satiated, but as a human being and a member of the audience—his duet partner for the evening—I felt the satisfaction of connecting to something larger than my own struggles and disappointments, for the first time in a very long while.

The legendary Pablo Casals saying Yo-Yo Ma cites often was demonstrated perfectly during last night’s event: he is indeed a cellist third, an artist second, and—foremost and unquestionably—a human being first.

I thought about the quote from another legend of our time, Jane Goodall: “Hope is often misunderstood. People tend to think that it is simply passive wishful thinking: I hope something will happen but I’m not going to do anything about it. This is indeed the opposite of real hope, which requires action and engagement.”

Yo-Yo Ma acted and engaged last night; he did his best to share his hope, and what we could all do for our humanity and our children—to reach out, and connect.

I now have a new admiration for Mr. Yo-Yo Ma.

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