Music Was My Crutch, Until It Wasn't
On the classical music community that changed my life
17: age when I performed at the Musikverein in Vienna, Austria (widely considered the best-sounding music hall in the world, and home of the Vienna Philharmonic)
4: the number of times I would pretend I needed to go to the bathroom during my nightly 2-hour practice sessions from elementary school through high school (to avoid practicing)
2 & 4: my favorite positions to play on the violin (iykyk)
145: the number of musical theater performances I’ve accompanied as a pit orchestra violinist (my top 3 musicals to play: Ragtime, Sunday in the Park with George, & Spring Awakening)
1/8: the size of my first “mini” violin (measuring about 13 inches from the scroll to the chin rest), which still hangs in the music room of my childhood home
0: the number of times I’ve practiced my scales last month
6: the number of symphony orchestras I’ve played with across the country
25: the number of years I’ve had the pleasure of learning this beautiful instrument, first taught to me by my father (who self-taught himself in a dark attic in ZhongShan, China during the Cultural Revolution)
Music was my first community.
In the beginning, it was a painfully solo sport: squeaking away at fresh new pages of music, drilling difficult passages a million times over, memorizing virtuosic pieces for solo recitals…
But then, in 8th grade, I joined a local youth orchestra (Young People’s Symphony Orchestra based in Berkeley, CA), and my world changed.
All of a sudden, an art I had mastered in an isolated environment (and questioned often: “Who cares that I’m good at the violin? What am I learning this for? I just want to play outside like the other kids.”) was suddenly a gift of the highest magnitude.
Because…that’s when I became part of a music collective (something much bigger than myself).
Every Monday, I would come home from school, eat an early dinner, and hop into whoever’s parent’s car was on the carpool list for the night. After about 40 minutes meandering through the streets of Oakland, we would arrive at the Crowden School of Music, and my fellow musicians and I (peers from across 50 different schools across the Bay Area) would indulge in a myriad of activities:
of course, make music together (under the instruction of acclaimed maestro David Ramadanoff)
eat way too many slices of Costco pizza during rehearsal breaks
crush on each other (oh, the orchestra romances!)
gripe about homework and AP classes
and, grow up together (be really awkward, study for the SATs and ACTs, go on international summer tours, compete for silly seating arrangements, apply to college…)
Since then, I’ve leaned on my music community for that feeling of belonging and purpose.
When I moved away from home for the first time, I joined my university’s chamber orchestra — seeking that familiar environment: weekly gatherings, stand-partner banter, evening rehearsals, post-concert dinners, lots of symphonic works by old white men…
Even when I wasn’t confident in my social skills or ability to make friends in a new city, I knew I could rely on music communities wherever I ventured to for that quiet “in."
For example, when I moved to Boston in 2020 for a new job, I joined the Me/2 Orchestra — the world’s only classical music organization created for people with mental illnesses and people who support them.
And, Me/2 was my home.
Still, it is one of the most beautiful organizations I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of.
Throughout the pandemic, the orchestra gathered every week with our N-95 masks, rehearsed outdoors in the Boston summer, recorded entire arrangements by stitching together individual recordings, and hung out over Zoom on Friday nights just to stay connected and make sure everyone was hanging in there.
When I moved back to California a couple years later, music came to my rescue again.
I loved my home and community in Boston (I had my orchestra friends, neighbors who I’d met walking our pandemic puppies together, work friends who had become life friends, etc.), and I was a nervous about starting from scratch again.
But, a month before driving cross-country from Somerville, MA back to my hometown of Oakland, CA, I reached out to multiple orchestras in the Bay Area to set up auditions.
And, a week after landing back in my all-too-familiar zip code, I became a member of the Prometheus Symphony Orchestra, and also signed up to play a summer musical with Korsa Musical Theater Company.
All was well in the world again.
Looking back, music is where it all began.
Music is where I first felt the warmth of a community,
where I felt like I belonged anywhere,
where I learned to facilitate —
to gather, to co-create, to commune…
Without music, I wouldn’t be the community-gatherer I am today (in and outside the music world). I wouldn’t have the courage to talk to a stranger (without the assurance that we were creating something beautiful together), and I wouldn’t be a lover-of-people (which I 1000% am).
So, to all that, I owe it to music.
Specifically, to my classical music roots…
And, if I go really deep, I owe it to my father, who sat by me every night for 18 years — coaching me on an art that would later open doors to some of my most precious memories, relationships, and communities.
So, I’m curious: What was your first community? And, how has it shaped you? Reply to me here :)
With zeal and gratitude for this creative life,
Vanessa Li
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Beautiful read!