There's a tiny boil of anger heating up just just beneath the surface in the classical music world, a boil just begging to be lanced. Witness, as exhibit A, the partly hysterical responses to my most recent post about classical music.
I had postulated a very simple thing, after which I asked a single unadorned question:
My postulate was merely that the concert experience we enjoy today has not always been the same as we find it now. And to illustrate that claim, I cited several primary and secondary sources from a much larger body of literature that provides supporting evidence. This hardly seemed controversial.
At that point, I asked my fellow readers what still seems to me to be a useful question: "Are there any things we can do to improve the concert experience to make it more connective to a greater body of people in our time and our place?"
What followed was a veritable tsunami of bottled up... well something.
The usual suspects were present, of course. They began, naturally, with our old friend, the ad hominem ("Dare doesn't know what he's talking about," "must be a horrible fellow," "a real trouble maker") which of course were entirely unresponsive to the question that had been posed.
Then from there, a hapless gaggle of writers took the predictable straw man approach ("he wants us to clap between every movement," "it'll be chaos," "talking everywhere," "cell phones going off, texting," "we'll be buried in a tidal wave of candy wrappers," "soon fist fights will be breaking out.") None of this, of course, had anything to do with what I actually wrote.
A great many of the comments, to be fair, were enflamed more by other commenters, egging one another on like villagers with torches and pitchforks, ready to drive the dangerous Frankenstein monster from their midst, than they were by anything material in my essay. That is all fine and good. It is part and parcel of the delicious new democracy the Internet is allowing us to create together.
As the chatter wore on though, increasingly thoughtful people began to enter the discussion, some making cases extolling the value of silence, contemplation and attention paying. By and large, by the way, I agreed with those folks, except of course for the uglier strain of that theme that took the form of "I'm not here for the audience, I'm here for me." Well, good luck in the future with that plan.
In case it settles down the more jumpy music lovers in our midst, by the way, I will disclose that I personally enjoy sitting in meditative silence during the many concerts I attend, and I probably always will. I'm introverted when it comes to listening to music. But that's mostly because I have been trained to behave in that manner. I have nothing against my own traditions, nor have I arrived on the scene to spoil anyone else's quietude, you may rest assured. But I believe we must consider our situation from outside our mere personal needs if we are to give music the hearing it actually deserves.
The harsh truths revealed by the sheer weight of the numbers pressing down upon the orchestra world in Western countries, in fact, force us to engage a larger frame of reference:
The world's population is growing by leaps and bounds, and yet at the same time live classical concert attendance (particularly in America) is shrinking considerably. If we continue then moving rigidly in the direction we are now being led by our own possibly angry (if outwardly rather dignified) intentions, we shall all have our precious silence in abundance quite soon. Too much silence. Nothing but silence. No music. No performances. Just emptiness.
The Way to a Better Future
That dismal fate, however, need not be the final coda we perform together unless we are collectively stupid enough to let the current trends continue on their merry way, inch by inch, little by little. Indeed, the NEA estimates there are today still a whopping 234 million intelligent, beautiful, worthy people living in our country who almost never attend classical concerts. And those are the good folks I was thinking about when I wrote my prior article, and about whom I continue to think now.
That is one of the things leaders do: try to imagine what the experience of those they serve might be like, reimagine things, try to find new ways to connect the best of the old with the best of the new.
If classical music is so valuable (and I believe it is) then we ought to be eager to share its joys with those not "in the club" yet, so to speak. In spite of those who quibbled with the title of my last piece, I still believe not sharing something as wonderful as what we have in music is indeed "awfulness" -- and even worse would be not even wanting to share it with others because they might be a bother to us.
Ultimately, shouldn't everyone to have the opportunity to experience what we love so much about the classical music world? Don't we want them all to sing, to dance, to listen, to laugh, to cry, and to become freer by the power of music, if they are willing?
New Rules, Same Outcome
I was interested by a book I read last year that had nothing at all to do with music, Racism without Racists, by Eduardo Bonilla-Silva. The essential thesis was that although overt racism has fallen out of fashion in America, de facto discrimination nevertheless continues unabated in new more subtle forms between in and out groups within our society. Having made this bold claim, the author then struggles for several hundred pages to find ways to overcome the lag.
For our purposes, the book's argument is, I believe, germane to other areas as well. To a large extent, the author's thesis may be similarly applied to various aspects of gender inequality, diversity in sexual orientations, class distinctions, and some of the more isolating behaviors of political factionism -- anywhere, in fact, in which an "other" may be defined and then easily set aside or gotten rid of. These issues impact our nation every day. And we should be careful not to allow this insidious pattern to embed itself into our musical life too. Music should rather bind us together, it should connect us.
The Danger of Music
Closer to home, I am reminded of Richard Taruskin's most recent book, The Danger of Music and Other Anti-Uptopian Essays which is my favorite from among his many challenging tomes, all of which I have eagerly devoured. To read the preface alone, is to be forever changed: "Utopianism always entails a body count" he gravely begins.
I remember reading this line the first time, and aside from being wholly gobsmacked by Taruskin's formidable intellect, I was initially a bit confused by his caution against utopianism. Utopia is a "good" idea, isn't it? I thought it's what we wanted to achieve?
But "what utopians envision is not a better world. It is a perfect world," he explains. "And that is what makes them dangerous, because if perfection is the aim, and compromise taboo, there will always be a shortfall to correct -- a human shortfall." Now his meaning began to become clear to me. "And if you or I really believe we have the means of perfecting the world, you may feel justified in doing away with me, or I with you."
Then, lest we miss the connection to music he is suggesting, Taruskin concludes, "Incremental progress is the best defense against the blandishments of utopian thinking. Those who believe in human progress without believing in perfectibility will seek the best for their fellow human beings without being tempted to enslave them. The narcissistic contempt for what is attainable resembles the contempt so many music critics entertain toward musicians who try to write good music (not "great music") and give good performances (not "great performances") and who define the good in terms that relate to their actual, real-world audiences. There is the nexus between political utopianism and the kind that infests the world of classical music, and there is my reason for so passionately opposing the latter, even in the absence of a body count. For there are casualties even so, and the main one has been the toll utopianism has taken on the value of classical music to and in contemporary culture."
Make of Dr. Taruskin's invocation what you will. I, for one, agree with him completely.
And moreover I believe the declining classical music attendance numbers and broken budgets and ever weakening support for our art form nationwide are partly the result of not heeding his warning against the danger of trying only to protect the ideal, the already known and complete, rather than also creating the new together in joyful experimentation which is at the heart of nearly all music.
And that is why I have and continue to encourage us to think ever more deeply here about ways we can improve the situation.
If the concert experience we have now is the best that can be had, then so be it. But if we can devise even more ways to connect our beloved music ever more meaningfully with new audiences, why not give it a try?
If that’s not seen as a feasible model for other places (though it certainly seems possible), and you, orchestra manager, are looking for ways to increase your paid attendance, I see nothing wrong with concerts that go beyond “the music itself” to demystify it and offer some added entertainment and education (which, together, might equal appreciation). Consider Bernstein’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra telecasts, which were fun and illuminating (mostly, I suspect) for curious adults. The Chicago Symphony – as may be obvious, I’m from Chicago – does a series of concerts called “Beyond the Score” which prefaces a performance of a famous work with what amounts to a live documentary, complete with actors portraying the composer and other characters, and a narrator/guide using the orchestra to illustrate various facets of the piece as they’re discussed. [More to come.]
People have to be led to the website, and I don’t have the expertise to speak to the nuances of a marketing campaign or “branding” or, Lord help us, “social media,” but I would suggest a highly professional effort that walks the line between stuffy and patronizing. I wouldn’t be in a rush to jettison formality, which contributes to an aura of prestige that’s nicely already built in and, I think, is attractive even to younger potential audience members. The fanciest dressers at the symphony, I often find, are younger folks. Even kids seem to dig the sense of occasion. A friend of mine (we’re both in our thirties) recently insisted on wearing a tux to the opera, even after I told him it wasn’t necessary. Why not build on that concept? You’re not going to turn a Cadillac into a Mustang, and why would you want to? But you could turn it into a BMW. [I’ve run out again – one more to come.]
A closing thought on “tiresome” programming: Like it or not, it sells. Try getting a ticket for Muti conducting Beethoven 5, of all things, this week. Those concerts aren’t sold out because he’s also doing rarities by Prokofiev and Shostakovich on the same program. So there’s a lesson: mix your interesting stuff with your standard stuff, and you’ll make everyone happy!
And I have to disagree that it is not about individual expression. This is a widely misconstrued notion. Within the context of "blending well with the section, playing correctly and appropriately, and not messing up" there is much individuality to be "expressed". Truly, if a musician is only concerned about those three things she is not using her finer instincts nor bringing her full musicality to bear, which is what any fine conductor wants from her at all times, not just when s/he is asking for it. There is nuance, color of tone, width and speed of vibrato, projection of musical character, playing a true "pp" dynamic, etc.
And again I mention the Berlin Phil. Ask your musician friends if they think those musicians are putting on a "superficial" show and whether it makes no difference to the sense of involvement they feel (and project) as an ensemble. I think the Berliners would roll THEIR eyes at the assertion. Oh those Americans, what do they know.
You may think of it as appealing to shallow tastes, but for even well educated listeners more obvious musician involvement enhances the experience for them. I have spoken with many concert goers and when I bring up the staid demeanor of the players they are quite quick to remark on it. I hate to accept this, but it is a fact, that listeners are more visually oriented than ever before, and to bring more of them into the hall there has to be something more for them to "watch". I hate that as much as you do. I am finally facing the harsh reality. You want extra musical talk or lectures or stage shows, and I want more enthusiasm to come off the stage, and a revitalization of the repertoire; to include the great music of the recent past. We're parsing matters here. I think the visceral is stronger than the intellectual to the modern listener. There will come a time when those routine performances of the Beethoven/Mozart fare will no longer bring enough people in to keep most orchestras alive.
Now he backtracks, claiming, disingenuously I think, that we had him all wrong. It’s not clear that Dare would in fact change any audience conventions after all. But if he didn’t want us to think that making out to Tchaikovsky, yawping to Mahler, booing Schoenberg, or yelling at an errant horn player would warm the cockles of his heart, then he shouldn’t have suggested, pretty clearly, that the expectation that we all sit still and be quiet until the end is unduly oppressive and prime evidence of the classical music world’s collective anal obstruction.
ACD (A.C. Douglas)
I should have added that, needless to say (or, rather, it should be needless to say), that pandering to the tastes and sensibilities of the Great Unwashed when the matter concerns high (as opposed to pop) art or culture is NEVER the right road to take for any reason whatsoever.
ACD
This series of articles has stirred an important dialogue and I look forward to more of it.
I liked and very much agreed with your post on "The Awefullness of Classical Music." While I am not only a classical music enthusiast, I feel there are a number of things we can do to 'fix' the problem of getting people to the concert hall.
My own blog has several posts, most recently here: http://www.interchangingidioms.blogspot.com/2012/06/narcissist-or-enthusiast-is-my.html Where I discuss the need for musicians and arts organization to start talking about more than just themselves, but about classical music as a whole. Share their passion for classical music via social media so the world can hear "from the horses mouth" so to speak about why they are so in love with music.
Part of this is educating the public as to what's available, part of it is educating the public as to why they should consider it but part of it is getting musicians are arts administrators to stop being complacent about classical music.
As a composer, I want to write music that is accessible to the audience and yet challenging and fun for the musicians to perform. Based on the response of the musicians in TwtrSymphony I think I am succeeding with both of these goals.
TwtrSymphony hasn't officially released any tracks yet, but you can get a glimpse as to what we're working on here: http://chipmichael.com/TwtrSymphony/BirdsOfAFeather.php
Although we've never met in person yet, the things you are experimenting with seem really innovative and worth trying.
For readers who want to get a sense of some of the things Chip is doing to connect to new audiences, I suggest starting here for an interesting introduction:
http://www.interchangingidioms.blogspot.com/2012/05/how-is-twtrsymphony-getting-so-much.html
For readers who would like to read some of the ideas "Mr. CutTime" (referenced in the Comment above) has about connecting new audiences with classical music, a good place to start is here: http://www.cuttime.com/faqs.htm
There are also numerous Youtube videos of his work that can easily be found. Well worth checking out!
When I was in music schools, and even when I was a pro player, I never once heard the word “customer.” The focus was on my relationship with my stand partner, the personnel manager, and the conductor. The goal in practicing was always about precision, playing the notes perfectly and getting that symphony gig. The audience was not my department.
In my memoir (“Real Men Don’t Rehearse”), I tell stories of making ad hoc personal connections with the audience. For a while at Pops I was seated on the edge of the stage, and I would say to people in the front row, “Hello, my name is Justin, and I will be your bass player this evening.” The audience folks always loved it, but the management saw no value in my making personal connections to the customers, and I was demoted away from the edge.
“The music” is only one element of what is really an event business. As Peter Drucker asked, “Who is our customer? What does our customer value?” There is no single right answer, but in my experience, this kind of question is seldom asked in the culture of orchestras. many professions fall into silos of disconnection from customers but the orch business can no longer afford to do so.
I just read it for the first time, and it's both insightful and fun!
As a museum director, I'm constantly working with our team to realize that we are not representative of the totality of our audience. We exist as a service organization for a diverse community with wide-ranging needs, preconceptions, and interests. A couple of (small) ways I personally work on this:
--prototype everything with real visitors, on the museum floor. Don't kill a potentially good idea because you don't personally like/get it, and don't give something a pass that your audience thinks is a dud.
--find ways to actively pursue, listen to, and engage with your future audience, i.e. people who are NOT currently coming but might be inclined to do so. Find out what they are confused by, hate, etc. and remedy that.
--make yourself uncomfortable every once in a while. Go to a tattoo parlor, or a samba club, or a church, or any community space that feels unfamiliar. Note what feels welcoming or foreign to you.
--Be genuinely interested in what diverse audiences have to offer to your organization. For me, this drives everything. I want those people here, I care what they think, and I believe in their abilities to be creative contributors.
We've had 100% attendance growth at my museum over the last year with this approach.
Nina Simon, Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History