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KMFA Rideshare Host Chris Johnson at Max Richter's Sleep on March 13, 2018. KMFA Classical. 

For the North American premiere of Max Richter’s Sleep, presented by SXSW and Texas Performing Arts at UT Bass Concert Hall on March 13, badge-holders lined up over an hour in advance for an opportunity to get a spot on one of 150 mattresses set out on the stage. In addition to the slumbering audience on stage, there was an observation gallery in the hall, where about a hundred audience members were allowed to voyeuristically observe the concert for a couple of hours. The full version of Sleep became available for streaming on March 16. 

KMFA’s Chris Johnson was lucky enough to be among the latter group. Below are his notes from the sidelines.

In classical music, there are many traditions and conventions about what is considered acceptable behavior and what is not while attending a live performance. Connoisseurs can get hung up on the issue of cell phone disruptions or the question of when to clap. But most people agree that if you invest in attending a concert in person, you don’t want to sleep through the evening.

Composer Max Richter is different. He wants you to sleep through his music.

Specifically, for his 2015 composition and concept album, Sleep, Richter consulted with the celebrated Houston-based neuroscientist David Eagleman in order to better understand what happens to our brains while we sleep—and how we could aid the process with music. He calls the piece his “manifesto for a slower pace of existence.” With this piece and its nearly nine hours of music, Richter is serious about getting his listener to slow down and dream.

12:00 a.m.  

Shortly after midnight the composer, accompanied by five string players and a vocalist, casually entered the stage to scattered applause. After a brief introduction of the work, Richter sat down unceremoniously and began to play.

The piece began with slow, quiet, simple piano chords repeated against the backdrop of light electronic ambience and periodic bass tones. The experience was like being transported to another world, but very, very slowly. The repeated chords, like heartbeats, measured time while the bass tones measured the distance of our collective descent.

For those listening from the comfort of the beds on stage, the other world at hand was pretty obvious. This music compelled you to lie down and sleep—or at the very least to let your mind wander. For the audience in the observation gallery there seemed to be at least a few people who were physically uncomfortable. One person loudly mumbled commentary to those nearby. Another shifted repeatedly in their chair. Someone else kicked over a sippy cup.

12:10 a.m.

The first cell phone rang.

12:15 a.m.

A small group of gallery members left the hall.  

12:20 a.m.

Most of the people listening from their beds, many of them previously perched on their elbows or sitting upright, were completely horizontal. It seemed that for anyone not intending to stay overnight, the urge to sleep had to be actively countered in some way. Some continued to fidget. Others nodded off.

Shortly after that first group of observers left the gallery, the music began to evolve into the second large section of the piece. The two cellos and viola played long, quiet tones as the piano faded away. It was nearly another ten minutes before the two violins joined them, with the piano eventually fading back in as well. Ambient electronics and bass tones continued throughout.

12:40 a.m.

The string players quietly disappeared from the stage. The audience in the observation gallery was now half of its starting size.

1:30 a.m.

When I left the hall, I felt invigorated and wide awake. Even after I arrived home, I stayed up a few more hours listening to Max Richter's hour-long album Sleep and thinking about what I'd experienced. 

***

After the concert, I wondered what was on the mind of the audience who left so quickly. Perhaps it came down to the question of how we experience listening to music. What is a listener’s expectation?

Max Richter, like Philip Glass and Steve Reich, is fundamentally a minimalist composer. His music is not necessarily intended to be experienced in the same way as a piece by Mozart or Bach. Instead, Richter wants your mind to wander the same way as his rhythmic and harmonic structures meander. When your mind eventually finds its way back to a particular rhythm or motif, the internal world aligns with the external, which can be invigorating and intensely emotional.

The nature of Sleep is that of accompaniment. There’s an expectation, if not a command, built into the experience. It calls for the listener to slow down, be quiet, and let go. Think of it as the ultimate sleep enhancement: meant to invigorate your mind while your body rejuvenates itself.