In two identical concert halls, on two identical nights, two identical pianists wait in the wings.
In each audience, a mix of young and old, ambitious and satisfied, experienced and newly-initiated, rustles briefly, settles, then falls quiet.
The two pianists in these fictitious twin halls wait for that moment every performer knows, when hundreds of small details converge to create a subtle pause, a split-second inhale of expectation.
When they feel that moment arrive they take the cue and stride forward, out under the glare of lights, surrounded by an explosive exhalation of applause.
Then time stands still.
Each pianist has rehearsed exhaustively.
Each is impeccably dressed.
Each is ready to perform the same complex piece of music.
Each concert hall has comfortable chairs, beautifully crafted scenery and exquisite acoustics.
In most ways, these two concerts, these two performances, are impossibly the same.
But what happens in these two concert halls couldn’t be more different.
The first pianist bows crisply, waves curtly, pulls out the bench and sits in front of the gleaming enormous piano.
He pulls his shoulders back, one foot moves forward to light on the pedals as he leans in and begins to play.
He plays perfectly.
Every note is where it belongs.
There are no mistakes.
At the other concert hall, however, something much more meaningful takes place.
In this concert hall, the pianist bows crisply, waves curtly, pulls out the bench and sits in front of the gleaming enormous piano.
He too plays the work perfectly; every note falls where it belongs.
But this pianist plays with personal passion.
He puts himself into the music.
He plays so the audience can’t help but be drawn in and engaged.
He plays an old classic piece from days gone by, but makes it feel fresh and new.
But the pianist here is only part of what makes this performance so different.
The more significant difference at this concert hall is you.
Because here, you and the audience create an expectant energy the pianist can feel from the stage.
The performer feeds off that energy, responds to it, and makes more than music.
He makes art.
In this concert hall you are a participant in the performance.
In fact, you are essential to it.
You are all in this together.
You are connected to each other.
It couldn’t happen without you.
When it’s over, and the spell is broken, reluctantly you leave.
You carry on with the rest of your night, the rest of your week, the rest of your life.
But you’ll always remember this performance.
You want every performance to be like that remarkable night, in that hall, with those people.
You cherish that feeling, and you crave it over and over again.
You belonged there.
You helped make something better happen.
And in turn it brought out the best in you.
“We are not a new club.
We are more than that. “
“What has allowed the club to remain the sort of place envisioned by its founders is, paradoxically, ceaseless change.
We are taking part in the continuous making of history, anticipating evolution yet to come.”
From the Vancouver Club Vision & Strategic Plan
Foundation Story produced by David Allison Inc.
Videography by Galen Löfstedt
Original Score by Max Zipursky