Good News for Memphis

I just learned that Mei-Ann Chen has been named as music director of the Memphis Symphony. This news led me to look at the Memphis Symphony web page, where I found this page of videos. The first video, where the orchestra, with its new conductor, plays a piece of "city music" by an unnamed composer (who really should be given some credit), demonstrates the relationship that the Memphis Symphony has to the revitalization of the city as a whole. The video gives the impression that there is good will between the people in charge of the infrastructure of the city and the people who contribute to its culture.

Much to my surprise, the featured video for February has music written by my brother (and it sounds like it's also him playing), who is a member of the Memphis Symphony's viola section (yes, he's a violist-composer like me, but he did both before I started doing either one).

It is a novel idea to commission background music from members of the local symphony orchestra for films that showcase local businesses. It is so much better than using generic background music. Marshall's musical response to writing music for this Australian-owned dog-grooming business is in the (highly appropriate, I believe) form of a fantasy on "Waltzing Mathilda."

Dichterliebe (a song cycle about love)

Maybe Robert Schumann's Dicterliebe is my favorite song cycle because the material, both musical and literary, is something that every singer (and every pianist) can relate in a deeply personal way. I love (and know every nook and cranny of) both Wunderlich-Giesen recordings, but I also love this totally different interpretation by Hermann Prey and Leonard Hokansen that I discovered today on YouTube, and want to share here with you. Here are links to translations (in many languages) of the poetry by Heinrich Heine. You can see (and follow) Clara Schumann's edition of the score here.

Take Me Back to Old Vienna: Putting the Class Back in Classical Music

Solo sonatas, nowadays such an important element in all piano programs, were not regarded as suitable for concert presentation until toward the end of the 1830s; they were looked upon as chamber music, to be enjoyed, if possible, at one of the "private academies." . . . . It may sound strange, but only one of Beethoven's piano sonatas was ever played in a Vienna concert during his lifetime. What that means is that in Vienna music in private homes still far overshadowed public concerts in importance and extent until the nineteenth century was fully one third gone.

from Arthur Loesser's Men, Women & Pianos With my tongue sometimes implanted in my cheek, I thought of a politically incorrect (and politically impossible, since we live in a democracy) solution to the problem of increasing the audience for music, increasing the employment of musicians, and increasing the regular and consistent incorporation of new music into the repertoire. Perhaps, if we want to improve the outlook for professional music making, we should cultivate the old-school social machine that made it possible for some of the greatest musicians in history to write music of exceptional quality and have it performed for people who could truly appreciate it. 1. Stop trying to look for audiences among the lower classes. Cultivate a love for chamber music among the super rich. Persuade them (or use social pressure on them) to buy and maintain excellent pianos in their homes, and invite guests to come to hear concerts (some with newly-composed music). Publicize the practice among the really rich, making it the "new thing" for people with money to do. Make a Medici-style fuss about how the musical environment of someone's home reflects their overall status in high society. A mansion can certainly be constructed to house a small concert hall. Think of Mrs. Gardner. 2. Stop equating "supporting the arts" with "giving to charity." Develop the mindset that surrounding yourself with great art is your privilege as a member of your class, and a privilege that you can afford (or, rather, can't afford not to have and keep your social standing). Having music in your home is a status symbol. What you serve as music in your home is equal to what you serve your guests at a dinner party. Everything you serve, after all, reflects on you. Even if you don't know anything about music (or art, or literature), surround yourself with people who do, and they will respect you. You might even get something out of it (even if it is only a cultured future spouse) after a certain amount of exposure. 3. Treat musicians like valued servants. Perhaps, along with the butler, maid, and chauffeur, you could add a "maestro" to your household staff, or better still, hire a servant who is also a musician.

Wanted, for a house of the gentry, a manservant who knows how to play the violin well and to accompany difficult clavier sonatas (an ad in the 1789 Wiener Zeitung found in Men, Women & Pianos)

4. Commission music that could not be be heard anywhere except in your home. Eliminate issues of copyright by making the employer the owner of all rights to music written in his or her employ (but certainly pay the composer and performing musicians for the performance). After a certain amount of time (to be agreed upon by the employer and employee) pay the employee a one-time fee for the music, and send it out into the public domain, as a gift to the world from the employer. 5. Ban recording devices from in-home concerts: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Still, invite members of the press to write about the concerts, making it very clear that the quality of music heard there is something to be highly desired, and, perhaps, since it is inaccessible to people outside of the highest levels of the upper class, will be imitated by people who move in "lesser" circles, but with enough money to hold concerts in their homes. 6. Create a firm distinction between the professional musician and the amateur musician. An amateur does not play for money--only for pleasure. S/he doesn't have to act as a servant to anyone, and can be of any class. A professional rarely rises into the level of the employing upper class unless he or she marries into it (which can happen), or has some kind of economic windfall. If that happens s/he is duty-bound, like any other member of the upper class, to hire musicians to play in his or her home. The former professional then becomes an amateur, and if all goes well, other members of the upper class will aspire to play at his or her level, and perhaps with his or her hired professional musicians. 7. Hire professional musicians to teach your children and to write music for them to play. The musical aspirations of your upper-class children should be amateur and not professional (though it has been known to happen that a highly-trained member of the upper class might desire the lower social status of a professional). Your childrens' progress as musicians should be documented and remarked upon by members of the group of newly-resuscitated music critics who are allowed into private house concerts, and are employed by every on-line publication. 8. Use musical leverage to create alliances. Use musicians and musical occasions to celebrate peace. Hire composers to write operas for big family functions, like weddings. Let everyone in the world know about it. As the upper class (our current class of multi-millionaires) demonstrates a new-found way to define, refine, and improve themselves through this new (old) form of musical activity and involvement, the middle class will want to have this kind of experience as well. (Trickle down economics, as it were.) The middle class would try their hand at house concerts, or they might think of attending public concerts. Eventually (it might take a generation or two) the demands of the middle class would increase the number of concerts. People would want to write about them. (Now I take my tongue out of my cheek and throw the pie in the sky.) With the rise of this more culturally-informed generation, colleges and universities would gear their curricula to help students engage knowingly in the new culture. Students eager to be involved in the "newest thing" might embrace courses aimed at teaching them to be active listeners or active performers (with, of course, the ultimate aspiration to become an amateur or a post-professional amateur). They might even find an interest in literature, and they might realize that the best way to get accepted into higher and higher echelons of society would be through their understanding and love of literature, and through their ability to communicate effectively (and even beautifully) through writing. They might find cultural value in all of the applied arts, sciences, and the humanities to complement the values that they find in music. Recorded music would eventually be thought of as an impression of a musical event (even an engineered one) rather than as music itself. As the object status of the recording fades (into electronic downloads), so too will its ultimate value as a satisfying system for delivering music to people who want to hear it. Perhaps young people will tire of the isolation of i-pod-based listening, and they will crave the communal listening experience of the concert, recognizing that it is the best and most satisfying system of musical "delivery."

Men, Women & Pianos: A Social History

When I was little I used to admire the cover of Arthur Loesser's book, which was on a high shelf on my father's bookshelf.

Years later I found it (on a lower shelf, and without a dust cover) in a library, and I found it to be the most entertaining, most interesting, most engaging look at musical history this side of van Loon. I told my father about finally reading (and loving) the book I had seen on his bookshelf, and he told me that he knew Arthur Loesser in Cleveland.

Arthur Loesser was the half brother of Frank Loesser, the highly-acclaimed composer of the music for Guys and Dolls (and of many other fantastic shows). Guys and Dolls opened on Broadway in 1950, and Arthur's Men, Women & Pianos was published for the first time by Simon and Schuster in 1954. It dawned on me that there might be some kind of a family resemblance in the titles.

I now own my own copy of the book (a first edition, no less, with a different cover from the one pictured on Google Books), and am issuing a warning that many of my future blogposts will take their inspiration from it. Recent scholarship has debunked many of Loesser's ideas, but a lot of recent scholarship has also managed to wring the vibrant life out of centuries of musical life.

Looking at (or Ranting about) the Relative Popularity of Classical Music

I admit that I have been letting the discussions on line concerning the aging audience for classical music bother me. I think that some of the people who spend their time trying to believe that music really and truly fits into a consumer business model need to understand that the ticket-buying audience for classical music, at least in America, has always been small relative to the general population.

It isn't really possible to measure how many people listen to classical music on the radio, and it certainly isn't possible to measure how many of the people exposed to broadcast classical music (in coffee shops, in the Port Authority, in book stores) actually listen to what they are hearing. It is possible to measure CD sales, but it isn't possible to measure how often a person listens to a recording, or with what degree of attention. Most people (like me) who have some kind of CD library or record library (or access to one) listen to recordings that might have been made years ago.

It is possible to measure ticket sales, and in cities it is possible to believe that people will go to concerts if they are advertised properly. Advertising costs money, and I suppose the expenditure of money can only be justified by selling enough tickets to cover the costs. Some people believe that failure to attract an audience must have something to do with not giving the potential audience what it wants in a format that makes them want to have it again, so they try to change the way it is presented. That's the way you sell stuff. That's the way you run a restaurant.

I think that music is different, and I think that more of the people who understand it is different have always been people who have gone to concerts for the joy of going to concerts. I don't think of members of a given audience (or a desired audience) as customers. They are people who take the time to enjoy the experience of hearing music in real time and in real space. They are people who would rather brave cold weather and traffic to hear music than sit in front of the television and watch insipid game shows (shows that determine whether you are as smart as a 5th grader or test if you can endure extreme pain in complete silence). You can bet that the TV game show audiences are huge, and, relatively speaking, the concert audience is small. Tiny actually.

Do you think that there is any way to get those game show watchers to go to an orchestra concert? I don't think so.

The audience for classical music has always been tiny compared to the population at large, and for as long as I can remember it has always been primarily made of older people. It does take a few trips around the block and into a concert hall or two to find out that there is substance in a good deal of classical music. Some people don't get around to realizing that classical music isn't stuffy, isn't boring, isn't necessarily old, and isn't all the same until they reach the half-way point in their lives. Lucky people learn this earlier, and unlucky people never learn.

It would be easy to say that back when there were vibrant music programs in the public schools, everything was OK, but I don't think it is true. I had a great music program in my school system, and only a relative handful of students cared about it at all. The audience for classical music is self selecting. The people who want it will seek it out, and the people who don't want it will find other ways of spending their time, attention, and money.

It is the same way with literature. People who enjoy reading at a young age will continue to enjoy it when they get older. Some people don't realize that they even like to read until they are well into their adulthood. Other people will never understand why a person would read a novel or see a play when they could just as easily see "the movie." Unfortunately it seems that most people, at least in America, would prefer to watch a game show than go to a concert or read a book. That is not the fault of the way a concert is presented or a book is printed. It is the fault of a superficial television-based culture that offers an easy way to stay the mind without actually making any kind of intellectual investment. (Of course there are good programs on television, but I'm not talking about those, obviously.)

Classical music is not going to die. I don't think that musicians are going to stop playing and writing music just because it is no longer possible to make a living at it.

I firmly believe that music is not a "market." I believe that it is an life-enhancing act to play, practice, listen to, teach about, and write music, and as long as we do all of the above (play, practice, listen teach, and write) it will continue to exist. Music means everything to me, and I feel happy when I can share my love for music (in general or in specific) with other people, even if it is only a handful of people in their 70s and 80s. Let's just keep playing the music well enough so that an older audience (those who buy tickets as well as those who go to free concerts) with high expectations will not be disappointed.

Frank Oteri's Vintage Whine

Like Frank, I'm clueless about sports (just ask my husband), which is probably why I find his comparison of the cult of sports with the cult of classical music spot on.

Bottling wine was one of the greatest things that ever happened to civilization. The ultimate result of canning classical music is complicated. We all benefit from having access to it whenever and wherever we want to listen, but, as the culture changes, the cultural significance of classical music relative to the population seems to decrease the chances for anyone to make classical music (either by way of performance or composition) their livelihood.

Maybe that's why Noah planted a vineyard instead of starting an orchestra.

Lemonade from the Bakery

While listening to a recording made by a flutist who had been a student of one of Julius Baker's students, I recognized a mannerism that I always associate with Julius Baker. I call it "Lemonade from the Bakery." It involves taking a passage or musical figure that is awkward, either technically or musically, and, rather than minimizing its existence, highlighting it in some way. Julius Baker would often change color on or elongate a particularly offensive note, making a potential musical lemon sound rather sweet (whether it was in good taste or not). He never, of course, dictated this by using words, but all of his students imitated this strategically-applied musical mannerism, and many of them seem to be passing it to their students.

Photos of Edvard Grieg and His Family

There are many more photos from the Bergen Public Library. Here's the Grieg Collection, and here's the Ole Bull Collection.

How to Build a Better Bow Arm

PDF files for all five volumes of Otakar Ševčík's School of Bowing Technique are available for free (for both violin and cello). When it comes to building a bow arm, you just can't beat Ševčík!

The Road to Success Before They Built the Information Super Highway

I found this at Strange Maps. It is seriously worth more than a light ponder. I still think the "road to success" is pretty much the same road as this one "built" in the 19th century (notice that there aren't any cars) with pretty much the same obstacles.

Fund Raising Fun

I remember when the Boston Symphony Orchestra held its yearly fund-raising "marathon." Now, in retrospect, I realize that the use of the word "marathon" probably had some relation to the famous yearly running event held in that city, but the BSO marathon had nothing to do with running. It had a little to do with music: our family was featured as one of the "premiums" for a few years: a concert by the "Famous Fine Family of Fiddlers and Flutists." I kid you not. My father, brother, and I played many a Beethoven Serenade for the benefit of the orchestra.

Most of the "premiums" were not musical though. For a certain amount of money you could take a plane ride with one of the many BSO pilots, have a dinner cooked by many of the BSO chefs, and do all sorts of nifty social things that allowed you to hobnob in a purposeful way with the people you heard play concerts in Symphony Hall. Smaller amounts of money got you tote bags and other manufactured (and usually donated) merchandise.

My friend Martha just told me about a truly musically-specific fund raising idea from the other BSO--the one in Baltimore. They offer a week-long orchestral workshop in June, where they divide the orchestra in half (making two orchestras), and fill the other half of each orchestra with musicians who would like to have the experience of rehearsing and performing with the Baltimore Symphony. The repertoire is difficult (Pines of Rome and Also Sprach Zarathustra), so only musicians who would be able to play the parts would apply. They clearly are not looking to work with students (you have to be 22 or over to participate): they are looking for amateur adult musicians from all over the country (or perhaps the world) who have the desire and the money to take a musical vacation in Baltimore. Assistant conductors will share the rehearsals with Marin Alsop, but I imagine that she will be conducting the concert, which will certainly be a great experience for everyone participating. For an additional fee you can have your chamber ensemble coached by one of the orchestra-member faculty members, for a bit more you get to play chamber music with a faculty member, and for an even more additional fee you get to perform in a chamber music concert with them.

I hope that this academy is truly successful for the participants and for the orchestra.

Bryn Terfel's Wardrobe Woes

How did I ever miss this back in April?

Thomas Watson Speaks!

The true story surrounding the invention of the telephone from the "horse's mouth" via Edison disc.

You can hear much more at the Edison Archive. (Thanks to Steve Layton for pointing me--and now you--to the site.)

Colloquial Classics: an Oxymoron?

I grew up going to concerts where there was a set protocol. I loved the protocol, and I still love it when I have the opportunity of experiencing it. I feel safe knowing that I can arrive early, pick up a program, read through the program notes, and enjoy the din of people around me doing the same. The actual location doesn't matter: whether the hall is large or small, American or not American, free to the public or expensive, new music or old, the protocol was always the same when I was growing up.

Through my whole childhood and much of my adulthood the concert would begin when the house lights went down and the stage lights went up. I would savor that moment of expectation between audience din and audience quiet that would be broken by applause for the musicians, and then the music. For me there is a separation of the secular and the sacred in these moments. It is the separation of the everyday world and the world of music.

I think of applause a collective way of "playing" back to the musicians. At the same time it serves as a marker between one piece and the next. The occasion between-movement clapping that happens from time to time is something I try best to ignore (and the clapper, I hope, tries best to forget).

I'm speaking in the present tense, because this kind of thing still happens once in a while. It is just happening less and less. Perhaps it is due to cell phones, but smart audiences know by now that they should turn their cell phone ringers off before the beginning of a concert. Signs or reminders in the printed program could accomplish the task of reminding people.

I went to a concert recently where the concert organizer came on stage (to the applause of the audience), introduced himself only by first name, told the audience about the series and how they could contribute to it financially, and how in times when other arts organizations are contracting, this one is expanding.

He asked audience members to turn off their cell phones (and there was a person in the audience who wasn't listening), and told them not to text during the concert. Then he asked the members of the audience to introduce themselves to the people on either side of them by first name. I was lucky. I already knew all my seat neighbors by first name, so I didn't need to participate. I heard people say things like "just like in church." Everybody was jolly. The concert organizer introduced the musicians by first name, and the concert finally began (after ten minutes of talking).

People clapped when the musicians entered. The musicians talked to the audience. Their rapport was fine: they were quite charming and entertaining, actually, but as an audience member I was there to listen to music, not to be entertained. They also addressed the audience (as did the concert organizer) as a collection of novices--people who they imagined had never been to a classical music concert before.

The audience, by the way, was not a collection of novices. I hope that the colloquial nature of this series doesn't insult other regular concert-goers and keep them from going to concerts in the future.

There were no program notes. I love having program notes to read before the concert and after the concert. Perhaps program notes would be considered too stuffy. People also clapped between every single movement of every single piece. I imagine the the non-novices in the audience were bothered by this.

The playing was fine, but the overall experience was far too colloquial for my fuddy-duddy tastes. What would have been a 70-minute program took two hours (there was a 15-minute intermission).

Call me a snob, but I prefer formality in my concerts, whether I am a member of the audience or a member of the performing ensemble.

Margaret Brouwer

I only recently learned about Margaret Brouwer from a blog reader who lives in Texas. He wrote to me after hearing the premiere of her viola concerto.

In this interview with Margaret Brouwer, which is interesting all the way through, she discuses the difference between anger and assertiveness in her 21st century music. I really appreciate her no-nonsense approach to writing, and I appreciate her application of "classic" atonality into her music without needing to be intellectual about it.