Who is my audience?

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.

13 Really Awesome Facts About Music That You Never Dreamed Were True!!!! (NSFW!!!)

1) Did you know that this is the first time the music business was D.I.Y.? Before then, everyone either went through a record label, a major organisation, or a king!

Of course, that's not true at all, and it's a claim that I just continue to not understand...First off, almost all chamber groups have been D.I.Y. for as long as I can remember. The idea that a group like Eighth Blackbird was formed, immediately had representation, and were world-wide superstars is a myth, just like it was a myth that Liszt just burst on the scene as an international superstar. We make it sound that way, but it's not true...And don't get me started on the Troubadours. Some were a part of specific courts, yes, others were not, traveling during the summer months, and playing at minor courts and fairs. Nothing more D.I.Y. than that.

Perhaps, a better phrase should be "The first generation in America since 1980 that has been raised in economically depressed times, and lack the financial backers that existed during the 80s and 90s." That's not nearly as sexy though.

2) Playing music in rock venues, bars, and clubs is the only way to save classical music!

First off, it's far from the only way to save classical music. Secondly, when this conversation comes up, it quickly devolves into a fight of elitism vs. the common man, snobbery, the tyranny of the recital hall (from the dress to the heightened stage), the Ivory tower, and on and on and on.

Why not ask some practical questions? First off, how loud is a rock concert? How compressed is the dynamic level? Does it matter if people are talking when a band is pounding out 135 dB of sound in a small club? Does it matter if people sing along? Do classical performers have any idea how to perform in that situation, with stage monitors instead of hearing each other acoustically, or a live engineer that can handle translating a cello into a decent sounding instrument? Do the venues even want to book the bands?

Small story: I had a chance to set-up a concert with Eighth Blackbird. UMKC was bringing them in, and I pitched a "side-by-side" concert with members of 8bb and students sharing the stage playing works by UMKC students. 8bb chose the pieces to play (after a quick check from a panel to make sure everything was up to a professional standard). One of my jobs was finding a venue. I contacted several venues with about 3 months of head time, asking about dates to book in the club. Before even asking the venues, I checked to make sure dates were open. I either got no reply or "we don't book that kind of music."

That was Grammy award winning, world-renowned eighth blackbird. Tell me again how your newly formed string quartet is going to get gigs at the same venues as bands. Sorry, there isn't an LPR style club in every city.

One note: I would like to see audiences be a little less uptight. I'm tired of getting the stink-eye when I laugh at lines or staging in operas, tap my foot a bit too vigorously, or move a bit too much in my seat. You can bet I'm enjoying the music, perhaps more than all of you around me. And yes, I "get" the music. If I didn't love it and understand, I shouldn't be ABD and on a research scholarship in music.

3) Research in music no longer requires facts!

You'll notice I made no links above. They are no longer necessary. Generally speaking, journalism has taken over as the main mode of understanding classical music. Blogs and small zines are the trusted sources, just as aggregate sites and sensationalist journalists are where we get all our news. This means, I no longer have to fact check, pour through intense amount of journal articles and books, find previous research, or really do any academic work. Since it's printed on the internet, it is now true.

This saves me so much time. I used to spend time researching a topic and going analysis on it. I'm guessing my blog now counts as active publications as well. That's awesome--getting into conferences is difficult, and I was tired of actively researching "the analysis of interactive multimedia" and "definitions of a score in electronic media" and all sorts of other scholarly pursuits I had, presented on, and had published. Now I can just toss it out my facts in all their glory, Buzzfeed style!

Thank you Buzzfeed!!!!

4) Orchestras are archaic, no one loves them!

I've said it before, and I'll say it again--the biggest issue in classical music is marketing. The basic scheme for marketing is to keep the base happy with little or no push to expand. Another anecdote that is obviously a perfect illustration.

During the past week, I have convinced several people to go see Salome at the Royal Opera in Stockholm. How did I convince these people? I summarized the plot, told them the composer, and compared it to music they knew--easy with Strauss: "The opening of 2001: a Space Odyssey." Salome is NOT a hard show to sell! The story is awesome, the music is Romantic, and it's on the shorter side. People were interested in Parsifal as well, but the over four hour time is rough for a first (or rare) opera appearance.

The Royal Opera here does TV spots. It's always Papageno and Papagena's song from Die Zauberflute. Also a good opera to go to, if a bit on the hokey side. But it's just brief audio, and "Come see the show!" That's a nice reminder, but it's not going to generate much interest. Sorry marketing departments for operas and symphonies--the best way to get people excited is contact. Maybe more flashmobs. Flashmobs are still popular right?

5) Large opera and orchestra non-profits must always make money!

Oy...yeah...sure. All non-profits must always make a profit. Continuously.

In actuality, many businesses don't operate at a continuous profit. There are fluctuations between years, poor product releases, etc. But non-profits don't exist to make profit, they exist to to fulfill their mission. This should be done in a "fiscally responsible" way, but that doesn't mean making a tidy profit every year. That's actually against the law, and it means you're not spending enough on your mission.

Just like the US government cries over having a balanced budget and having lower taxes without understanding the trade-off (a smaller private sector), non-profit boards are operating under the same ideas. I just can't fathom an orchestra with a permanent home and little to no rent doing fewer concerts, and most of them poor excuses for pops. How does this serve the mission? And how does it generate revenue? I'm just a lowly rural raised poor musician who don't understand none of them big city words or ideas, but it just seems a bit off to me...

6) Money is the only measure of success in music!

I'd love to be rich. I'd love to get rich playing music. But it wouldn't make me all that successful.

I've made a living in the music business before, as an engineer, a lighting guy, and other tech type stuff. I've made money performing (not much). I've made money from my compositions (even less).

I've also traveled to multiple countries, all over the US, presented papers, had music performed, gone to festivals, workshops, and conferences, made many friends, and helped more than a few young musicians start their own lives in music.

I almost typed careers, but that's not what this is.

Perhaps, as musicians, that's all we need to do--stop saying "I want a career in music" and start saying "I want a life in music."

7) Fusion with popular music is the only way to save classical music! It's so original and exciting!

L'homme arme. That's all I should have to say, right?

L'homme arme is a secular song dating from Renaissance France. By secular, I mean, more or less, a pop song, a tavern song, a minstrel's song. It was a song, more or less, about a man taking arms (not ripping them off, but getting a sword) and how all men should be finding a sword and mail (as in the armor). It was written during a time when there was a Crusade happening, so it could allude to that, or it could allude specifically to St. Michael the Archangel.

It was incredibly popular to use in Masses. In fact, popular tunes were often used in Masses as the cantus firmus, Josquin des Prez and Dufay are two of my favourites. And don't get me started on dance suites, which of course were stylized versions of popular dance music, done in a soloistic fashion.

Yep, fusion, it's brand spanking new

8) I just invented this awesome thing: I CALL IT THE WHEEL!!!

You might have noticed a bit of theme evolving here. A central issue I have with almost all the current writings about the current crisis in music and how classical music must evolve is that it lacks any sort of historical context. Everyone is reinventing the wheel.

Listen, we've all been there. How many times have I sat down to write a piece of music and said "No one has ever done this before! I'm awesome!" Then, because I'm some sort of masochist, I decided to do this novel thing called "research."

After 45 minutes or so, I'm in tears tearing up all my manuscript paper. Woe is me, it's been done!

Then I realize that this is fantastic. If it's been done, they can tell me how to do these hard parts. Then I can build off of it, tweak it, perfect it, add my own twists, give characters different voices, duck tape a kazoo to the trombone, or possibly put wax paper over the bell to make it a META-KAZOO!!! Shit, someone did that too? Well, did they do it while playing multiphonics and dancing a jig? Thought not...

Maybe because it's a horrible idea. But I'm totally going to make David Whitwell do that in my next piece. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

9) Music is completely subjective, cannot be judged in any way...except for music sales! What sells is obviously the best!

I don't even think I have the strength of snark left in me to go into this. Suffice it to say music can objectively be broken down--you can tell when a band plays well and when they don't. If a piece of music is boring, there's probably an objective reason why.

Now, people do have different tastes, and what is boring to one may be transcendental to another. This is true. But there's still better created music.

For instance, I have a friend whose music I just don't fancy. Whenever I hear it, it just doesn't get me going. However, I can tell that it's crafted wonderfully and deserves praise. I can also tell when performers nail it and when they don't nail it. I've listened to pieces that, conceptually, just did not work well--they sounded arbitrary, lacking in organisation, thought, or care, and seemed to just didn't fell flat. And that they could easily be done better.

And if we take the idea that tastes are different, and that objectively good music exists in many forms, then all sales show is what is currently popular with a group of people with the means to purchase the music. And if we only champion that which is most popular, well...Let's just say if this was civil rights, we'd be in trouble...

10) To be a musician and have a career, one must go to college.

In classical music, to have a career, yes. Your pedigree matters as much (or more) than your skills. For a pop musician...Bob Dylan didn't. Neither did the Beatles. Miley Cyrus has been a child star and took voice and acting lessons, but not "proper" conservatory training. Same with Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake. Timbaland started DJing at around 15 (thanks to being in the hospital from a stupid coworker).

What you need for success in popular music is drive, marketing, time, and lessons (if you're a singer or instrumentalist). Just like most pursuits, you can do this without going to college. The trick with other pursuits, such as classical music, or chemistry, is that there are social hurdles and resources available in university. For instance, if you want to start a rock group, you can find some friends, purchase some used instruments, and start practicing. You can sign up for guitar/bass/drum/vocal lessons, get better, and by the time you're 18, be very proficient (if you put in the time and have the drive). Numerous groups have done this.

If you want to be a classical musician, say, a cellist and play in a symphony, you need to practice in symphonies. Your middle school and high school may have these, but the jump from HS to pro is like the jump from HS to pro in sports--a few people can pull it off, extreme talents that have been training for a long time, but most need more training. And stepping up a level in orchestra after HS isn't easy to do outside academia.

So, don't get tied to the idea that you have to go to college if you want to do pop music. And don't get tied to the idea you have to go to college in music. Rivers Cuomo, of Weezer fame, has a degree in English.

For a fun comparison, Dolph Lundgren (Rocky IV, Johnny Mnemonic, and many others) has a masters in chemical engineering and turned down a Fulbright to MIT. Which, now being in Sweden, I understand--the Fulbright isn't as well known here by the students. Still, mind-blowing considering I'm on a Fulbright.

I don't think he regrets his decision, considering his success...

11) Opera is in English!

One of the first questions I'm asked about my opera is "What language is it in?" Everyone seems surprised that it's in English. Granted, English wasn't the most popular language for music for a long stretch of time, but it's far from a new idea. There are English art songs dating back a long way, to folks like Dowland. And Henry Purcell wrote opera in English during the Baroque. Thomas Arne and Handel did it later, and, skipping forward quite far, there's of course Benjamin Britten.

We can just forget about Elgar, can't we?

Why is this still not a known fact? There are undoubtedly many reasons, and even though I've done more than my fair share of finger pointing during this, I'm actually not going to do so now. OK, maybe I will--popularity. If it's not Verdi, Puccini, Wagner, Rossini, or any of those other super well known opera composers that singers and audiences adore, then it's not done. And if it's not performed, then how would anyone know about it?

12) Music and musicians aren't political, ever!

Well...guess I should quit? And we can toss out Beethoven, Mozart, Wagner, Britten, Elgar, all the nationalist type composers in the 19th century (Grieg, Dvorak, Sibelius, and into the 20th century with guys like Bartok and Vaughan Williams).

Sorry, but music as political thought is as old as...

Well, you remember those troubadours I brought up earlier? Yeah, there was a whole bunch of that going on. One of my favourites is the epic song The Song of the Albigensian Crusade. It's an epic poem written by two separate authors who both had distinct personal views. It was meant to be performed to music, in the same way The Song of Roland and other epics were. And, well, it's about as political as you can get. I wrote a paper on it once. But research papers don't matter much, so just take my word for it.

And, of course, since I'm here in Sweden researching political musicians in the death metal scene, I can say with a little authority that, yeah, they might have had some political agendas. Maybe. I mean, they said they did, but that doesn't mean they actually did...

13) No one brought classical music to the masses until the 90s.

Well, I mean, other than all the examples above. Those don't count though. I need more examples, new and fresh examples.

The Town Hall in New York City. It was founded in 1921 by the League for Political Education, who were main fighters for the 19th amendment. They wanted to create a place where people of all social ranks and stations, and has a long history of being an open type of place. The seating is open, no box seats, and no obstructed views. This was meant to show the ideals of democracy (socialist commies. Also, normally, I would have cited this as it's pretty much verbatim from Wikipedia, but, ya know, that's not needed anymore).

There have been numerous classical and pop concerts given here, from Rachmaninoff to Dizzy Gillespie to John Cage's 25 year retrospective, to Whitney Houston. It's also known for it's poetry readings (I didn't need Wikipedia for those facts).

NYC Opera, now defunct, was created as the "people's opera," bringing mostly light productions to NYC at reasonable prices.

Singspiel houses in Vienna premiered many of Mozart's works. These houses were not the high brow Royal Vienna Opera House, but more relaxed places where the style of singspiel (more like an English ballade opera, the precursor to the music) were performed. They were cheaper, had drinks, and many shows were presented as parodies, often of the higher class. Hence why if you search through Mozart's operas, you see a lot of jokes at the expense of nobles.

*********************************************************************************

My snark is finished. I was actually tired of it a while ago, but decided to press on to get to that last point.

This is, obviously, parody, satire, and snark. It's also a scathing critique.

What really differs from what I've done above and what we've been seeing in other places? Are my arguments all that different?

One difference is I'm not presenting the "popular" opinions. I'm reminded of Howard Zinn's "A People's History of America." I am not Zinn, not making that claim at all. But Zinn presented views of events that were from "the losers" in the fights.

History is often told from the winners point of view. It's also often told by the loudest individual, or the person telling the majority of people what they want to hear. It's how presidents win elections and HuffPo gives millions of clicks a day.

I'm going to lay my hand on the table and throw away what little subtlety was in this post, that tiny shred that was nearly there: Everyone reading this should have questioned every single statement I made. Many of you probably did. A fair portion of you should scoff at my opinions because they are unfounded.

You are correct.

And so are many of the articles you've read in the past week that you've liked. A study of five people is not a study. Asking 100 people nationwide about your local arts organisation proves nothing.

And the unfounded opinions of one man are just unfounded opinions.

Perhaps, we should all be demanding more from our pseudo-philosophers and demand some real proof, action, and ideas, rather than taking things at face value.

Metal or Classical Music concert?

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

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

with classical music.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No answers, just questions to ponder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

********************

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

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

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

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. 

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.

Badminton with Words

There are two words being bandied about a great deal in the classical music community these days: entrepreneurship and sustainability. Neither one are new concepts, with bloggers and modern writers tackling the issue for the past few years. Even more importantly, both have been vitally important portions of music from the beginning of time, and are inexorably linked to creative fields.

However, in the last couple years, we've seen a veritable boom in thinking about these two concepts. Part of it comes out from studies, including National Endowment for the Arts surveys on public participation, studies showing what many musicians have anecdotally known for years: that classical music audiences are older than they were. We've also seen a lot of reactionary material on rethinking degrees and recitals. My own alma mater, DePauw University, just got a 15 million dollar gift to revise their curriculum for musicians of the 21st century. With the failing of two major institutions, the general orchestral crisis with striking symphonies, ailing endowments, and reactions that range from conservative programming, to kitsch and pop driven programming, some national (and international) ire, and tons of local support, everyone has appeared to give their two cents on the subject.

Some people are reactionary (myself included), others have been at the fore in the years preceding the current financial issues. Greg Sandow has done a good job showing trends that may lead to understanding where the failings began with his timeline of the crisis. Jon Silpayamanant's blog has shown how some studies and ideas are red herrings, and his bibliographic timelines are great resources in studying 20th century (and sometimes into the 19th century) trends. And, of course, there's Drew McManus and many more that have graced my own blog over the past year. Maybe someone should put together a large repository of links just to people working on the subject? Not me, not today at least.

For my part, I'm done being reactionary at the moment. Time for some "innovation," if you will. But this innovation isn't about tossing my ideas on "how to fix the problem." Instead, it's going to be innovation on thinking about the problem. And by innovation, I mean changing my own stance and thinking creatively, not necessarily coming up with new ideas.

So, as with any good story, a good place to start is at the beginning. In the beginning of this blog, there were two words: entrepreneurship and sustainability. What do these terms mean? First, let's talk about entrepreneurship. What is an entrepreneur? A simple economic definition is "one who starts and runs a business or businesses." But is that really all an entrepreneur is? Other key components listed in various sites are "leadership, initiative, and innovation." From a business standpoint, this could mean someone inventing a new device, or upgrading a past one, and selling it in their own business--highly touted entrepreneurs (and venture capitalists) include Elon Musk of Tesla and Space X; Henry Ford and the auto industry; Steve Jobs and Bill Gates in computing; and many more. Entrepreneurs are separate from researchers who may be incredibly innovative, be major leaders, and even have large amounts of initiative by the simple economic situation--a researcher or scientist may not take the step to start their own business.

So, what is an entrepreneur in the arts? The main focus I've seen is on how artists can make a living. This may include innovation, but mostly innovation from an "economic" standpoint--how do we market better, how do we utilize social media, what do we teach students so they can make a living post graduation? There's also a bit of focus on collaboration, mainly with other artists, as a way to create something "sustainable:" the idea that by working together in collectives, we may have a better chance to make enough money to live.

Then there is sustainability. This is a loaded term with at least two separate, equally talked about areas of study; economic sustainability and ecological sustainability. Prior to the current crisis, there was a lot of blogging and talk about sustainability in ethnomusicology groups. Jeff Todd Titon is a name that pops up a lot in modern research of cultural sustainability, which looks at a combination of economic and ecological sustainability of the arts--mainly of folk traditions.

What I see in modern conversations about sustainability is entirely economical; not cultural, not ecological, purely economical. How do we make enough money? What is enough money? Fundraising ideas? For me the biggest tell of the shift in thinking was in the Minnesota Orchestra mission statement:

The Minnesota Orchestral Association inspires, educates and serves our community through internationally recognized performances of exceptional music delivered within a sustainable financial structure.

That's all well and good, but notice it doesn't actually mention orchestral music, and says quite firmly "within a sustainable financial structure."

Now, I'm not knocking either idea. Entrepreneurship and sustainability are both important to music. However, it's important to think about how semantics can prime a situation. When someone says "sustainability" the current in many brains right now means "sustainable financial structure." When we hear about sustainable financial structure, what comes to mind? Well, if you read the news in the US, it's something that's a highly polarized issue that gets tossed into two broad categories: out of control spending by a large government; and not enough spending by the government to help push economic recovery.

Dichotomy, it's the essence of the human mind. As my playwriting teacher once told me: keep everything to dualistic choices, they're easier for everyone to understand (My edit: mainly in a limited time).

What I'd like to push for is more options and ideas on the subject. My gut reaction is that the conversations about sustainability and entrepreneurship are actually being hampered by the words themselves. We've reached a point where specific meanings of coalesced and we're being split into camps. This is decidedly uncreative, and unbecoming of artists. Really, a field that prides itself on diversity, on proliferating new ideas, we're letting a couple common definitions cloud our judgement? Perhaps it's time to remove the language itself from the equation. So, I'll do my best to avoid those terms, and find terms more specific to the situation.

The second issue I'm seeing, past the semantic, is that of historical context. For many, this crisis is seen as completely unique, something that has never happened before. Have there been no crises in "classical music" before? I can think of several--the move from a patron based system to an independent system (pushed by Beethoven but adopted by many in 19th century Romantic view. And, of course, it's not like patronage actually ended, but the move from a court position to an independent position caused all sorts of interesting battles). Do we forget the troubles and trials of Mozart, who attempted the lifestyle before Beethoven and didn't do such a great job? Or how hard Beethoven fought for his share of the pie? And how, moving into the 20th century, patronage didn't go away, but shifted, from nobles in the 18th century, to orchestras, opera houses, and the state in the 19th century, to academia starting in the late 19th century into the 20th century as support from the state dwindled. This is just one instance where a historical perspective could be very helpful: how did the arts change during these major changes in economic, social, and political change? We see countries moving from monarchies to democracies (or to more heavily structured parliamentary systems), the industrial revolution changing economics on a huge scale (much like the information and electronics age are changing economics, especially rapidly in the rise of digital media and online retailers), and social movements in creating the middle class, the ending of slavery, serfdom, and other forms of indentured servitude, and an increase in freedoms for people through the 20th century. How has art and music transformed during these time periods?

In other words, why are so many people attempting to reinvent the wheel? Why are so many of us (including myself) being reactionary? and even deeper, why are we looking for roots to the problems?

Which is my third issue: we need to identify roots of problems and not just treat symptoms. There are organizations and individuals looking at these problems: Jon Silpayamanant is going in this direction; the NEA published a report on how technology influences arts participation, a study I'm currently working my way through and considering deeply. But many of us (myself again included), haven't always been looking for the root of problems. We've found problems, for instance, the aging audience. However, why is the audience aging? There has been some recent work looking into this, from raising ticket prices to outreach to the distancing from the public. I've posited a few in my posts recently as well.

But now's the time to stop positing and actually investigate and find out why. Time to do studies and see which of these many factors are actually influencing people in specific communities and nation-wide. Before we start leaping into making curriculums (even though I agree we need to create new curriculums in colleges at all levels), we need to identify the root of the problem. Otherwise our changes are nothing more than band-aids tossed on a tumor.

There is a third word bandied about as well: collaboration. It is, also, misused, I think, and in need of some semantic repair. But, at the moment, I think I'll stop and collect my thoughts again--this has been sitting for a few weeks as I worked through my thoughts.

Because it's time we stopped being purely reactionary. There's a time and place for it, but, when we are faced with deep problems, problems of a financial, philosophical (both as far as the place of the arts in society, as well as the roles of various agencies in the arts), political, social, and ecological. Actually, I could sum up by saying let's look at the deep problems of the arts and the world, but that is all at once too broad, too prosaic, and too philosophical.

Instead, let's simply take a breath and act like artists: ask a question, work through that question creatively from many angles, find a deeper, more important question, and come up with several hundred possible ideas to try, then try them, one by one, in various scenarios. Let's step back from the answering phase we seem to be at, and move back to questioning.

Mainly, now that we've identified problems let's ask "What is the root of the problem?"

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.

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