Yet again, this topic rears it's ugly little head. Dan Visconti over at NewMusicBox posted an op-ed advising composers to always keep the audience in mind. He's far from the first voice is this back and forth fight. The topic was discussed heavily in the comments of a blog posted by Jeffrey Nytch hosted by Greg Sandow. And I've covered all this before, ad nauseum, after Phillip Kennicott's attack on new music was posted in the New Republic. Basically, go through my blog and you'll see this topic rehashed repeatedly.
So, why do I keep going over it? Why do any composers keep going on and on about it?
It's a bit of a complex issue. First off, there are those that say the audience defines what is in vogue, important, and is the main financial backing for music. This is an idea taken from various businesses--that the end user defines the product. Products must be created so that the end users want to pay for them. And, to do this, you must know your audience and create a product catered to them. This means that cheap hotels, like Super 8, will offer free wifi and some sort of "continental breakfast," clean linens, and beds all at a discount price. The wifi and breakfast are perks, the linens and beds are the basics. Without providing incentives, people would just as willing stay at other cheap hotels with those incentives, whether or not they actually use them.
As classical musicians begin to take stances taken from the pop music world, the idea that writing music for a specific audience, based on their tastes and predilections starts to make sense. The musician is creating a "product." This "product" has to be bought by a large sum of individuals to be able to make a living from said product. Thusly, the music must be tailored to the chosen audience so that the musicians can sell tickets, CDs, downloads, or get streams on YouTube or other streaming formats. But even this doesn't hold true, as many pop artists write music they love and enjoy (would Miley Cyrus use the same beats behind "Wrecking Ball" if she hated them? Perhaps, if her producers forced her to...but I have a feeling it wouldn't have been as big of a hit.)
This business acumen, however, is false. First off, many cultural enterprises are non-profit. I've harped on this repeatedly, as have others, and it continues to befuddle me as to why organizations, especially large ones, allow themselves to be run like a for-profit business. They misplace their understand on what the product is and what it provides.
Basically put, a cultural non-profit's product is culture. Culture itself cannot be priced in the same way as a manufactured product. The mission of a non-profit is why the organization exists, not to make money. That means it is up to those that run it to provide a cultural service to people, often times a service that society deems as important, but one that cannot be self-sufficient. Classical and folk music are included in this.
Now we come to the idea of who is the audience and how best to serve them. How does one service the audience of a symphony? Does one produce concerts of the same music, over and over again? Do we rely on "old-favourites" in the hopes of attracting more people? Do we branch out and try new works and new ideas?
Musical directors curate these experiences. They're job isn't just to play the pieces they love, but pieces they find to be important for an audience. This means that, sometimes you see sharp inclines in performances. For instance, Benjamin Britten and Stravinsky have gotten huge boosts the last two years due to anniversaries. Why? Because musical directors felt their work is important for an audience to know.
But who is this nebulous audience? That's quite the trick, isn't it? You see, the audience for a symphony in Indianapolis will be different than the audience for a chamber group in Duluth. The audience for the Society of Electronic Music in the United States Conference concerts is going to be different than the audience for a joint Fylkingen and EMS presentation in Stockholm. The audience for The Project H, a great jazz/funk group based mainly out of KC, is going to be different than if the Curiosity Cabinet, a chamber group in NYC, plays my piece All Things Are Not Equal, even though that piece is, at its heart, a funk/jazz chart that's been slightly gussied up.
There will be overlap, of course. Studies show that the audiences will often be made up of older individuals. Education is also high in the groups. Of course, as people look to these studies, they see a problem--too much of one demographic, not enough of another. We need to branch out while holding the base. That means programming works the base knows and finding ways to draw younger audiences. This includes more pops selections, cheaper ticket prices, venue changes, talks, and more. Of course, this talk of bringing new audiences ignores the fact that the people with the most buying power are not the young. There's also ageism in America--it's all about the shiny new product, being hip to the young generation, and using the idea that kids will get their parents to buy their goods for them. The arts, however, are not that sort of business (though some chiefs of organizations make them seem so).
But look at those stats again and see something else: there's a sharp drop in the 35-54 audience from 2008-2012...almost like there was a financial crisis and many people in that age group lost their jobs, struggled to survive, and generally spent less. And like there was some sort of austerity push in America, with politicians screaming at us to "pull-up our bootstraps" and be wary of the future. A drop in spending. And then see how as numbers trickle in from last year how symphonies and operas are recovering, even as the economy recovers. No...there's no correlation here. It's time to find a new audience! That's what I hear being screamed...
And, yet, still, the question remains unanswered--who is this audience for whom I am supposed to be creating art?
That statement rubs me the wrong way, even now. I see it and think that what I'm doing is some product meant to be traded. That I am out to produce something to get 100,000,000 hits on YouTube. The rebellious person in me gets up in arms.
Then I take a deep breath, center myself, and say again "who is my audience?"
I write contemporary classical music. This was a choice I made. I also dabble in jazz, more on the experimental side, sometimes bridging the gap. I've written two chamber operas, both were well liked by the audiences at the time. Audiences that were a fair mix of individuals, from theater professionals (some of which I invited), to learned musicians, to artists aligned with the arts group helping to put on the production, to friends who smile and support me (which I am beyond grateful for). What the theater professionals got out of the productions was different than the professional musicians, which was most definitely different than the art crowd.
So, who do I write for? Do I write for my peers, academics with doctorates in music? Those camps are split heavily--do I write in a modernist style then? Or a post-minimalist style with obvious influences of pop and jazz? Do I focus on academic electroacoustic music? Or soundscapes?
A myriad of styles, each with their own audiences which mix and separate on a whim.
Do I write IDM tracks? What about standard fare "producer" tracks to be background for a wrapper? I could write pop music as well, following a nice song form and get an attractive young lady to sing. Or maybe I'll drift into experimental death metal, and team up with an older generation of metal artists that enjoy classical music, Anders Bjorler told me in our interview.
I look at this problem and throw up my hands. Who do I try to please? What will this piece be?
My answer is simple: this piece will be written for two people, and only two people. I will do my best to strike the balance between them, but, inevitably, one side wins out.
Performers and myself.
And I usually win.
Some will see this as selfish. That I'm putting myself on a pedestal and saying "Look ye world, and love my work, for I am a genius!" Oh, far from it. I don't like most of my work. They're decent pieces, but there are few that I honestly pull up and listen to. But I strive to write music I like, that I would want to listen to repeatedly. I often don't succeed, but sometimes I do.
And for performers. I don't mean that I let performers tell me exactly what to write, even in a commission. I mean I write music that as a performer, I wouldn't look at and throw out a window. And I change things when performers look at my music and throw it out a window. That hasn't happened too often, but sometimes it does.
There's a more serious rationale behind this, and it comes from a professional place. If I do not like what I am working on, the piece will fail. It will not live up to its fullest potential, I'll put less care into specifics, and what will come out will, at best, be 80% done. This is true for most people working in any situation. It's even more perilous in a creative endeavor. There's no hard and fast "this is wrong" when you're looking at a score (well, beyond collisions and illegibly small notes). There are few hard and fast "you can't use that sound there" moments when you're mixing a new electronic piece. You can listen to the mix and shrug, knowing that it's "good enough," that the performers and audience probably won't notice any of the lack of care.
But they do...they can see it in your eyes as you try to lie to them about how it's a perfect piece. The performers can see the slightly out of aligned dynamics and start to wonder if there are wrong notes. They'll play a passage and wince, wondering if that crunchy harmony is meant to be that way or it was a transposition error. And they'll ask. And they'll be able to tell quickly from your sheepish look whether or not you succeeded.
If you love what you are writing, then these mistakes will still happen. But your reactions will change. It will be "Oh, I didn't realize that!" and you're taking huge amounts of notes on your own score, cursing yourself under your breath. It'll be "Well, I'm a fucking idiot! What should I put?" and a laugh and a smile as everyone knows you really care about this work, that you've poured your heart and soul into it...and that we all goof every so often.
And the performers will take that into performance. If you write a piece that performers enjoy playing, they perform it well. They perform it better than the other pieces on their concerts, even other pieces they may like. They'll play it more than once. They'll show it to their friends.
If a musical director for a symphony likes your work, it's worth more in this world than any "audience." Because the audience will never hear it unless the musical director likes it. And he'll like it if you love it, spent the hard time creating a work that you truly believe in, and can show that off. S/he may beg off time, say they don't have the resources, that it can't be programmed this year, but you will have made the impression.
More "audiences" hear works and enjoy them because an ensemble or musical director enjoyed them than works that have been written "for the audience."
There will always been an audience. As a composer, there will always been someone that will listen to your music. As an ensemble, there will always be people who want to see you live or buy your recordings. Finding that audience can sometimes be a trial, but they are there.
And, even more than that, if you set out to write music for other people, throwing away your own preferences for some mysterious other, then your real audience, the people that listen to your music, will know. You can adopt styles, ideas, forms, and instruments all you want, but you can't create that which you do not like.
Now, here comes my defense before anyone comes and says "that's not what we mean when we say 'write for an audience.' We don't mean ignore your own principles and sell out. We're not saying pander to a group! We're saying take the audience into account!"
And I'm not saying taking the audience into account is pandering. The long discussion with Jeffrey Nytch resolved a fair bit of that--Nytch wrote a piece concerning a subject he loved. He used that to market it to a local audience based around a natural phenomena that is a major part of their landscape. But, Nytch wrote his own piece, in his style, with his ideas.
The rest was marketing--sitting down with a musical director who liked his work (a fan, an audience member, and the most important one...), fleshing out an idea that he was excited about (or else, could he have convinced the musical director?), and writing a piece he loved, marketed perfectly for the local audience.
But there's a danger there as well--that marketing will not resonate with a group in California. Or New York.
The music very well may though, because it was written from a genuine place. Other musical directors may also see the value of the work, outside of its marketing.
Or...if we take the attitude of "the audience being most important," a musical director will look at it and say "we don't live near mountains. My audience won't care about this..."
And then marketing has become the power behind music, not music itself.
So, the TL:DR version:
The mythical audience does not exist. There is no one monolithic perfect classical audience, just as this isn't one audience for all of popular music. Using that idea as a basis of programming is a disservice to the very people you wish to serve. Basing large scale classical music ventures on for-profit models will lead to disaster.
Write the music you want to write, hear, and play. Write music that other people want to play, and it will get played, and played well. And the audience, that specific audience for what you do, will emerge and support your work.
Showing posts with label entrepreneurship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entrepreneurship. Show all posts
1/9/14
11/21/13
Phenomenology, Metanarratives, and Classical Audiences
Just last week, I wrote a post discussing similarities I saw between metal audiences and classical music crowds (both orchestral and new music). Yesterday, I stumbled upon an article at New Music Box by Sam Hillmer entitled "Audience Cultivation in American New Music." This comes at a time when a certain Kyle Gann blog post railing against Modernist music, and a Telegraph article reporting on some comments made by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies. And there is this bit of journalism floating around about a study that suggests classical musicians should improvise. On top of all this, a good friend of mine who is working on bringing Heidegger and music analysis together started asking me about metanarratives.
Of course, there's only one possible quip when asked about metanarratives:
First off, Hillmer. I'm known, in some circles, for flitting back and forth between incredibly dense writing to snarky, yet accessible writing. This article falls fully on the incredibly dense. It is Hillmer's attempt at Husserl and Heidegger (somewhere in the middle, I suppose, between an epistomological and existential stance) , a philosophical comparison of the NYC DIY and new music scenes. To simplify a long article into a glib sentence: DIY (or the more European DIT) and new music ensembles should working together; new music ensembles should be fine with playing in bars where audiences act and dress differently than in concert venues; and DIY artists shouldn't fear new music festivals, and attempt to make contact with that scene.
Oversimplification at it's finest. I could write an entire post sorting through Hillmer's arguments, but, instead, I want to posit a different theory. His critique is inherently anecdotal, and reflects a specific scene. Hillmer does not make this a secret--it's stated up front, but it's easy to lose sight of this over the course of the long, dense article. There is one over-arching principle, however, that I find odd--the idea that the audiences are so incredibly different. This is the metanarrative if you will, the pulled out view to a create a dichotomy that can only exist in a large, general scale.
But what's the narrative of the situation? In other words, what happens at a single concert that can be observed (and therefore measured)? And what do repeated studies show? Well, the only major, long term study of audiences is via TV--Nielsen. But what of an experiential approach?
From that, and I think Hillmer will agree when I say this, there isn't "an audience" for DIY or classical music concerts. There's not "an audience" for anything. When playing in a bar, you have several audiences: the regulars, who showed up before there was a cover, come regularly (perhaps every day), and are not there for your music. They can be loud, talk to friends, party, etc. Essentially, they're not there for the concert. They can become your audience, but it's often a more tough sell; there are casual concert goers--it's Friday night, they're looking for something to do, and they know this bar often has music they like. They don't know your band, but are receptive because past experience has shown that this site has provided entertainment. They're the middle group, oscillating between becoming big fans, and generally ignoring you; there are the "dragged in," a forced audience coming because the rest of the group is going. They're often hostile; there's the "Other musicians checking out the competition." Depending on the type of scene, they'll run the gamut from supportive to hateful; then there are "fans," people that came for your show, and are there to support you. This is just a small sample of different possible demographics within "the audience."
Here's what I've seen--people who come for the concert are, generally, quiet during the music. They'll do whatever is appropriate for the style (lighters in the air swaying, headbanging, air drumming, screaming after songs, clapping after solos, etc). Then there are people who just happen to be there.
The classical world, generally, doesn't have too many "happen to be there." Most of those are "dragged in," force audience members who make incredibly humorous videos. But, again, I won't take any more time on this, but to say beware distilling the concert experience down to a metanarrative, a "we're so different, let's learn from each other." I'd like to see more posts that do more "this is how we're the same;" in other words, the DIT idea manifest in blog form.
As for Kyle Gann, and many other critics, it's their job to take a specific stance. The views expressed are his own. The danger comes when Gann starts to project on the audience. Let's look at experience again--his view is well known. He's invited to a festival, where certain people agree with his view (therefore solidifying it), and those that disagree with his view (which do little to sway him). Again, he breaks the world into a dichotomy, a long-shot of "him vs. them," modernity vs. post/minimalism fusion. There was a time I agreed with most of what Gann wrote. There was a time when I disagreed vehemently. Now, I take it as one more narrative, a possibility among a large, but finite number of possibilities. Beware being dragged into the contention--funny advice coming from someone who has been as reactionary as I.
As for Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, the man that first got the conversation of metanarratives rolling, I would like to see his specific comments, not quotations in the Telegraph. I read these as a critique on music education, one which I actually agree with. However, he's mixing generalities with specifics--students should learn these things, and they're not, in his experience. His experience is the education system of the UK. In the last year and a half, I've met quite a few people working on changing the music education curriculum, specifically to include studying electroacoustic music. In the US, of course, we have issues in music education, from lack of funding, class time, academic study for all students after a certain period, and a focus on performance. These ideas fluctuate a great deal based upon location--at one MS I was familiar with in the US, the music teacher had built her own textbook, was very active in her teaching, and worked on a wide variety of topics. At my middle school, there was no academic music.
My friend was concerned with Davies choice of a metanarrative that shows superiority of classical music. That, of course, can be an issue. Is a trend starting to pop up? Popular metanarratives are dichotomous and present an "us vs. them" attitude. It's about a choice that must be made, and once it is made, that is all. When I took playwriting courses, my teacher spoke often of keeping each individual choice to "Either/Or," a fork in the road. There can be lots of different choices, but each choice should be simple, this or that.
In a play or a movie, this can be powerful. However, it also reinforces an attitude that is ever prevalent--this or that, us vs. them, either/or, a choice between to opposing forces. Tolkein used in effectively as a metanarrative, but the narrative itself was painted in vivid, swirling colours, not black and white. And if one chooses to delve into the Silmarillion, the "good vs. evil" starts to blur a bit, as we see where the corruption comes from. The same can be said with David Eddings and his two series, the Belgariad and the Mallorean. The entire structure is built around a choice, this path or that path. Forks are abound, and, yet, each sentence is painted in more vivid colours. Characters are fleshed out, situations are incredibly complicated and often have more than one choice present. The characters even point out "Wait, there's more choices than this," and yet get shoehorned into a set of preordained choices.
This is something powerful to think about, and why phenomenology is an interesting road to take when analyzing these problems. And why studies involve more than five people.
To that last article that has been getting praise, it's important to remember the circumstances. The generalization is made: "studies suggest musicians should improvise." First off, suggests is the keyword. Second, the study involve five people, three performers and two audience members. In other words, a non-reflective sample size. This is where metanarratives and generalities just don't work. And why scientific studies number participants in the thousands, and even then, generally only show small subsections of opinions. Does improvisation affect the brain? Probably. Will it affect every brain the same way? Neurology says more than likely. Will these have the effect on each person? No. That's the wonderful difference between neurology, psychology, and philosophy; the physical, mental, and the meta-physical/spiritual.
What is experienced can be the same--if everyone reading this gets a paper cut on the edge of their index finger of the same size, created by the same paper, and with all other factors being equal, we will have the same cut. But how often does this happen in the real world? Everyone will experience it differently based upon past experiences, running a gamut from not even noticing to fainting. The science of distilling these large experiences into a working philosophy is part of phenomenology. It's becoming a lost art, I'd say.
Because reading these articles shows how people tend toward generalized metanarratives when, in fact, we haven't reached that point of investigation yet. Do these comparisons help?
They do, in that they are conversation starters. Since Hillmer's post, I've seen it shared in both positive and negative lights. Same with Gann and Davies. The study has just been an "oo, neat," since most people sharing realized that a sample size of five a study does not make.
I think, however, it's time we move away from these generalization, these base comparisons of "us vs. them," and move into what Hillmer comes to at the end--a "DIT" or "Do It Together" stance. By this, I mean we need to discard our metanarratives, generalizations, and conceptions of the idea. There is no "audience." There is no "us vs. them." We exist in different spaces, and are perceived differently, for a large amount of reasons. By "we" I truly mean everyone, every type of music, every nearly infinite (but not quite infinite), possibility. Only then, when we acknowledge that there is no one "classical music audience" or "DIY audience" or "Noise audience," but a group of individuals who may share like characteristics, but also have widely differing views of the world, will we really be able to move forward. So, perhaps, a move toward a narrative model, a poststructuralist view of the audience.
Because as philosophers discovered long ago, Truth and Fact are not the same thing.
Of course, there's only one possible quip when asked about metanarratives:
one narrative to rule them all, one narrative to find them
one narrative to bring them all, and in darkness bind themPerhaps a bit melodramatic. However, it's amazing to me that this conversation about metanarratives and phenomenology comes up at the same time five posts appear that basically represent these ideas. Since it was on my mind, I decided to look at a few of these posts with these philosophical thoughts in mind.
First off, Hillmer. I'm known, in some circles, for flitting back and forth between incredibly dense writing to snarky, yet accessible writing. This article falls fully on the incredibly dense. It is Hillmer's attempt at Husserl and Heidegger (somewhere in the middle, I suppose, between an epistomological and existential stance) , a philosophical comparison of the NYC DIY and new music scenes. To simplify a long article into a glib sentence: DIY (or the more European DIT) and new music ensembles should working together; new music ensembles should be fine with playing in bars where audiences act and dress differently than in concert venues; and DIY artists shouldn't fear new music festivals, and attempt to make contact with that scene.
Oversimplification at it's finest. I could write an entire post sorting through Hillmer's arguments, but, instead, I want to posit a different theory. His critique is inherently anecdotal, and reflects a specific scene. Hillmer does not make this a secret--it's stated up front, but it's easy to lose sight of this over the course of the long, dense article. There is one over-arching principle, however, that I find odd--the idea that the audiences are so incredibly different. This is the metanarrative if you will, the pulled out view to a create a dichotomy that can only exist in a large, general scale.
But what's the narrative of the situation? In other words, what happens at a single concert that can be observed (and therefore measured)? And what do repeated studies show? Well, the only major, long term study of audiences is via TV--Nielsen. But what of an experiential approach?
From that, and I think Hillmer will agree when I say this, there isn't "an audience" for DIY or classical music concerts. There's not "an audience" for anything. When playing in a bar, you have several audiences: the regulars, who showed up before there was a cover, come regularly (perhaps every day), and are not there for your music. They can be loud, talk to friends, party, etc. Essentially, they're not there for the concert. They can become your audience, but it's often a more tough sell; there are casual concert goers--it's Friday night, they're looking for something to do, and they know this bar often has music they like. They don't know your band, but are receptive because past experience has shown that this site has provided entertainment. They're the middle group, oscillating between becoming big fans, and generally ignoring you; there are the "dragged in," a forced audience coming because the rest of the group is going. They're often hostile; there's the "Other musicians checking out the competition." Depending on the type of scene, they'll run the gamut from supportive to hateful; then there are "fans," people that came for your show, and are there to support you. This is just a small sample of different possible demographics within "the audience."
Here's what I've seen--people who come for the concert are, generally, quiet during the music. They'll do whatever is appropriate for the style (lighters in the air swaying, headbanging, air drumming, screaming after songs, clapping after solos, etc). Then there are people who just happen to be there.
The classical world, generally, doesn't have too many "happen to be there." Most of those are "dragged in," force audience members who make incredibly humorous videos. But, again, I won't take any more time on this, but to say beware distilling the concert experience down to a metanarrative, a "we're so different, let's learn from each other." I'd like to see more posts that do more "this is how we're the same;" in other words, the DIT idea manifest in blog form.
As for Kyle Gann, and many other critics, it's their job to take a specific stance. The views expressed are his own. The danger comes when Gann starts to project on the audience. Let's look at experience again--his view is well known. He's invited to a festival, where certain people agree with his view (therefore solidifying it), and those that disagree with his view (which do little to sway him). Again, he breaks the world into a dichotomy, a long-shot of "him vs. them," modernity vs. post/minimalism fusion. There was a time I agreed with most of what Gann wrote. There was a time when I disagreed vehemently. Now, I take it as one more narrative, a possibility among a large, but finite number of possibilities. Beware being dragged into the contention--funny advice coming from someone who has been as reactionary as I.
As for Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, the man that first got the conversation of metanarratives rolling, I would like to see his specific comments, not quotations in the Telegraph. I read these as a critique on music education, one which I actually agree with. However, he's mixing generalities with specifics--students should learn these things, and they're not, in his experience. His experience is the education system of the UK. In the last year and a half, I've met quite a few people working on changing the music education curriculum, specifically to include studying electroacoustic music. In the US, of course, we have issues in music education, from lack of funding, class time, academic study for all students after a certain period, and a focus on performance. These ideas fluctuate a great deal based upon location--at one MS I was familiar with in the US, the music teacher had built her own textbook, was very active in her teaching, and worked on a wide variety of topics. At my middle school, there was no academic music.
My friend was concerned with Davies choice of a metanarrative that shows superiority of classical music. That, of course, can be an issue. Is a trend starting to pop up? Popular metanarratives are dichotomous and present an "us vs. them" attitude. It's about a choice that must be made, and once it is made, that is all. When I took playwriting courses, my teacher spoke often of keeping each individual choice to "Either/Or," a fork in the road. There can be lots of different choices, but each choice should be simple, this or that.
In a play or a movie, this can be powerful. However, it also reinforces an attitude that is ever prevalent--this or that, us vs. them, either/or, a choice between to opposing forces. Tolkein used in effectively as a metanarrative, but the narrative itself was painted in vivid, swirling colours, not black and white. And if one chooses to delve into the Silmarillion, the "good vs. evil" starts to blur a bit, as we see where the corruption comes from. The same can be said with David Eddings and his two series, the Belgariad and the Mallorean. The entire structure is built around a choice, this path or that path. Forks are abound, and, yet, each sentence is painted in more vivid colours. Characters are fleshed out, situations are incredibly complicated and often have more than one choice present. The characters even point out "Wait, there's more choices than this," and yet get shoehorned into a set of preordained choices.
This is something powerful to think about, and why phenomenology is an interesting road to take when analyzing these problems. And why studies involve more than five people.
To that last article that has been getting praise, it's important to remember the circumstances. The generalization is made: "studies suggest musicians should improvise." First off, suggests is the keyword. Second, the study involve five people, three performers and two audience members. In other words, a non-reflective sample size. This is where metanarratives and generalities just don't work. And why scientific studies number participants in the thousands, and even then, generally only show small subsections of opinions. Does improvisation affect the brain? Probably. Will it affect every brain the same way? Neurology says more than likely. Will these have the effect on each person? No. That's the wonderful difference between neurology, psychology, and philosophy; the physical, mental, and the meta-physical/spiritual.
What is experienced can be the same--if everyone reading this gets a paper cut on the edge of their index finger of the same size, created by the same paper, and with all other factors being equal, we will have the same cut. But how often does this happen in the real world? Everyone will experience it differently based upon past experiences, running a gamut from not even noticing to fainting. The science of distilling these large experiences into a working philosophy is part of phenomenology. It's becoming a lost art, I'd say.
Because reading these articles shows how people tend toward generalized metanarratives when, in fact, we haven't reached that point of investigation yet. Do these comparisons help?
They do, in that they are conversation starters. Since Hillmer's post, I've seen it shared in both positive and negative lights. Same with Gann and Davies. The study has just been an "oo, neat," since most people sharing realized that a sample size of five a study does not make.
I think, however, it's time we move away from these generalization, these base comparisons of "us vs. them," and move into what Hillmer comes to at the end--a "DIT" or "Do It Together" stance. By this, I mean we need to discard our metanarratives, generalizations, and conceptions of the idea. There is no "audience." There is no "us vs. them." We exist in different spaces, and are perceived differently, for a large amount of reasons. By "we" I truly mean everyone, every type of music, every nearly infinite (but not quite infinite), possibility. Only then, when we acknowledge that there is no one "classical music audience" or "DIY audience" or "Noise audience," but a group of individuals who may share like characteristics, but also have widely differing views of the world, will we really be able to move forward. So, perhaps, a move toward a narrative model, a poststructuralist view of the audience.
Because as philosophers discovered long ago, Truth and Fact are not the same thing.
11/10/13
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?
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?
10/30/13
Refocusing the discussion on Sustainability.
This is the third post in a little series looking at some hot button topics in music these days. The first was an introduction. The second was an attempt to get us past the knee jerk reaction of "how different the arts are today," especially in regards to "full-time musicians" and "entrepreneurs." This focuses instead on sustainability.
One reason this all got started was an argument I had with a former professor about the idea of sustainability. Honestly, I'm sick of seeing the work "sustainable" tossed in with the arts. I'm kind of tired of the idea that orchestras exist to make "hand over fist" large sums of money. Why? Because orchestras don't exist to make money. Orchestras, and the arts in general, are not commercial. What's that mean?
It means that their purpose--their reason for being, is not to make money. Yes, professional musicians can and should be able to make a living performing and creating art. But that's not the same thing. It has to do with a philosophy, an attitude.
I've been recently working my way through the blog (and journal articles) of Jeff Todd Titon. His writings on sustainability, from a cultural, ecological, and financial standpoints are worth perusing. I bring him up because of a series he did back in March entitled "Music is not a cultural asset." In part 1, Titon gives background information, and in part 2 he takes apart David Throsby's arguments about the economics of cultural policy.
I'll let Titon's writings speak for themselves. I agree with most of his points, and definitely see how being tied to corporate structures, and treating music as an asset to be traded in a commodity exchange can cause major issues.. From a more specific standpoint, look at all the popular artists that get discussed as "selling out."
The phrase "selling out" is entirely tied to the idea of commodifying music. An artist creates a piece of work and said work is not "profitable." Let's say, for instance, this is a punk group that is about as hardcore as it gets--screaming, heavily distorted guitars, political statements, everything that is "in your face." They get produced by an independent label, or self-produce, and do alright. An exec from a large label says "we're interested in you, but, you'll have to tone it down one notch. Then you'll go platinum." It's the difference between making a great product, and making a product solely to fit the marketing consensus.
There is a deep philosophical difference between the two issues, the idea of creating a product for it's intrinsic value and finding an audience (or user of the product), and creating a product for the sole purpose of making money, cutting out innovation when needed, and giving users only what metrics define as being "profitable." Companies focused solely on "profitability" often aren't sustainable--look at the bank collapses caused by poor lending practices (which were highly profitable at the time), or companies that find it more profitable to shut down a manufacturing wing because it wasn't making enough money, only to see huge public backlash, and even worse profit margins. Removing the human element, and focusing on "profit" are bad combinations in the corporate world (just ask Hostess), but even worse in the arts.
I've digressed a bit, but here's the main point for me, as an artist--it's about a philosophy and an attitude. Financial sustainability does not cross my mind as I'm working on a piece. It's value as a commodity never crosses my mind. Even similar questions such as "will enough people like this piece?" don't really cross my mind--I accepted many years ago that some people will love my music, others will hate it, and a great many will be indifferent. This is true with all art, no matter if it's folk, popular, or "high." What is on my mind is "how do I create a work that is meaningful to myself, does something that interests me (and thereby, hopefully, others like me), and has some sort of deeper 'universal' quality which is translatable." Granted, that last bit doesn't go into my musical thinking often, but it is a part of what I do as I'm writing (this blog, a research paper, or even another play). Music is, in a way, universal, as well as deeply societally defined...I tend to be more experimental than worry about the tropes, but I have been studying music and cognition a great deal, hoping to unearth something useful (this is, of course, a different topic altogether, so I'll just leave it on this side-street for later examination).
It's this philosophy that's important. Almost all music organizations promote this in their mission statements (except for, maybe, Minnesota Orchestra's old mission statement...oy...). Simple statements like "Great performances for greater audiences" (Kansas City Symphony--though the "we have to make money!" creeps in their statement as well), "To perform, present, and promote music in its many varied forms at the highest level of excellence to a large and diverse audience" (Los Angeles Phil Association), or an even more specific one from the NY Phil:
And now for a local group, newEar from Kansas City, MO:
All these groups are financially sustainable with their current ideas. Looking at their programs also gives a nice idea of what happens when groups focus first on the artistic output, and further down about the financial sustainability. The LA Phil has the Green Umbrella music series--a home for new and experimental works. It's been around for quite a while, and Esa-Pekka Salonen fought hard to keep it running during tough financial times. And what you get is reviews like this, as well as a thriving musical culture always looking forward while still performing "the greatest hits" of past generations.
In summation, it's all about attitude. If an artistic endeavor, orchestra, chamber group, art studio, etc is approached from "how do we make enough money to stay open," what invariably follows is stagnation, conservative programming, and, unfortunately, a loss of money. Sustainability is a quick way to fall away from innovation, away from the Green Umbrella series', and toward a commodification of the art form.
Because if art is simply commodity, just a product meant to be traded with some sort of societally defined financial value, and some harder to define cultural value, then it will cease to evolve. Just like if Steve Jobs thought "I need to think of a product people will want," vs. "I need to think of something that people don't know they want." One statement is innovative, the other not.
And innovation breeds sustainability--by providing new ideas and products that people didn't know they would want, or even need, you can change the world. There's a very old adage "you have to spend money to make money." This is doubly true in innovation, because it won't always work. But if you take a conservative stance, it will, inevitably, not be sustainable. Remember, even though NYCO went under, it wasn't because of their new works. Anna Nicole was, after all, nearly sold out before it even opened. It wasn't the new works that killed NYCO, it was mismanagement (such as going dark for a season, which is a quick killer!).
After all, Beethoven is wonderful, but putting a Beethoven symphony, which the metrics would say sell out every time they are played, is a bad idea. Hyperbole, of course, but the sentiment is similar--"playing it safe" doesn't create a sustainable program. It just puts everything on life support, limping along for a year or two longer...
One reason this all got started was an argument I had with a former professor about the idea of sustainability. Honestly, I'm sick of seeing the work "sustainable" tossed in with the arts. I'm kind of tired of the idea that orchestras exist to make "hand over fist" large sums of money. Why? Because orchestras don't exist to make money. Orchestras, and the arts in general, are not commercial. What's that mean?
It means that their purpose--their reason for being, is not to make money. Yes, professional musicians can and should be able to make a living performing and creating art. But that's not the same thing. It has to do with a philosophy, an attitude.
I've been recently working my way through the blog (and journal articles) of Jeff Todd Titon. His writings on sustainability, from a cultural, ecological, and financial standpoints are worth perusing. I bring him up because of a series he did back in March entitled "Music is not a cultural asset." In part 1, Titon gives background information, and in part 2 he takes apart David Throsby's arguments about the economics of cultural policy.
I'll let Titon's writings speak for themselves. I agree with most of his points, and definitely see how being tied to corporate structures, and treating music as an asset to be traded in a commodity exchange can cause major issues.. From a more specific standpoint, look at all the popular artists that get discussed as "selling out."
The phrase "selling out" is entirely tied to the idea of commodifying music. An artist creates a piece of work and said work is not "profitable." Let's say, for instance, this is a punk group that is about as hardcore as it gets--screaming, heavily distorted guitars, political statements, everything that is "in your face." They get produced by an independent label, or self-produce, and do alright. An exec from a large label says "we're interested in you, but, you'll have to tone it down one notch. Then you'll go platinum." It's the difference between making a great product, and making a product solely to fit the marketing consensus.
There is a deep philosophical difference between the two issues, the idea of creating a product for it's intrinsic value and finding an audience (or user of the product), and creating a product for the sole purpose of making money, cutting out innovation when needed, and giving users only what metrics define as being "profitable." Companies focused solely on "profitability" often aren't sustainable--look at the bank collapses caused by poor lending practices (which were highly profitable at the time), or companies that find it more profitable to shut down a manufacturing wing because it wasn't making enough money, only to see huge public backlash, and even worse profit margins. Removing the human element, and focusing on "profit" are bad combinations in the corporate world (just ask Hostess), but even worse in the arts.
I've digressed a bit, but here's the main point for me, as an artist--it's about a philosophy and an attitude. Financial sustainability does not cross my mind as I'm working on a piece. It's value as a commodity never crosses my mind. Even similar questions such as "will enough people like this piece?" don't really cross my mind--I accepted many years ago that some people will love my music, others will hate it, and a great many will be indifferent. This is true with all art, no matter if it's folk, popular, or "high." What is on my mind is "how do I create a work that is meaningful to myself, does something that interests me (and thereby, hopefully, others like me), and has some sort of deeper 'universal' quality which is translatable." Granted, that last bit doesn't go into my musical thinking often, but it is a part of what I do as I'm writing (this blog, a research paper, or even another play). Music is, in a way, universal, as well as deeply societally defined...I tend to be more experimental than worry about the tropes, but I have been studying music and cognition a great deal, hoping to unearth something useful (this is, of course, a different topic altogether, so I'll just leave it on this side-street for later examination).
It's this philosophy that's important. Almost all music organizations promote this in their mission statements (except for, maybe, Minnesota Orchestra's old mission statement...oy...). Simple statements like "Great performances for greater audiences" (Kansas City Symphony--though the "we have to make money!" creeps in their statement as well), "To perform, present, and promote music in its many varied forms at the highest level of excellence to a large and diverse audience" (Los Angeles Phil Association), or an even more specific one from the NY Phil:
The mission of the New York Philharmonic is to support, maintain, and operate an internationally pre-eminent symphony orchestra in New York; to maintain and foster an interest in and enjoyment of music; to encourage composition of symphonic music; and to instill in its community, and the nation at large, an interest in symphonic music by providing local concerts, domestic and international tours, education programs, media broadcasts, and recordings.
And now for a local group, newEar from Kansas City, MO:
newEar contemporary music ensemble dedicates itself to commissioning and performing music of our time and providing listeners with unique and stimulating musical experiences that are rooted in artistic excellence and enhanced by education opportunities.
All these groups are financially sustainable with their current ideas. Looking at their programs also gives a nice idea of what happens when groups focus first on the artistic output, and further down about the financial sustainability. The LA Phil has the Green Umbrella music series--a home for new and experimental works. It's been around for quite a while, and Esa-Pekka Salonen fought hard to keep it running during tough financial times. And what you get is reviews like this, as well as a thriving musical culture always looking forward while still performing "the greatest hits" of past generations.
In summation, it's all about attitude. If an artistic endeavor, orchestra, chamber group, art studio, etc is approached from "how do we make enough money to stay open," what invariably follows is stagnation, conservative programming, and, unfortunately, a loss of money. Sustainability is a quick way to fall away from innovation, away from the Green Umbrella series', and toward a commodification of the art form.
Because if art is simply commodity, just a product meant to be traded with some sort of societally defined financial value, and some harder to define cultural value, then it will cease to evolve. Just like if Steve Jobs thought "I need to think of a product people will want," vs. "I need to think of something that people don't know they want." One statement is innovative, the other not.
And innovation breeds sustainability--by providing new ideas and products that people didn't know they would want, or even need, you can change the world. There's a very old adage "you have to spend money to make money." This is doubly true in innovation, because it won't always work. But if you take a conservative stance, it will, inevitably, not be sustainable. Remember, even though NYCO went under, it wasn't because of their new works. Anna Nicole was, after all, nearly sold out before it even opened. It wasn't the new works that killed NYCO, it was mismanagement (such as going dark for a season, which is a quick killer!).
After all, Beethoven is wonderful, but putting a Beethoven symphony, which the metrics would say sell out every time they are played, is a bad idea. Hyperbole, of course, but the sentiment is similar--"playing it safe" doesn't create a sustainable program. It just puts everything on life support, limping along for a year or two longer...
10/25/13
A Question As Old As Time
How do we make a living as musicians? Jon Silpayamanant poses the question "What is a 'full-time musician' anyway?" after reading a little blog skimmed from an innocent Quora question "What Kind of Stress do Full-Time Composers Experience." The writer, Andrew Watts, focused on stresses that, to me, were pretty generic--nothing he wrote isn't experienced in many other jobs. I came up with my own list, which I'll post later, but let's just say that my answers fed less into stereotypes ("why don't people understand me or my music?") and more into realities unique to the situation.
But that's not the point of this post. This relates to another series I started last week with a question posed to everyone in this discussion of current trends in post-secondary music education: what do those two words being tossed around so carelessly actually mean. You know the two; entrepreneurship and sustainability.
This post is about the first, and ties directly into the idea of a "full-time musician."
Over at Mae Mai, Jon's blog, I wrote the following long answer, copied here for ease.
But that's not the point of this post. This relates to another series I started last week with a question posed to everyone in this discussion of current trends in post-secondary music education: what do those two words being tossed around so carelessly actually mean. You know the two; entrepreneurship and sustainability.
This post is about the first, and ties directly into the idea of a "full-time musician."
Over at Mae Mai, Jon's blog, I wrote the following long answer, copied here for ease.
Some of the interesting questions I think also need approached include: Is this really a new problem? What have musicians done historically "to make ends meet" while still feeling artistically fulfilled? What do universities need to adopt to help musicians succeed at their chosen endeavors?
One argument I've seen (and that I'm prone to as well) has to do with the challenges of the literature. For instance, let's say you wanted to have an Apocalyptica type career. All the cellist in the group (not sure about the drummer) are classically trained first. Having been to their shows, I can say pretty confidently that their arrangements and originals aren't going to match the level of difficulty of, say, Shosti's cello concerto No. 1. From a performance standpoint, then, do we teach the most technically difficult literature, or what the students want to learn? Or vice versa?
Or is the answer, as it so often lays, in the middle (sometimes I sound like a centrist. I'm really not)? I think the programs like Alternate Strings are fantastic, and it should be part of a universities job to get students to experience as many different styles as possible. With our good ole alma mater, this doesn't just me "world," "pop," or "outsider" styles, but also modern styles (as I said before, we didn't even have a new music group when I was in school, something that at the time I didn't think was odd, but now after 7 more years in academia, I can see makes absolutely no sense).
I think the idea of a "full-time musician" or "composer" is definitely misleading. There are very few times, historically, when musicians can claim to have a single job. Bach wrote music, was the organist, and taught lessons. Mozart performed extensively, conducted his own operas, taught lessons (rather poorly and infrequently) while begging for money from his father between commissions. Haydn was under the employ of the Esterhauzy's, composed, led the orchestra, and taught lessons. Beethoven (more in his youth), performed extensively, was a concert promoter (he staged many works by Mozart and Haydn), and taught lessons.
The question is are university preparing us even for these "traditional" roles?
I think these are pretty important questions to think about. What has a "full-time musician" ever just had a single job? In all of the historical study we go through as classical musicians, not until the 19th century do we even start to see musicians really making it in one specific job. Listz, after all, was a performer and composer, as adept at improvisation and on the fly transcriptions as he was orchestrating (ok, that's debatable, but I think he was a fine orchestrator. Maybe not on the level of his improvisation though). Paganini wrote etudes (which sell quite well). Brahms led a girls choir.
What am I getting at? Historically, there weren't many people doing just "one job" as a musician. There were few "full-time composers," and that's a trend that remains to this day. Those that are the closest are film composers, for instance Hans Zimmer...Of course, Zimmer is as adept in a studio as he is in front of music (maybe more so, considering he reportedly used over 1000 tracks in Cubase for Inception). John Williams also tours as a conductor...Well, seems I'm blowing holes in that idea.
It's important to realize that musicians have always had multifarious roles. The roles haven't really changed, but the implementation has. Even the more "traditional" full time roles, such as orchestral performer, have become just one of several performance jobs (orchestra, and if it's not a major one, two or more orchestras, chamber groups, teaching). On top of that, the rise of technology makes it easier for groups to disperse their work, which has led to a huge growth in the recording industry, outside the major companies. Small studios are popping up everywhere, and recording programs are becoming big money-makers for universities.
Every musician is now able to put up a website relatively pain-free thanks to engines such as Wordpress. Music can be shared via Soundcloud, Bandcamp, YouTube, and Vimeo. Technology is everywhere, aiding young musicians in creating their own personalized careers. And, yet, are we always taught these skills?
Writing music is way many have expanded their roles, be it in the "classical" world or any other. And yet there are schools that don't teach composition to everyone outside of basic part-writing exercises. There are reasons the Beatles sold billions while Chumbawumba was a one-hit wonder, just as there's something to learn from Monteverdi, Telemann, Boccherini, and Bruckner, names that were important in their day, and in some circles forgotten (Singers remember their Monteverdi, but can all instrumentalists say the same? What of Telemann outside flute players, and trombonists looking to steal some more literature? Boccherini outside string players? And Bruckner as anything other than a footnote to Wagner, and the "loser" of the battle with Brahms? and what of Gin Blossoms, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Dishwalla vs. Nirvana?). There are skills involved, as well as innovation.
I, again, have no answers, just some food for thought. We first need to divorce ourselves from the idea that we are facing a unique problem. There's nothing unique about being an entrepreneur as a musician. It's a tale as old as time. But we do need to see how the industry has changed, and make an active effort to help teach students the skills needed.
I will say that I fall into the trap talking about the "degradation of composition" very quickly. However, I feel my arguments usually have to do with a combination of craft and aesthetics--there are lots of lazy, unskilled composers. And there is music I do not like. I do not like a great deal of post-minimalist music these days. Most of it just sounds incredibly uninnovative, rehashing the same ideas as the "greats." However, I can still appreciate excellent craft when I hear it. It's when I'm presented with art that isn't crafted well, without thought or care, that I have an issue.
It's like the scene in (Untitled) when they go to the studio of the bright new artist, and one of the pieces is a sticky note on a wall. Another is a blinking light-bulb. It was hailed as "innovative and different." But, just like with entrepreneurship, this is just a collective forgetting of history. Is a sticky note innovative post Duchamp?
That's the other big side of being an entrepreneur--being innovative. Black House and the Kansas City Electronic Music and Arts Alliance did that when we presented six brand new chamber operas, all with electronic components. Was a night of chamber operas new? No--I was a part of Remarkable Theater Brigades first run of Opera Shorts back in '09, a series that's a mainstay at Carnegie Hall now. Were the operas all groundbreaking in their music? Mine definitely wasn't.
But, for where we were (Kansas City), this hadn't been done. Producing new operas was a rare thing. And producing operas with electronics is still very niche within niche within niche. For our place, in our time, it was innovative. It sold out. The same types of experiences can be produced anywhere, but ardent artists.
But that night couldn't have been pulled off without supreme talent and practice--we had musicians that, mostly, had advanced degrees and lots of work in the area, musicians that had experience in pits, playing new music, singing large scale operatic roles, designing and costuming operas, and directing. We had a large cohort of people working to create as professional an experience as possible. If the quality had been poor, it would not have "succeeded" just because it was innovative.
It's all about that balance--what do musicians need to know to succeed as an independent musician as far as business sense, marketing, etc., and what do they need to succeed as far as skills as a musician? The best musicians sell some records, but not the most. Innovative musicians that lack skills sell some records, but not the most.
Then there's Radiohead, who is considered innovative in the pop world (arguable, of course), and have great skills as musicians, amazing marketing skills, and know how to work the business end. Or Phillip Glass. or Yo Yo Ma.
So, colleges, ask the question: how do we balance all these skills in a single degree? And can we?
Yo Yo Ma and Radiohead (formed in 1985...think about that) were not made overnight, or even after 4 years. And while students should have the skills to start on a career after undergrad, to expect a 4 year degree to prepare you to be an entrepreneur is fallacy.
However, we can do a much better job.
8/2/13
Entrepreneurship and the arts.
That goddamn buzzword is back: "entrepreneurship." A while ago, I discussed Charles Wuorinen's views on the idea. I also linked to David Cutler's posts about entrepreneurship in music, which ignited quite the discussion (in the same blog post).
This time, I'm taking a different track. I'm still refusing to go point by point over Cutler's model, though I will say one thing: it sacrifices art for money. It's swinging the pendulum the other way, away from donorship and public funds, to a for-profit model, which, honestly, won't work. But even more than that, it moves away from art.
Away from music, I've seen a few posts in the theater and dance realms lately that make a lot of sense. The first is by Shawn Renee Lent entitled "Am I A Dancer Who Gave Up." Shawn was asked a question by an undegraduate who was still too caught up in the academic machine: "Did you have any sort of breakdown when you gave up on your dreams." Lent's answer is spectacular and worth considering. The most salient parts of me break down as "artists have agency, don't give that up," and "a career in the arts doesn't necessarily mean being on stage. And that doesn't mean you give up on your dream."
These are such important words and ideas to consider. How many musicians go through conservatory training thinking that the only end goal is an orchestra? Or a teaching gig? Or somehow (magically) living just off writing music? That's the essence of entrepreneurship--not how to get people to show up for your solo recital (HA!), but what can you do with these skills, these passions, and these ideas, that can not only make money, but be worthwhile to yourself and others.
Moving on, I started going through posts by Scott Walters. He blogs many places, and here's a good collection of his posts. Lent linked to one of Walters' blog posts, and it was the first I grabbed, "A New Education for a New Theater." Again, great points, focusing mainly on agency, and how to create that in young students. And showing students all the different things that they can do, and SHOULD do--not just pigeonholing yourself into one specific area of theater, or following all the rules passed on by the faculty, but becoming a great, well-rounded theatrical artist. Walters is on to something--think about that with music degrees, and with other degrees (such as arts administration). And think about all the avenues of study, work, and interest in music that we barely touch on.
What if every student had to take a seminar on arts administration, and their project was to work with people giving recitals, and collaborate. They find spaces, make programs, etc...but it's not ONE person trying to do it all (which, btw, never works) but a group, and all of them learning important skills that will help them in the long run. And what about a movement away from the solo OR orchestra career paradigm, and focus more on chamber groups, how to found a group, run it, produce concerts...But not done in a fashion that take away from the musical experience.
And then the rabbit hole continues, running through the posts by Walters. How about "Business Models: The Next Frontier." Walters calls into question the current trends (or lack of trends) in theater business models. He breaks it down into two areas: for profit, Broadway style, or non-profit begging style. And he's right, these are the big styles, and there are major problems with both of them. I err on the side of non-profit, but you can develop a non-profit that generates revenue in strong ways. The biggest areas of weakness I see in music? Education, outreach, accessibility, and venues. Orchestras do a decent job with these, but what about chamber groups? Are chamber groups, especially local ones, doing enough differentiation, or are they mainly focusing on giving the occasional concert from a scratch group?
The last of Walters' poignant posts is "On Saying It to Their Faces." Oh man, is he right on so much of this. This line says so much about the experience in theater and music: "First, let’s get real: ever since Richard Wagner decided to turn off the house lights on the audience, theatre people don’t say anything to anybody’s faces anymore. “We’re the ones who say it to the gaping void” would be more the case, but doesn’t really have the same ring to it."
Further on, Walters brings in a story by Patrick Overton from Overton's book Rebuilding the Front Porch of America. It's an amazing story about the power of a poem during the opening of a Vietnam War memorial. The most important thing?
Overtone didn't "tell" it to their faces, he "extended an invitation." The main crux of the article is summarized by Walters quoting Overton again. “Art transcends. Art transforms. Art is the deep voice that heals the wounded heart and lifts the human spirit."
Damn straight--and what you can do with art is much deeper than just playing a single concert to a darkened audience.
This time, I'm taking a different track. I'm still refusing to go point by point over Cutler's model, though I will say one thing: it sacrifices art for money. It's swinging the pendulum the other way, away from donorship and public funds, to a for-profit model, which, honestly, won't work. But even more than that, it moves away from art.
Away from music, I've seen a few posts in the theater and dance realms lately that make a lot of sense. The first is by Shawn Renee Lent entitled "Am I A Dancer Who Gave Up." Shawn was asked a question by an undegraduate who was still too caught up in the academic machine: "Did you have any sort of breakdown when you gave up on your dreams." Lent's answer is spectacular and worth considering. The most salient parts of me break down as "artists have agency, don't give that up," and "a career in the arts doesn't necessarily mean being on stage. And that doesn't mean you give up on your dream."
These are such important words and ideas to consider. How many musicians go through conservatory training thinking that the only end goal is an orchestra? Or a teaching gig? Or somehow (magically) living just off writing music? That's the essence of entrepreneurship--not how to get people to show up for your solo recital (HA!), but what can you do with these skills, these passions, and these ideas, that can not only make money, but be worthwhile to yourself and others.
Moving on, I started going through posts by Scott Walters. He blogs many places, and here's a good collection of his posts. Lent linked to one of Walters' blog posts, and it was the first I grabbed, "A New Education for a New Theater." Again, great points, focusing mainly on agency, and how to create that in young students. And showing students all the different things that they can do, and SHOULD do--not just pigeonholing yourself into one specific area of theater, or following all the rules passed on by the faculty, but becoming a great, well-rounded theatrical artist. Walters is on to something--think about that with music degrees, and with other degrees (such as arts administration). And think about all the avenues of study, work, and interest in music that we barely touch on.
What if every student had to take a seminar on arts administration, and their project was to work with people giving recitals, and collaborate. They find spaces, make programs, etc...but it's not ONE person trying to do it all (which, btw, never works) but a group, and all of them learning important skills that will help them in the long run. And what about a movement away from the solo OR orchestra career paradigm, and focus more on chamber groups, how to found a group, run it, produce concerts...But not done in a fashion that take away from the musical experience.
And then the rabbit hole continues, running through the posts by Walters. How about "Business Models: The Next Frontier." Walters calls into question the current trends (or lack of trends) in theater business models. He breaks it down into two areas: for profit, Broadway style, or non-profit begging style. And he's right, these are the big styles, and there are major problems with both of them. I err on the side of non-profit, but you can develop a non-profit that generates revenue in strong ways. The biggest areas of weakness I see in music? Education, outreach, accessibility, and venues. Orchestras do a decent job with these, but what about chamber groups? Are chamber groups, especially local ones, doing enough differentiation, or are they mainly focusing on giving the occasional concert from a scratch group?
The last of Walters' poignant posts is "On Saying It to Their Faces." Oh man, is he right on so much of this. This line says so much about the experience in theater and music: "First, let’s get real: ever since Richard Wagner decided to turn off the house lights on the audience, theatre people don’t say anything to anybody’s faces anymore. “We’re the ones who say it to the gaping void” would be more the case, but doesn’t really have the same ring to it."
Further on, Walters brings in a story by Patrick Overton from Overton's book Rebuilding the Front Porch of America. It's an amazing story about the power of a poem during the opening of a Vietnam War memorial. The most important thing?
Overtone didn't "tell" it to their faces, he "extended an invitation." The main crux of the article is summarized by Walters quoting Overton again. “Art transcends. Art transforms. Art is the deep voice that heals the wounded heart and lifts the human spirit."
Damn straight--and what you can do with art is much deeper than just playing a single concert to a darkened audience.
6/24/13
Charles Wuorinen and "entrepreneurship"
I'm back from Portugal, which means getting to work on this blogging thing...maybe. Still so much to do before heading to Stockholm. Being a globe-trotter is awesome, but tiring.
Anyway, to the topic on hand. Charles Wuorinen is a fiery fellow. He has his opinions and convictions, and he will stick to them whole-heartedly. I respect that. His speeches are blunt, forceful, and thought-provoking.
There was a phrase I latched onto during his talk--"Cultural Barbarism." One area that I think Wuorinen moved dangerously into with his talk was a pushing a stratified class system. Wuorinen discussed how the "elite" of the country no longer cared about the arts, especially music. He said that there hadn't been a president since Richard Nixon that enjoyed classical music, and even Nixon used to have to sneak off into the closet to listen to symphonies. As for the non-"elites" of the country, well...
Wuorinen basically told us not to worry about them. The problem was the learned people didn't understand music: politicians, business-people, professors, other artist. Wuorninen seemed to feel that "normal" people wouldn't understand the music, and didn't need to understand it. And that groups like Bang on a Can played up to the audience, lowering the quality of music, and leading further into this cultural barbarism.
Wuorinen also said that the government (any and all) had no place in the arts anyway. That the only real way to move ahead in music is through personal relationships, mainly with the "elite." He made reference to all sorts of classic examples: Bach, Mozart, and how Beethoven tried to ruin the system.
I asked Wuorinen "What can we do then, as composers, to be 'cultural ambassadors,' and help fix this problem." Wuorinen gave a succinct answer: (paraphrased) All you can do is change the mind of one or two people, preferably with money.
Like I said, he can be provocative. At the very least, coming out of his talk, the young composers had some of the most interesting arguments. I won't dwell on everything, but I'll hit a few points.
First, I agree somewhat with Wuorinen about the lack of appreciation for art music. and I think there is a sort of "cultural barbarism" happening, but i don't think it's in the way he's discussing. Wuorinen seems to think that art music has always been relegated to cultural elite, and that's pretty much where it should stay. Then he bemoans how the rich and powerful don't give us money anymore. I don't see that as the problem.
A bigger problem is people saying "It's [art/classical/instrumental] music and I don't/can't understand it," and never giving it a fair chance. It's closing your ears and mind, not even letting the music in. Where does this come from? Well, there are lots of places, but I tend to think the attack on academics in America, particularly in the arts, is a nice portion. I've found the best way to change people's minds is to follow Wuorinen's idea: One person at a time. But I think you can change a lot of people's minds, one person at a time.
And the first play we need to start was also suggested by Wuorinen, and I agree: other artists. I don't know how many art openings in the US I've been to where the music was a friend of the artist...with a guitar singing some folk rock type tunes with crappy lyrics. Here's an artist, taking themselves seriously, perhaps working in a very abstract form. It's high art, not pop art, not pop in general. And yet the choice of accompanying music has nothing to do with the art, or even within a similar area of art. Why?
Because artists take the same perspective as most of the rest of the public. Not all, of course, but I see the problem most with the younger generation.
Now, let me say this now, I'm not blaming them in some way, saying young artists doing this are horrible people. That's definitely not it. But, they're a group that, as composers, we HAVE to work with, get on our side, and do more than just ignore. Composers ignore artists as much (or maybe more) than artists ignore composers. Eventually, we have to reach across the aisle.
Also, Wuorinen really ripped into the music and entrepreneurship bit. There's been so much written about it, from older articles in businessweek, to David Cutler writing all sorts of stuff on "new ideas" to help create entrepreneurs. This post isn't to run through the merits (or lack thereof) of the ideas, but to point out one thing Wuorinen said that I agree with: a great musician, created through rigorous training and performance experience will always have a better chance of success than someone that learns some tricks for making a quick buck.
Wuorinen attacked the movement away from creating extremely strong, well trained, almost over-practiced musicians to instead making "artists" that seemed more intent on making money than great music (or art). This is one point I completely agree with. Now, does that mean we shouldn't be learning how to live with our skills? Well...Wuorinen would be against pretty much everything Cutler suggests, but I'm not. But Wuorinen does have a point about being a great musicians first.
Traditional models of making money in the arts are gone. Symphony jobs have always been sparse and difficult, and are now even more so. Apocalyptica and Zoe Keating are much more well known that JACK quartet (though that really does need to change. HOLY SHIT is JACK quartet amazing). And more and more classically trained musicians are turning from "art" music performance to popular music performance...the music "they grew up with." Is this cultural barbarism? Is what I do "elitist" even though I make no bones about writing music that I honestly believe anyone can enjoy? And do we need to go back to a more direct patronage system to make it all "work?"
Somewhere in the middle is usually the answer to me. I'm still chewing over bits of this and figuring out what exactly the best path is. I'm not a "conservative" guy by any stretch: I've collaborated with artists (and done pretty well with it, I think), I've had pieces played by a group that's more "jazz" than "classical" and had large audiences, I've written two operas that played to sold out crowds, I've gone to academic festivals, played in wine bars and museums, given academic papers, and even had a comedic play (the kind without music) produced to nearly sold out crowds. Perhaps I am, in some sense, an entrepreneur. But I've done all these things WITHOUT the lure of money.
Does this make me an entrepreneur? Maybe...But how much of it have I done AFTER I became at least a proficient musician? and how long did it take me to develop as a musician because I did more areas of study, spread myself out? and how many areas am I REALLY proficient at?
The times I split, i learned much less--as an undergrad, I was not a fantastic trombonist NOR a fantastic educator/conductor (was doing secondary instrumental, after all). I was ok at both. Same during my MM as a composer and audio engineer. It wasn't till my doctorate when I said "Alright, now I get serious about writing music" that I REALLY developed in one area heavily. Compare my MM and DMA compositions and you'd agree that there's been a pretty hefty push forward. Age helps, but intense study helps way more.
Anyway, again, there is no answer here...But Wuorinen gave me something to think about, if for no other reason that he incited me during the talk. I couldn't avoid what he was saying, I had to face it. I didn't like it all, but I was forced to figure out exactly why.
So, thank you Charles Wuorinen, for challenging me. It's something that doesn't happen every day, and I appreciate it. This is a lot of words just to say:
Challenge Accepted
Anyway, to the topic on hand. Charles Wuorinen is a fiery fellow. He has his opinions and convictions, and he will stick to them whole-heartedly. I respect that. His speeches are blunt, forceful, and thought-provoking.
There was a phrase I latched onto during his talk--"Cultural Barbarism." One area that I think Wuorinen moved dangerously into with his talk was a pushing a stratified class system. Wuorinen discussed how the "elite" of the country no longer cared about the arts, especially music. He said that there hadn't been a president since Richard Nixon that enjoyed classical music, and even Nixon used to have to sneak off into the closet to listen to symphonies. As for the non-"elites" of the country, well...
Wuorinen basically told us not to worry about them. The problem was the learned people didn't understand music: politicians, business-people, professors, other artist. Wuorninen seemed to feel that "normal" people wouldn't understand the music, and didn't need to understand it. And that groups like Bang on a Can played up to the audience, lowering the quality of music, and leading further into this cultural barbarism.
Wuorinen also said that the government (any and all) had no place in the arts anyway. That the only real way to move ahead in music is through personal relationships, mainly with the "elite." He made reference to all sorts of classic examples: Bach, Mozart, and how Beethoven tried to ruin the system.
I asked Wuorinen "What can we do then, as composers, to be 'cultural ambassadors,' and help fix this problem." Wuorinen gave a succinct answer: (paraphrased) All you can do is change the mind of one or two people, preferably with money.
Like I said, he can be provocative. At the very least, coming out of his talk, the young composers had some of the most interesting arguments. I won't dwell on everything, but I'll hit a few points.
First, I agree somewhat with Wuorinen about the lack of appreciation for art music. and I think there is a sort of "cultural barbarism" happening, but i don't think it's in the way he's discussing. Wuorinen seems to think that art music has always been relegated to cultural elite, and that's pretty much where it should stay. Then he bemoans how the rich and powerful don't give us money anymore. I don't see that as the problem.
A bigger problem is people saying "It's [art/classical/instrumental] music and I don't/can't understand it," and never giving it a fair chance. It's closing your ears and mind, not even letting the music in. Where does this come from? Well, there are lots of places, but I tend to think the attack on academics in America, particularly in the arts, is a nice portion. I've found the best way to change people's minds is to follow Wuorinen's idea: One person at a time. But I think you can change a lot of people's minds, one person at a time.
And the first play we need to start was also suggested by Wuorinen, and I agree: other artists. I don't know how many art openings in the US I've been to where the music was a friend of the artist...with a guitar singing some folk rock type tunes with crappy lyrics. Here's an artist, taking themselves seriously, perhaps working in a very abstract form. It's high art, not pop art, not pop in general. And yet the choice of accompanying music has nothing to do with the art, or even within a similar area of art. Why?
Because artists take the same perspective as most of the rest of the public. Not all, of course, but I see the problem most with the younger generation.
Now, let me say this now, I'm not blaming them in some way, saying young artists doing this are horrible people. That's definitely not it. But, they're a group that, as composers, we HAVE to work with, get on our side, and do more than just ignore. Composers ignore artists as much (or maybe more) than artists ignore composers. Eventually, we have to reach across the aisle.
Also, Wuorinen really ripped into the music and entrepreneurship bit. There's been so much written about it, from older articles in businessweek, to David Cutler writing all sorts of stuff on "new ideas" to help create entrepreneurs. This post isn't to run through the merits (or lack thereof) of the ideas, but to point out one thing Wuorinen said that I agree with: a great musician, created through rigorous training and performance experience will always have a better chance of success than someone that learns some tricks for making a quick buck.
Wuorinen attacked the movement away from creating extremely strong, well trained, almost over-practiced musicians to instead making "artists" that seemed more intent on making money than great music (or art). This is one point I completely agree with. Now, does that mean we shouldn't be learning how to live with our skills? Well...Wuorinen would be against pretty much everything Cutler suggests, but I'm not. But Wuorinen does have a point about being a great musicians first.
Traditional models of making money in the arts are gone. Symphony jobs have always been sparse and difficult, and are now even more so. Apocalyptica and Zoe Keating are much more well known that JACK quartet (though that really does need to change. HOLY SHIT is JACK quartet amazing). And more and more classically trained musicians are turning from "art" music performance to popular music performance...the music "they grew up with." Is this cultural barbarism? Is what I do "elitist" even though I make no bones about writing music that I honestly believe anyone can enjoy? And do we need to go back to a more direct patronage system to make it all "work?"
Somewhere in the middle is usually the answer to me. I'm still chewing over bits of this and figuring out what exactly the best path is. I'm not a "conservative" guy by any stretch: I've collaborated with artists (and done pretty well with it, I think), I've had pieces played by a group that's more "jazz" than "classical" and had large audiences, I've written two operas that played to sold out crowds, I've gone to academic festivals, played in wine bars and museums, given academic papers, and even had a comedic play (the kind without music) produced to nearly sold out crowds. Perhaps I am, in some sense, an entrepreneur. But I've done all these things WITHOUT the lure of money.
Does this make me an entrepreneur? Maybe...But how much of it have I done AFTER I became at least a proficient musician? and how long did it take me to develop as a musician because I did more areas of study, spread myself out? and how many areas am I REALLY proficient at?
The times I split, i learned much less--as an undergrad, I was not a fantastic trombonist NOR a fantastic educator/conductor (was doing secondary instrumental, after all). I was ok at both. Same during my MM as a composer and audio engineer. It wasn't till my doctorate when I said "Alright, now I get serious about writing music" that I REALLY developed in one area heavily. Compare my MM and DMA compositions and you'd agree that there's been a pretty hefty push forward. Age helps, but intense study helps way more.
Anyway, again, there is no answer here...But Wuorinen gave me something to think about, if for no other reason that he incited me during the talk. I couldn't avoid what he was saying, I had to face it. I didn't like it all, but I was forced to figure out exactly why.
So, thank you Charles Wuorinen, for challenging me. It's something that doesn't happen every day, and I appreciate it. This is a lot of words just to say:
Challenge Accepted
6/9/13
JiB Told Me to Do It
This week has been insane. Completely. Effing. Insane.
In all the best ways.
Too many things happened this week, and I have been far too busy and exhausted to begin to sort it all out. But here are some highlights that I plan/hope to discuss and put into a larger context:
In all the best ways.
Too many things happened this week, and I have been far too busy and exhausted to begin to sort it all out. But here are some highlights that I plan/hope to discuss and put into a larger context:
- Charles Wuorinen's talk--mainly in the context of the current context of "entrepreneurship."
- Brian Ferneyhough's talk, focusing on his interesting ideas on musicality (and some great examples from the festival. Linea KILLED Incipit. Jack killed Exordium. And Irvine Arditti killed Terrain. GODDAMN what a week!)
- Masterclass with Ferneyhough--Beginnings, Endings, and what materials demand
- Masterclass with Yehudi Wyner- musical expression, vocal writing, and "not getting in the way"
- Masterclass with Augusta Read Thomas- Don't half ass your work!
- The experience with Ensemble Signal, premiering a piece no one really expects in a festival like this, and the reaction to this unexpected piece.
- The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly--Beautiful Structures, Rough Performances, and WTF was That?!?
- JiB in context of the college experience--How a hardcore festival/workshops like June in Buffalo may one of the greatest things possible. Not for the performance, and the resume padding, but for all the RIGHT reasons.
These topics may all be discussed. Sometimes they'll get shoved together, more than one in a post. Maybe they'll span more than one post. I have no idea at this point.
But this process will be mostly for my own benefit. It's about decompressing all the information that's been shoved into my poor little brain. But hopefully more people will get a great deal out of it.
Ya know the worst part? I don't really have time to write these or decompress. On Saturday, I leave for Lisbon, Portugal, and Electroacoustic Musical Studies Conference 2013. So, instead of really being able to reflect, I'll be preparing for round 2, this time all EA instead of acoustic.
Shift gears, be prepared for anything
But this process will be mostly for my own benefit. It's about decompressing all the information that's been shoved into my poor little brain. But hopefully more people will get a great deal out of it.
Ya know the worst part? I don't really have time to write these or decompress. On Saturday, I leave for Lisbon, Portugal, and Electroacoustic Musical Studies Conference 2013. So, instead of really being able to reflect, I'll be preparing for round 2, this time all EA instead of acoustic.
Shift gears, be prepared for anything
And always, ALWAYS be prepared to sing. Because ya never know when you'll be singing all the lines from your own piece, or as a great singer found out, auditioning for some opera and/or ensemble solo work.
10/26/12
What's going to put me over the top!!!
I found!
I used to say "give me a nice pencil sharpener, and I'll write an unforgettable piece!"
but found the pencil sharpener wasn't enough. So there had to be something else, some other piece of gear holding me back.
So I said "If I only had Logic PRO! No more Express, I need the full version!"
And I got a piece published. But I found myself wanting more. Still didn't have the big win, needed another big festival, huge conference
So I wrote a paper and presented it at EMS12 in Sweden. And I was still left wanting.
Then i figured it out. Even with all these online submissions popping up, I needed a way to market myself better. The website redesign is alright, workable, livable. The scores look as good as ever (now with prices!). but the recordings? They sound pretty good, but the look! The look was way off!
After searching for a couple weeks, I found my answer. Yep, that's right.
All I need now to put me over the edge is a Lightscribe enabled external CD/DVD player. Now I'm finally ready for the big time! Bring on the Pulitzer committee!
Ok, yeah, might be a little soon for that, but, c'mon, it is pretty damn schnazzy. I gave it a hard problem, a really nice picture with all sorts of different contrasts, and some text over top. And it handled it admirably. Some of the best money I've spent in a while.
And there was the even more practical matter that my macbook pro's optical drive has gone out. Might as well upgrade if I'm replacing anyway.
I used to say "give me a nice pencil sharpener, and I'll write an unforgettable piece!"
but found the pencil sharpener wasn't enough. So there had to be something else, some other piece of gear holding me back.
So I said "If I only had Logic PRO! No more Express, I need the full version!"
And I got a piece published. But I found myself wanting more. Still didn't have the big win, needed another big festival, huge conference
So I wrote a paper and presented it at EMS12 in Sweden. And I was still left wanting.
Then i figured it out. Even with all these online submissions popping up, I needed a way to market myself better. The website redesign is alright, workable, livable. The scores look as good as ever (now with prices!). but the recordings? They sound pretty good, but the look! The look was way off!
After searching for a couple weeks, I found my answer. Yep, that's right.
All I need now to put me over the edge is a Lightscribe enabled external CD/DVD player. Now I'm finally ready for the big time! Bring on the Pulitzer committee!
Ok, yeah, might be a little soon for that, but, c'mon, it is pretty damn schnazzy. I gave it a hard problem, a really nice picture with all sorts of different contrasts, and some text over top. And it handled it admirably. Some of the best money I've spent in a while.
And there was the even more practical matter that my macbook pro's optical drive has gone out. Might as well upgrade if I'm replacing anyway.
10/15/11
civil disagreement
meaning, i am having quite the interesting discussion with a person i respect as a musician. it's interesting, as we have many similar and differing views. for every piece we agree on, there is one we disagree. such is humanity
but a statement made is sticking with me more than others, bouncing around, resounding in my being.
when speaking of art, i said " I fight for my dreams, but accept people are not, on a whole good. in fact, most are selfish creatures...* Doesn't mean I'm not out there every day playing, writing, creating, and trying to make it happen. I just start myself from a harder selling point; "this person doesn't give a crap about what i do...how do i make him/her care?"
the answer" It is not your job to change their mind...do what you passionately believe in while evolving on your journey."
That is a statement i cannot believe in. why?
Because it is my job. It is the job of everyone in the arts. It is the job of everyone in every field. Why should anyone support you if you do not try and get them to support you?
for instance, let's say i put on a concert. I do a little advertising: facebook event, post it on my website, throw up a poster where I'm doing the concert, maybe a few more around town. twenty or so people show up. I know every single person in the crowd. they are my friends...I charged $10 at the door, and they paid, to support me. that's great.
but i didn't reach a single person. that's not an "audience." It's my friends donating to me. they're supporting me because they are my friends. this is not a sustainable audience. this isn't presenting any idea to anyone.
it's preaching to the choir
The arts do not exist in a vacuum. I live in society. As it changes, I change. Society is a living, breathing organism of it's own. I won't sit in my dark empty concert hall consoled by the fact that I'm "the greatest composer ever and one of the best trombonists of this century!" if no one knows it. It's like the Onion article, 97-Year-Old Dies Unaware of Being Violin Prodigy
At the same time, i was having a conversation with another friend that said "Artists are their own brand" (paraphrase as i closed the conversation). Meaning, the only way for an artist to succeed is to put him/herself out there, do the leg work, present their ideas, build an image, build up a group of people that will follow them, touch some lives, bring out new ideas.
Talk about getting both ends at the same time, right?
How i replied to the first conversation is the only answer I really have:
If we can't change their minds, the arts will die. It is part of our jobs as artists to do more than be self-referential. If all i do is sit, practice my craft, get better, it is nothing. If i give a concert and 20 people show up, something is wrong.
All it takes to change a ind is presenting the material. take 15 minutes to try and help someone understand your perspective. you may not change their minds, but if you never try, then you'll be happy with your 20 audience members and be done. and if i wasn't willing to present my ideas, to let you see my side, to "try and change your mind," we'd never have this conversation. And no one would see it, no one would know that we even think about these things.
I will not go quietly into the night, sitting in my empty concert hall. you may call it idealism, but music can change the world. the arts are society. I will live in it, breathe in it, and present my views of it...it is being an artist...we do not live in a vacuum...
it's not force...it's trying to reach people. if you don't believe you can change their minds, why bother trying to reach them? it's accepting the 20 people as enough. I see a world of people that don't care because they don't know {what i do}. So I'm going to go out, present what i do, not "force" anyone to listen, but give them the opportunity {to hear the music i create}. If i sit in White Hall (concert hall at UMKC) that will not happen. it's not force, it's presentation. it's not accepting the norm, but seeing what we could do...
without that, there is no evolution
And yes, I still respect the person with whom this conversation has happened. He is a fantastic man that does more for "new music" than huge portions of classical music society. I just don't want it to stop, to reach complacency. This man does far more than even I for my own art...it's as a large group of musicians I worry, and as a larger society.
There is always more that can be done...
i am young and idealistic, after all.
***EDIT***
And as the final statement in our discussion, stated by my esteemed colleague "THE ARTS MATTER!!!!!!!!"
and, of course, i "liked" the statement. We are, of course, on the same page. prolly more a rant from a single statement not meant to trouble me so. but getting me to think isn't hard and always good.
*Yes, i am a pessimist.
but a statement made is sticking with me more than others, bouncing around, resounding in my being.
when speaking of art, i said " I fight for my dreams, but accept people are not, on a whole good. in fact, most are selfish creatures...* Doesn't mean I'm not out there every day playing, writing, creating, and trying to make it happen. I just start myself from a harder selling point; "this person doesn't give a crap about what i do...how do i make him/her care?"
the answer" It is not your job to change their mind...do what you passionately believe in while evolving on your journey."
That is a statement i cannot believe in. why?
Because it is my job. It is the job of everyone in the arts. It is the job of everyone in every field. Why should anyone support you if you do not try and get them to support you?
for instance, let's say i put on a concert. I do a little advertising: facebook event, post it on my website, throw up a poster where I'm doing the concert, maybe a few more around town. twenty or so people show up. I know every single person in the crowd. they are my friends...I charged $10 at the door, and they paid, to support me. that's great.
but i didn't reach a single person. that's not an "audience." It's my friends donating to me. they're supporting me because they are my friends. this is not a sustainable audience. this isn't presenting any idea to anyone.
it's preaching to the choir
The arts do not exist in a vacuum. I live in society. As it changes, I change. Society is a living, breathing organism of it's own. I won't sit in my dark empty concert hall consoled by the fact that I'm "the greatest composer ever and one of the best trombonists of this century!" if no one knows it. It's like the Onion article, 97-Year-Old Dies Unaware of Being Violin Prodigy
At the same time, i was having a conversation with another friend that said "Artists are their own brand" (paraphrase as i closed the conversation). Meaning, the only way for an artist to succeed is to put him/herself out there, do the leg work, present their ideas, build an image, build up a group of people that will follow them, touch some lives, bring out new ideas.
Talk about getting both ends at the same time, right?
How i replied to the first conversation is the only answer I really have:
If we can't change their minds, the arts will die. It is part of our jobs as artists to do more than be self-referential. If all i do is sit, practice my craft, get better, it is nothing. If i give a concert and 20 people show up, something is wrong.
All it takes to change a ind is presenting the material. take 15 minutes to try and help someone understand your perspective. you may not change their minds, but if you never try, then you'll be happy with your 20 audience members and be done. and if i wasn't willing to present my ideas, to let you see my side, to "try and change your mind," we'd never have this conversation. And no one would see it, no one would know that we even think about these things.
I will not go quietly into the night, sitting in my empty concert hall. you may call it idealism, but music can change the world. the arts are society. I will live in it, breathe in it, and present my views of it...it is being an artist...we do not live in a vacuum...
it's not force...it's trying to reach people. if you don't believe you can change their minds, why bother trying to reach them? it's accepting the 20 people as enough. I see a world of people that don't care because they don't know {what i do}. So I'm going to go out, present what i do, not "force" anyone to listen, but give them the opportunity {to hear the music i create}. If i sit in White Hall (concert hall at UMKC) that will not happen. it's not force, it's presentation. it's not accepting the norm, but seeing what we could do...
without that, there is no evolution
And yes, I still respect the person with whom this conversation has happened. He is a fantastic man that does more for "new music" than huge portions of classical music society. I just don't want it to stop, to reach complacency. This man does far more than even I for my own art...it's as a large group of musicians I worry, and as a larger society.
There is always more that can be done...
i am young and idealistic, after all.
***EDIT***
And as the final statement in our discussion, stated by my esteemed colleague "THE ARTS MATTER!!!!!!!!"
and, of course, i "liked" the statement. We are, of course, on the same page. prolly more a rant from a single statement not meant to trouble me so. but getting me to think isn't hard and always good.
*Yes, i am a pessimist.
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