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Sarah Hicks and Sam Bergman

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Let's Go, Buff-a-lo!

For reasons that remain unclear to me (but which almost certainly have to do with Blogger being ridiculously sucky at generating blogs,) we do not have a blogroll here at ItC Central. So when we discover a fabulous new music-related blog that we think all y'all should be reading, we pretty much have to dedicate a whole post to telling you about it.

Fortunately, I have no problem with that in this case. I've written before about my friend Kate Holzemer, a native Minnesotan who spends her days playing viola in the Buffalo Philharmonic, and her nights blogging hilariously about her beloved Buffalo Sabres. And now, with the Buffalo Phil preparing for a tour of the ever-lucrative state of Florida, the powers that be at the BPO have tapped Kate to apply her writing skills to their official tour blog.

Pretty much every orchestra that goes on any sort of tour these days puts up a blog, and to be brutally honest, most of them range from unreadably bland to offensively self-promotional. So I really can't recommend Kate's BPO blog highly enough, because I've known this woman for about 15 years now, and I can pretty much guarantee that she is the antithesis of bland and self-promotional. So far, she's referred to her viola as her unborn child, dubbed her stagehands SUPER-DUPER-MEGA-PROS, and called one of the BPO's percussionists a liar. And I'm assuming that's just her warm-up act.

The blog is at http://bporchestra.wordpress.com/, and you should all go there immediately. And then, you should forget how funny Kate is and come back here. Because honestly, we can't compete with that.

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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

And you thought our Symphony Magazine cover photo was awesome...

...check out this very stylish poster by the Berlin Philharmonic:



Or even better, take a look at each individual portrait that makes up the poster - "128 Soloists".

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Friday, February 19, 2010

Treat Your Audience Well

There's been a bit of an industry kerfuffle going on in Orchestra World lately over a new marketing campaign launched by the Philadelphia Orchestra. I'm not going to get into it, partly because I have a number of good friends in that orchestra and it's the band I grew up listening to, so I'm hardly objective; and partly because I think it's silly to get so worked up over a slogan.

But one of my favorite ArtsJournal bloggers, Molly Sheridan, wrote a post earlier this week that went beyond the trashing of a slogan to address the larger issue that some American orchestras still aren't very good at making the audience feel welcome. That Molly makes the point by relating a personal experience in which she was made to feel welcome makes the post all the more effective:

"I think being open to and engaged in hearing much of the orchestral repertoire in 2010 hinges on fostering that connection between the mass of performers on stage and the audience members out in the dark of the hall. Without it, the most transcendental musical experience has an uphill fight on its hands."

It really can't be said much more succinctly than that. Times change, and though the music we're playing might be timeless (I said might,) the social trappings and crowd etiquette that go along with any public event evolve from generation to generation, and orchestras tend to be horrifically bad at noticing this. My pet theory is that this is because orchestras (especially major ones with venerable histories) prize Tradition so highly, and are therefore slow to accept any change, for fear that even a small adjustment in the proceedings will snowball into a wholesale devaluing of that Tradition.

That's why I'm not surprised that the orchestra that gave Molly such an unexpectedly pleasant night out was the Baltimore Symphony. The BSO is a major-league band, to be sure, but in the hierarchy of big-time American ensembles, Baltimore, like Minnesota, fits comfortably into what I think of as the "upstart" category.

Upstarts generally perform at a level comparable to more famous orchestras like New York and Philadelphia, but toil in unglamorous mid-sized cities that the New Yorkers who write the rule book of cultural fame tend to overlook. This can be annoying if you're an upstart band trying to find a permanent place on the mythical list of Great American Orchestras, but it's never going to change, so it's best just to accept it.

Besides, the upside to being an upstart is that you're probably less shackled to the whole Tradition thing than the hidebound ensembles at the top of the meaningless GAO list, so innovation is easier to achieve. And because residents of midsized American cities tend to be less likely than your average jaded New Yorker to interpret friendliness as a sign of weakness or stupidity, you can buy an awful lot of goodwill from the public just by smiling a lot and telling concertgoers how much you appreciate them coming out to the show.

Of course, I rarely experience an orchestra concert as a customer, so my view of things may be somewhat skewed. So I'm throwing this one open to all of you who buy tickets and slog through the winter snows to hear us play: give me your best/worst customer service experiences with an orchestra. Who does the little things right, and what is "right" to you? And most importantly, what's the one thing an orchestra can do, other than playing great music well, to make you want to come back?

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Thursday, February 4, 2010

All together now

Marin Alsop conceived of and presented some unusual concerts this week, featuring nearly 600 amateur musicians playing alongside the professionals in the Baltimore Symphony in a program called "Rusty Musicians with the BSO". The requirements? Simply to be over the age of 25, play an orchestral instrument and be able to read music.

In terms of community-building, I don't think it gets much better than this. I keep harping on the fact that people crave experiences in which they feel involved in the process, and this kind of thing is a fantastic example of how orchestras can be inclusive of their audiences (current and potential). The logistics of this particular program sound daunting - 600 amateur musicians signed up - but instead of a single mammoth concert, the amateurs were broken up in groups over several days. It's some good outside-the-box thinking.

Although a Washington Post article claims that only the Pittsburgh Symphony has tried anything similar, many smaller orchestras (mostly regionals) have experimented with these types of concerts (for instance, one of my ex-orchestras, the Richmond Symphony, has been doing one for several years). It's always fascinating for me to see how the higher-profile orchestras often pick up on projects that smaller orchestras produce, and also how mainstream media rarely give credit to those smaller organizations. The regional and small per-service groups that make up the backbone of the network of American orchestras most often work in relative anonymity, but they are where much of the creative thinking in our field comes from.

What I particularly love about the whole amateurs-playing-with-pros idea is that it touches on the fact that most people who play an instrument in their youth don't then go on to become professional musicians. But that's not to say they ever lose the enjoyment of playing an instrument; in fact, I would venture to say that it's probably more "fun" for amateurs to play, at whatever level, because their livelihood and sense of self aren't bound up in it.

In a not-so-distant past, people gathering for impromptu amateur chamber music parties was a regular occurrence; even in my childhood, I remember how much fun it was to gather around the piano to sing songs (admittedly, my family was a little...old-fashioned). But how wonderful to maintain a childhood hobby into adulthood, and then be able to share the stage with a top American orchestra! It's empirically and good thing...and it doesn't hurt an orchestra's PR either.

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Sunday, January 17, 2010

Labor Showdown, 21st Century-Style

If you follow the classical music business closely, you've likely read already that the vaunted Cleveland Orchestra, which many consider to be America's best symphony, is on the verge of going on strike. The musicians have been working without a contract for six months, and have decided that continuing to "play and talk" will not result in any change in their managers' insistence on a hefty pay cut, so they're willing to risk the drastic and always publicly unpopular step of refusing to perform.

Sarah and I have generally avoided commenting on specific orchestral labor actions here, and this one, if it comes to pass (and everyone is hoping it doesn't,) will be no different. Obviously, as a musician (and one who was trained in large part by a Cleveland Orchestra player,) I have a dog in this fight, but a blog hosted on the official website of my orchestra isn't the place for me to be advocating or accusing.

However, as the rhetoric in Cleveland has heated up, it's worth noting how different such situations have become in the Internet Age. In past eras, musicians considering a work stoppage were up against very long odds in terms of getting their message out. The orchestra management would have the use of its professional PR department to make its voice heard, and the existing relationships between local journalists and that office would likely trump any feeble attempt by the musicians (who, as a group, do not tend to be terribly PR-savvy) to argue their case before the court of public opinion.

Now, though, everything's changed, and the Cleveland musicians have been availing themselves of everything from social networking sites to YouTube videos to make themselves heard very, very loudly, not only in Cleveland, but around the music world. A Facebook page has been set up and has already garnered over 1000 fans. And just this afternoon, the musicians posted a very professional-looking video to YouTube, asking very directly whether their orchestra's management still believes in the core values outlined in the organization's mission statement. The video concludes with a tagline about the difference between "having an orchestra in Cleveland, and having The Cleveland Orchestra." It's a powerful statement, made possible only by the easy access to technology that didn't even exist ten years ago, and that we take for granted today.



The impact of such high-tech efforts on an orchestral labor dispute won't be known for a while, simply because this is the first time in the Facebook/YouTube/Twitter era that one of America's top five orchestras (always a highly subjective list, of course, but I don't know anyone who wouldn't have Cleveland on it) might be walking the picket line. It's possible that the tide of public opinion will be as anti-union as it almost always seems to be during strikes in America, and it's also possible that such PR efforts don't really have a lot to do with how most work stoppages are eventually resolved.

But the opposite is possible, too. And I've written before that I've never seen a decidedly blue-collar, hardscrabble, dressed-down city take more pride in a local arts institution than Cleveland takes in its orchestra. That kind of popular interest in what ordinary folks see as an institution their community cannot do without can sometimes lead to remarkable groundswells. And in 2010, those groundswells are as likely as not to begin online.

As I said at the top, if the worst happens in Cleveland this week (and people I've talked to seem to think it will,) I'll be holding my tongue here on the blog. But you can probably guess which side I'll be rooting for.

Late addendum, added January 19: The Cleveland Orchestra went on strike Monday morning, but by this afternoon, media sources were reporting that a tentative settlement had been reached. "Tentative" in the orchestra business means that the musicians' negotiating team has agreed to recommend that the entire membership vote to approve the deal on the table. It would be very, very unusual for the orchestra to reject a deal that its elected negotiators are recommending, so this likely is the end of the work stoppage.

Although Monday was technically a day off for the orchestra, the strike did lead to the postponement of a weeklong residency at Indiana University. However, Cleveland's upcoming three-week residency in Miami, which has been a major cash cow for the orchestra in recent years, will reportedly go on as scheduled, pending the ratification of the new contract.

Further update: The full orchestra has now ratified the new contract, which runs through the 2011-12 season.

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Thursday, December 31, 2009

4-3-2-1...

Gearing up for what should be an epic New Year's Eve (which I'll - hopefully - post about tomorrow):



In the meantime, a few musings on 2009:

It's been a tumultuous year, by all accounts, and there have certainly been casualties of these troubled financial times (although one could argue that the Honolulu Symphony was in terminal condition long before the current state of the world).

Tough times force a certain amount of navel-gazing; the danger in this is the possibility of becoming stuck in pensiveness, without the possibility of action. In a year predicated on the overarching notion of Change (yup, with a capital "C"), it's encouraging to see that some major organizations have taken some actual bold steps, particularly in choosing artistic leaders; Alan Gilbert began his stint at the helm of the New York Philharmonic, weeks before the Los Angeles Philharmonic welcomed Gustavo Dudamel as its new music director.

Gilbert seems both an unusual choice (a young American less-known in his home country) and a natural fit (as the son of NY Phil musicians) - an interesting direction for a conservative organization that nonetheless seems to concede to the need for a larger cultural relevancy (witness the choice of Alec Baldwin as its radio host). On the opposite coast, the Dudamel PR juggernaut is motoring at full throttle, drumming up the kind of buzz of which other orchestras can only dream. "The Dude's" charisma is unquestionable; whether it will translate into artistic fulfillment or increased ticket sales, only time will tell.

And speaking of new appointments and charisma, that of Yo-Yo Ma as "creative consultant" to the Chicago Symphony is one that has me very interested. It's the kind of outside-the-box thinking - utilizing talent in an unconventional manner - that signals some of the most exciting development in the orchestral field.

But it wasn't the year for change - or choice - for everyone; the Philadelphia Orchestra is still rudderless, heightening concerns about one of the most beleaguered of the "Big Five" (which reminds me, how do we rank orchestras these days, anyway?).

On the personal front, change came in the form of two new jobs and moving my household to Minneapolis, all of which has been simultaneously challenging and enormously satisfying.

On the Inside the Classics front, Sam and I are busy preparing for the next set of concerts (La Mer! I've been looking forward to this one...) while, thanks to result reports from Wallace Foundation-funded focus group studies, we continue to reevaluate and tinker with format and content for upcoming seasons. As much as I like change - as I've frequently said, my favorite quote = "If you don't like change, you'll like irrelevance even less" - there are some constants I've come to rely on, like a co-host/co-writer/cohort whose inventiveness and wit and sense of vision are a constant inspiration to me. Thanks for a great 2009, Sam; now if we could only find a time for our "Four Seasons" initial script meeting...

Happy New Year to all!!

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Monday, November 9, 2009

Back on the Islands...

More bad, but not unexpected, news; the Honolulu Symphony is filing Chapter 11 bankruptcy and has canceled concerts through the end of the calendar year.

I am heartsore. Honolulu is my home town, and the Symphony holds many memories for me - I played my first concerto with them (Mozart K. 271, I think) as a preteen. They saw their heyday in the 80's under Donald Johanos, who raised artistic standards and introduced new repertoire, including an ambitious recording project with composer Dan Welcher (who coincidentally composed "Haleakala" on my parents upright Yamaha). Since the labor dispute and strike in 1993, the Symphony seems never to have regained it's footing, and the last few seasons in particularly have been disastrous from a fiscal standpoint - during the 08-09 season, musicians worked for months without pay.

I'll let someone else dissect what went wrong with the symphony. What was most upsetting to me was not so much what has happened, but reaction to it. The advent of online print media and that ever-present "comment" button means that everyone has an easy way to weigh in immediately, and as I scrolled through the responses, I realized that a vast majority expressed a similar sentiment: "Who cares? We don't need a symphony." A selection below:

It is said if a city doesn't have a symphony then it is not a Big City. Bull. If a symphony doesn't get 100 percent of its operating capital from ticket sales then it is just a failed business and should fold. Symphonys are just play toys for the rich. Honolulu will do fine with or without a symphony. The rich will just have to find another place where they can dress up in their finest and go to show off how rich they are. If symphonys were so great they would be packed to the rafters with both the rich and the average folk.

Yikes..their business plans says that only 30% of their revenue came from ticket sales and 70% from donations. It should have gone the other way around. No wonder they fail to balance their budget each year. Yes, close these dolts down.

109 yrs old, and unable to support yourself, time to die already.

The culture and traditions of the European elite are what have brought this planet to the brink of disaster.
No thank you. You can keep the music of dead white European composers. Good riddance to the symphony.

We are all sick of the fiscal mismanagement of this mediocre symphony. Please close it. We need to discuss more important groups. The economy is in a disaster.

I wish the musicians well, but symphonies are a relic of another time.

Get rid of the strings and form a Jazz band. More appealing. Maybe have a guest violinist from time to time.
Symphony = zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzz
The symphony is just a way for the rich to dress up and act rich.

Why is it that we hear from month to month and year to year how bad they are doing? How is it that they are constantly getting all this free press? I guess they are failing because !) they suck 2) noone care about them 3) they have done a miserable job of promotion...bottom line is that it is not my problem...or anyone elses but theirs.


All of these touch on the PR problems that all orchestras face - the perception that orchestras are elite bastions of the rich (and therefore not for "the people"); that orchestras are sadly out of touch with current cultural trends (and care only about "dead white European composers"); that orchestras ticket sales should represent a far higher percentage of their actual budgets.

As with anyone in this industry, I can refute (to a certain degree) all three, but the important take-away from this is not discrediting criticism but rather grasping the perception of those in the community who do NOT have a relationship with their local orchestra. And the level of local vitriol directed towards the Honolulu Symphony in all of the articles that have come out in the last week is deeply disheartening. Because it's not like the Symphony didn't have educational initiatives or community concerts or programs to reach out to the larger public; it's that these activities could not alter or overcome the more powerful notions of what the Symphony represents.

It presents a tremendous PR/branding conundrum for orchestras. On one hand, you want to celebrate your artistic triumphs abroad or your critically-acclaimed recordings. But in the end, the success of any arts organizations lies in the connections it has forged and the loyalty it has built in the community it serves.

I hope the Honolulu Symphony will be able to regroup - it's certainly possible for an orchestra to rise out these ashes (others have). From my own perspective, the Symphony was such a fundamental part of my childhood; I don't think I would be where I am now without them and can't imagine home without them. And for the Island community as a whole, what a loss, what a loss - the Symphony brought so much joy to so many, from their Waikiki Shell summer shows to their educational concerts to presenting world-class soloists at Blaisdell... I await better news with both anxiety and hope.

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Thursday, October 1, 2009

Schadenfreude

I know it's wrong to take pleasure from the pain of others (especially when "others" are an opera company which employs several of one's friends,) but something about the mini-firestorm that's been enveloping the Metropolitan Opera this week has been highly entertaining to me.

At the center of the controversy is a brand spanking new production of Tosca that America's premiere opera company has chosen to open its season. Opera audiences do not, on the whole, tend to be big fans of change, so it's always risky to replace a well-worn production with something new and innovative. (Opera audiences also tend to be far more willing to make their displeasure known immediately than the audiences we see at Orchestra Hall. I attended a perfectly decent production of Eugene Onegin at the Vienna State Opera last winter at which the director and set designer were roundly booed during the curtain call.)

Still, music critics today are a gentle lot, on the whole, and it's relatively rare that you read a truly blistering review. So I can only imagine that the Met's new Tosca must have indeed laid quite an egg last week to inspire this absolute demolition by the estimable Alex Ross at The New Yorker:

"It takes a certain effort to suck the life out of Tosca... [Director Luc Bondy] delivered an uneven, muddled, weirdly dull production that interferes fatally with the working of Puccini’s perfect contraption. Karita Mattila was miscast in the title role. No one else sang with particular distinction. By the end of opening night, [Met Opera General Manager Peter] Gelb had on his hands a full-blown fiasco, with boos resounding from the orchestra seats, the upper galleries, and even the plaza outside, where people had watched on a screen for free... While there is nobility in an ambitious failure, there is no glory in ineptitude."

Dude. That is a serious takedown. But Ross sees a bright side in the rare Met misfire, too...

"Opera being a delightfully paradoxical medium, this whole debacle left me in an upbeat mood. The Met is refusing to repeat itself and is seeking, by trial and error, a new theatrical identity... The audience was, at least, paying attention. If I’m not mistaken, someone shouted “Vergogna!”—“Shame!”—when the production team shuffled onstage to face the firing squad. I doubt that mass revulsion is part of Gelb’s marketing plan, but a scandal has its uses: the Met made the evening news."

Good point, and one that further underscores the different cultural positions occupied by orchestras and opera companies in America today. Can you imagine the New York Philharmonic being booed at Lincoln Center? And even if you can, can you imagine any media entity beyond the arts press caring about it?

Somewhere along the way, we seem to have decided that opera companies are populist and orchestras are elitist. (Which is odd, since the trappings of each experience would suggest exactly the opposite to me.) That's a problem for those of us in orchestras, of course, but I'll admit - there are times when it's nice to be ignored. I'm guessing the Met would take some of that treatment right now...

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Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Celebrating The New In NY

It's a whole new era at the New York Philharmonic, as the Phil's new 42-year-old music director (and native New Yorker) Alan Gilbert took up the reins last week, live on national television. It's always a lot of fun to watch one of the first concerts a professional orchestra plays under a new MD - not because they're likely to be the best concerts of the new MD's tenure, but because everyone on stage is so eager, so energetic, and so determined to show what they can do. We saw it here in Minneapolis when Osmo took over in 2003, they saw it in Dallas and Pittsburgh last season when Jaap van Zweden and Manfred Honeck took over the outstanding orchestras of those two cities, and now New York is enjoying its own honeymoon.

As I was watching the Phil's opening night performance on PBS's Live From Lincoln Center, I was struck by a couple of things. The first was that Gilbert has immediately changed the seating of the orchestra's string section to match the "antiphonal violin" arrangement that Osmo put in place at Orchestra Hall several years ago. Having played at Avery Fisher Hall myself, I'm guessing this change is a bit of a cold shock for the musicians - it can be very hard to hear across the stage in that hall, and when the musicians you've always been able to hear suddenly switch places with the ones you haven't heard in years, it takes time (and a lot of effort) to recalibrate. But according to the New York Times, the players at the Phil seem more than game.

The second striking thing about the performance was that Gilbert had chosen to open his tenure by commissioning a brand new work from the Phil's new resident composer, Magnus Lindberg. The piece was, in a word, breathless, and I actually rewound my DVR to the beginning to listen to it twice more after it was over. It was the kind of piece that people who still believe that all living composers are writing unlistenable music full of dissonance should hear - a ball of energy unleashed across the orchestra, filled with the unmistakable symbolism of the Phil's new beginning.

That having been said, the performance of the Lindberg sounded to me just ever so slightly muddy, as if it could have benefited from one or two more rehearsals. And this is always the problem with performances of new music - orchestras work so fast, and on so many different pieces of music simultaneously, that we count a lot on our muscle memory from whenever we last played what we're playing now. And when it's a world premiere (especially a difficult one, and the Lindberg sounded pretty tricky,) that muscle memory hasn't been created yet. So you do your level best, try to hear the really important cues that you can't afford to miss, and then, when you run out of rehearsal time, you just put your head down and play. And most of the time, with a really good orchestra, it works out fine, as it did in New York last week.

But I've always wondered why, given the limitations of what even a great orchestra can accomplish with a brand new work in 2 to 3 days of rehearsal time, we focus so much on world premieres, and so little on repeat performances of newer works. After all, I'm guessing that one of the reasons the audience at the infamous premiere of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring reacted so badly to it was that there's simply no way that the orchestra had a real handle on the piece yet. How could they? Stravinsky had written a ballet score unlike anything ever produced before it, and a piece that still challenges every professional musician every time it's performed! Now imagine if that world premiere had been simply chalked up as another notch on the chart that orchestras keep to prove they're committed to new music, and never performed again. Would we ever have recognized its greatness?

In the decade that I've been in Minnesota, we've played more world premieres than I can count, and as a big fan of new music, I'm thrilled with that fact. But I can think of at least five of those pieces just off the top of my head that I'd love the chance to play again. And again. And again, until that muscle memory kicks in, and we can nail a world-beating performance of that piece every bit as securely as we nail Beethoven's 7th. Think how we could change audience perceptions of living composers if they got the chance to hear them more than once, and at a level of performance comparable to the old warhorse symphony on the second half of the program!

I'm not saying every new piece deserves this treatment, of course. The thing about world premieres is that you're essentially paying for the act of creation, and you have no idea what the quality of the finished score will be until the first rehearsal. But when we get our hands on one of those truly rare gems that more composers than you'd think are turning out these days, I'd love to see those of us in the orchestra world seize the chance to make them a permanent part of our repertoire. And maybe the NY Phil could start with that Lindberg...

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Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Changing of the guard

Friday, July 24, 2009

hmmmmm....

...well, look, I'm all for using technology to enhance performance experiences. But I'm all for finding the most efficient and organic way of utilizing those technologies; I don't think it makes sense to incorporate multi-media/electronic/communication gadgetry just for the sake of using the technology in itself.

Case in point, an upcoming Beethoven Sixth Symphony with the National Symphony Orchestra led by NSO associate conductor Emil de Cou in which program notes will be sent via Twitter at appropriate times during the performance.

I don't have a problem with real-time program notes, which some have found to enhance the concert experience (I would think particularly so for those less familiar with the repertoire/type of music at hand). I just don't think Twitter is really the right vehicle.

I love tweeting as much as the the next Gen X/Y-er, but the charm of Twitter is that posts are pithy reflections of experiences in real time, as they occur. The 140-character limitations creates the necessity of boiling down a thought or observation to its essential meaning, and posting is a matter delivering these as they occur to you, a running commentary on life as it occurs (some tweets I just read as I write this blog: "Running to USPS & bank so I can get my errands and exercise done at the same time."; "In Vegas for a meeting, believe it or not. Just saw the spot where Elvis waited in his cape before he went on."; "Just did a shot of aquavit and sight-read the "Moonlight Sonata." It's wild sharps in that sonata.").

Pre-written program notes, tweeted as carefully cultivated musical points, first and foremost, defeat the purpose of Twitter. This is an example of the use of technology as a delivery system (for mass texting) which is peripheral to the whole purpose of the technology itself (from the Twitter website: "Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?").

If you want to provide real-time program notes, why not have a super-title screen?

Ok, Ok, I know some of you will say, "Well, at least with the Twittering, those of us who don't want to be distracted by the program notes don't have to see it on some screen above the orchestra." To which I answer, what's more distracting, a screen high enough above the orchestra so that you could ignore it if you so choose, or seeing the pale glow of countless phones and PDAs as people read their screens every few minutes? Are we encouraging people to read texts during a concert? What precedent does that set?

Orchestras have slowly climbed aboard the technology bandwagon, which I applaud. What I'm less enthused about is the use of the latest "sexy" thing ("Hey, everyone's on Twitter! We need to incorporate this into what we do because it's proof that we're hip and current!") just for the sake of the thing itself, when there is a more efficient and perhaps more natural way to accomplish the same ultimate goal.

I've had a long-standing relationship with the NSO (I first worked with them back in 2002), and I appreciate this attempt to think outside the box; however, for my taste, this particular foray into use of technology seems off-mark. I'll be curious to see commentary from those who attend the concert.

PS: had set this to post on a 12-hour delay without carefully proofing, sorry for the typos in the original!

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Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Slowly, with intense inner torment

Mahler scores are notorious detailed with nit-picky instruction to both player and conductor - woe betide the conductor who hasn't figured them out before the first rehearsal, when a suspicious wind player might test their preparedness by asking a pointed question about an obscure marking!

A list of translations can prove very helpful. Or, in this case (a "memo" to the New Philharmonia Orchestra of Newton, MA), very funny (via Alex Ross).

To whet your appetite:

GERMAN - ENGLISH

Langsam - Slowly

Schleppend - Slowly

Dampfer auf - Slowly

Mit Dampfer - Slowly

Allmahlich in das Hauptzeitmass ubergehen - Do not look at the conductor

Im Anfang sehr gemaechlich - In intense inner torment

Alle Betonungen sehr zart - With more intense inner torment

Getheilt (geth.) - Out of tune

Immer noch zurueckhaltend - With steadily decreasing competence


Sorry for the spotty posting - I've been on a busy guest-conducting week, and the Orchestra, of course, has been at Carnegie (read the glowing review here). I'm disappointed to have missed some excitement - namely, soloist Leonidas Kavakos and concertmaster Jorja Fleezanis in a violin switcheroo mid-Sibelius. Sam, I'm sure, will have some first-hand insights when the Orchestra returns!

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Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Run, Ludwig, run!

Fun and frolics at the Fairbanks Symphony - their annual "Beat Beethoven" 5K run. Why not an upgrade for next year? If taken at a profoundly deliberate pace, perhaps Mahler's 3rd Symphony would be the perfect marathon benchmark.

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Monday, March 9, 2009

Damn The Recession, Full Speed Ahead

As we settle back into our normal routine post-tour, I've been catching up on some of what we missed while we were overseas. (That Top Chef finale on my DVR isn't gonna watch itself, after all.) And last Friday's Wall Street Journal carried a review of one of Minnesota's other classical music organizations that is well worth a read. What makes the story newsworthy is that it's about an organization bucking the tried-and-true strategy of arts groups getting hyper-conservative in their programming the moment things turn ugly financially. Apparently, the leaders over at Minnesota Opera see a different way...

"[Minnesota Opera] has launched a $5.5 million initiative intended to infuse the operatic repertoire with new works. Spanning seven seasons, the project, called Minnesota OperaWorks, involves three commissions, three revivals of neglected works, and the co-production of a new opera... Minnesota Opera deserves enormous credit for continuing to devote resources to the future of the art form, especially now."

Now, there's a bit of hyperbole involved here, because MN Opera had undoubtedly planned this project before the global crisis really took hold. But at the same time, this is exactly the sort of project that orchestras and opera companies tend to take an axe to when times get tough (we almost lost our own hugely successful Composers' Institute to a round of budget cuts several years back,) and the Opera folks obviously have no intention of backing off their ambitious plans. For an art form that tends to be even more hidebound and artistically conservative than the orchestral world, this dedication to bringing new works to the fore could represent a major step forward, and will likely have resonance at companies around North America.

Now, wouldn't it be nice to see a few orchestras step up and announce a major commissioning project to keep a few composers off the welfare rolls in these troubled times?

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Thursday, February 12, 2009

Notes from the Heartland

I'm leaving Sam and my colleagues to finish out their week of Nordic finger-torture; last night I arrived in Ohio to do a concert with the Columbus Symphony featuring the Kingston Trio. (My burning question about Charlie and the MTA; if Charlie's wife could slip him a sandwich, why couldn't she slip him a nickel??)

The Columbus Symphony has been through some mighty trying times over the last year or so, and the musicians seem relieved to be back at work despite the sizable paycut they've agreed to take. A perception-altering fact; with a population of 747,755 (the 15th largest metropolitan area as of 2007), Columbus now supports an orchestra of 53 full-time musicians playing a season reduced from their previous 46 weeks to 38, while Minneapolis, at 377,392 the 46th largest city, supports a 98-member orchestra for a 52-week season. Which always begs the question; what ideal combination of factors - history, corporate sponsorship, board leadership, community pride, charisma of music director - lead to such discrepancies?

Rehearsal went well this morning (it's a good band), and musicians seemed to be in pretty good spirits; I'm sure many readers join me in saying I'm glad your back, Columbus Symphony!

A few other thoughts:

Regional jets + 66 mph gusts (the Columbus airport was purportedly shut down for awhile. I certainly don't think we should have even tried to land) = one of the scariest flights I've ever been on, and you regular blog readers know I fly 40-60 times a year. I've been on bumpy flights before, but...sheesh...

Now, air travel has, admittedly, been pretty miserable the last few years, what with all the mergers and flight cutbacks, and I understand the frustration of missing multiple connections and taking 20 hours to make what should have been a 5 hour trip. However, I remind everyone, if a reservation agent on the phone or the check-in person at a previous airport has messed up your re-(re-re-, depending on how many connections you've missed) booked flight, please do not scream at the gate agent! It's like yelling at Steve Campbell because you didn't enjoy the performance of Mozart's "Jupiter" Symphony (N.B., there are no tubas in "Jupiter" - yes, Steve's in the orchestra, but did he contribute to that particular performance? No. Is the gate agent culpable for the inadequacy of some other Northwest Airlines employee a thousand miles away? No.) (I witnessed this scene as I was on a cancelled/rerouted/standby-only flight to Columbus via Milwaukee - the screamer made the gate agent cry!)

Finally, as much as traveling has become an enormous pain (and the part of my job I least enjoy), it allows me (and every traveling musician) to experience life somewhere else, firsthand, which I find immensely important. It's easy enough to become so entrenched in everyday life that we start seeing things from a very singular perspective. Being on the road, meeting people from all over, experiencing daily existence in dozens of cities across the country (and around the world) remind me that there are always half a dozen ways to look at anything, and a million ways to approach the basic truths in life (family/community, art/beauty - you know, the good stuff). It makes every day fresh for me, which I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

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Sunday, January 25, 2009

Still on the road

I'm finishing up my time in Vermont, where I've been premiering a Double Concerto by David Ludwig with the Vermont Symphony and Jaime Laredo and Sharon Robinson. Which has been very cool on many different levels - first of all, because David and I have been the best of friends for over a decade, and it's fun to collaborate with a colleague you are so close to (and he writes absolutely wonderful music!), and second of all because I grew up on recordings of the famed Kalichstein-Laredo Robinson Trio, and it's amazing to be at a point in my career where I'm collaborating with artists that I admired as a youngster!

We just played a matinee in Rutland, where we'll also be spending 6 hours tomorrow recording the Double Concerto. As we're an hour and a half out of Burlington, the Vermont Symphony's home, we're all ensconced in the local Holiday Inn - soloists, composer, conductor, recording engineers (who just arrived from New York), as well as the entire orchestra. Which has lent the hotel halls the atmosphere of, say, a Youth Orchestra tour, in the best sense. Musician are excitedly visiting back and forth - I saw a case of beer being lugged up the stairway, bags of wine and snacks purchased at the Hannaford down the street. At this point in my career, hotel living has lost its luster (I often wake up in the middle of the night having no idea what city I'm in until I rouse myself to look at the the Hotel Services booklet to see where I am), but put an orchestra in a hotel and they'll find a way to have fun. It's nice to see that kind of enthusiasm, particularly when you're a little travel-weary - I'm just looking forward to being somewhere (anywhere!) for more that 5 days at a time (which I might have around February 15)!

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Tuesday, January 13, 2009

"Museum and laboratory"

The New York Philharmonic has announced its 2009-10 season, incoming music director Alan Gilbert's inaugural season, at a press conference that is available in its entirety (94 minutes!) via this webcast. There's much of interest: Magnus Lindberg as newly-minted composer-in-residence; artist-in-residence Thomas Hampson; a new music ensemble; the New York premier of Ligeti's Le Grand Macabre; a three-week mini-festival of Stravinsky curated and conducted by Valery Gergiev; Alec Baldwin as "announcer-in-residence". Great stuff, all.

Two bits I liked, one line from Gilbert and one from Lindberg - Gilbert puts forth the idea of an orchestra as both museum and laboratory - curating the great art of the past while supporting the curious chemistry that creates great art of the present. And to tie in to that, Lindberg talks about the necessity for a "dialogue between our time and the past". It reminds me of a discussion about programming during a League of American Orchestras workshop I attended years ago about how pieces in a concert program should be in an "active dialogue". I like the sense of the importance of connection and interdependence.

It reminded me of the questions I received after the numerous presentations I've been doing this week as part of a music director search week here in Reno - inevitably, after I discuss my interest in contemporary American composers, an audience member will raise a hand to ask, fearfully, if that means that I want to play "all avant garde music all the time". First of all, I try to explain, American concert music tends to be much more musically conservative than what's coming out of Europe, but second of all, my interest (as with most who like the "new stuff") is in presenting contemporary works with established masterpieces so that the new and the old can shed light on each other, to be presented "in dialogue". That's one of the more enjoyable parts of programming, and a direction to look for as the New York Phil and Gilbert begin their relationship.

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Sunday, December 14, 2008

Encore!

I know, I know, I've posted this before, but it's just too good! And it's one of those things that never fails to make me laugh (there are a couple of those in my life).

Here it is; the most appalling ending of the Hallelujah chorus that has ever been (and hopefully ever will be). I challenge you to listen to this with a straight face!

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Thursday, December 11, 2008

Bon anniversaire

A belated happy birthday to Olivier Messiaen, who would have turned 100 yesterday. Messiaen's works have been featured by orchestras around the world this season (including the Minnesota Orchestra, a concert which I've blogged about.)

(Coincidentally, Des Canyons aux Étoiles has just popped up on my iTunes shuffle...funny how these things work out!)

In celebration, an excerpt of one of my favorite of his works:


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Saturday, December 6, 2008

"Online" Orchestra

I've often bemoaned the slow pace of change in large arts organizations, particularly in relation to 21st century media. Which was why I was both delighted and fascinated by a recent article in the New York Times about a new "online" ensemble, the YouTube Symphony Orchestra.

In short, musicians from around the world are invited to apply by downloading sheet music provided on the site (from Tan Dun's "Internet Symphony No. 1") and submitting a video of themselves playing the selection. There's even a video of Tan conducting, to keep you in absolute tempo, because the winners of this audition will then be part of a mash-up to create an online "performance" of the entire piece.

The other component is the video submission of a standard repertory piece - that puts you in the running for a chance to play the live version of the "Internet Symphony" at Carnegie Hall, if you are selected by YouTube viewers in an American Idol-style selection process, of course.

A great use of modern media and technology, in my book, and I'll be curious to see the final product(s). Part of the purpose, ostensibly, is to create a more organized dialogue about classical music on YouTube, which is a fine idea. I cringe a little, however, when thinking about comments that may be left on audition videos; I've seen enough snide (if not downright cruel) comments attached to individual performance videos to know that the anonymity of the internet allows for a degree of mean-spiritedness usually not seen in face-to-face interactions. The eternal optimist, I hope to be pleasantly surprised!

Of course, the project has its celebrity promoters - Tan Dun and Michael Tilson Thomas, or course, and the inimitable Lang Lang lends his own peculiar flourish. My burning question, though, is this; isn't the "Internet Symphony" simply a glorified expansion of the Olympic Medal Cermony Theme from the 2008 Beijing Olympics (with a bit of Eroica added in for good measure)? Which seems such a terribly unoriginal musical idea for such an innovative project. Take a listen and judge for yourself (the Olympic Theme becomes recognizable at about 1:06').




And here's the Olympic music (with Tan conducting, too!) for comparison.

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Monday, December 1, 2008

Bully pulpit

The Louisville Courier-Journal just ran a commentary/critique that reminded me of how far we've come in our expectations of an optimal concert experience.

The gist of the article: the Louisville Symphony presented a concert with Beethoven - Prometheus, Strauss - Metamorphosen, Beethoven - Symphony No. 3, a program in which the first two pieces connect thematically to the Symphony. The critic's complaint? That there was passing mention of this fact in the program notes, but nothing more was made of it. As he writes:

Still, consider how much more could have been accomplished. What if Mester had asked the orchestra to play a snippet from the "Prometheus" incidental music in which the "Eroica" tune appears? Then the orchestra might have followed up by playing the excerpt from Strauss's "Metamorphosen" that also alludes to the symphony?

It's lovely to have pre-performance comments by orchestra CEO Brad Broecker and a board representative, but that's no substitute for having the music director inform their listeners. All it takes is a little planning and, yes, imagination.


Which, to me, points out to the tremendous sea change that has been going on in our business. The implication is that it's not enough to entertain; the point is to educate and enlighten. This is particularly important in the context of current cultural norms; whereas 50 year ago, we may have been able to assume a certain level of knowledge about orchestral music and standard repertoire, these days, with the push to expand and diversify audiences, we can no longer make those assumptions.

What was even more fascinating to me was the direct plea to the music director to do some pre-concert explanations - certainly many organizations have pre-concert lectures (including the Minnesota Orchestra - the "Music Up Close" program), often led by a musician or musicologist or sometimes the conductor of the concert. More to the point, the suggestion in the Courier-Journal was for the explanation to involve the orchestra, to essentially be an integral part of the concert experience for the entire audience, not just an added extra for people who bothered to show up early.

Speaking from the podium is a topic that I've frequently
addressed, and it's a major feature of my work. After all, conducting is the ultimate bully pulpit, why not use the opportunity to enlighten? As I keep saying, the concert experience will undergo further (and maybe radical) changes within my career lifetime, and it behooves us all to think about what keeps audiences engaged and enthralled.

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How To Generate Interest: Be Interesting

The fallout from the Boston/Rozhdestvensky debacle last week is continuing, in the press and the blogosphere, at least, and Boston Globe critic Jeremy Eichler advanced the conversation in what I thought was an interesting way in Sunday's paper:

The incident also shed light on a deeper problem of the orchestra condescending to a potential audience. If the BSO had the artistic vision to bring Rozhdestvensky to its stage, it should have had the marketing courage to stand behind its reasons for doing so.

Now, if I'm running the Boston Symphony, I have an easy rebuttal to that: artistic courage is all well and good, but are we really serving the public if we intentionally market ourselves in a manner that we know from past experience will either confuse people or put them off the music we're offering? How can we introduce people to an extraordinary conductor if they're not in the concert hall to begin with, and why should they come if our advertising implies that they're morons for not already having heard of one of the performers, especially if there's another performer on the program who they do know?

But Eichler fleshes out his argument in compelling fashion...

The plight of classical music in a free-market economy has never been an easy one, especially in this country... Yet the ace in the pocket of orchestras and performing arts groups is that they are selling an experience that is simply not interchangeable with anything else. But it is easy for that message to get lost as marketing strategies increasingly come to mimic the techniques of the entertainment industry at large. Is there really no other way?

Well, there might be. And I like Eichler's focus on the singular experience of live music in a great concert hall as the product we ought really to be promoting, rather than semi-famous guest conductors and soloists. All of this, of course, goes back to a problem we've discussed here in the past: programs that marketers believe will sell poorly if marketed honestly (regardless of their artistic merit) are increasingly being sold to the public as something other than what they are. (Exhibit A would be that Mahler 8/Schubert Unfinished incident from last spring that upset a number of you Mahler fans. It happened again this fall with Sarah's subscription concert debut, when a program of Lutoslawski and Shchedrin concertos for orchestra was advertised as "Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante," which was clearly not the centerpiece of the evening, and wasn't the Mozart Sinfonia Concertante most music fans would have assumed it was, in any case.)

Eichler sums it all up better than I could:

When the BSO chooses to present innovative programs, that approach should be trumpeted, not seen as a reason for apology... Ultimately, the easiest way to market classical music is to have something genuinely exciting to sell.

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Sunday, November 23, 2008

Tantrum In Beantown

Sarah and I spend a lot of time on this blog trying to tear down stereotypes about stuffy, self-important classical musicians who glide around the world in a haze of ego, forever thinking only of Bach and Mahler. The reason we do this is that we both believe passionately that a) there really aren't a lot of musicians like that anymore, and b) the few that are around make us all look bad.

So you can imagine my reaction to this story from Saturday's Boston Globe. It seems that a well-known Russian conductor, Gennady Rozhdestvensky, has pulled out of an entire run of concerts with the Boston Symphony at the last possible second (as in, after rehearsals had begun.) This normally happens only if the conductor in question is seriously ill, or is called away on a family emergency, in which case a staff conductor who has been at all the rehearsals will step in.

But in this case, the conductor is not only perfectly healthy, he's actually still sitting in Boston, giving interviews to the press about the horrific mistreatment of his apparently royal person that caused him to walk out on one of the most famous orchestras in the world. It seems that the maestro was taking a walk around Boston's Symphony Hall between rehearsals last week, when he noticed a poster advertising his concert. And on that poster, cello soloist Lynn Harrell's name was bigger than his.

Yep, that's the whole reason he walked out. His name wasn't in big print on a poster. (Okay, fine, he also claims to have been slighted further in the BSO's season brochure, where he wasn't included in a section on "Artists who inspire.") Unbelievable.

The Globe makes note of the fact that BSO assistant conductor Julian Kuerti, who took over the performances after Rozhdestvensky's hissy fit, "won a robust ovation and the clear appreciation of the orchestral musicians onstage, who insisted that he take a solo bow." I'll bet they did. Ask any musician: we'll always take a humble, competent leader no one's heard of yet over a superstar with an ego to match...

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Wednesday, November 12, 2008

All's well that ends well

A very long day yesterday which started with a 7 am (EST) flight that went through a bit of rough weather (I hate hate HATE flying! And of course I do much of it. Sigh...). But things calmed down on the final approach to MSP and ended with a flawless landing. You can tell the skill/experience of a pilot in the timing of a landing, which is, from a safety standpoint, probably the most significant part of a flight. And, as the last part of a plane-travel experience, certainly an important ending to the journey.

Which got me thinking about good endings. When my husband is warming up on the French horn (a daily sequence that I’ve memorized – sometimes when I wake up in a hotel room on the road I still hear that warm-up in my head!), there’s an extended section in which he practices long tones. Which are hard, because not only is it to practice sustaining notes, but a way to perfect the very endings of those notes – at the termination of a note, you need to maintain the pitch and tone quality and let it taper to the right point before releasing. Because you'll forget how nicely a note was played if it doesn't end well.

Which made me think about his horn teacher back when we were students at Curtis, Myron Bloon, legendary principal horn of the Cleveland Orchestra during the Golden Days of George Szell’s music directorship. Mr. Bloom (after all these years I still can’t think of him as Myron) was notoriously tough on his students and was the source of such bon mots as “That’s not a sound, that’s a noise!” - or, after hearing a student play a solo passage that was not played to his liking, “No, no, a thousand times no!”. Many lessons ended with students, crestfallen or near tears, slouching out of the studio. Not a happy ending.

I was back at my alma mater last week for rehearsals and concerts with 20/21, the contemporary music ensemble of the Curtis Institute. The centerpiece of the concert was Messiaen’s Oiseaux Exotiques (which I’ve mentioned in a previous post). At the very end of the piece there is a written-out bar of rest, where the composer indicates that “The conductor must keep his arms in the air”. During our final rehearsal, when we got to that point, I did exactly as the composer asked, while several of the students in the ensemble quietly put down their instruments to wait out the silence (it's a really long measure). I reprimanded them – there should be no movement, just an absolute stillness. This should be a moment of uncertainty and suspension, a dramatic moment with the kind of rich silence from an audience not quite knowing what to expect next. It’s a little bit of visual theater worked into a dense and complicated piece, and it was this very suspension, stillness and silence from the assembled mass onstage that created the effect of this particular ending. A silently thrilling ending.

Which led me to a final thought, of my piano teacher back in Honolulu, who took me from my very first Hanon exercises to the F minor Ballade of Chopin. Before I took the stage for a concert or an audition (and it seemed like it was every other week in my formative years) he would remind me, “It’s good to start strong. But no matter what happens in the middle, all can be forgiven with a good ending.”

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Saturday, November 8, 2008

Brevia

The good, the bad and the resigning.

Yes, everybody is feeling the pinch. Which tests our collective mettle, as well as our guiding philosophies; is it a time where the only solution is to streamline, batten down the hatches and hope to ride it out or a time to embrace the notion that "Taking bold artistic chances always opens new avenues"? Or perhaps those seemingly opposed notions are different sides of the same coin.

At least there's always some good news out there. The eternal optimist that I am, I'll always choose to believe that, in the end, we live in the best of all possible worlds.

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Saturday, September 20, 2008

Who Killed Cleveland's Critic?

An eye-popping story happened across my computer screen earlier today - longtime Cleveland music critic Don Rosenberg has apparently been told by his bosses at the Plain Dealer that he will no longer be assigned to review Cleveland Orchestra concerts, a duty he has had for 16 years. Rosenberg isn't being fired, though - just "reassigned" and banned from covering arguably the best orchestra in the US, and Cleveland's most prominent cultural group.

So what's really going on here? Well, Rosenberg, though widely respected as a writer and critic, has had something of a bee in his bonnet ever since the Cleveland Orchestra's current music director, Franz Welser-Möst, took up his post in 2002. As Tim Smith, another respected critic, put it on his blog, "Don has judged that Welser-Möst is lacking in certain abilities in certain repertoire, that he doesn't necessarily get the best out of music or the eminent ensemble." As a result of this conclusion, Rosenberg has been handing out more unfavorable notices than one would normally expect to read about an orchestra as august as Cleveland's.

But so what, right? Critics have their opinions, orchestras feel wronged, this happens all the time and no one loses their job over it. (Relations do get frosty at times: at one of America's most prominent orchestras, which I won't name for obvious reasons, newly arriving musicians are told specifically by their management to never, ever speak with or return calls from the local paper's lead critic.) And as Smith points out, correctly, Rosenberg was hardly on a crusade against Welser-Möst, and gave him good reviews nearly as often as bad ones. So why exactly would the Plain Dealer have so nakedly allowed itself to be manipulated into pulling the writer off the beat?

The answer is almost certainly that someone in the chain of command at the paper has an involvement with the orchestra, either as a fan, a donor, or even a board member, and s/he got tired of reading Rosenberg's swipes at the man on the podium, especially with Welser-Möst having recently signed an extension which will keep him in Cleveland through 2018. (A glance at the orchestra's annual report shows that retired Plain Dealer publisher Alex Machaskee is part of the board's executive leadership. Did he make a phone call or two over the Rosenberg issue, perhaps?)

However it happened, it strikes me that orchestras do not serve themselves well when they demand (and are granted) a wholly compliant press. Yes, critics who are scared of losing whatever "access" we deign to give them (which, frankly, isn't much under the best of circumstances) are more likely to write the latest puff piece the way we want them to, and run it on the date we think will maximize ticket sales. But looking at the long term picture, this type of servile critic quickly loses credibility with his/her readership, which is what leads to people not really caring whether there are people writing about orchestras.

Today's public is more media-savvy than at any time in history, and they can tell the difference between promotion and analysis. And while the relationship between those who perform and those who write about performers will probably never be anything but uneasy, it crosses a dangerous line for those on the performance side to exercise backroom power to remove a writer they find inconvenient.

Late addendum, 09/23/08: I don't really know whether a traditional journalistic "full disclosure" is necessary on a blog, but since the CEO of the Cleveland Orchestra has seen fit to respond to this post in the comments, I might as well add one. For what it's worth, I spent several years in college studying orchestral viola with Lynne Ramsey, the First Assistant Principal Violist of the Cleveland Orchestra. I did not contact her, or any other member of the orchestra, before writing this post.

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Friday, September 12, 2008

New traditions

Well, we're back to work again, and I just had my first rehearsal of the season, a lot of music to get through for a Season Sampler Concert tomorrow. Coming offstage after quite a workout, I thought of an article I read a couple of days ago about the liquid reward waiting backstage for some conductors (see paragraph 3). Perhaps a fantastic new tradition to put in place for the Minnesota Orchestra?

...which also led my thoughts back to a concert I did with the National Symphony Orchestra back in 2002 as part of their National Conductors' Institute. It was my first concert with a major American orchestra and it really was a thrilling experience on many levels. But the image that really stays with me from that night is walking off after a successful Don Juan, unexpectedly greeted by a towel and a Fitz's root beer from the smiling stage manager. (Fitz's was the preferred post-concert quaff of then-Music Director Leonard Slatkin, who also headed the Institute.) Nothing like drinking what the boss drinks to feel like you've (almost) arrived...

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Wednesday, July 30, 2008

All for one, Part II

So, less than twelve hours after the final cutoff of "Broadway Rocks", I was on my way to Philadelphia for a concert at the Mann Center. Outdoor venues present their own complications (iffy acoustics, weather, flying/biting insects), on top of the usual challenges of producing a pops show. And this one had it's own special features; fog machines, lasers and on-stage projections. Yes, friends, I conducted a show with a Pink Floyd cover band, The Machine.

The orchestra-du-jour was the Delaware Symphony, and it was a reunion of sorts; having spent 9 years in Philly during my Curtis years (and beyond), I know many of the musicians in the area, including nearly a dozen members of the DSO. The orchestra didn't exactly know what to expect, particularly as there were quite a few who had never heard a Pink Floyd tune, much less entertained the possibility of ever playing one. Fortunately for me, the personnel manager of the DSO, who must have a fantastic sense of humor, hired my husband to fill in a hole in the horn section ("I think you know the conductor", he emailed). Paul's a big Pink Floyd fan, and he had originally planned to make the trip up to Philly to catch the show from the mosh pit. His presence in the orchestra ended up being utterly invaluable; more on that in a bit.

This is the kind of cross-musical collaboration that makes a good deal of sense, particularly because many of those Pink Floyd tunes have an orchestral bent to them to begin with. What made this particular show easy and logical (and this is an issue addressed more fully in Sam's previous post) were the arrangements, by violinist/arranger/pop musician Maxim Moston. Max's were the type of arrangements that make a conductor and orchestra happy; nothing too fussy or complicated, a few nice licks for the orchestra, straightforward/idiomatic writing, clean parts and logical rehearsal letters ("V1" and "B2" - "verse one" and "bridge 2", easy for the orchestra to identify and written in language that the band would also understand - a very savvy cross-musical touch).

The band, The Machine, was fantastic to work with (and if you closed your eyes, you'd swear you were hearing Pink Floyd!). This was the second go-around with this particular with-orchestra show, so some of the kinks had already been worked out. Sound levels are always an issue, even with sound shields protecting most of the orchestra; when we play with bands, the loudest element is usually the trap set, and there's no way to shield that save creating an entire plexiglass sphere around it. Standing right behind the drummer on the podium, my ears got a bit blasted.

Showtime brought a few surprises; this was certainly the loudest audience I've ever encountered at an orchestra show (although the enthusiasm is always energizing), and the level of illicit substance use, as far as we could smell onstage, must have been pretty substantial. Then, of course, there were the fog machines (what toxic chemical spews from those things anyway?) and the incredibly trippy laser show (a bassist joked "This is the only concert I've done where I've worried about both cancer AND epilepsy"). The performance-practice difference came when, during the first half, The Machine deviated from the set list that the orchestra and I were looking at and embarked on a 3-song digression that had me sweating for a moment (a lot of the recorded/synth openings of those tunes sound similar!); fortunately, my husband, from the horn section, sent me a note saying "That's 'Sorrow', not on list. Will tell you when 'Comfortably numb' intro starts."

When I took the stage at the second half, an intrepid audience member shouted, "We love you, Sarah!!", which satisfied my rock star fantasy for the evening. But more than that, it reminded me of just how much fun this audience was having; they were having a fantastic communal experience of hearing what was probably some of their favorite music being played by a great band with an added lush layer of orchestration. It was a truly participatory event, with the audience singing along to nearly every tune. And whenever The Machine acknowledged the orchestra, the audience gave a roar of approval, which is, of course, wonderfully gratifying.

Because, as I keep saying, we're all in this together; we're all musicians, we're all trying to reach other people in some way. Too often, I feel that the classical approach becomes exclusively cerebral. It's not that there's anything wrong with complicated music that requires the analysis of not only the musicians onstage but the audience itself (and sometimes the brain loves the exercise). But there's nothing wrong in performing and enjoying music that's immediately graspable, with an instant emotional effect either; in fact the ideal output of a performing arts organization finds a judicious balance of both.

Orchestras don't need to dumb down what they do; there will always be those who enjoy a straight-up classical concert (although the overture-concerto-symphony model is a bit tired). But there is a larger world out there, ripe for collaboration. And done in the right way (with music and arrangements that incorporate the best of both worlds), they can be gratifying musical experiences for all parties involved. What thrills me is the possibility of that larger world, and the chance to reach even more individuals. Because that is why I'm a musician.

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Tuesday, June 17, 2008

More construction

Progress has been made!!



As you can see, all the cement board is now up and the seams are sealed.

Musically, today, we switched to my iPod, which yielded, around hour 2:37 (during cement board measuring):

Day 2: Minoru Miki, Danses Concertantes I

Miki is the Japanese composer who has probably done most to seamlesly meld traditional instruments (such as the koto and shakuhachi) with a Western neo-classical idiom. One of his most notable works was commissioned by the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra in 1981, Kyu-no Kyoku - "Symphony for Two Worlds". It's a piece that I'm quite familiar with as I was present for all performances of the piece during its American premiere with the New York Philharmonic under Kurt Masur.

Actually, I was acting as coordinator and translator during a North American tour by Pro Musica Nipponia, a traditional instrument ensemble founded by Miki in 1964, and our first stop was NYC. Part of the Philharmonic gig included a couple of Young People's concerts, where I was onstage, ostensibly to translate for the Japanese musicians - they were doing instrument demos and I was translating to English for the young audience. A funny moment, though, during an orchestra demonstration for "Peter and the Wolf" - Masur insisted on talking during the demos, and his heavily-inflected English made the word "duck" (the oboe solo in "Peter") sound remarkably liked "dog", much to the confusion and consternation of both audience and orchestra. I eventually jumped in and ad libbed a little discussion of how the timbre of the oboe was similar to the nasal quack of a duck - the orchestra looked at me with relief, the kids got it, but Masur looked at me as if to say "But that's what I just said!".

Miki is less-known outside of Japan; when we think of Japanese composers certainly the first who comes to mind is Toru Takemitsu, both for his concert music and his movie and TV soundtracks. And I have another personal connection here; I was narrator for a world premiere of a Takemitsu piece, Family Tree (conducted by Leonard Slatkin, who years later has become a mentor). Unfortunately Takemitsu, a composer I've revered for years, was too ill to attend the premiere, and I never got to meet him. But certainly a memorable week, yet again onstage with the New York Philharmonic, in front of a microphone.

So, for those of you who have asked me how I got to be so comfortable chatting onstage during our Inside the Classics shows, now you know - I've been doing it for years!

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Monday, May 19, 2008

Playing telephone

Yesterday the Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra, a local community orchestra led by Minnesota Orchestra acting associate principal bassist Bill Schrickel premiered a piece by Minnesota Orchestra music director Osmo Vanska entitlted "The Bridge".

A nice story, and one discussed in this MPR online article. Simple enough, right?

Remember that childhood game, "Telephone"? Where you pass a message, person to person, until you (usually) end up with a garbled message that bears some semblance to the original but has morphed over the course of the passing?

So, here's what the Associated Press gleaned from the original information, which was then picked up by news sources nationwide.

Wait, the Minnesota Symphony Orchestra??? A colleague at the Orchestra later told me that the original header for the MPR article itself was incorrect ( which could still be seen this afternoon when I Googled "Minnesota Symphony Orchestra):

MPR: Osmo Vanska composes a musical 'bridge'
The Minnesota Symphony Orchestra is premiering a new work by Minnesota Orchestra conductor Osmo Vanska, called "The Bridge." It's inspired in part by the ...
feeds.publicradio.org/~r/MPR_NewsFeatures/~3/291905521/ - 48k - Cached - Similar pages


Well, mistakes happen. Although it's a little embarrassing that our local news media got it wrong to begin with. But here's the kicker, a brief mention of the premiere in Alex Ross's influential and widely-read blog, "The Rest is Noise". Please note paragraph number 2, in which he describes the Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra (correctly identified!) as "the Twin Cities' other orchestra".

I'm wondering how the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra feels about this...

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Saturday, May 10, 2008

Osmo's Finnish Finale

As most Minnesota Orchestra fans know, our music director, Osmo Vänskä, is a very big deal in Finland. When we perform there, we're frequently met at the border by TV cameras and print reporters, and they're not there to capture the tour escapades of our viola section. (Although, come to think of it, that would be one hell of an entertaining thing to record.) Osmo's work in his home country - first as principal clarinet of the Helsinki Philharmonic, and then as the conductor who transformed the little-known Sinfonia Lahti into an internationally acclaimed recording and touring orchestra - is well-documented, and an apt comparison could be made between Osmo's 20-year tenure in Lahti and what Sir Simon Rattle accomplished with England's City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra.

This past week was Osmo's last hurrah with his Lahti band. He's served as their chief conductor since 1988, and unlike many conductors, who dump their smaller orchestras the moment they land a bigger gig, he's stuck with Lahti even while taking on music directorships with the BBC Scottish Symphony, and of course, us. He and his wife, Pirkko, still have a home in a small town between Lahti and Helsinki, and despite spending the majority of their year in Minneapolis (US immigration laws restrict the amount of time landed immigrants can spend abroad and still work in America,) they make a point of getting back to Finland whenever possible.

Osmo's last concert as Sinfonia Lahti's music director was pretty hefty stuff, and definitely aimed at Finland's musical connoisseurs. The first half featured the world premiere of a new concerto for percussion ensemble by Icelandic composer Áskell Másson, with the deeply impressive Kroumata as soloists. (Kroumata will be with us in Minneapolis in a few weeks as part of our season-ending Percussion Festival...) Following intermission was Bruckner's monumental 9th Symphony, which is always an event.



The concert actually took place two days ago, so it's too late for a last-minute whirlwind trip to Lahti, but through the efforts of ClassicLive, a great fledgling company based in that same city, you can actually watch a high-quality audio and video stream of the concert anytime between now and May 29. It's not a free service - you have to set up an account and pay for the time you spend watching their streams - but I'm telling you, it's worth it. They have an impressive amount of content available from multiple European orchestras (behind-the-scenes stuff and a few bits of silliness like Osmo whistling in addition to full-length concerts,) the quality of the sound and picture is absolutely top-of-the-line, and their rates are pretty reasonable (as little as €5 - I think that's around $7.75 at the moment,) especially if you plan to watch more than a single concert. (Full disclosure: a friend of mine works for the company.)

Osmo's departure from Lahti means that we are now officially his only orchestra, which ought to lead to some interesting speculation over the coming years. Lots of conductors maintain multiple music directorships in America and overseas, and while Osmo already spends an almost unheard-of number of weeks each year conducting us (I believe it's 19 weeks next year, as compared with an average of 12-15 for most American MDs,) I'd be surprised if his name didn't surface on the wish lists of any number of European and/or Asian bands looking for new leadership. With his reputation for significantly elevating the national and international profiles of the orchestras he leads, we may be sharing him again sooner rather than later...

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Saturday, April 26, 2008

Rattling The Cages

Big news out of Germany this week, where the musicians of the Berlin Philharmonic (widely considered the world's best orchestra) are reportedly considering a vote to oust their music director, Simon Rattle. Rattle arrived in Berlin amid much fanfare in 2002, but there have been widespread reports of conflict between conductor and orchestra, and some European critics have been unimpressed by the collaboration.

Now, I haven't heard Berlin under Rattle, myself, and as noted in previous posts, I take a somewhat dim view of most music critics, so I don't really have an opinion on whether he ought to continue in his post. But what I find interesting about the story is the unique management structure of the Berlin Phil, under which the musicians actually have the power to hire and fire their boss.

I've written extensively about the audition process musicians go through to win our jobs, and a big part of the equation is that American music directors typically have full hiring and firing authority over us, although we do have a tenure system in place to protect us from capricious action. Music director hirings are far different. While the musicians are usually given input into the search process for a new artistic leader (and I stress usually - believe it or not, there are orchestras whose board and management leaders actually believe that the musicians shouldn't have any role in selecting their primary conductor!), the final hiring decision is made by the board of directors, after taking into account not only musical factors, but such considerations as whether the candidate is likely to be popular with the public, whether s/he will command a salary that is affordable for the organization, and whether s/he is willing to commit to all the gladhanding and fundraising duties that have become standard in American orchestras.

When it comes to getting rid of a music director who has overstayed his welcome, or one with whom the desired chemistry with the orchestra just never developed, the musicians generally have even less input. We can, of course, have our elected committees speak to management and board figures about our artistic concerns, and we can even suggest that it might be time for change at the top. But suggesting is where our role begins and ends. We have no power to compel a conductor to leave our employ, and the board is free to ignore our concerns. The reasons for this are fairly obvious, if you consider an orchestra the way you would consider any other workplace: no one likes their boss all the time, and if the person in charge could be dismissed every time s/he ticked off the employees, there could potentially be chaos.

Because of the way business is conducted in the music world, you rarely actually hear about a music director being fired. In fact, music directors are almost never technically fired. What tends to happen is that, once it's clear that the relationship is going nowhere, both sides agree to some sort of separation, which often comes in the form of the music director signing a contract extension with a fat raise attached, but announcing at the same time that s/he will be leaving the post after the extension is up. It's a version of the golden parachute, I guess - allowing the executive to exit with dignity (and no small amount of cash) in exchange for relative organizational tranquility. With luck, the orchestra will have found a new music director to take over by the time the old one departs, and the transition can be a smooth one.

Occasionally, something goes horribly wrong, of course. A few years back, disputes between the musicians of Orchestre symphonique du Montreal and their longtime music director, Charles Dutoit, exploded into public view when a musicians' union official wrote a public letter calling Dutoit a "tyrant" and accusing him of treating the musicians unfairly. It quickly became clear that a) the union official had somewhat misinterpreted the manner in which the musicians had asked him to intercede on their behalf, and b) that not all the musicians of the OSM were angry with Dutoit, but the damage was done. Dutoit swiftly resigned his post, pronouncing himself shocked and shaken by the charges, and the OSM spent several years with no one at the artistic helm before landing Kent Nagano as their next MD. (That the OSM also went through a brutal months-long strike in 2005 is not directly connected to the Dutoit debacle, but it does point up the fact that when an organization isn't functioning well, all manner of difficult situations are likely to crop up.)

Meanwhile, in Berlin, an entirely different business model is in use. The Berlin Philharmonic is funded entirely by the government, as are many German orchestras. A general manager is charged with overseeing the day-to-day operations of the group. But it is the musicians who hold nearly all of the power in the organization, including the power to hire and fire the music director. To date, they have never used the firing power. Every music director Berlin has ever had has either left of his own accord, or actually died in the post. So it's understandable that the possibility of a no-confidence vote in Rattle is attracting a lot of attention. That his famously high salary, granted at a time when the city of Berlin was literally going bankrupt, was widely reported in the press has added ammunition for his critics over the years, and his predilection for programming difficult composers like Stockhausen has hurt him with some percentage of musicians and public alike.

Now, even if Rattle were to be shown the door in Berlin, he'll be just fine. (Minnesotans can think of him as the Paul Douglas of conductors.) There's already speculation that both the Chicago Symphony and the Philadelphia Orchestra would be chomping at the bit to sign him as music director (Rattle has a long history with the Philadelphians,) and he commands some of the highest guest conducting rates in the world. Plenty of orchestras love working under him, and as a general rule, a conductor's failure to connect with Orchestra X is irrelevant to whether s/he will work well with Orchestra Y. And his reputation as an innovator and builder of orchestras (he famously brought England's City of Birmingham Symphony to great prominence during his whopping 18-year tenure in the East Midlands) will remain intact regardless of whether he comes to a bad end with the Berliners.

But as a matter of professional interest, I find the whole situation fascinating. Most American musicians probably believe that we should have the primary voice in hiring and firing decisions concerning music directors. But would we actually want that kind of power? If we were sitting in the Berlin Phil's place today, what would we do?

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