As a musician, I can can recall three distinct instances where circumstances demanded that I defend the honor of my chosen profession and advocate on behalf of its continued existence. I've often wondered how many accountants, investment bankers, or doctors have stood the same ground as their opponent challenged the value of their profession in modern society. Public opinion looks upon classical music as a luxury rather than a necessity, and with the economy the way it is, six U.S. orchestras will not be opening this coming season.
Earlier tonight at Boston's Jordan Hall, the Boston-based initiative Music for Food put on a concert to raise hunger awareness as well as funds and supplies for the Greater Boston Food Bank. The concert featured many of Dvorak's short piano works, several songs by the French composer Ernest Chausson, and finished with Dvorak's Piano quintet no. 2 in A Major. I do not believe that one can overstate the significance of such an event. In a society which values only that which proves itself commercially viable, and may blame many musicians for relying upon "handouts", it's wonderful to see a performance that has such a clear and immediate positive impact.
At its core, music, and all art for that matter, is all about giving of oneself for others. I see the combination of music and charity not as a fundraising gimmick but rather more akin to a fine food and wine pairing. The two compliment each other and achieve a common goal. MFF and other programs like it serve as proof that classical music still functions as a positive cultural force.
Music is about connecting; however, choosing what's relevant to connect to is a difficult task for any musician. In a world that is becoming increasingly global centric and increasing sensitive to the global ecosystem, music has the potential to spread awareness through a language that is familiar, about a variety of subjects previously gone unnoticed. In this sense, music can be used as a meditation device through which a world we are blind to becomes intense and meaningful as we become more and more aware.
Minimalist composer Steve Reich spent several wartime years during his childhood traveling with his governess between his estranged parents, his mother in Los Angeles and his father in New York. "Exciting, romantic trips, full of adventure for the young Reich but many years later, it dawned on him that, had if he been in Germany during the ethnic cleansing by the Nazis, his Jewish background would have ensured that the trains he would have been riding on would have been very 'different trains.' He set about collecting recordings to effectively recreate and document the atmosphere of his travels to contrast with those of the unfortunate refugees." The piece, entitled Different Trains, landed Reich a Grammy in 1989 for Best Contemporary Composition. Through his poignant presentation of disturbing yet memorable primary source material from the Holocaust victims, Reich was able to connect with a broad audience on a deeply emotional level by creating a meditation for his audience on the experience of the Holocaust, a feat not easily accomplished by a musical medium but arguable impossible to accomplish with any other medium. "By combining the sound of train whistles, pistons and the scream of brakes with extracts of speech by porter Lawrence Davis, who took the same rides as Reich between the big apple and Los Angeles, governess Virginia and three holocaust survivors (Paul, Rachel and Rachella), Reich creates music of great intensity and feeling. The slow, middle section, Europe-During The War, finds the refugees in the midst of their nightmare, 'no more school' and being herded into the cattle wagons. 'They shaved us, They tattooed a number on our arm, Flames going up to the sky- it was smoking.' Sirens from the Kronos help to convey the despair and confusion of the Jewish plight. Reconciliation is achieved in part three, After The War, where Paul, Rachel and Rachella are transported to live in America. There is an incredibly poignant moment when Paul proclaims ' the war was over,' Rachella, in sheer, fragile disbelief, asks 'Are you sure?.' "http://www.writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/Holocaust/difftrains.html Music has the power to add meaning to almost anything. It has the power to stop one in one's tracks, to take one out of oneself and put one somewhere else or in the position of someone else.
Late last Spring, I was inspired by spiritual teacher Osho (born Chandra Mohan Jain), to write a piece. His teachings were recommended to me by a friend in the yoga community. It was very easy to find recordings and videos of talks that he has given on a huge variety of subjects including socialism, institutionalized religions and sex. I was particularly captured by one of his talks on love entitled, Being In Love. My intent was to find a way through music with which I could encourage the listener in such a way that he would find particular attachment to specific words, pause in the right places as to have enough time to fully absorb Osho's multiple layers of meaning. I knew that I would have to take great care not to distract the listener from Osho's actually voice and the clarity of his speech. There was something musical about his consonants; they were precise, deliberate, and carefully labored. I wanted to add another layer to his speech, not take anything away.
Of course, I was aware that it would be impossible to compose such a piece without, in turn, commenting on his words in a subjective manner; and this was okay with me. In fact, there is no way to deny that Reich did the same thing with Different Trains. It is because of his subjectivity that the piece is personal and therefore has the potential to connect personally, like a conversation between friends. In regard to my composition, not only did I accept that I would leave a fingerprint on Osho's work but I embraced it and treated the responsibility with care. If experiences continue to be passed down in an idiom familiar to the current generation, those experiences will never loose their relevance.; they will continue to be profound and have impact. They will never be forgotten.
My piece is still not finished. There is so much more I need to understand about the experience of love and the experience of Osho experiencing love, before I can conclusively comment on it. However, the process of composing this piece has has already enriched my appreciation of music and the potential that it holds to arrest the attention of audiences. The process has also humbled me because I have had the realization that if we have conviction in what we are saying, people will listen.
A few days ago I stumbled upon this great article from NewMusicBox What's in a Name? The author, Ratzo B. Harris, describes and defends the use of certain words in the world of Jazz. Even the word Jazz itself is defended, because many people think "that the name “jazz” means “sexual intercourse.”" (Harris 2012) The main focus of this article is on Tin Pan Alley, the print music capital of New York City at the turn of the century. Harris describes many people's view of the descriptive phrase as "pejorative and disrespectful." (Harris 2012) Despite the history of this row of shops as noisy and rambunctious I never thought of the word as negative in any sense. It seems like it would have been a hectic place to frequent but still somewhere that I would have loved to be. The origin of the word may, in fact, be due to the many open windows and pianos with "a loud, metallic tone." (Harris 2012) This description reminds me of walking by any music school's practice rooms (although I would hope that the pianos were less metallic.) To highlight the positive aspects of the district, the author defends its merits including the quantity of "high-quality music" that was produced. (Harris 2012) The phrase Tin Pan Alley is now widely accepted as a useful historical term so it's up to the reader to have positive or negative connotative associations. Besides Tin Pan Alley, Harris also goes through a list of other words which originated with Jazz musicians. As someone who plays Jazz myself, I appreciate being part of a tradition that has typically been ahead of the curve both linguistically and stylistically. Jazz may mean sexual intercourse to some people, but that's for them to decide. I personally like the origination theory discussed in the article about the swinging drummer "Chaz" having something to do with it but haven't delved deep enough into the topic. The etymology of Jazz slang is fascinating to me so any related articles I find will probably be shared. As for the rest of you, be careful with your axe when the ice is around. Be creative and make up new, exciting words!
I’ve
just returned from Chicago where I had the chance to attend the final
two days of the Beethoven Festival. I must have seen at least ten
different concerts and was awed by the beauty of the event as well as
the juxtaposition of styles so rarely seen in the same venue. The
afternoon began unsurprisingly with some Beethoven sonatas and quartets,
but then went on to the Chicago premieres of works by Mikolaj Gorecki, a
wonderful composer whose works absolutely awed the audience. As I sat
in the terminal late Sunday night waiting for my flight back to Boston, I
began thinking about new composers and about Beethoven and about how
they relate. I thought about what it must have been like for someone to
hear Beethoven for the very first time, and how jarring some of his
works would have sounded back then. I thought about how beautiful the
Gorecki pieces were, and how unusual it was to hear a living composer’s
work right beside an established genius such as Beethoven. I realized
that there are people who love classical music and people who love “new”
music and that these two are often kept in separate boxes, only
occasionally sharing the same program space. And then this morning I
came across an article in the New York Times entitled Shock me if you can,
by Jennifer Schuessler. It opens with the mention of Stravinsky’s “Rite
of Spring” in 1913 and the uproar that took place at the theater that
night. More importantly however it mentions Stravinsky’s reaction to
the audience’s reaction: He fled the hall in disgust that his art could
cause such a riot. Today, many artists actually hope for a similar
reaction to their work, and would take it as a compliment if the
audience were to cause a riot.
In
Levine’s Highbrow, Lowbrow, the author explores many aspects of
classical music, including the behavioral shift of audiences. What it
has not explored however, is the shift from the artist’s standpoint, or
what the artist is trying to convey through his music. Early 20th
century modern art had the opportunity to shock its audiences in a
variety of ways. The Cubism and Fauvism movements for instance created a
new energy in the art world where audiences were continuously bombarded
with things they had never seen or could never have imagined before.
Stravinsky was part of that era, and the “Rite of Spring” was one of
the most shocking works anyone had seen until then. The combination of
sound, movement and visual aspects that were so “fauvist” and wild was
too much for the Parisian bourgeoisie at the time. According to the New
York Times article, “Artists have been trying to provoke audiences ever
since, elevating shock to an artistic value, a sign that they are
fighting the good fight against oppressive tradition and bourgeois
morality.”
As
we’ve learned from Levine’s book, the cultural divides that are
currently putting classical music at risk were already well-established
by the 20th century, and it seems as though this fight to bring art to
the masses rather than to the intellectual few has been going on for
nearly a century already. However, in today’s world, people have been
largely desensitized, and yet artists are still trying to shock their
audiences. But maybe this is no longer the time for shock. As the
article states, “mere shock for shock’s sake... is ‘deathly.’” Our
society is no longer going to experience art the way that it did a
century ago, but it can still appreciate it, value it, and be wowed by
it. Above all, artists have to remember to be true to themselves and to
the message they want to convey. Audiences will not return magically
to the halls, but new music is just as important to the revival of Bach
and Beethoven, as Bach and Beethoven are for the survival of new music.
Musicians should work together to get rid of this barrier that lies
first and foremost among us and which we communicate knowingly or not to
our audiences. New music and classical music are not mutually
exclusive. In fact they are meant to be intertwined, presented and
experienced together, as part of one entity: Music.
I recently attended my first Longy School of Music of Bard College concert. It was titled, The Children’s Hour, and featured works that captured the ideals and innocence of childhood. If you were not there, you certainly missed an amazing evening. From virtuosic violin playing to moving Holocaust poetry (written by children), I was transported through episodes of unpretentious sophistication and delightful whimsy. During the course of the concert, I allowed my mind to wander and to really experience the music as it was. I suppressed my all-consuming habit of critically analyzing the forms and notes played. I also avoided my tendency to picture the score as the notes wafted by. I suppose as a composer, my desire is to know exactly what is happening on the page to elicit the sounds presented before me.
Given the concert’s focus on innocence and uncluttered perceptions, I thought it appropriate to clear my mind and try to experience the concert as a child would. A child doesn’t know how to cross their musical “t’s” or dot their musical “i’s.” The last thought on their mind is the form of a piece or the technical dexterity of the violinist. Even the smallest nuance has the potential to spark wonder in a child’s eyes. Whether it be a single pizzicato or an expressive facial characteristic, a child generally notices it all.
After leaving the concert in an ethereal, musical euphoria, I pondered the implications of what I had witnessed that evening. I naturally began to think of my own convictions regarding the enjoyment of music. Having already listed those, I think it unnecessary to repeat them. However, those thoughts eventually dissipated as I contemplated the application of my experience to the future of such musical concerts.
We are all well aware that the future lies in the younger generation. I put forth that the only way in which the western, classical music tradition can survive is in the exposure and education of youth. Regardless of the changes that might, and will, occur in the art form in years to come, there must be musicians to perform and audiences to listen. The death of our art form will be brought about by the snobbery, stubbornness, and negligence of the current body of proprietors. I firmly believe in the exposure of children to not only music, but all the arts. In my own immediate family, every child is acquainted with music, art, and literature from a young age and required to play an instrument of some sort.
We are already witnessing the diminution of many of the arts today. Visit the galleries, theatres, symphonies, and concert halls and examine the age of the patrons. One can’t help but notice the prevalence of grayed hair and lack of many persons under forty.
Why has this happened? Where are the youth?
Is it the lack of education? This might be a good soapbox on which to stand for a while, but even this argument falls flat. I unfortunately do not have the time or space in this brief post to explore all the various questions and theories raised regarding this issue. I believe it will have to fall to you, the reader, to personally examine your own thoughts on the matter.
I expect that a large part of the problem does indeed lay in the stark contrasts between highbrow and lowbrow entertainment. Perhaps it is time to reexamine the stodgy correctness which permeates most of the arts. The concert I attended certainly did just that. With a combination of artistically satisfying works, droll poetry readings, and a relaxed atmosphere, I found it a very refreshing and uplifting venture. No one could have labelled it as artistically inferior or somehow beneath a certain class.
My only qualm was with the patrons filling the space. As if to prove my point, in an auditorium of two hundred and fifty odd seats, it was only half full. Of the half occupied hall, only five of the concert attendees were children under the age of 18.
For such an egocentric species, we humans certainly enjoy it when music, something old white men have long considered "unique to homo sapiens [and probably white men]," crosses the species line. Western composers have lightly flirted with this idea for centuries, with birdsong making a number of cameos throughout the canon (but never a leading role). A slightly more intimate approach occurs between Debussy and Ravel, with whom gusts of wind, ocean waves and, of course, a number of birdcalls are replicated with masterful symphonic orchestration.
But so quickly after the French impressionists, we flocked to matrices, tapes, computers, to musique concrete - and, just as in the world of visual art, pastoral work somehow became mundane. Even I, the quintessential environmentalist, have scoffed at 20th century landscapes when a Kadinsky is nearby. Western composers of the 20th century have found deep safety in the industrial and mechanical world. Perhaps this stems from a deeply rooted desire to achieve something super-human, something God-like, something echoing the ever-present Aristotelian view that "the whole heaven [is] a musical scale and a number.” As R. Murray Schafer in his masterful The Soundscapesuggests, the advent of the industrial revolution allowed for loud sounds to be synonymous with power, and the machine became our new God: so perhaps our composers, in keeping with Western tradition, sought to achieve Godliness with their music, utilizing powerful, ordered, and - dare I say - masculine approaches to mimic the Machine.
But what happened with the Western reverence for the machine? Total environmental apocalypse. If you have (YOU MUST) seen these charts and these maps, you know that we are entirely fucked, unless contributers (industrialized nations) drastically change their emissions and lifestyles. Yes, yes; as classical musicians we are mostly tidily liberal - we don't have enough money to buy cars or fill gas tanks, anyway - so I guess we just sit back and wait for everyone else to do something about it. This is our comfortable position in society, after all, since what we do is pretty much irrelevant nowadays. Right?
No. Absolutely not. In fact, musicians are one of the most essential arbiters of environmental change. Why? Because we understand sound.
R. Murray Schafer, in The Soundscape, calls for a global alliance between acousticians, ecologists, and musicians to address the issue of noise pollution and noise evolution. Through this alliance, soundscapes can be created for cities and communities, much as architectural decisions come from an artistic and engineering alliance. Believe it or not, noise pollution is one of the most destructive forces of many ecosystems - a single jet passing over a rainforest can disrupt animal vocalizations for minutes, which is enough time for the balance between predators and prey to become severely ruptured. Animals that aren't supposed to die perish, some predators aren't fed, and an ecosystem can collapse. As such, we are learning the ecosystems can no longer be monitored exclusively with visuals; the sound of an ecosystem will reveal much, much more about which animals have perished, and which have survived, after a significant alteration of the environment.
Bernie Krause addresses this in detail and takes Schafer's indispensable research further in The Great Animal Orchestra, a 2011 book that, personally, changed my entire life and even dictated a number of recent career choices. This book is a detailed account of his experiences as a musician, naturalist, and soundscape artist, and in it he discusses the spectrograms of ecosystems healthy and damaged alike. He goes one step further and suggests the sound of a healthy, naturally balanced ecosystem is the origin of human music. Humans can mimic more accurately than most species, and in the earliest days of our existence, we mimicked our environment and created music. Of course, this has numerous evolutionary advantages - an understanding of the sound of our natural environment means we can tell the time of day, whether or not its safe to hunt or gather, whether a predator is nearby, what the weather is going to do, etc. And with our severely compromised night vision, it's no surprise that our affinity for sonic changes has allowed us to remain near the top of the food chain. And, of course, it is enjoyable to play in perfect harmony with the forest.
Many indigenous cultures that retain an ancient music display this hypothesis almost indisputably. In my own research, which I hope to continue in greater detail, I have noted a marked similarity between the music and sonic environment of the B'aka people, based on recordings from the Cameroon rainforest. One of the recordings I examined in a spectrogram (found here) begins with a few seconds of forest sounds, then the music begins, and a few seconds of forest sounds are left at the end. Among many stunning observations, the most interesting is that their song takes its meter from the timing of the most prevalent bird song at the moment the song began. This type of musical-environmental harmony is teeming with potential for scholarship; but it's plain to see upon spectral analysis for those interested. I also compared Moroccan gnawa music to North African soundscapes and Senegalese sabar drumming to a dawn chorus along the Gambia, both of which showed marked similarities. Other cultures with similar sonic relationships to their environment are discussed in Krause's book, although he notes that culture-environment relationship is not the central issue of his book (but invites others to do the investigations).
But what happened when I did a spectral analysis of our great symphonic composers? A variety of spectrograms that, for the most part, looked nothing like a natural soundscape, and more like a splattering and sputtering machine. I examined work by Mozart, Chopin, Ravel, Cage, Webern, Berlioz, Reich, Tallis, and myself. The closest visual matches to a typical Northern Hemisphere natural soundscape - one that would be similar to the areas in which most of these composers lived - came from Webern and Tallis, with a few moments of Cage and a few moments of my work showing potential. Notably, many of these composers came about before the Machine, but, as Schaffer suggests, the likes of Mozart and Beethoven perhaps had a more artistic relationship with the clop of hooves on cobblestone or the sound of carriage wheels over rocks. Not birds, cows, wolves, or insects. In a sense, this suggests a longstanding Western obsession with dominion over nature, which, hopefully, is not news to anyone.
So how does this matter to us? It's simple. Those cultures that have an essential musical connection with their environment are not set on destroying their environment because, if they did, they would no longer have their music. We do not have this type of relationship with our environment, so it is easy to feel like little is at stake for us if it is destroyed. But - as composers and performers have ever more license to be wacky and creative - we can change this. What if we created and performed music that was dependent on the health of the environment around us? What if we created work that must be performed in chorus with the rustling of the trees and the drumming of the woodpecker? Even if we record soundscapes and write a piece to be played alongside the tape of this soundscape, we are creating a relationship to the environment, and we are creating a nostalgia that would create heavy hearts if it were damaged. As classical musicians, we have such an affinity for nostalgia, for valuable things of times passed, that its time we extend this beyond our human family.
Recently, I wrote a work for piano, viola, clarinet, and tape, the tape being a hydrophone recording of a conversation between killer whales. The whales speak in rhythm and pitch, and it is an astounding fourth instrument for the ensemble. Upon acquiring permission to use the recording, I exchanged a series of heartfelt e-mails with the bioacoustician who provided them to me: he offered to promote my work and performances of it on all of his networking sites, and was thrilled to finally have an extra-scientific association. I was thrilled to have an extramusical one. And now, if those orcas ever stop speaking to each other (an impending possibility), I know there will be a deep pain amongst those who have a relationship with my piece. I am not alone in this type of musical endeavor: and I invite you all to consider your ability to navigate sound, whether as performer and composer, to listen to your environment, to learn how to read a spectrogram. Let's be sonic architects. Talk to our officials about noise pollution. Write pieces titled Sonata for Horn and Walden Pond and be willing to play them. Let's see what we can do to keep our earth singing.
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Further Reading: Krause, Bernie. The Great Animal Orchestra. New York: Littleton, Brown and Co., 2012. Print. Schafer, R. Murray. The Soundscape. Rochester, VT: Destiny Books, 1977, 1994. Print. World Forum for Acoustic Ecology, http://wfae.proscenia.net/
I was searching YouTube the other day for my hometown symphony, Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and came across this great performance of Mahler's Symphony No. 5, performed in Berlin which concluded the PSO's three week tour of Europe in late 2011. As I was listening to the opening trumpet solo, I saw posted on the side bar of recommended links a video claiming that the PSO was using YouTube to find a soloist. Although the video was posted in February, I thought it was still very relevant to our work in this class.
This video also brings me to my statement said in my previous post about how the classical music field can utilize resources of technology to spread the word and make music more accessible. In this case, the PSO has utilized a very popular media source as a way of finding a soloist.
While this is not the first time that YouTube has been used as an outlet to find talent in this field (The YouTube Symphony Orchestra was created sometime in late 2010, where hundreds of applicants sent in videos of them auditioning excerpts where they were essentially "voted" by viewers. The winning applicants performed in the concert in Sydney, Australia in March 2011), PSO is the first major orchestra to use the site as an outlet to find a soloist. Hopefully other orchestras can now emulate the PSO and use the site to find a new talent. While the PSO insists that this is not "American Idol meets Mozart," this can be a great opportunity for young soloists to make a name for themselves they might not have previously had by entering big name concerto competitions.
However, why just make it open to orchestral soloists? Conservatories can use YouTube to find young applicants to beef up one of their programs. Two violist and a cellist can also use YouTube to find a violist to finally form that string quartet they have been trying to start. Or maybe an opera company can use the site to find that mezzo they need for one of their roles in an upcoming season. The point is that there are many ways in which on can utilize YouTube to find talent, and moreover, draw more attention to our field.
Hopefully the PSO's efforts in finding a soloist can prompt other big names in the classical field to continue to utilize technology to foster growth in the classical music field.
When future is lying in
education, do classical music need to fight this battle? 2
Years ago, I was being trained as a Suzuki strings teacher,this is a
program which inspiring teachers and dedicated parents nurture their
children by starting the most famous song in the world-Twinkle . Not
every family is lucky enough to enable every child who would like to
study instrumental music. But the communities work hard enough with
teachers to create music education among local
instittution and music curriculum is one of the subject
which tie to the school.
According
to the hard work of "El Sistema" which successfully rose in
a garage in the 1970s .It changes the social today by giving kids
free instruments and free instruction starting at age 2 - according
to journalist Boorstin notes, "It keeps them off the streets,"
and through political regimes. Since
the role of a 21st century musician lives in a multiple styles And
most the great musicians we admire are doing this now to crossover in
between classical music and jazz, bluegrass, swing, funk and etc.
Question
are how creativity it has to be and should we(classical musician)use
the traditional way and mix with other genres of music in order to
reach the high level of engagement to the youngster in classical
music? Should a ballet dancer teaches thier students some hip-hop step at the same time in this multiple century?
“Composer
Greg Sandow played a simple, four-chord and called it an example of
"a real feat of composition." He suggested classical music
should "blend with pop culture and rejoin the world," and
urged presenters to make performances more informal and more amenable
to the audience chatting, interrupting, applauding; more, in short,
like pop music.”
I
could not help but wonder, aren't most of us were use to train in a
field classical music first? what is the best way to build a good foundation?
According
to "New York Times music critic Anthony Tommasini took a different
view when he wrote: "to claim a listener's attention, a
substantial classical piece must entice the dimension of human
perception that responds to large structures and long metaphorical
narratives. This, more than anything lofty about the music, accounts
for the greater complexity, typically, of classical works in
comparison with more popular styles of music."
"Gerard
Schwarz, who recently judged a KZOK Radio including a band from tiny
Decatur Island — says, "We [classical musicians] don't have to
answer the question 'are we relevant' anymore. We are everywhere."
"Education
director Perry Lorenzo says, classical music "has never been for
everybody." It isn't pop music, no matter how hard people may
try to bridge that gap or to dumb it down."
To teach in a multiple style and
creativity or not, I think it is a bias which some people are
creative and some are not. Everybody has unlimited potential and each
of us has unique life experiences when we involves our
instrument and feel the music. While listening those great
performance and to be able to have a different aesthetic and high level of playing skill, it is good enough to explain why we
were trained in classical music first.
As I stated previously I am a huge fan of new and innovative
ways to make music. There have been some unusual ideas the past few years,
but this one may take the cake. I give you Bronze Format, an idea so lame it’s
sure to catch on. This is a brand new (just came out last week) type of
composition tool, available as an app download on mac, that allows you to
“generate endless interpretations of a piece at the touch of a button…” It
works by taking a song that you like and opening it in their Bronze Player. The
program then applies rules, at random, to the various different streams of
sound resulting in a completely different listening experience every time you
listen to a track. Essentially you will never hear a song played the same way
twice.
From
a technical side I can see how this could be a big deal to most. The buzz seems
to hint that a lot of musicians across many genres of music have embraced this
new formant. My last post dealt with a guy who took a subway map and devised a
system of which musical notes could be made by crossing paths from the
different train lines. It had no expectations to be anything other than what it
was: just a serious of random pings and pops that isn’t considered music by
99.9% of the population. That seems very creative to me, but I’m having a hard
time seeing the creativity from this. I believe this to be a creativity
drainer.
Something like this would seem to
take away any incentive of creating anything decent. You could essentially
write any old garbage and put it though the program giving you sometimes
favorable, and sometimes unfavorable, results. Luck of the draw! What does this
do for the sake of art preservation? Can you imagine a world where you or I
write the most beautiful song ever heard only to have it sent through an audio
manipulator that changes every aspect? I would be concerned if this ever caught
on enough to be featured in a program like iTunes where people can take your
song and listen to it in a completely unintentional manner. A step in the wrong direction, for sure!
Ellen
Mclain is a popular voice actress for Valve, a gaming software company. She is
perhaps most known as the award-winning voice of GLaDOS (the hilariously
passive-aggressive artificial-intelligence antagonist) in Portal and Portal 2. She
is also an opera singer.
I am not
much of a gamer (though I greatly and increasingly appreciate the creative
energy that goes into making games), so perhaps this post isn’t any kind of
news to some who are veterans to gaming. I have played both Portal and Portal 2, and I can’t think of a better word to describe my
reaction to them other than “charmed”—not just by the fun gameplay and creative
storytelling, but by the unexpected use of music in the games, each of which
rolls its ending credits in tandem with a pop-style song sung by GLaDOS. The
second game even features an opera-style mini-aria as part of the ending scene,
complete with Italian libretto, and also voiced by Mclain. What an interesting
way to cross those two career paths!
It’s no
secret that games can and do involve wonderful music produced by skilled
musicians—music ranging from simple but catchy MIDI tunes to complete
orchestral scores, similar to film scores. Those who are better acquainted with
games than I am could doubtless expand on the merits of game music even more. Video
games are, in my opinion, heralding in a new form of storytelling and artistic
ingenuity; it’s increasingly clear that the classical musician, and classical
performance traditions, could find places in such an art form. They already
have, in fact, and have already met with approval—just look at the popularity
of Video Game Orchestras (VGOs) such as Boston’s own.
I was so
tickled by the “Turret Opera” (as it has come to be known) after finishing Portal 2 that I scoured YouTube for recordings,
and—for a nice change of pace, given the general maturity level and
thoughtfulness threshold of most YouTube comments—read through pages and pages
of commenters gushing over the music: how nice it was, how it moved them, how
they were actually entertained by it, and so on. This was operatic and
classical-style music (albeit in a much shorter form) placed in an
entertainment category that allowed the listeners access; they understood the
characters and the world of the game by then, and the music made sense to them
as a result. It didn’t seem stuffy or inaccessible because it was catered to them, the players. Though
certainly many attempts are made by classical musicians to make classical music
accessible to a broad audience, we seemed to have maintained that strange aura
of “too difficult for the common public to understand”. Perhaps the key (or one of many keys) to
actually widening that audience in the united
states is to further unite classical music
with other art forms. Why not step into a new, evolving, popular art form as
classical musicians? Why not make it easy to understand?
My surprise
and delight at the opera shout-out in Portal
2, and the knowledge that Mclain herself is an opera singer, was not due to
the fact that music was present in a game. I was excited, as a singer myself,
that it involved someone who has, and still does, pursue goals similar to my
own; someone who managed to incorporate a bit of her first goal into her
current career, and who was met with approval by a generally non-classical
audience. We’d do well to follow the popular consciousness in order to keep our
art form alive, and video games are certainly popular. Who knows what kind of
future success could be waiting if we all, as classical musicians, kept our
minds open?
It's not often that you go to a "classical" concert and leave nodding your head in a rock-show haze of satisfaction. You're wishing the show didn't end and are still pulsing from the final sounds created on stage. Fortunately, many composers have tapped into a common desire for art music to have this effect on people. I can't imagine a better transition for an avid rock/pop fan into classical music than Sinopia's 9/7 show at Boston Conservatory. The entire program was extremely well played despite the endless obstacles in the music.
Sinopia started off with their own commision, Opal, by Mischa Salkind-Pearl, followed by a world premiere, Le Labyrinthe de Chartres, by Nicholas DeMaison. These two pieces were incredibly captivating and had many moments of beauty juxtaposed with chaos. Following these were two John Cage pieces, "Radio Music" and "Credo in Us". I am a huge John Cage fan so these were greatly appreciated (particularly as last week celebrated what would have been his 100th birthday). The use of the radio was quite exciting even though the pieces were written over 50 years ago. The final piece, Gatsbytron, by Eliot Britton proved an excellent cap to the diverse and fulfilling concert. The composer coordinated electronics while the ensemble played along using many percussion instruments, electric keyboard and even toy piano. The energy was at a very high level and could definitely be felt in the audience. There is always potential for programs primarily consisting of premieres to scare of would-be concertgoers. Despite this, most of the seats were filled and everyone there seemed to have greatly enjoyed the program. I hope that I can continue to support new music in Boston as there seems to be plenty of it going on all the time.
I'm a regular visitor to the website NewMusicBox.org, a multimedia publication that contains articles, blogs, field reports, and artist profiles dedicated to the music of contemporary composers, improvisors, and their champions. There are a number of regular contributors who offer analysis and opinions on a number of disparate topics; Charlie Parker's use/abuse of drugs might be followed by an article on intellectual skepticism. Frank Oteri is one such author, and his latest blog post, "Fitting In", asserts that listening to or making music is a collective experience, one which necessarily cannot exist in isolation. His thesis rests on the postulate that "what we
make as well as how we experience what others make is always informed by
what is around it." I agree, and I think it's a good starting point for discussion on the social and cultural ramifications that have contributed to classical music's separation from mainstream popularity.
Mr. Oteri's article mainly deals with the juxtaposition of stylistically diverse pieces of music grouped together on the same concert program. As students at Longy, we're constantly confronted with this reality whenever we go to see a live concert program--perhaps a Beethoven piano sonata is paired with a contemporary electroacoustic piece. Yet, often these programming decisions hold together because the main audience for such programs--music scholars and enthusiasts--have been conditioned to listen to things a certain way, and are familiar with the way such collections of experiences are curated. Not only this, but it can be valuable to us, as artists, to hear familiar works recontextualized. However, these sorts of juxtapositions can be jarring for the audience member who is uninitiated into this sound world (and perhaps even for those of us who are!).
If we expand this idea of juxtaposing different styles of music to a wider plane, we can begin to see how people might experience cognitive dissonance when confronted with classical music as a whole. The types of music that a person experiences, either consciously or inadvertently, conditions that person to expect certain things from that music. On a micro level, that might include harmonic progression or timbral intensity; on a macro level, it could mean the venue or method by which the music is conveyed. The fulfillment of expectations is generally preferred to the frustration of them; thus, people whose musical expectations cannot be fulfilled by classical music are likely to experience cognitive dissonance when presented with it. As a result, classical music is in danger of becoming an island unto itself--an unapproachable genre whose practitioners try to keep it in a self-contained vacuum.
The solution, in my eyes, is to change the methods of presentation. As modern classical musicians, we must strive to educate and engage our audience. We must be artists and teachers simultaneously. While we cannot necessarily reconcile the vast aesthetic differences inherent in classical music (nor should we try to), we can provide a platform upon which such differences can be understood and appreciated. Only then will we have created the conditions for classical music to thrive and coexist.
American composer Elliott Carter is destined to receive France's highest level of distinction, Commander of the Legion of Honor. Carter, a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, is still actively writing music at the age of 103.
Carter's early music was written in the neoclassic style and is quite accessible, comparable to Samuel Barber's style of writing. His music post 1950 turns to a more atonal style with notoriously complex rhythms.
As a young musician focused in the classical field, this gives me hope
to see that contemporary composers are still being distinguished for
their work in progressing "our" field of study. Part of my reason for taking this class was to familiarize myself with contemporary composers who are the pioneers in our field (i.e. "The Future of Classical Music"). Though I must say that I am not as familiar with Carter's works as I would like to admit, it is heartening to young composers to see that their role models in the field are awarded for the contributions to the field.
I believe this distinction makes the general public aware of Mr. Carter's accomplishments. For instance, after reading this article, I was immediately inclined to go and familiarize myself with some of Carter's famous works. I was particularly struck by the opening of his First String Quartet and his interestingly scored Symphony of Three Orchestras (actually scored for three ensembles).
This brings me to my final thought. While it seems to be that finding an appreciation for contemporary classical music among the general public has been increasingly difficult due to the influx of other musical styles, it can be said that with such an increase in technological resources (streaming concerts online, general news of concerts, etc.) that classical music is also more accessible than ever. I guess there has to be a balance in everything.
When Osmo Vänskä arrived as music director of the Minnesota Orchestra, he told players he wanted them to be the top U.S. orchestra and one of the best in the world.
Doug Wright, principal trombone, recalled the meeting last week as he reflected on a contract proposal from orchestra management that would cut average musician salaries by 34 percent.
"You've seen the press from all over the world," Wright said last week. "We've achieved a level of notoriety and skill that's made us world-renowned. And now we feel we're being penalized for achieving worldwide recognition."
The breadth and depth of the contract proposal stunned the union side. Wright, a veteran negotiator who is on this year's committee, said the board has proposed more than 250 changes to the contract, erasing "40 years of accrued working conditions and rules." And then there is the economic offer that would cut average pay by $45,000. Wright said that, in some cases, salary cuts could reach 50 percent.
....
A strike last year in Detroit and bankruptcy in Philadelphia are the most visible signs of distress in an industry that has been battling financial deficits for 40 years. Unquestionably, the trend has hastened in the past several years, with orchestras in smaller metropolitan areas folding or severely truncating their seasons.
The Minnesota Orchestra has been balancing its budget by drawing from its endowment, a situation that Davis said is not sustainable. It is a mantra that he and Orchestra President Michael Henson have been repeating to donors and musicians alike for three years.
Wright said musicians are sensitive to the troubles. The union made $4.2 million in concessions during the 2009 recession, and, according to the musicians' website, the board "rejected outright" an offer two years ago of an additional $1.5 million in reductions.
...
Final contracts at the Minnesota Orchestra and the SPCO likely will not include the draconian numbers in the initial trial balloons. The severity of those proposals, however, seems to have changed the dynamic between board and musicians. While West emphasized in an interview that "we value our musicians," the numbers speak for themselves.
Davis said there are two kinds of American orchestras: those that have gone through painful restructuring, and those that are going to go through it. Exceptions might be Los Angeles, San Francisco, New York and Chicago -- organizations with greater endowments or income streams. But the question of excellence and retaining top-tier talent strikes directly at the Minnesota talks.
"These are real people with real lives, and they have to protect their own financial circumstances and artistic integrity," Davis said, referring to the musicians. "There's a risk that they find their way to another place, and those who can leave will. It's going to be a personal decision where they want to perform." http://www.startribune.com/entertainment/168850596.html?refer=y Article by: GRAYDON ROYCE , Star Tribune
September 8, 2012 - 4:53 PM
It becomes an issue of cutting budget for Minesota orchestra. The salary should not measure musician's ability, the minimum guideline for their salary with which they feel some proud of their position seems to necessary.
I think this budget cut and the relationship of money and the size of groups of musicians (especially for Orchestra members) are going to be significant and serious issue in near future during this economic crises.
Towards the end of chapter one of Highbrow Lowbrow (a book in which the author, Lawrence W. Levine, demonstrates how recent are the cultural categories we have come to accept as matter-of-course), Levine concludes (in reference to the end of the nineteenth century), "Theaters, museums, symphonic halls, and parks were public places, they were meant to create an environment in which a person could contemplate and appreciate the society's store of great culture individually, anything that produced a group atmosphere, a mass ethos, was culturally suspect." I thought about this statement for quite a while, considering that the voice of culture at the time was that of wealthy donors, with interests primarily in promoting their status in society...their exclusivity. However, the question came to mind: Today's voice, the voice of the public, the popular voice, aren't they all preaching individuality?
Any sub-culture in the United States, the sum of whom makes up the "popular" genre, came out of a movement whose sole identity rests in its contrast to the majority! The entire premise behind punk-rock is its political and anti-establishment tone and message- in other words, anti-mainstream. Genres such as Rock n' Roll and Punk Rock are considered predominantly white genres of music while rap and hip-hop are particularly black dominated. Why is it that white audiences don't find rap and hip-hop inaccessible? The question must be asked considering the multitude of historic and cultural undertones lining the overall experience of the genre. Music has to be lived to be understood. If you haven't lived in a ghetto, how can you possibly share in the expression of that experience through music? Consider Rock music. Rock has served as "a vehicle for a multitude of political and social movements those including mods and rockers in the UK and the ‘hippie’ counterculture that spread out from San Francisco in the US in the 1960s. Similarly, 1970s punk culture spawned the visually distinctive Goth and Emo subcultures. Inheriting the folk tradition of the protest song, rock music has been associated with political activism as well as changes in social attitudes to race, sex and drug use, and is often seen as an expression of youth revolt against adult consumerism and conformity." [source: wikipedia on Rock music].
What do all of these genres have in common? Accounting for individuality, there is something in addition: these genres are all relevant to current social mindsets and political opinion. In that sense, I understand the common viewpoint that classical music might be a bit outdated. However, assuming one identifies with a given sub-culture and therefore identifies with one [or more] out of many groups: youths, blacks, whites, rebels, etc. How will these groups ever identify with the rest of humanity? Where is the expression of the citizen of the world? With so many different lenses through which to see the world, how will we ever sympathize with each other's point of view?
The answer: by viewing the world of the past from a shared vantage point; that of the present. The Classical genre is a way of looking upon the musical thought and expression of the human condition from a removed vantage point. In this way, Classical music can serve as a pure study, a medium through which individuals can place themselves in context, on a timeless scale. Consider this, could it be that our removal from the politics of the classical century has given us more insight into the music itself? Perhaps if we lived during the time of Beethoven, the sentiment, the voice behind his composition would be too commonplace to really be heard? Perhaps, it is because of, not in spite of, our global perspective on Wagner (for instance) and the mass cultural extremism it inspired that's shakes us. If Olivier Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time was performed at a concentration camp, do you think its reception was as profound in the minds of those individuals fearing for their lives, or perhaps our current reception is more profound, being able to look back on the event from a distant vantage point and seeing the extent of the damage?
I believe that Classical music is the music of the future. And soon, Pop, Emo, Hip-hop, Rap, Rock, etc. will join it. Returning to individuality, can we ever really understand ourselves without context? Will we ever know if we married the right person until we find ourselves hand-in-hand fifty years later? Will we ever know we made history until we become history? Music is an expression of us, not just as blacks or whites in 21st-century America but as a generation among generations, a country among countries, a day among days in the long history of humanity on this planet.
These days new music is a tough
item to sell. Who wants to hear it? Sometimes beautiful, rich textures just
don’t cut it for the average listener. We have a lot of that. What should it
sound like then? There is just so much variety that everything meshes together and starts to sound
similar. We have an endless supply of popular music in various different
formats.I don’t want to hear
that.I want to hear something
that’s never been done before. Robots playing the James Bond Theme song are
cool, but I've heard that song before. I always find myself wanting, and drifting towards, music that makes me thing critically.
Over the past couple years no one
has caught my attention more than Alexander Chen. Chen works at the Google
Creative Lab in Brooklyn, NY. If you don’t know who he is you only have to
think back about a year when Google had the Les Paul doodle on their search
page and they allowed you to click and record your own songs. You could play
chords by typing on your keypad and using your mouse to strum the strings. It
was a huge hit. So big that Google kept it live on their page
for an extra 24 hours, which is the only time they’ve ever done that. If you
don’t know what I’m talking about you can view it here:
This one of a kind project takes the busiest subway system in
the world, New York City, and makes it one giant plucked instrument. The system
is based on the real time movement of each train. Each subway line is
essentially one note and as the lines cross between each other you will hear a
“ping” at various pitches. Time is sped up and slowed
down at random to get a completely random layer of sound. 20 seconds in to the
grid and you get a feel for what’s ahead. Keep it on for 2 hours and you'll be totally hooked
What Chen has done is extremely
creative, but what is it really? It's an artist who found inspiration in something and followed through with it. Musicians can draw inspiration
from a lot of crazy things.We all struggle so hard to be original that sometimes we forget
that all we have to do look around. Maybe the chance to do
something new and different will present itself right in front of our eyes or maybe we have to look a little deeper. Taking the MBTA map and making music out of it doesn't seem so original anymore. Right now I’m looking at a
guitar, I hear a ticking clock and cars are flying up my street at an ungodly pace.
Maybe I can somehow…. Anyway, try not to forget that you can do something like this to. You just look around.
I
have always believed that art is a necessity to mankind and that it
reaches its audiences under different guises. Having myself grown up in
a world filled with classical music I find it natural that I should
find my biggest source of inspiration in that realm. However, I have
never believed that there is a hierarchy in the different types of art.
If it is executed at a high level, any form is capable of reaching an
audience, whether in pop music, rock, dubstep or classical. The only
unchanging variable is that of excellence; mediocrity in any field is
bound to fail the test of time. I have been continuously surprised by
the number of people who have seldom had the occasion to listen to live
classical music, and yet, when given the opportunity, leave the concert
beaming with happiness and excitement. The question at hand is not
whether or not classical music is still pertinent to our society (it
undoubtedly is), but whether we, as musicians, are able to tear down the
walls of elitism that have been built around classical music, and build
a bridge that will allow curious and hungry minds to feel welcome in a
world that has made them feel unwelcome for far too long.
Last
year, my brother George Lepauw, founder of the International Beethoven
Project, set out to create a vibrant festival in Chicago, where various
disciplines would be showcased together, and where the lines between
artist and public would be blurred. Under the umbrella inspiration of
Beethovenian Genius, the International Beethoven Project’s goal is to
“celebrate music and the greatest cultural achievements of humanity...
including investigations into how and why our contemporary world can and
still does relate to Beethoven, from everyday life to new music, art,
and politics.” Last year, the Beethoven Festival went viral, receiving
over a million hits. Bringing Beethoven into the 21st century, my
brother’s festival went viral, receiving over a million hits. The
Chicago Tribune called it the “highlight” event of 2011, and Time Out
Chicago wrote it was the “hippest and most inclusive classical festival
to date,” while another review called it the “smash hit” of the season!
This year, George is orchestrating the second Beethoven Festival:
“Revolution 2012.” For nine days and nights this all-arts inclusive
festival will entertain, wow, and inspire people from all different
backgrounds with more than 60 events. Of course Beethoven is
prominently placed - opening night last Satruday featured his violin
concerto with Grammy winning violinist James Ehnes, and the closing
weekend will put on a full production of Beethoven’s only ballet, The
Creatures of Prometheus, but in the midst of these and many more
Beethoven interludes, there will be art galleries, film, dance, theater,
master classes, lectures, new music, rock, pop, jazz and blues. Next
Saturday night will feature a “Living Cinema” show which will combine
sound and image made on site, followed by a late night Dance Revolution
party that will explore the social dance continuum from 1066 to 2012.
But perhaps the most exciting part of this is the lack of separation
between the performers/artists and the public. As a BYOB event housed
in Chicago’s National Pastime Theater, the festival’s very structure
invites for moments of informal discussions with the artists, and the
many events, at times going on simultaneously in different halls means
an audience member may very well end up sitting next to Zarin Mehta or
Daniel Boico for one of the many performances. How refreshing to think
that Classical music doesn’t have to be so intimidating after all!
This
is clearly an event not to be missed, but more importantly this is an
event that serves to remind us that Classical music is not dying - far
from it! However, it does take initiative to find our audiences and it
is important not to accept things as they are, but to create events that
will generate a renewed sense of excitement not only for us as
musicians, but to allow people from all different walks of life to
discover what we have had the privilege to know for many years:
classical music totally rocks.
Is change really possible at the institutional level to allow the future of classical music to exist in a relevant and meaningful way? Because in order for classical music to even have a future, like Kaley said, it relies inexorably on the classical musician. And how the classical musician is educated means everything.
We need to expand our notion of music education. Instead of teaching western music 80 - 90% of the time with “world music” as special classes every once in a while to fulfill a curricular diversity requirement, we need to look at how our musical culture is one of many, and see how it fits in with the rest of the world. If you’ve ever taken education classes before, you may have done the cross-curricular lesson plan projects, where you pair up with someone not in your subject and collaborate on a lesson. The few times I’ve done these style lessons, I’ve found them to be extremely successful and the creative learning of the students to intensify greatly. Apply that cross-curricular style to different musical cultures and imagine the creative output that could be generated. The future of classical music may well be in a hybrid genre or mixing of cultures and classical musicians need to be ready.
Michelle Jones proposes some very interesting changes that could be made to present music schools to prepare the classical musician for an unknown future. I agree with all of her points but would emphasize the necessity to be trained in multiple genres. I’m not entirely sure enacting these ideas would result in the resurrection of the symphony orchestra or somehow create more jobs for musicians, but it would certainly broaden the spectrum of jobs that could be applied for upon graduation. It would promote the survival of the trained musician, without whom, classical music cannot survive. The only question is how and when this shift can happen within our musical institutions. And that is quite a big question...
I looked at the
pixilated photo in front of me, adorned with the deceased’s name, birth and
death dates, in a dated Lucida-sans typeface. Resting underneath the funeral
program was the illegally photocopied music I was to sing for the bereaved: “Morning has Broken” (traditional hymn, immortalized by Cat
Stevens, through which the entire Anglophone world can probably trace its
musical ancestry); “Here, There, and Everywhere” (Lennon-McCartney); “Here I
am, Lord” (modern traditional hymn, composed 1981 by Dan Schutte); and the
postlude music, a Frank Sinatra medley, played on the pipe organ with flute
improvisation. Down near the pulpit sat my guitar and the (also illegally) printed
guitar tabs for “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” (Rodgers and Hammerstein), which I was
to perform mid-service, self-accompanied. As I walked through the service in my
mind, the flutist next to me fluttered out Robert Schumann’s “Traumerei”, and soon after that, a few arias and
dances by the likes of Bizet, Gluck, and Faure. Quickly, it occurred to me that
this funeral was the familiar musical mindf*ck.
How many
services – funerals, weddings, holidays, and regular Sundays – had I attended
in my life, where this was the case? I thought about the granola-encrusted,
gay-pride marching Episcopal church I grew up attending near Seattle; our music
director was a Jewish woman who wore a yarmulke, and her assistant was a
transgendered, rock-and-roll singer-songwriter. There were gospel tunes,
original music, old English Renaissance music, American fiddle tunes, and,
whenever I came to town, the occasional Handel aria or Granados art song. Once,
even, our priest – Cambridge educated and fresh off the boat from England – broke
into a song from Jesus Christ Superstar while
breaking the bread during an Easter service. I thought about my cousins’
weddings in Montana, where professional musicians and money to pay them are
both scarce; all were a homey mix of folk tunes, classical bits played by my
brother and I (the little cousins from the big city), and old hymns that had
resounded through American chapels for the 350 years that my family has been on
this continent. These events all began in the chapel, then moved to someone’s
ranch out on the Montana countryside, where radios, cassettes, hand claps and
whatever else we could muster mixed with the sound of the wind and the braying
of the horses. One thing was sure about this eclecticism: it was a profoundly
personal, deeply intimate musical collage of our collective experience as an
American family.
As the flute
aired out and the minister began to speak, I peered over the ledge separating
me from the pews, trying to catch a brief glimpse of the bereaved. I was
surprised to feel a sense of familiarity with this waspy clan; all lily-white
and blond, sporting pearls, talking of their now deceased grandmother’s yacht
and private New England beach. Observing their colossal wedding rocks, I
realized it was probably not an issue for them to write the scrappy singer a
$150 check for an hour of work. Yet here we all were, in a wooden church built
in 1681, celebrating 90 years of their loved one’s life, which they had made
clear was simply impossible without Paul McCartney, Frank Sinatra, Rodgers and
Hammerstein, and Bizet.
Then I understood
the sense of familiarity. Despite the gap in cultural and economic background, parallel
generations of our family resonated through a parallel musical narrative. This
grandmother wore pearls, rode yachts and drank Martinis; my grandmother cleans
wild game, climbs mountains and drinks whisky, but they both answer
passionately to Frank Sinatra. And when the time comes for my beloved
grandmother’s funeral, it won’t sound particularly different. This American
liturgical experience is an odd, but incredibly transparent, portal into our
most intimate American musical mindset – we are invited into tunes they loved
as children, as students, as young adults, and as elders. A hodgepodged, epic
journey.
So, the future
of classical music, as seen through the liturgy: am I saying that Bizet will no
longer thrive flawlessly in Carnegie but rather sight-read in the chapel, with
some fumbles, next to Sinatra? Perhaps, but that is another discussion. The
importance of my realization yesterday was that I, as trained classical
musician, make a living this way. We can scrap continuously for gigs at posh
concert halls, for steady positions at the declining and unappreciated
symphony, but nowhere will our services be appreciated and needed as much as in the American church or temple. There is no other venue where we are
paid with honest tears and genuine gratitude. And the more humanly and
passionately we can sing a Beatles song after a technically superb Mozart
oratorio aria, the more we are worth monetarily, and perhaps culturally. The
modern conservatory – and even the modern concert hall – must absolutely
embrace this notion, educating its pupils in the ways of jazz, blues, pop, and
folk history and performance practice. The days of Verdi exclusively bringing
home the bacon are long gone – and, to be honest, I don’t think they ever
existed in America. If we can offer Sinatra or McCartney music with the same
control and expertise that we offer Beethoven, the life of the modern
“classical” musician will be forever more fulfilling.
Recalling my
mother’s funeral several years ago, which was an unexpected and tragic affair,
the necessity of the trained musician rings close to home. In a grief-fogged
memory, I am sitting on my living room couch, friends and family all around,
and our priest looks warmly at me after the mention of music at the service. “I
expect you do not want to sing, Kaley,” she says, with a palpable warmth and
understanding. I quickly nod that no, I do not.
She smiles and
turns to the others in the room, readying herself for a healing message: “In
times like these, we realize the importance and necessity of the available
trained musician in our society. Musicians with lifetimes of experience, and
educations that teach them to play passionately, truthfully, with the utmost
control. When mourning a loved one, we cannot ask ourselves to display this
control; this is where our trained musicians are our greatest healers.”
We nod, and I
feel a special gratitude towards her comment. She then asks me, in my “trained”
opinion, what music should be played? I answer as daughter: “ ‘Morning Has
Broken’; perhaps a Beatles song; and Pie Jesu from the Faure Requiem.” My
brother nods, and suggests his dear friend, a professional violinist – who was
still grieving his own father – play any pieces of his choosing as prelude and
postlude. The resulting service was one that resembled the aforementioned model
– the musical hodgepodge, the narrative of the American life. The music was
spectacular; healing, emotive, yet skillful and controlled. This is what we
need in times of grief, and even in joy; and, from my experience on the other
side of the choir loft, we musicians desperately need this as well. We are
trusted deeply by these
congregations, and we must deeply value this trust. We are the American griot.
So there I sat
in front of the mourning, strumming my acoustic, wondering whether I should
sing “Climb Ev’ry Mountain” in the traditional classical style, or as I felt it
– a little belt here and there, a scoop in places, a little bluesy
improvisation if it seemed right. I caught a smile from the reverend and a warm
glance from the deceased’s daughter. And then I realized, if I took my proper
breaths and played with a steady hand, it didn’t really matter.
