Metal or Classical Music concert?

***Note--everything below is from limited anecdotal evidence from my time in Sweden so far.

I'm still learning a lot about the local metal scene here in Stockholm, but I'm finding trends very quickly. Last night I went to a different club, Rocks, to catch Obscyria, Nominon, and Protector. Three bands, three different starting decades, three bands that had a lot in common...

with classical music.

I wonder how many scoffed when I said that? There have been studies done showing links in mentality. There are discussions on internet forums with people tossing out theories as to why there's a link. There are programs jumping up in metal studies, a conference dedicated to metal music, and some nice journalism with interviews comparing backgrounds of musicians from both walks of life.

But this isn't new information. I came to Stockholm looking for these influences, as well as folk, myths, and political statements.

What I'm finding is different, but equally fascinating.

When I showed up for my first show at Püssy A Go Go, I wasn't sure what to expect. Fellow-Fulbrighter Tom Ward is an avid metal fan, and having already been in town the year new the scene knew where to go. Can't even begin to thank Tom enough for pointing me to the right clubs. We met for that first concert, and he gave me some info: expect everyone to be pretty respectful; the moshpit is up front, but it's more fun than insane; for how hardcore the music is, it's laid back.

I wasn't sure what to expect. You hear stories like this from nearby Norwegian bands, or think about the first Ozzfest when it came to Indy, and how the entire center section of the GA grass section turning into a vortex of death, followed by the majority of sod being pulled up and thrown around. These are the experiences we hear about on the news, or see in person--yes, I was at that Ozzfest, got hit by sod, ran in the vortex, flipped off a camera, and a Coal Chamber shirt that had "Don't Fuck With Me!" printed on the back. Said shirt later got me in trouble...and sadly, I have no idea where it went.

But, as I'm finding out, it's not really how the Stockholm scene is dealing with these metal bands. Instead, I see correlations to classical music concerts.

1) Attire. Classical music has it's "specific formal wear." Onstage with an orchestra, it's a tux. And, boy, are there people who hate tuxes. So then we get the newer chamber groups, with flashy modern dress garb. You end up with two groups--concert black, which now means an all black clothing, something a little nice, but no suits; or black with flair, some sort of bright accented colour. No matter what people try to do with classical music, we still end up conforming to our little groups. And that's not always a bad thing.

Go to a metal concert with three bands, what do you see? Everyone on stage is probably wearing a band shirt--and not necessarily for their band. In fact, it's often NOT for their band. In the audience? Band shirts, leather jackets, leather vests with patches from a hundred bands. Surprisingly uniform. Sadly, I left my couple band tees in the US, and I tend to leave my hoody on, so I stand out like a sore thumb. If it wasn't for my long hair and bushy beard, I probably wouldn't fit in at all. Though, that's more a stereotype and not something I see that often.

I'm seeing this less as a class issue--there is of course issues of class attached to types of clothing. I always chaffed at wearing tuxes because I am most definitely not of a class of people who would normally wear a tux. And I have a thick neck.

I'm seeing it as a form of bonding, creating a unique experience, and adding to the "ritual" of the occasion. Shared dress, shared mannerisms, a community made manifest in the physical world.

2) Respect. It's interesting, there's always a fight about not knowing when to clap, and people feeling awkward at a classical concert because they don't understand the conventions. And then there are interruptions via cell-phone, no flash photography, and other rules. As a classical musician, I never cared if people clapped between movements, even though it can ruin the flow...and I think part of that falls on performers on how they choreograph the movement changes. People regard orchestra concerts as stuck up and stiff. During many new music concerts, the paradigm has shifted to a more relaxed attitude. But, one should still be respectful (don't yell in the middle of the song)

Flash to a metal concert in Stockholm. Crazy concerts, intense bands, screaming, headbanging, photography...Well...kind of.

There's definitely headbanging. The majority is up front. Wanna headbang? Join the group doing it up front! Want to do it where you are? Also fine, but keep to your own area.

Screaming! Haven't heard it at all. Not even a lot of talking during songs--there's a little, usually in the next room (where the bar is). But if you're in the live room, you're there for the music. There's no need for a convention saying "Don't talk," because the people there aren't talking--they're attending to the music. There's some singing along, but not often (Well, except when someone is pulled on stage).

Mosh pit! What's a metal show without a mosh pit?!?

I've been in moshpits in the US. They're grungy, nasty things--elbows and fists fly. I take the glasses off when I go in because they will come flying off...and then someone will step on them, then punch me in the face.

Ok, hyperbole...a bit. But even for tame "pop-metal" groups like Bullet for My Valentine, the mosh pits can be dangerous places.

A most pit in Stockholm? Well, there's a lot of head banging. Then someone will start pinballing, hitting shoulders. Arms are tucked. Fists and elbows are not flying. There's shoving...and laughing. Lots of laughing. in fact, I've never been to concerts with so many happy people.

When someone crowd surfs, it's amazing. The group comes together and holds the person up. There's no jerk trying to pull him down. There's no "inappropriate" touching. When someone stage dives, they are caught and carried, laughing, the length of the club...to be carefully set down with everyone involved almost falling over in pure mirth.

I actually almost have a tear in my eye because, to me, that scene was beautiful.

It was pure respect and fun. Here are these guys, screaming about death, murder, Satan, dark pacts, etc...and they're all smiling ear to ear and laughing. Even when the bar got so packed I couldn't move, and there was some light shoving to get to the bar...it was always light, with a nod and a smile.

Respect, pure and simple. The people have come to hear this music, with all its thrash and doom. And that's what they want to do. If you're at the bar, talk away. If you're screaming in the club, you get a few looks--no shooshes or someone yelling "STFU," but a look of "Hey, aren't you here for the concert?"

Oh, there is flash photography, but no one seems to mind. But then, for all those groups, playing their music is second nature--you'd have to rip the guitar from their hands to have them miss a note. With a new music group with three or four rehearsals to put together the latest "new complexity" piece, it takes every ounce of concentration. So, I'll defend the "please, as few distractions as possible."

3) Small groups, made up of other musicians and a few hardcore followers.

I went to a new club last night. I saw a ton of the same people. Some have even started smiling at me in recognition (Soon, I'll be in the group!). And, as I'm finding out, many are in their own bands, or were in bands. Then there are the followers--obvious family members, or significant others. Then, there are the people like me, who will go to just about every concert. All in all, for the concert last night which was packed, probably 150 people. Considering how "big" Nominon and Protector are (in the niche), it'd seem like there'd be more...

But it's important to remember, even in the land of metal, it's still niche. I still got made fun of by a  prick in a rugby shirt coming out of a club--"Have a good time? Rock on! " "Hej hej! Thanks, the concert was awesome. Have a pleasant evening " Pretty sure he was more confused by my reaction than I was surprised by his. It's a niche that's demonized (though not as much in Sweden), and misunderstood (everywhere).

This sounds so much like what we hear in the "Crisis of Classical Music" conversation. The audience is getting older. We're playing mostly to ourselves. Any slight deviation from the norm will scare the audience, and we'll lose them. Find alternate venues and ways to put your music on!

It's interesting, because metal takes the opposite approach in some ways. They've stuck to their traditional attitudes--death metal from the late 80s sounds a lot like death metal being written now. They still play tiny, hole in the wall clubs...when, honestly, the concert last night would have done well someplace a bit larger. Definitely someplace where more than 75 people can be in the live room. 

The audience is the same, and yet, the metal audience doesn't shrink, it stays about the same size. Why? Two bands I've seen were pretty young, Obscyria and Insane (Sweden, not Italy). New music, traditional modes, younger audience following the younger bands. Why are younger generations still interested?

No answers, just questions to ponder.

4) Traditionalism. You won't find two groups more based in the traditional.

When Opeth came out with "Heritage" it was automatically decreed as not being death metal, not even really being metal. Maybe prog metal or melodic metal, but definitely not death metal. This upset some of their base. It also brought in the audience for more prog metal styles. Yes, they are different audiences, though there is overlap (just like the audience for Brahms may not be the audience for Mozart).

As musicians grow, change, and evolve, there's push-back from the traditional crowd. There's a reason bands from the late 80s like Protector still tour actively--the traditional group loves them. They have the attire, lyrics, amazing instrumentals, screaming. If there's a derivation, it's something else.

Orchestra vs. new music. Death metal vs. prog metal. Cassettes vs CDs. Live concerts vs. streaming. It's the question of traditional vs. progressive. The fight over attire can be seen in this light. The evolution of the music itself can be seen this way.

There will always been audience for the traditional. There will always been an audience for progressive. There will, invariable, always be an audience for any given style or genre of music. It may not be a large audience, audiences will overlap, and people's tastes are fickle, but there will be an audience. And there will always been an audience for concerts that like to mix everything up.

And, yes, I still see cassettes being sold at concerts.

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These are just a few points where I'm seeing nice correlation. There's also a very good chance these ideas could be spread to broader generalizations of how people interact with music in general. In fact, there are at least three or four general theories above that I've encountered in my studies. But, sometimes, more specific (thought still broad) examples can help see that we're not alone.

That is perhaps the biggest issue I'm having in the "musician of the 21st century" talk--too often the conversations seem to have blinders on; we think the challenge is unique to classical music; that it's the first time in history; that we have to reinvent the wheel.

But what's happening is not isolated to classical music. Trends, ideas, and experiences are much more widely spread than we are taking into account. We do need to prepare classical musicians for modern trends in music--we're already far too late. And we should be looking to other groups to see how they've kept their scene together, melding traditional and progressive. All this without reinventing the art-form itself.

Conditions, preconceptions, and assumptions

There's been a flurry of activity these days revolving around those buzzwords. Jeffrey Nytch wrote a case-study on how he took an idea for a symphony, and spun it into a commission and performances. If you haven't read it, and gone through all the comments, go for it. It shows some classic ideas in internet-ethics...namely, read the whole article, read the entire reply, and take a moment to think about it. Jeffrey and I actually came to a pretty good understanding, once we got done circling each other for a few test rounds (I'm sure the internet cried...I have a feeling it started out looking like two boxers squaring off, only to go into the middle and shake hands).

Now, to build off of those comments, as well as previous posts. One of the main points I've been making is philosophical, a "chicken and the egg" type koan: piece/idea or consumer first?

I'm purposefully using the word consumer not audience. Yes, it is giving it a negative impression. That was my intent. "You can't just have your characters announce how they feel! That makes me feel angry!" is true of literature, but not of blogs, it appears. No subtlety to be had today.

Many people have said "Why can't you think about an audience? What's wrong with putting them first? Aren't you writing your music for people?" Others point to the "If you write something, and no one hears it because no one will play it, have you made music? You have to make compromises."

Those questions miss my point. We're really dealing with three things: conditions, preconceptions, and assumptions.

First, conditions. I've gotten a few commissions in my life. Nothing fancy, usually a soloist asking me for a piece, sometimes an ensemble. When someone asks me for a new piece, we go into talks--there's the nitty gritty "how many performances? How much can you send me? What's the nicest bottle of wine in your price range? I prefer Jura..." Business is business, for me an unsavory portion of what I do.

But then we get down to what does the performer need, what do they think they want, and how do we come to a consensus. These are one set of conditions.

These conditions include things such as length, instrumentation, and possibly some special requests. When you write for an orchestra, you know, roughly, what instruments are available. However, these conditions are always starting points--"So...you said unaccompanied trombone...how about trombone and electronics?" "You said you wanted it ten minutes...is seven minutes good? This idea has run it's course, so I either have to do another movement and go over ten, or sit at seven." For an orchestra, this could be doubling questions, availability of instruments (So...you're a small orchestra...can I use harp? What about two harps?), and even length issues (Hey, you said opener...you sure? I mean, I COULD do a thirty minute piece...oh, you're sure...positive? Alright, fine...).

I think of these the same way as I think of all the other conditions I set when not writing a commission--I still decide instrumentation, length, and then all the points of the piece. Personally, I always lay down conditions early in the composition process. There may be notes scattered here and there, little motives or ideas, maybe even a sketch of about a minute or so, but those are normally just used to set conditions (pitch, rhythm, form, etc.).

Then we have preconceptions. These are the ideas that we bring to the table thinking we know what's right, only to find out how wrong we were. This may be a special request from a performer (I really wanna do beat-box flute!) that doesn't jive with the composer at all. A preconception is an idea that is malleable. It's going from "I want an extended passage of sound-text in this" to incorporating the idea and technique into several passages as a timbral and rhythmic motive. These are musical preconceptions.

We change our preconceptions on a regular basis. New ideas are presented to us, and our view is changed. It's what happens after that first rehearsal, and you rush to make a flurry of changes, because what you thought a passage sounded like was not what it actually sounded like (and synthesized performance by notation software be damned!). It's hearing rumors about a certain person, being afraid for that first meeting, then realizing they're awesome. Or vice-versa. Preconceptions are bumps in the road, where if we're careful, we could end up flying into a ravine, or flying into the air on a magical carpet ride. (Point...you're totally singing one of two songs aren't you?)

Assumptions are the mind-killers. Business seems to be made of assumptions, this strange idea that, somehow, a person knows exactly what a person needs. Sometimes these assumptions pan out, but, often, they don't. An assumption is a preconception gone terribly wrong.

Apple made a big gamble with the iPhone. Job's wasn't even behind the idea at first, having to come around to it. The idea was simple: people didn't seem to want three devices for making phone calls/getting texts, getting email, and playing media. Those "dark times" pre-iPhone when people carried a BlackBerry, a phone, and an iPod. Then people switched to a BlackBerry and an iPod. Though, if you lived in NYC, it seemed it was a BlackBerry, an iPod, and something to text, usually through T-Mobile.

It was assumed people would want this product. And they were mostly right, though as time moved on, they realized just how much more people wanted mobile computers that could occasionally act as a phone rather than a phone that could somewhat act like a computer. The idea, the basic conditions (make a device capable of these three things) was sound. The assumption rang true. And now the iPhone is lauded in showing how you can identify a market and then corner it (then slowly lose it to Android, because you won't back off from other assumptions, such as "people will only use iTunes.").

But where does this work into music? What is the biggest assumption I see continuously?

"We know what the audience wants."

This is a mighty large assumption. What makes you believe you know what the audience wants? The nationwide survey done by the NEA? There's a big problem with using nationwide surveys to steer a local group--namely your group is not really working for the entire nation.

Or anecdotal evidence. My friends tell me the audience loved this piece. They applauded more loudly for Beethoven than Chittum. Obviously, more Beethoven is needed. There's also a danger here, and an assumption--that all music can be fairly judged on a single listening; that the "audience" for Beethoven is the same as for Chittum; that there is a homogeneous audience for this group.

These are dangers, mostly, of business, and we're seeing them regularly, from programming decisions to lockouts and contract issues. But these assumptions can also be dangerous for composition.

Setting out to write a piece "for an audience" means you have to ask an incredibly difficult question first: who is my audience? Marketing professionals do this all the time, and usually come up with some wonderfully "meaningful" answers, such as "Women, age 30-45, single, no kids, wanting to connect with their younger days" or "Men, age 16-24, hipster." Those demographics then get parsed into stereotypes about the group, and then the idea pandered to their exact wants.

Who is the audience for your piece? Is it the symphony audience? Which symphony? Your local symphony? What does your local symphony audience actually like? How do you know? What's your best guess?

Here's a bit of info that should free you from this question: no matter what kind of music you write, there will be an audience. I went to a metal club last night and saw two thrash bands, Insane (from Sweden), a young group that didn't even look of age to be in the club; and Deathhammer, a thrash band from Norway that was everything you'd expect from a thrash metal band from Norway, including the frontman being on some type of drugs. There were well over 100 people in attendance by the time Deathhammer took the stage.

100 people might not seem like much, but it beats many of the new music concerts I went to in Kansas City. There's an audience for this underground thrash metal, just like there's an audience for the more gloomy death metal I've seen, the most avant-garde of new music, Miley Cyrus, Massive Attack, and Beethoven. They are not all the same audience, though there is overlap.

I take a very different approach. My assumption is that there is someone, somewhere, that will probably like my music. I may not have met this person, but if I keep trying, I will. I assume if I write music that I like, that I find interesting, engaging, and moving, then more than likely, someone else will.

It's still an assumption. We can't be rid of assumptions entirely. And the point of this isn't to say "Do away with all assumptions! Assume nothing! Face all your preconceptions!" I'm not "new-age" enough for that. I accept that I will always assume things, I will always have preconceptions, and I will always deal with conditions. Instead, I offer a different path.

Change the meaning of an assumption to allow for change. Don't base assumptions on incomplete data. Don't let preconceptions become fixed in stone, and ruin meetings over your controlling nature. And push against conditions if your expression is leading you in a different direction, while accepting conditions that cannot be changed. Conditions can lead to very interesting creative moments, after all.

This is why I never think of "what the audience would like" when I set out to create a piece. I don't shoot to create an "audience pleaser." I aim to create something that doesn't deal in assumptions (beyond I assume someone will like this), challenges my preconceptions, and is always built around the push and pull of the myriad of conditions placed upon the piece. To do anything less would be to betray myself and the audience.

The audience is important, and therefore, we should kill the assumption that we know what's best for them. Why not let the audience decide?

Retrospective 2: In the spirit of compromise

Today has been a doozy of a day. At Midnight EST, the US Federal Government shutdown. In Minnesota, Osmo Vänskä resigned after management canceled the Carnegie Hall concerts. Adding insult to injury, with the lockout continuing in Minnesota and no end in sight, Aaron Jay Kernis resigned as head of the Composers' Institute, a major initiative for young orchestral composers run in conjunction with the Minnesota Symphony. And the NYC Opera has canceled the rest of their season and plan on filling of bankruptcy.

All these situations are difficult. At least two really stem from incredibly stubborn groups that just refuse to work in any sort of meaningful fashion with their counterparts. Instead of being two sides of a discussion, people have turned this situation into life-or-death, adversarial, war-like situations. What should be about fostering a compromise for what's best for the entire group by bringing together multiple view-points have become "showdowns at the OK Coral (Chorale?)." 

If you've read this blog, you know I take a very firm stance on most issues. I attempt to formulate these stances by doing at least some research, finding out what's happening, and weighing different opinions against my own personal experiences. Sometimes my own personal experience outweighs opinions, and sometimes my view is swayed in the middle of writing a post.

This is a post where my views were swayed.

I started out writing a post in one vein, and, there's a chance that will come back. But, right now, I look at these situations, and realize that for all my pigheadedness (something I have in spades), I do want to find answers that will work for as many people as possible, across a wide variety of situations.

What does this mean in music?

I'm going to approach this from a few angles, looking at some common perceptions of classical music from both listeners, classical musicians, and myself, and brainstorming ways that these issues may be rectified across the three views. These are, of course, based on wide-generalities, and must be changed in the real world. 

1) Programming:

In a perfect world, I'd love for a significant amount of recent works and 20th century works. Every orchestra should commission at least 1 work a year, and devout at least 25% of the programming to new works. By new works, I'll give some leeway and say anything post WWII. I'd really like there to be an emphasis on American music and music of composers from as wide of backgrounds as possible. This isn't from a "we have to include everyone" idea, but because composers from different backgrounds produce wildly different and engaging music inspired by their background.

I am not taking a Wuorinen viewpoint--25% "masterworks," 25% "20th century works," 25% "living composers known works," and 25% "the untried." While that would be interesting, and in some quarters a dedication to new music, as well as to various outreach and funding possibilities have led to success. But, let's be honest, what happens in LA would not fly in, say, Indianapolis. And what happens in NYC wouldn't work in Atlanta.

So, looking from a few viewpoints, what would be a good breakdown for programming? Where do pops orchestras fit in?

First, I honestly think core programming of Common Practice Period works should be high. I really do love Beethoven, Bruckner, Haydn, Bach, and many others. I think orchestras should look for new and interesting works from that period--and one area I think that needs improved on the most is in concertos. It's always disconcerting to see the same violin concerto programmed multiple years in a row. Yes, the choice is up to the soloist, but wouldn't it be great, in the spirit of compromise, for the soloist and the orchestra to really talk? I'm sure Hilary Hahn would play something other than the Sibelius if you said "Uh, Ms. Hahn, we've done the Sibelius three years in a row...do you have any other concertos? The Tchaikovsky maybe? Haven't done that in years!" It'd still fit the bill of a "standard rep" concerto, but it'd be different. And, of course, the soloist would still have final say.

I do think a larger portion of subscription concerts (non-pops) should be newer works. At this point, I'd say that most orchestras, as best, give 25% over to new works, with maybe a commission every year. I'd love to see every orchestra really give 25% and at least one, if not two commissions a year. At least one work per concert (roughly) would be great--that'd normally fill out to something more like 33% of total works, but not total time. Most of those would undoubtedly be openers, 10-15 minute works.

As for pops concerts, I actually don't have an issue with pops concerts at all, as long as they aren't done at the expense of subscription concerts. And I think cross-over collaborations can actually be really fruitful musical endeavors. Philip Kennicott would hate me for this, but, a piece of me actually enjoyed this piece:

This of course may not fit many orchestras, or their setup...But I can't help but remember the excitement I heard out of Indy with Time for Three, pairing up to play classical works and some more pop style arrangements with the orchestra. Crossing the lines, combining ideas, and being adventuresome can produce good programs.

It won't always work. Not everyone piece will be a winner. But, if we never try, and never move forward, the programs will get really stale as well. And just because one work didn't go well, doesn't mean others won't.

So, there ya go--I'm not against the masterworks, but I do want more effort given to newer works.

2) Attitude
I've touched on this before--how people view the orchestra makes a difference. The physical interaction of the group does change the experience for audience members. What's this have to do with attitude?

I want, one, orchestra performers to always perform like they love the music. Even if they don't like the music, play like you love it. Give it that feeling. I want musicians to be engaged, lively, concentrate, smile, and worry less about being "proper" and more about playing.

I want the orchestra to not care if someone enthusiastically claps between movements. And I want the rest of the audience not to jump down that person's fault. One man, Richard Dare, wrote an article over a year ago talking about how he felt stifled at a concert hall. He wanted to clap, laugh, scream, etc.

As someone that goes to popular concerts, jazz concerts, and "somber, reverential" classical concerts, I can understand. All these concerts have different social graces--you don't usually see too many rock concerts where everyone sits quietly, nor do you see jazz concerts where everyone is singing the tune. And, I think, allowing for good-natured feedback in a live performance is great. Clapping between movements? Well, it can slow things down considerably, but on the other hand, showing that immediate appreciation is also great. As a musician, it's always great when someone claps for me--in a jazz tune, ending a solo (especially one I didn't do so hot on), and hearing applause actually gives me some energy. I'm not a fan of applause after my solo in Bolero, but after a beautiful movement of a symphony? sure.

I mean, is that really all that more "disruptive" than the huge amount of somewhat forced coughing and sneezing?

So, musicians, love what you do every minute. Don't act like you hate something, even if you do--welcome to being a professional. Enter into every piece looking for positives, ways to create beautiful music, and with an open mind. And audience, show appreciation at "appropriate" times, not while music is playing, and everyone else should be supportive and happy someone liked it enough to clap loudly at the end of a movement.

And, if you need to laugh, give an appreciative "yeah!" for a wonderfully nailed solo, or tap your foot, go for it...just do it quietly. Sit next to me the next time I'm at an orchestra concert--you'll see me do all these things, in as surreptitiously a manner as possible. And when I get annoyed looks, I laugh a bit more, because I know the "decorum" of the classical concert all too well.

3) Outreach

First off, let's face a few facts. 1) the age of the audience has gone up steadily. 2) The cause of this is many fold--click on the link in the previous portion. 3) we're tempted, as musicians, to find quick answers. I often hear "it's the fault of education," "the music isn't relevant," "kids aren't into live concerts." Well, all those things could be to blame. So could the "we do it to ourselves," the "Ivory Tower" idea. 4) music education is a varied issue, ranging from topics covered, to time in the classroom, to style of teaching. 5) cultural shifts have changed how we consume media

So, to me, this is where outreach comes in. First, I want to turn music education and outreach away from the one that is most often pushed: performance. There are lots of initiatives that are important here that should have focuses, for sure: youth symphonies, instrument donations, free lessons and sectionals, free after school programs (such as El Sistema). These are great, and I'm definitely not calling for a "rob Peter to pay Paul" mentality with these suggestions.

I think orchestras, new music ensembles, actually every performing group in any area, should do more outreach for listening.

I don't mean free concerts. Free concerts are nice, but I'm thinking more...

Lecture recitals.

Oh yes, those things so many have done in their doctorates. A small group, maybe playing chamber and solo works, go to schools. They present to, hopefully, to groups smaller than everyone in the school. In the presentation, hopefully running about 50 minutes, musicians talk not about the technical bits of music, nor about how to get a career in music, but about listening to music. I mean presentations like this one by Benjamin Zander. And many of you know this little outtake of Bobby McFerrin



Now, the bit with McFerrin does have performance, but not in the way I was talking--it's not about making performers, it's about connecting an audience with music.

This is something many classically trained musicians want to do. Heck, it's why many of us got into this--I know it's why I'm here.

Audience members respond well to the "pre-concert" talks, many show up, want to hear more about the music. It creates a more rich listening experience when they hear musicians talk passionately about the music. Why is it always in the concert hall? Why aren't there more talks out in the public?

One guess is because, in some places, they tried, a couple times. And not many people showed up. Any new event takes time to build. So, these new outreach programs may not pay dividends in the near future--but it'll matter when those 12 year old kids that you reached with a couple outreach lecture recitals become 29 year olds with jobs and want to support the orchestra that came to them with outreach lecture/concerts.

And keep up all the rest of the outreach as well--everything plays a big part. And if more of the small groups would band together, more of these outreach opportunities could occur as well. It'd be great if members from lots of different groups got together and formed an "outreach coalition," in the spirit of compromise.

I do have another whole blog being prepped on outreach ideas for musicians of all walks, so stay tuned.

and finally:

4) Get over the fear of the new

Ok, this one isn't just going to be about compromise, about looking at lots of viewpoints and offering what I think are constructive views.

This one is personal.

Everyone involved: be willing to evolve.

A friend of mine posted a question that led to a lot of this thinking, and one point at the end struck me: How do we incorporate more meaningful new music into our models while not condemning the standard rep?

One word sticks out and makes me think. The question itself is important: how do we incorporate new music into the standard rep? What types of pieces? In what ways, context, etc? I've covered that already.

But it's another word: meaningful.

What is meaningful new music? How do we categorize it? Is it technically well constructed new music? Is it new music an audience will like? Is it new music that the orchestral musicians like? Is it socially and culturally relevant new music?

But, for me, this takes a different tone. Whenever I see meaningful, and in retrospect, use meaningful, it has a connotation of distrust. It says "I'm not sure I find this thing of equal importance to my current mindset." Like I said, I see this in myself as much as I do others. But it's an important idea to think about. How attached are we all to our current modes of thinking? Our current whims? Our current philosophies?

When I see the strikes in Minnesota, I see two groups that are stuck in their philosophies. One is a set of bankers masquerading as non-profit board-members, trying to cut from the largest profit differential, salaries, to make more money for the stake-holders...in this case, the endowment I guess. And I see musicians saying "the old ways are fine--we'll take a bit of a pay cut, but don't change what we do." Now, don't mistake this; I am firmly on the side of the musicians and think the management has acted atrociously. However, I think a lot of these questions come from a "new vs. old" dilemma. And I'm tired of "versus." I really do want cooperation and collaboration.

So, everyone, be ready to try new things. Because, let's be honest, a lot of the old systems are failing. I'm not sure they were ever designed to work all that well in the first place, and with the cultural, social, and economic shifts in America, old paradigms are going to have to fall away.

This doesn't mean getting rid of the masterworks. And it doesn't mean embracing only the newest fads.

But it does mean keeping an open mind and talking.

So, everyone, weigh in. Where can we start at building a new image for orchestras, and for classical music? What sort of image do you see?

For me, I see an image that retains its virtues, but isn't afraid to evolve through the cooperation of everyone involved: the audience, management, musicians, and guys like me, new music composers who love academia.

in response to...

This post is in response to 2 things, a review by my friend Chris Robinson on David Gibson's latest CD (read here) and the resulting discussion on tromboneforum.org, read here

An open letter to Chris Robinson:

You got some names going on that forum man. When Doug Elliott chimes in, you know things got real. Man, i was gonna buy a Doug Elliott mouthpiece...

Anyway, I couldn't agree more. Like i said before, one of my grump points is trombone players attempting to sound like J.J. Johnson. Smooth beyond all smooth, thin and bright tone. part of it is the instrument itself. straight horns tend to be a bit brighter, and it's easy to get a laser tone when trying to play out on them. on my horn, when i play loudly, it has a huge amount of edge to it (actually, mine is too far the opposite direction. anything above about a mf starts getting nasty...a little TOO soon. lol). On straight horns played in the higher registers, it just bets bright and thin to the point of being like a wailing baby. That's one of the biggest problems with the instrument- in a solo situation trying to play over everyone, we'll push it and we've killed 7 people in the crowd with a laser shooting from our horn.

It's one reason i have recently shied away from using my straight horn. i HAVE a jazz straight horn. It sits in the corner, comes out at least once a year, gets cleaned, then put back. I HATE my orchestral horn for various reasons, but one thing i like about it, is i can't get a laser tone out of it. Even in the high registers, it leans towards nasty and gritty. I might keep it around just to play jazz, just because of that nasty quality...and i can pump out mid to mid-low and make it sound like a bass trombones tone when they're really pumping the low stuff.

The best compliment i've gotten on my playing actually happened yesterday. I was just trying to play some high stuff while everyone was chatting, and Stanton Kessler stopped and said "what was that?" and i turned and said "me." his answer "that sounded like a French Horn." that, to me, is a great compliment. It means I was able to, in the high range where on all instruments it can get a little thin, keep a nice full, round, dark tone...the sort of tone that when you push it gets that brassy edge a French Horn has, not a baby killing laser beam.

I also completely agree with Doug Elliott when he says "What "we" are missing is quality, in a lot of ways. I'll probably get flamed for this, but as I see it, trombonists in general have accepted mediocrity as the norm."

couldn't agree more. We're a lazy bunch. Seriously. I am NO exception, either. My practice habits this summer went to 2-3 hours daily to an hour daily to an hour every few days. and that's me concentrating on practicing! i dunno how many trombone friends i've had who would rather get drunk, sit at a piano, and sing Billy Joel than practice trombone. and we've accepted it.

We've got this complex. We'll listen to (for classical) Alessi, Christian Lindberg, Mark Lawrence and say "eh, i'll never play like that. why bother?" We'll hear those classic jazz solos, J.J., Curtis Fuller, Slide Hampton, Jiggs Wigham, and Kai Winding and say "we'll never solo like that, why bother." I'll admit that i don't spend my time learning changes or practicing my soloing like i spend my time learning avant-garde modern trombone solos...and that means it gets little to no time.

It's a double-edged sword. i complain, as a trombone player, that there isn't much good music being written for the trombone. the parts are lame, the solos are few and far between (in classical lit and jazz improv), and no one is even asking if i would like a piece written for me these days...why?

We don't put ourselves out there. I think partly the greats got overshadowed- J.J.'s biggest years of success were in the Bop era, and then into the Time of Miles (as i like to call it...). even though he was playing actively, put out records, and had great press...We all remember Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie, we remember Miles and Trane...the giants lived on, and the ogres just got overshadowed (same reason we remember Wagner over Meyerbeer...even though Meyerbeer had much more play time during his lifetime.).

The only answer is to get out there and change the perception. So, yeah, I agree with you in a million ways. And believe, as Doug Elliott inferred, the stigma is our own creation. Somehow, as trombone players, we get lazy. We reach a certain level of proficiency and call it good. we get a gig and call it a day. there are obvious exceptions, Ryan Heinlein and myself are both at least trying to break the mold a bit, i'd say...he's more active than me in the Jazz scene, but i'm trying to do the same type of thing in the classical scene (where the same problems exist...). Maybe our generation will fix it. maybe, maybe not. Who knows, but it is a problem that needs addressed. And, maybe, now that I'm older, i can do my part to break the cycle, rather than perpetuate it.

summer

Ok, i don't know specifically what i'm doing this summer, but there's one thing i want to do...

put out a trip-hop/hardcore album.

i need a break from "contemporary classical" or whatever you want to call it. i need to rock out.

record vocals with a vintage shure 55

spend time creating sonic textures from recorded sounds

and put out an "pop" album and see if anyone likes it.

there all things we need to do. mine is change it up...it's hard writing "contemporary classical" when it's all i see and hear. I'm used to doing concerts. it's weird not having that.

and when i hear Portishead followed by Rise Against! followed by Bjork followed by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, i end up wanting to do an album like them. there's so much energy there, so my feeling

my music still lacks that in the "CC" form...it's not expressing me yet. and sometimes i wonder if i even can...