SOUND:VISION

What stood out most for me was the degree to which blind and visually impaired audience members may be having an experience shaped differently by their fellow audience members. It made me curious whether their experience is a bit more personal and internal — I think we probably have no idea how much we’re influenced by the facial expressions and body language of the people around us when we listen to live music.

The experience made me interested in how we present music when we don’t rely as heavily on people “listening with their eyes.” I’m a great fan of theatrics and spectacle, but it made me fantasize about going to a concert and closing my eyes before the curtain opens — to experience the music fully as sound, without letting my sight make too many connections and conclusions for my ears.

Performing for a visually impaired audience was a particularly meaningful experience as a trumpeter. It was fascinating to learn how audience members often orient themselves toward the speakers during amplified performances, while in acoustic settings they could identify where individual musicians were within the ensemble, which created a stronger sense of connection. The audience’s enthusiasm and deep appreciation for music set the tone, and I have rarely played for listeners so attuned to musical details, timbre, and ensemble interaction.

I was also surprised to learn that many people blind from birth may not be familiar with the physical shapes of musical instruments — something I had previously taken for granted. The experience highlighted the power of music as an art form that transcends visual elements, and encouraged me to think more carefully about accessibility in concert settings.

A few things surprised me. One was the range of how blindness is experienced by different individuals. Another was how important being able to place sound in space is — the impact that sound reinforcement makes on a blind person’s experience is really profound. I’d definitely never thought about that before.

As for playing with a blind band member, I’d never really considered that there would be any problem. Any time I’ve played with a blind player it’s been a remarkable experience — granted, that was just playing tunes, not arrangements — but I think it would open up my conception of the music to not be able to rely on visual information.

Because I’ve worked with blind people before, my mind didn’t go to the practical side of sharing a physical space. What I found myself thinking about — which I hadn’t really thought about before — was how they visualize sound. That’s kind of where my head went with the whole experience. And I came away aware of how dialed in they were to the sound and the energy in the space.

One of the biggest revelations for me was how differently a blind audience experiences music in an acoustic setting compared to an amplified one. During our meeting and performance, I could see how they enjoyed mapping the instruments on stage by where the sound came from. Some didn’t know what every instrument looked like, so it was fascinating to hear what went through their minds as they listened to each one. Above all, I really appreciated their curiosity about every note they heard.

I can’t say I have much experience playing with a blind band member, but this emphasized how much usually happens through vision — cues, a smile, small interactions. Without them, attention is 100 percent on the music, and far from being a barrier, it creates a new, deeper way of communicating musically.

The biggest takeaway for me was hearing participants describe how a room’s sound system affects their experience. Many said that without amplification they hear the music more clearly, coming directly from its source. I was also interested to learn what makes a concert exciting and engaging for these listeners: touching the instruments and connecting their physical characteristics to their sounds, hearing descriptions of what the conductor is doing to lead the ensemble, and learning about the visual cues that sighted musicians rely on to play together.

Through my wife’s work as a music therapist and university educator, I’ve long valued accessibility — and this workshop left me better prepared to support and collaborate with a blind band member: relying more intentionally on auditory cues, favoring acoustic settings where sound sources are clearly localized, and verbalizing conducting gestures and other visual information.

One thing I learned was how different the experience of acoustic music can be from music amplified through a PA system. As sighted musicians, we take for granted seeing where sound comes from. During an acoustic performance, blind audience members can often build a spatial understanding of the ensemble; through a PA, all the sound may seem to come from the same place.

The workshop made me more aware of how much communication in music can happen without visual cues, and playing with the blind pianist Matthew Whitaker on the Jazz Cruise reinforced it: if I wanted to move to a new section or end a solo, I had to communicate it through my playing rather than eye contact. It taught me to be more intentional about the way I give cues, relying more on sound and less on visual signals.