Music is the most universal language that we have, way more so than any dialect or tongue. You can play a melody to a child in China and the same melody to a child in South Africa. And despite the huge differences between those two children, they will still draw some of the same truths from that melody.
Now, I think the reason why music has this universality, this way of speaking to each and every one of us, is that somehow it's capable of holding up a mirror to us that reveals, in some small or large way, a little bit of who or what we are.
By logical extension of this, if music is this universal force, then surely groups of musicians -- let's call them orchestras -- should reflect every aspect of the community. Logical, but not necessarily true.
At TEDxBrussels today, we've been looking forward to the future -- 50 years from now. Well, I'm going to ask you to go in the other direction for a minute, to come back with me 50 years into the past, the early 1960s to be precise. And if you took a look at all the great orchestras of the world at that time, a snapshot, how many women do you think you would find playing in those orchestras? The answer: virtually none. Well, here we are 50 years on, in 2011, and pretty much every orchestra on the planet has a fantastic and healthy balance between the sexes. "Of course!" I hear you say, "Totally logical."
But how about another aspect of the community? The disabled community. Do we find them well-represented in the great orchestras of our world? Well, I can tell you as a conductor, I work with orchestras around the world all the time, and I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of disabled musicians I've encountered in any orchestra, anywhere. Why is this? You can't tell me that there aren't millions upon millions of prodigiously gifted musicians of disability around the world. Where is their platform? Where is the infrastructure that creates a space for them so that they can collaborate with other great musicians?
So, ladies and gentlemen, as you can probably tell, I'm on a bit of a mission. And this mission has a personal root to it. I have four children, the youngest of whom was born with cerebral palsy. She's now five, and through her glorious existence, I suppose I have now become a fully paid-up member of the amazing, dizzyingly wonderful disabled community. And I find myself looking at the Paralympics and thinking what an incredible model that is. It's taken a good five decades, actually, but I can say with hand on heart that when the Paralympics comes to London next year, there will not be an intelligent person anywhere on the planet who does not absolutely believe in the validity of disabled sportspeople. What an amazing position to be in!
So, ladies and gentlemen, where the hell is music in all this? Apologies to any of you who are sports fans, but music is far more universal than sport. Where is the platform? Where is their voice? So, we in the UK are at the very early stages in forming what will be Britain's first-ever national disabled orchestra. We are going to call it the British Paraorchestra, because with the world's eyes on London next year and particularly on the Paralympics, we want to throw down the gauntlet to every single other country that is represented there, to say to them, "Here's our paraorchestra. Where's yours?" Every country should have a multiplicity of paraorchestras of all shapes and sizes, no question.
Now, today is a very special day for me, because it is the first time that the first four members of my little embryonic paraorchestra are going to play in public; four extraordinary musicians of which the number will grow and grow. I hope in the end the Paraorchestra could even be as big as 50 musicians. We present to you today a little sonic adventure, a little piece of improvisational whimsy, if you like, a piece on which, of course, the ink is still wet, the clay is still wet. After all, improvisation is never a fixed thing. We decided what we wanted to share with you, at the heart of our improvisation, was a tune which is beloved of British people. It's one of the only folk melodies that we still recognize in our culture. And here's an interesting thing: folk music can tell you an awful lot about the cultural DNA of the country from which it originates. You see, we in Britain are quietly melancholic. You know, the rain ... it does rain. The food's not so good.
(Laughter)
Quietly melancholic. Not blackly so, just quietly so. And as Shakespeare put it so brilliantly in "Twelfth Night," he loves music that has "a dying fall."
So this melody, "Greensleeves," is chock-full of "dying fall." You may know this tune.
(Singing) Da, da, da da da da, dying fall.
(Laughter)
Da da da, da da da da, dying fall.
Da dee, da da na na ... dying fall ... na na nee, na ah ah ah ah.
Brief burst of sunshine, ladies and gentlemen, the chorus --
(Singing) Ya da da da, dying fall ...
(Laughter)
(Singing) Da da dee, da da da da, dying fall ...
Ya da da da, dying fall ...
OK? It's like we need some melodic Viagra in our culture, ladies and gentlemen.
(Laughter)
(Applause)
It goes without saying that we are very much at the starting gates with this project. We need your help, we need the global community to help us deliver this dream, so that this orchestra can be full steam ahead by summer 2012. If you think there's any way that you can help us, please, please, get in touch.
And so, ladies and gentlemen, it gives me enormous pride, pleasure and joy to introduce to you, with a short improvisation upon that most melancholic tune, "Greensleeves," the first four members of the British Paraorchestra.
(Applause) (Cheers)
(Music)
(Applause)
(Cheers) (Applause)
