The Cadence of Opportunity

In the presence of the Anderson String Quartet you feel as if everything’s going to be all right for classical music, as if a little Beethoven and Brahms might just solve the world’s problems.

The Andersons--violinists Marianne Henry and Marisa McLeod, violist Diedra Lawrence and cellist Michael Cameron, all in their early 30s--don’t necessarily put it that way. But the stories they tell about their campaign of outreach concerts are overwhelmingly positive and inspirational. It turns out that taking classical music to the streets is not an impossibility.

As full-time artists in residence at Cal State L.A. since September 1994, the four musicians teach students individually, coach chamber work and have extensive outreach responsibilities. They perform at schools and community centers from Hollywood to South-Central, in correctional institutions, and at faculty colloquia, music appreciation classes and dormitories on the Cal State L.A. campus.

With their friends the Ying Quartet, an ensemble of Chinese American siblings, the Andersons in the last week alone have played--in programs featuring quartets by Brahms and Mozart and Mendelssohn’s Octet--at Los Padrinos Juvenile Hall in Downey, Mary J. Niders Juvenile Hall in Sylmar and Central Juvenile Hall in Los Angeles.

The two groups are combining forces particularly as an antidote to black-Asian tensions. For a formal concert today at Cal State’s Luckman Theatre, the poster reads “Unity Through Music” and is illustrated with Chinese characters on an African print background; it was designed by McLeod.

The Andersons--the first African American ensemble to win the Cleveland String Quartet Competition (in 1991) and, to its members’ knowledge, one of the few all-black string quartets ever--are often called on to be role models for the minority community.

“We’re pretty open to doing that because it’s just a wonderfully appreciative type of audience,” Lawrence says.

“We played a concert here at housing on campus,” she recalls, “and a young, very handsome black man, who presented himself very well, came up to me and said, ‘You know, I was a little worried about getting through law school. Seeing you guys, now I know I can do anything.’ And it makes you feel good.”

The seed for the Anderson Quartet was planted when Henry and Lawrence met on their first day at the Manhattan School of Music in the mid-’80s. With others, they created the Chaminade Quartet, playing weddings, parties and on the street for badly needed cash. McLeod came aboard when the group’s second violinist quit abruptly. Cameron joined in 1989 when the quartet, turning more serious, held auditions for a new cellist.

At first, they didn’t pay much attention to the fact that they were an all-black ensemble. But in 1991, “we turned around and realized that this had never been done before [at this level],” McLeod explains, “and then we had to stop and think a little bit.” In 1991 they obtained permission from Marian Anderson, the fabled African American contralto, to use her name.

Later the same year the Andersons won the Cleveland Competition, which meant a small stipend and three years’ study with the Cleveland String Quartet, at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, N.Y. They gave up their homes--in Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and Newark, N.J.--and their by-now lucrative work on Broadway, in TV studios and teaching, and went.

Similarly, when the opportunity arrived to become what Cal State calls Visiting Artists, the quartet relocated once again. The group has practically had to start the chamber music program on campus from scratch. In return, the university offers a home base, financial security and time for the musicians to season their craft. They’re optimistic that the contract will be renewed in September.

Although the Andersons perform some music by black composers and took part in a national tour during Black History Month in February, the repertoire of the European mainstream--Dead White Males--is their current focus.

What do they say to people who object to the music as elitist, who protest that many audiences won’t relate?

“Everybody knows what happiness is, everybody knows what joy is, everybody knows what suffering is,” Henry says. “So how can that be elitist? I’ve heard it [said], but that’s clearly to me a wrong statement.”

Lawrence tells of a friend who believed that the Andersons couldn’t capture the spirit of Shostakovich’s Seventh Quartet without being Russian. Hearing them play it, he admitted he was wrong.

“Because it’s not about Russian music,” Lawrence continues. “There are aspects of

Russian music in it--there are stylistic things--and those can all be learned.” The real issue is “what it feels like to come from a history of suffering--everybody knows what that song is about.”

Did they intend to send all these messages when they started?

“I think we sort of accidentally tripped into the role model position,” McLeod says.

“And I’m so glad,” Lawrence adds, “because if we had gone into this with the intention of doing it, we would have failed. Because the most important thing to us then and now is the music. And as soon as you try and find a shtick, it’s not pure anymore. I mean, imagine, ‘Let’s get together and form the first all-black string quartet.’ That’s not enough inspiration to keep you going for seven or eight years.”

It is a recent weeknight at Cal State’s Phase II Residential Housing, and the Anderson Quartet is warming up under fluorescent lights in the community room. Students straggle in with backpacks and basketballs. Without ceremony, the presentation begins. The players chat, each in their turn, describing their place in the quartet hierarchy and the individual joys that go with it.

Although the first violin and cello may seem to be the most important instruments, second violinist McLeod explains, they are actually like two pieces of dry bread. She--and the violist--are the peanut butter that turns them into a sandwich.

Short movements from Mozart are performed, highlighting the various instruments. Cellist Cameron takes his turn talking.

“I’m Michael,” he says, “and I’m a very tasty slice of bread,” ribbing McLeod for her analogy.

The first movement of Brahms’ C-minor Quartet ends the hour with its complicated workings.

The success of the evening, calculated to be casual, can be measured by the large number of students who gather round the quartet afterward to ask questions.

The key to outreach, the musicians say, is to give the audience a way to connect. They talk sports, personal histories--and they avoid technical lingo.

“We do talk about the composers on a personal level,” McLeod explains, “because it’s necessary for them to know. And they can listen to the lives of the composers and relate it to their own life, or listen to our individual lives and relate it to themselves: ‘Oh, they did it, through their struggles, through their trials--maybe I can do it too.’ Somehow, we are an encouragement.”

Says Henry: “I always tell kids, ‘You know, this violin has gotten me a lot of places.’ And I say, ‘If you stick to anything, one thing, you can actually see the world. And I’m not paying for it. People pay me.’ ”

But what about those correctional facilities? Surely, string quartets are a tough sell behind bars.

“Some of the most attentive audiences that I’ve ever encountered have been there,” Cameron says. “I remember there was one instance where we got up and said, ‘We are about to play some soul music.’ We said, ‘It’s Russian soul music.’ It happened to be Shostakovich. I heard a couple of suckings of teeth and saw some rollings of eyes. But once we started playing, they really got the message. At least I believe so.

“All you need are two ears; you don’t have to have a clean record to enjoy music.”

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ANDERSON STRING QUARTET, with the Ying Quartet, Luckman Theatre, Cal State L.A., 5151 University Drive. Dates: today, 4 p.m. Prices: $5-$30. Phone: (213) 343-6600.