Winters

Video Project Results IV: Final Thoughts

Tue, 20 Mar 2012 00:30:22 GMT

This is my last short post to summarize the results of the animated video I produced for the St Paul JCC Symphony. Click here to see the video. In the end, the most important measurable for this project is audience response. On this point I had no idea what to expect. I mean honestly, it was a cartoon animated by an amateur, played during an otherwise serious symphony concert before a rather conservative audience. I figured the odds were not in my favor. At intermission I received almost no feedback, although I spent much of that time packing up computers and video projectors. After the concert I assumed my video would be forgotten in light of the really fine performance of the Rachmaninoff piano concerto we all had just enjoyed. I entered the hall expecting little in the way of comments. Boy was I wrong. A steady stream of audience members materialized and I spent the next ten or fifteen minutes accepting what I'm certain were heartfelt thank-you's and congratulations: an elderly gentleman compared my efforts to Scriabin's unrealized masterpiece, "Mysterium" that was to have combined elements of music, dance, scent and light; a woman positively gushed at the creativity and professionalism of the project; a twelve year old boy came up to me with determination and announced, "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen." It was a long line. And it was made up of people of all ages, both genders and (I suspect) many different musical backgrounds. It was a bit overwhelming. I came away with two general observations: First, it appeared that although the comments came from a variety of individuals, there were relatively few trained musicians offering positive comments (there were some, but not all that many). I expected this, but still wonder about the reasons: outright disapproval? discomfort in showing approval in front of others? misunderstanding? confusion about how to respond as a musician? Second, I was struck by the energy and enthusiasm of the comments I received. I've done many concerts and had many occasions for people to offer their thanks and congratulations, but this was not like anything I've experienced before. The smiles alone were noteworthy (is it so rare for people to smile after an art music performance?) but behind the smiles there was more; an energy - an aliveness. The word that went through my head at the time was "awake." These people were awake and active and engaged and it felt different than other events I've done or been to. My conclusion? Certainly not that we should create cartoons to accompany every piece of classical literature. And not that every art music concert should be filled with multimedia content. My conclusion is that there is definitely room for a bit more multimedia content at our concerts - the audience appetite is there and the technologies are much more user friendly than they were just a few years ago. And also, I think I have determined for myself that live performances of high art do not need to take themselves quite as seriously as is the modern custom. Much of our standard repertoire was written either as background music or as light-hearted diversions. Of course there are many works that are authentically serious in their nature. But in the end, how is it possible to even consider presenting Prokofiev's March with a straight face? Maybe we need to be a bit more honest about the true nature of the music we present and allow for a bit of good-natured fun in our concerts. Its possible this may be the best way to respect the great masterworks.

Video Project Results III: A cartoon next to Rach 2?!? Are you crazy??!!??

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 23:33:04 GMT

Continuing a series of short posts about "Bad Apple," an animated video I created to accompany a live performance of a composition by Prokofiev, here is my most surprising observation. To view the video, click here.

For me the most profound observation came later in the program. After the Prokofiev March there was an intermission. Following intermission pianist Denis Evstuhin took the stage for a performance of Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto. I had been curious to see how my silly little cartoon would fit next to such a significant masterwork. The results were astonishing. Talking with audience members after the concert, I learned that I was certainly not the only one who noticed a very positive effect from the Prokofiev performance. It was as if the short cartoon had cleared our minds, relaxed us, and prepared us for the concerto. I have been to many concerts over the years and I have never felt so mentally ready to experience a lengthy, sophisticated work. Many others agreed with me.

It seems that in designing concert programs we many times look to pair major works with compositions that generally match the sophistication and gravitas of the featured work. I suspect that our brains are designed to respond much better if presented with contrasting materials, like a comic episode preceeding a serious aria in an opera - or a cartoon followed by a hefty concerto. Going into the concert I know I was very glad to have an intermission bewteen my fun little video and the piano concerto; some mental space to regain the serious atmosphere required by such a monumental work seemed necessary. In hindsight, I really wonder how the two would feel placed directly next to each other.......

Stay tuned to see if I ever actually try it ;)

Video Project Results II: Unexpected Inspiration

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 23:25:00 GMT

This is a series of posts about an animated video I produced for the st Paul JCC Symphony. The video, a cartoon to accompany a performance of Prokofiev's March from "The Love for Three Oranges," had its public premiere last week. Click here to view the video.

At the concert I was asked to say a few words before taking the podium to guest conduct the piece (and simultaneously run the video from a computer in front of the conductor's stand). Since the piece is less than two minutes long, I asked the orchestra to play the March once without the video so that the audience could imagine their own story to accompany the music. Then we played it with the video.

The first thing I noticed was that the orchestra played noticeably better the second time through (even an audience member commented on this after the concert). I am convinced that the video provided an extra level of inspiration for the players. Even though they were not actually watching the video as they played, they seemed to be recalling the cartoon they saw at dress rehearsal and responding to it in their performance. Call me crazy, but this reaction makes me want to try a video installment where the ensemble really is watching the images unfold during performance. I have long suspected that it may be possible to create a very deep interaction bewteen the media and the musicians where the media almost becomes a part of the ensemble, but I did not anticipate this video providing such strong real-time inspiration.

The immediate audience reaction to the performance was a bit stronger than I had expected as well: there was a healthy group laugh at the end of the video. Of course, silly music set with a silly cartoon should result in smiles and laughter, but I was pretty sure that this otherwise conservative audience (which came to hear Rachmaninoff's piano concerto, after all!) would be pretty stingy with the audible chuckles. I was wrong.

Next: A cartoon next to Rach 2?!? Are you crazy??!!

Video Project Results I: Pre-Concert

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 23:20:00 GMT

Last Wednesday the St Paul JCC Symphony gave the public premiere of an animated film I wrote and produced called "Bad Apple." The film was created to accompany a live performance of Prokofiev's March from the opera "The Love for Three Oranges." I've had a few days now to think about the concert and want to write down some observations from the event. To view the cartoon I created for the concert, click here.

First, some thoughts from the early days of the project....

Going back to the start of the project, I remember introducing the music director to my concept and walking her through a storyboard for the film. I felt that the character of the music really called for a cartoon-ish treatment, but I had never done any animation. I stressed to her that if we went forward with the animation project we needed to view it as a worthy experiment in the logistics of pairing moving images with music and not as a significant cinematic work. We both agreed to be 'OK' with less than Pixar quality video and I began work.

By the time the date of the dress rehearsal rolled around I had already learned so much about timing moving images to music and how to conduct from visual cues that I counted the project a success , no matter the audience's reception to it at the concert. (almost as a bonus, I obviously had learned a whole lot about 3D modelling and animation as well!) At the dress rehearsal I had the orchestra leave the stage so that they could watch the video on the big screens from the audience's perspective. I saw some grins and heard a few muffled chuckles, but that was pretty much the only feedback I received. I went into the concert night not really knowing what to expect.

Next post: Surprising inspiration from the video.

So What Comes After "Bad Apple"?

Tue, 13 Mar 2012 03:48:01 GMT

It occured to me some time ago that the film score is one of the most important, approachable, and rich musical forms to come out of America. In fact, the film score is one of the only American musical forms that regularly bridges the gap bewteen universal appeal and high art. It is culturally significant AND (to varying degreees) profound. Indeed, the folks in Hollywood have seen great success over the years using music to compliment their cinematography and storytelling.

It strikes me that this relationship between story (drama), images (cinematography) and music (soundtrack) could be tweaked very successfully to adjust the heirarchy. In most every film project the story is put into first position in this heirarchy. The cinematography is placed in second position; an essential component of the project, but its main role is to effectively deliver the story through images. Music is nearly always put into third position; in a supporting role to both the drama and the cinematography.

Imagine an artwork where the music is raised to first position and dramatic elements and cinematic images are used to provide support for the musical message from the second or third position. This does not necessarily mean something like a silent film or a musical - in these cases the story is still central. Rather, it might be simple abstract images floating across the screen or an actor, dancer or narrator being asked to interact with the music in a supporting role.

To me the possibilities seem endless. I am convinced that we musicians can use drama and cinematography in support of our work just as effectively as Hollywood directors have used music in their projects.

And I'll go one step further: I really don't envision a rush to create cinema around every piece of the standard concert repertoire. Instead, I suspect there may be exciting work to be done by composers who are freed to write scores from that first position, utilizing dramatic and cinematic elements to underscore the music rather than the other way around.

It might even be a new musical genre: the movie-less soundtrack.

What Was I Thinking --- An Animated Cartoon?!?!?!

Fri, 09 Mar 2012 06:30:00 GMT

In 1992, while on the music faculty at Bethany Lutheran College in Mankato, MN I was introduced to Walt Disney's animated classic, "Fantasia." I remember well my first response: "I want to do this live with an orchestra!" Of course I recognized that performing Disney's animation live was not really possible, but I never forgot the effect of seeing concert music 'choreographed' with moving images. In 2011 I founded Pulse Productions, a project designed to revisit the live concert experience through the development of multimedia content and by attempting to completely re-think the paradigms behind modern concert programming. The goal of Pulse Productions is to infuse our rich orchestral tradition with new contemporary meaning and vitality. This week Pulse Productions has a premiere that moves me alot closer to my goal of 'doing Fantasia live.' On March 14 the St Paul JCC Symphony will premiere an animated short film I created called "Bad Apple." Now, before I go any further I should point out that I am NOT an animator. Before this project I had never done any 3D modelling, I knew nothing about animation 'bones' or rigging, and I only had a vague idea about how keyframes worked. I simply downloaded the open source animation program called Blender on my computer and started watching the video tutorials on YouTube. Considering my complete lack of knowledge or training when I started this crazy project, I must admit I'm pretty happy with the results. No Oscars for Best animated Short Film coming my way, but its a fairly effective little two minute film. So why did I do it? "Bad Apple" is part of an ongoing research effort of mine to develop a fully integrated video component for the concert hall. Basically, this means a video that can move and breathe with the music by adjusting the playback rate in real time. With this technology it would be possible to free film clips like those in "Fantasia" from the DVD player and experience them live with a symphony orchestra. The impact such technology could have on the live listening experience is immeasurable. I have had conversations with Kristin Johnson, Director of Operations at the Houston Symphony (they did "The Planets - An HD Odyssey" that got rave reviews) and Clyde Scott, Director of Video Production at The New World Symphony; both agree that the use of video in the concert hall is kind of stuck until better playback software is available. I have that software all figured out in my head and its time to start testing my ideas. That's what "Bad Apple" is really all about. If you watch my video you will see several set pieces that act as a metronome for the live orchestra (sometimes obvious, sometimes intentionally obscured). With a monitor at the podium, the conductor will use the pulse given by these objects to keep the orchestra linked to the video. Ultimately I to reverse this hierarchy so that the video follows the orchestra and not the other way around. "Bad Apple" is a big step in this research. I am conducting the premiere on Wednesday and I hope to learn alot about how orchestras and projected moving images interact with each other in the concert hall. Wish me luck. Or better yet, come check it out. Click Here For"Bad Apple" Premiere Performance Details

Bad Apple, Clip 2

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 04:05:00 GMT

Bad Apple, Video Clip #2: CLICK HERE

I have a huge interest in exploring ways to update and improve the live concert experience for classical music audiences. I have done several multimedia installations at live orchestra concerts, and each time I've gotten very positive feedback.

Its not that I think every classical music concert should have video and laser light displays, but I do think there is alot more that we can do.

So when I was asked to create a multimedia installation for a performance of Prokofiev's march from "The Love for Three Oranges" I said yes immediately. The trouble was, my idea for the performance required a Chuck Jones style animated cartoon (think Bugs Bunny). I am not an artist and I have never animated anything (unless you count those silly drawings in the corners of my high school notebooks).

In the past month and a half I have taught myself the computer program called Blender and my project is moving along nicely. I am confident I will have a presentable film for the mid-March deadline. Click the link above to view a video preview. You can find the first video clip in my previous blog post (Feb 12, 2012).

Before I close I want to mention the audio clip I used and the end of this video preview. Its by a Finnish band called Apocalyptica comprised of three classically trained cellists, drums and guitars. I'm not a huge heavy metal fan, but I was impressed with the way these cellists are thinking outside the box.

Enjoy the video clip and watch for details on the premiere of my animated short coming soon. Click here to subscribe to my email list and you'll be the first to know about my next preview clip, the concert details, and other stuff I'm working on. Thanks for watching.

Fantasia Revisited

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 05:20:00 GMT

VIDEO LINK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QqptfPP5flo I remember the day I saw Disney's "Fantasia" for the first time. I was convinced that some day I wanted to do something like it with a live orchestra. Well, I might just get my chance in March, 2012. I was recently asked to create a multimedia compenent for a live performance of Prokofiev's "March from The Love for Three Oranges." This has been an intense project since I've never animated anything and had to learn the computer program from scratch. But so far the project just keeps moving forward and I'm getting more confident that I will have a presentable video in mid-March. I have posted a very short snippet from my animation here in my blog (click the link above). The scene is not finished and there is an annoying glitch with the audio track, but it gives a good idea of what I have in mind. The 1'40" video will have a short plot and action timed to the music. Stay tuned for more project updates in the weeks ahead. Want to get updates on this project and other stuff I'm doing? Click here to subscribe to my email list.

Colorado Symphony Orchestra can't Sustain its Business Model

Sat, 26 Nov 2011 01:15:04 GMT

11-13-11 Denver Post Opinion Piece written by Heather Miller and Bruce Clinton.

Pakistan Orchestra Reinvents Jazz Classics - VIDEO

Sat, 23 Jul 2011 03:10:00 GMT

www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-south-asia-14232594

A really energizing and exciting video about a Pakistani orchestra that found success after creatively re-inventing jazz standards - and its concept of the orchestra itself. 3'50"

Creativity 2: The Essentials

Sat, 23 Jul 2011 03:05:00 GMT

My thesis in this post:

It is possible to re-imagine the role creativity and indvividuality play within orchestras.

Lots of people these days have lots of different ideas about what is wrong with the symphony orchestra - an audience that is drifting away, a system too entrenched in old traditions, ineffective music directors, mismanagement by the administration - just to name a few.

But there are a few points on which we all seem to agree: There is absolutely nothing on earth quite like a good live music performance. The orchestral canon is brimming with some of the best music ever written. The classical music world is full of really fantastic players.

To me, these points form the essence of the whole endeavor: live performance of great music by fully capable instrumentalists.

Stop right there. Nothing more need be added.

Whatever other characteristics you may want to add are simply matters of taste and tradition, they are not essentials. Orchestra size and instrumentation? Tradition. Orchestras NOT playing Rock 'n Roll on subscription concerts? Taste. Orchestra concert formats that are generally serious and reflective in tone? Taste and tradition.

Here's the thing, though: Since taste and tradition are not essential elements they do not define the endeavor.

Plato says a chair is a chair because it matches the Form or Ideal "CHAIR.' Whether our chair is blue or red or wooden or three legs or six does not change its status as 'CHAIR.' I've seen a great variety of chairs; some of them very creative. Can't say that I've seen the same variety in orchestras. Its as if we've largely restricted ourselves to only wooden red chairs with four legs. I think that's too bad.

Some caveats:

First, I am not suggesting that every orchestra should abandon prevailing tatses and traditions in favor of expanded creativity. I'm simply suggesting that it is entirely possible to imagine an orchestra that is creative and different. It would be no less legitimate than a chair made of Cheerios with no legs. Acknowledging the existence of different possibilities is an important step in re-imagining the art form.

Second, I am aware that creative orchestras do exist. Alarm Will Sound is an ensemble in New York City that really fascinates me (and there are others).

Finally, and most problematic, I am aware that the description I give above of the essence of the orchestra may not be complete. "Live performance of great music by fully capable instrumentalists" allows room for rock, jazz, world music, and hundreds of other variations. Yet limiting the Form "ORCHESTRA" to ensembles comprised mainly of bowed string instruments seems too confining. Is the prominence of the violin a matter of taste or tradition, or is it essential to the Form? I do not have an answer.

***

My next post will be a video of a new Pakistani orchestra that really encapsulates the issues above. The ensemble easily fits the Form "ORCHESTRA," but it does so in a very creative and energizing fashion. The video will surprise you and is well worth the time to watch.

After the video I will continue with more thoughts about creativity in the orchestra.

Creativity 1

Fri, 22 Jul 2011 02:15:00 GMT

Its been a while since I've added anything to this blog. I spent the first half of July rehearsing the Minnesota premiere of the musical "Curtains." The show is up and running now - come check it out!!! (details here)

In my last post (here) I shared a writing assignment from a Julliard student who says she has at least four different playing personalities depending on who her audience is. Here is a brief excerpt:

A lot of us, especially those of us who are still in school, place too much importance on playing perfectly at the expense of thinking about the audience. Of course a certain amount of technical precision is necessary to make a piece recognizable and enjoyable, but what is most noticeable to audiences is whether or not someone approaches the work with joy and spirit! As a result I've pretty much developed 4 ways of playing.

Here she describes her first playing personality:

1) The way I play in orchestra auditions - precise, mechanical, robotic. In orchestra auditions it is more important to do nothing wrong than to do anything particularly well. They are basically looking for a reason to eliminate you, and "bad intonation" is a lot more convincing than "plays like an automaton." ....

I suggested that such focus on perfection ultimately forces us to sacrifice creativity, individuality and heartfelt expression in our concert halls. In order to win a position - and keep that position - today's orchestral musicians feel they must play every excerpt with basically the same tempo, dynamic and phrasing as everybody else; the industry-accepted 'proper' interpretation. Forget about wrong notes, we're talking about a strict uniformity of expression that allows almost no room for personal interpretation. A wrong note or fuzzy tuning in these auditions is completely unacceptable, but an 'odd' interpretation can be equally dangerous.

Of course, the idea is that the best players can demonstrate mastery of this 'proper' execution of an excerpt AND play it with spirit and inspiration. That's great - when it happens. But what I hear in the words of the Julliard student is that 'note-perfect' is much more important than 'inspired' in any orchestral audition.

I went on to say that the same uniformity of candidates and basic lack of individuality is found in the music director searches at most orchestras. No matter the size, location or player make-up, every orchestra seeks the same 'ideal' music director candidates for their finalist pool.

This is the topic I'd like to explore in depth. Knowing that not everyone will agree with my thinking, here are the points I'd like to make:

1. It is possible to re-imagine the role creativity and individuality play within orchestras.

2. This new creativity can and should trickle all the way up through the organization, ultimately flavoring the ensemble's mission, vision and strategy documents.

3. The artistic leadership needed to champion greater creativity and individuality within an orchestra is centered in the post of music director.

I'll address these points in my next posts.

Playing to the Wrong Audiences?

Mon, 04 Jul 2011 23:55:00 GMT

I've mentioned Greg Sandow before. He's a music critic and professor at Julliard where he teaches a class on the future of classical music. He's also a blogger (read his blog here). Recently he included on his blog an excerpt from a writing assignment by one of his Julliard students. It is an important and telling viewpoint. Here is the excerpt (and the link to Greg's entire post) A lot of us, especially those of us who are still in school, place too much importance on playing perfectly at the expense of thinking about the audience. Of course a certain amount of technical precision is necessary to make a piece recognizable and enjoyable, but what is most noticeable to audiences is whether or not someone approaches the work with joy and spirit! As a result I've pretty much developed 4 ways of playing. 1) The way I play in orchestra auditions - precise, mechanical, robotic. In orchestra auditions it is more important to do nothing wrong than to do anything particularly well. They are basically looking for a reason to eliminate you, and "bad intonation" is a lot more convincing than "plays like an automaton." 2)The way I play in juries/other auditions - there's a little room for flexibility and personality here, but not much. I still know that I will get more points off for making a mistake than being boring, but they will notice if I'm totally phoning it in. It's especially hard to play Bach in juries because everyone has his or her own opinion as to how it should be played. I generally just play it as middle of the road as I can so that no one loves it but no one hates it. 3)The way I play in performances which my teacher is attending - I have two very wonderful teachers here at Juilliard and they both allow me a lot of artistic freedom. But every once in a while, they put their foot (feet?) down. If I really (and I mean REALLY) don't like what they want me to do, I will just pretend that I don't understand what they are asking me to do. (I'm pretty sure they know what's going on though.) If I'm ok with it but prefer my own way, I play it their way when they are listening. And I can't help but think that it probably sounds a little unconvinced, but while I'm still studying with them I feel like I owe it to them to use their ideas when they really think it's important. Do I really owe it to them? I don't know. But I'm graduating in two weeks so HA! 4)The way I play in any other performance - I try to just have fun! Especially when playing on stage with friends, I think the audience has the best time when we really interact with each other and show that we are committed to the performance. If something goes wrong, all the better! It's also important for the audience to see that we are humans. It's not easy to be so vulnerable in performance - I'm generally a little bit of a nervous performer. I usually try to remember what someone told me (I don't remember who) which is that when you get noticeably nervous in a concert it's almost better because the audience roots for you more. Anyways, hopefully my multiple personality disorder will one day be resolved - hopefully I'll have it down to 2 or 3 next year as I will be just performing and taking orchestra auditions. And once I get a job and tenure, who knows! I could very well finally become myself! I think this young music student is very insightful. I am particularly struck by "Personality 1" and "Personality 4" and their complete incompatibility. Is it any wonder that our orchestras trend toward dry, stuffy-feeling ensembles if this is the way candidates feel compelled to approach their auditions? And is it any surprise that the student believes that "Personality 4" is the one audiences respond best to? America's conservatory system produces some of the most accomplished performing musicians that have ever inhabited the planet, but the entire system - from undergrad programs to professional orchestra auditions - seems to be designed to suppress individuality and true creative expression and replace it with 'proper' technique and interpretations. I have nothing against proper intonation and flawless playing, but if in the process of acquiring fine technique - and ultimately a good paying gig in an orchestra - today's young players face fear and intimidation at the idea of displaying individuality in their performances, what have we given up to achieve that perfection? I am quite certain that everything expressed by this young Julliard instrumentalist can be applied to the conducting field as well. Every aspiring conductor knows that ensembles have a preconcieved idea of the perfect candidate in mind as they search for new music directors. And that ideal candidate is basically the same from ensemble to ensemble - no matter the orchestra's size, proficiency level, or character of its community. What would happen if ensembles began searching for unique music director candidates instead of that illusive 'ideal' conductor? (more on this in my next post) In the student excerpt above I think the scariest bit is the final paragraph. Here is (we can safely assume) a very accomplished young performer with a very clear understanding of the different forces at work in the development of her performance style. And although she admits "Personality 4" provides the most fun and best opportunities for interaction with fellow musicians and the audience, she hopes for the day when she can land a playing job and 'finally become myself" (presumably Personality 1 which, in her words she describes as an automaton). Behold the power of the American music training system - and the promise of high-paying performance jobs.

Riffs on the League Conference - 2: Innovation and the LA Phil

Wed, 22 Jun 2011 01:40:00 GMT

At the national conference of the League of American Orchestras a week ago I attended the opening plenary session titled "Creating an Environment for Innovation."

In my last post (here) I talked about a presentation by Larry Wendling, head of research at the 3M Corporation.

Later in the same session Deborah Borda, president and CEO of the LA Phil, spoke about innovation at her ensemble (full text provided below). For me the takeaway from her comments is that innovation is by its very nature a bit messy and unpredictable; two attributes that may be unattractive for organizations that pride themselves on control and refinement. Deborah shared with us that the motto at the LA Phil is "Innovation and Excellence," and she emphasized that innovation comes first in the equation, even if it causes things to be a bit uncomfortable and messy at times.

This motto is definitely NOT a standard operations model for modern, well-polished and frequently risk-averse American orchestras.

Did you see the Tony Awards broacast on television last week? It was hosted by Neil Patrick Harris. I didn't watch the whole thing, but the opening number caught my attention (watch it here). Can you imagine anything even remotely similar to this smart, witty and fun performance happening in our symphony halls? I can't. In fact, if Drew McManus at the blog site Adaptistration had not written about the opening number I likely would not have drawn a connection between the Tony's and orchestra concerts.

But its true. In the video we see Broadway lampooning itself in a fun, creative and rather spontaneous way. All these adjectives - 'fun,' creative,' 'spontaneous' - sadly have no place in our classical concert halls. Don't get me wrong, I've seen witty, I've seen creative, I've seen spontaneous in various forms and at various times while attending classical music events. But nothing I have ever seen in any classical concert hall come close to the sense of vibrant 'aliveness' you get by watching Neil's silly five minute bit.

Watch the video clip at 3:10. Neil goes out into the audience of celebrity A-listers and vamps with some stars. Brooke Shields has an obviously scripted bit she is supposed to deliver with Neil, but completely fumbles her lines and is forced to resort to using an index card with her lines on it. The effect? Charming - especially the improv Neil provides. No big deal, the show went on.

The sponteneity and loose play on display here is natural and comfortable in a Broadway setting. I doubt it would feel as comforatble in the atmoshphere we create at our classical music events.

That said, I need to give Deborah Borda and the LA Phil credit. I attended my neighborhood theater's presentation of the LA Phil Live last fall when Gustavo Doudamel conducted a program including Beethoven's 7th Symphony. The entire event - including backstage activity - was broadcast live to movie theaters across the country. This was a live performance and some of the backstage interviews and segments that were 'scripted' by the production team were noticeably rough. But rather than feeling cheap or unprofessional, those sloppy and rather awkward moments we in the theater seats shared with the concert's host were an acceptible component of being part of an innovative approach to audience outreach.

"Innovation and Excellence." The two really do work togther.

*****

Here is the full text of Deborah Borda's speech at the League's conference.

Toto – We’re Not in Leipzig Anymore
By Deborah Borda

Innovation – innovation – innovation. Is it all it‘s cracked up to be? Or is it simply a buzzword of our hopped-up, sound bite society? Madonna morphs into Lady Gaga. Big deal. In today‘s environment of real and perceived orchestral woes is anything working? Do we really have to do this innovation thing? What is it anyway? Are you responsible for making change happen? Yes.

The year is 1879. Western Union dominates the technology of communication with telegraph lines crisscrossing the country. The Pony Express has folded. The telegraph is revolutionary and the future is now. Western Union rules the waves — a textbook example of a cutting-edge American business that was then defining our nation. The leadership is given the opportunity to absorb and develop a new piece of technology. They will dismiss it as a new-fangled toy with too many complications. What is it? The telephone. Western Union cancels the line that could lead it to worldwide domination in telecommunications. And how sad – the poles were already up.

Leap a century ahead to the 1970s. A rambunctious, caffeinated, young techie literally trades shares in his new company to purchase access to Silicon Valley‘s state-of-the-art tech think tank run by than industry leader Xerox. There he sees something that blows his mind.

He reportedly jumps around the room shouting, ?Why aren‘t you going to do anything with this? This is revolutionary!? The young man was Steve Jobs, the idea was the computer mouse, and his company was Apple. Sorry Xerox.

History is littered with such stunning miscalculations. Almost without exception you will find these miscalculations rooted in denial of a basic fact. Our world is constantly changing. A simple axiom applies. An institution (not to mention a person) that does not change and grow is in decline. Albert Einstein suggested that insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Today we have been asked to speak about creating an environment for innovation. Larry Wendling and Katie Wyatt have both given terrific presentations.

I‘m delighted that we brought somebody from outside our field. Seeking a totally fresh take from other arenas is one of the best methods of stimulating innovation, but we must be able to listen. And yes, for our conference it was innovative that we heard from a leader in our field who is decades younger than most of us.

This may be a simplistic truth, but to create an environment for change, you first must recognize the need for change. No organization is immune from this difficulty. No matter how successful you have been, the elements of this success will change.

Please refer back to my historical factoids about Western Union, Xerox, and Apple.

And my friends – what about us? Are there examples from our own organizations? Are we too polite or even scared to mention the troubling environment of the American symphony orchestra?
To advance this issue, I asked three of the most innovative Americans I know a simple question: ?What is the greatest impediment to innovation?? The answers were quite different but related. Might they apply to us all?
• Frank Gehry said: ?The people who are making the decisions either don‘t understand or don‘t value the options of creativity.?
• John Adams said: ?If I had to choose I‘d say ?anxiety of the unknown‘ – Freud used the term Angst vor etwas. People don‘t fear the unknown because they think it might harm them, but rather because the effort is uncomfortable and painful.?
• Ben Rosen, a pioneering guru of the tech world and a co-founder of Compaq, had an insight that the semi-conductor technology used to drive the pocket calculator and digital watch would grow into a singular force for the future – the PC and more. Rosen is about the ?more.? He is so concerned about our future that he gave me a list of the seven greatest impediments to innovation. Here they are in reverse order:
7. If it ain‘t broke don‘t fix it. (Even if it is broke don‘t fix it.)
6. We‘ve always done it this way.
5. It‘s too expensive.
4. Fear of failure.
3. Innovation will result in new versions of our products that will cannibalize our current line and make less money.
2. Organizational inertia and lack of urgency.
And the No. 1 reason? Lack of realization that while you might not be changing, your world sure is!

I think it is safe to say that like it or not, every person sitting in this hall recognizes that their world is changing. We all share something else as well. We believe in our art, we cherish our art. Why else would you ever go into this beautiful, passionate, arcane, maddening business? We struggle to move forward while remaining true to that core passion. So now, let‘s talk about a way to move forward. There are obvious challenges, and perhaps sadness around a sense of paradise lost. We are after all in an industry that is actually about art. We are rooted in five centuries of history and canon.

The motto of one of the oldest orchestras in the world, the Leipzig Gewandhaus, remains today: ?Res severa verum gaudium? (True joy is a serious thing). It is only normal that fear and sadness surrounding perceived loss can create barriers to real change.

Yes – we know we need to change, but how? Look right at yourself, be you musician, manager or board member. Are you a leader, ready to foster risk and support innovative work and ideas to move us forward? Is there anyone in this room without responsibility for our future?

Maybe you won‘t come up with the next big idea, but here is the good news. Remember, Steve Jobs did not invent the ?mouse? or the PC or the iPod. Great leaders are rarely the ones who actually come up with the idea touched by genius. Leaders are the ones who create a sense of urgency and empowerment to produce those ideas, and are prescient enough to recognize them. They must also have the will and courage to make them real.

As the CEO of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, I have the privilege of working with great and dedicated colleagues and board members who know more than I do. At the LA Phil, we allow for risk and learn from our failures. This means that we also allow for some messiness, an occasional touch of chaos, and we don‘t declare failure when we hit the first speed bump. We live by a motto that I promise you every board member, staffer, and musician knows: Innovation and Excellence. A slightly different ?take? from the Gewandhaus motto and please note: innovation comes first. (Toto – we‘re not in Leipzig anymore.) These dual concepts – innovation and excellence – are the lens by which we make decisions and seek to drive our institutional legacy. It is always stimulating and sometimes very scary.

Frank Gehry, John Adams, and Ben Rosen listed their impediments to innovation. As a manager, let me add another: we must not let our own institutional cultures and expectations of neatness strangle us. Innovation is messy. Innovation can feel destabilizing.

It‘s an almost natural urge to choke transformative ideas until they are ?safe? and corporate. We well-trained executives have a lot to worry about. What is the time frame, what are the best practices, who said you could do this, can you define exactly what it is you are doing, what are your ten-year financial projections, and – of course – what is your exit strategy? The very life can be squeezed out of an idea worth trying. Is there anything more dooming to innovation than worrying about an exit strategy? Does it simply require too much aligned institutional effort? In the end is it just too much of a departure from our current way of working? Please remember Western Union!

We simply cannot manage our orchestras as we did 20, ten, or even five years ago. We have always had an artistic imperative. In the past it was simple – that was enough. Today it becomes clearer and clearer that the requirement for a social, indeed a moral, imperative has emerged. Every single day requires consideration of ways our worth is demonstrated to our community. We will need new allies for a new future. Do not take our continued presence for granted.

As you spend these next few days at conference – but more crucially, when you go home – here are a few thoughts. Innovation is not absolutely necessary but then again neither is survival. Innovation in your artistic planning should be the easy part.

I ask you to stretch your organization to think about applying innovative practices to governance, the exploitation of the immense, unrealized digital potential, the diversification of audiences, and how you approach problem solving. The list is as long as your imagination. Search out the unexpected. Be amazed that the opportunity was sitting right in front of you all the time.

There is a spirit of vibrancy and creativity that informs our art. Consider Beethoven, Stravinsky, and Schoenberg. We revere them because they were innovators who created dynamic and seismic changes to the ?rules.? As leaders we are also creators. It is our responsibility to keep moving forward.

Today we face a special challenge and opportunity. We must pioneer more meaningful and productive ways to work with musicians. So many are alienated and – underneath – terrified of what they see as a collapse of the world as they knew it. It might be as simple as just starting to talk with them, which, as many of you know, is not as easy or simple as it sounds.

They fear that even discussing the possibility of change will somehow weaken their position, but the times are too critical to say, ?Hey, we do our job – you do yours.?
Board members must not shrink from ongoing frank institutional assessment and responsible planning. It is a disaster when this is delayed so long it ends up in bankruptcy court. This is not governance. A vibrant future will require an aligned effort.

The size of your budget should never be an excuse to scrimp on creativity. Imagination costs nothing, but you must tailor it to your needs. You should always seek the right solution for your own community. It may not be the same as the one for mine.

But trust it. It will be right for you. Because we cherish the past of our art form, are we clinging to a notion that change might ruin it? In a world of sound, are we turning a deaf ear to change? The best way to predict the future is for you to invent it. So – to re-invent the Gewandhaus motto: ?Innovation is a serious thing.

Deborah Borda is President of the Los Angeles Philharmonic Association.
(6/5/11)

Riffs on the League Conference - 1: Innovation and 3M

Sat, 18 Jun 2011 23:59:19 GMT

A week ago the League of American Orchestras held its national convention here in Minneapolis. I was not able to attend the whole conference, but I did get to some of the plenary sessions. Here are a few thoughts.

First, comments on the opening session titled "Creating an Environment for Innovation." (Video link here)

The cool part of this session was hearing Larry Wendling (head of research for the 3M Corporation) talk about the concept of innovation. (His remarks begin at 00:45:00, preceeded by a video on the birth of 3M) We musicians like to talk about innovation and how important it is for our ourganizations. But listening to the way innovation serves as the starting point for everything they do at 3M, it is pretty clear that we musicians - especially in the classical world - just scratch the surface of what true innovation is and what it means for how we run our organizations.

Larry's main points:

1) Innovation happens at the intersection of creativity and customer need.
2) Working at this intersection successfully and for sustained periods of time creates a real and sustainable value proposition.
3) Innovation draws on the creative talents of the entire organization and, at 3M, drives from the bottom up.

I think I heard a subtext in Mr. Wendling's remarks. He was clear that true innovation begins at the very roots of an organization's identity. Is it possible that Mr. Wendling believes American orchestras are too big and too institutionalized to implement true innovation?

Larry Wendling: "Its not easy to establish or change an organization's culture. If you decide that a more bottom-up, innovative culture is what the American orchestra needs, I suggest that you not take this effort lightly."

Sobering words, I think.

***

One final thought. Larry spoke about how at 3M they employ a "Make a litte, Sell a little" model in product development. In other words, product prototypes are taken to maket early in the development process in order to gain consumer input, rather than waiting until the scientists in the lab have created the perfect product. This concept really resonated with me. It is the approach I plan to take with my new project, "The Pulse."

Next, more from the Opening Plenary: Deborah Borda talks about innovation at the LA Phil.

Philadelphia Orchestra Cartoon

Tue, 14 Jun 2011 21:30:00 GMT

Finding the Middle II

Tue, 14 Jun 2011 21:20:00 GMT

In my last post I described a type of 'middle ground' music with elements taken from both classical and pop music. Here are two artists that have already found that middle - whether they know it or not:

First, Sarah Brightman, Fleurs du Mal from her 2008 album, "Symphony. (Listen Here, and be sure to catch a refrain!)

Sarah was trained as an operatic soprano (Trinity Music College, London and Julliard, New York). She met and married Andrew Llyod Webber while working in theater. After leaving the theater world she established herself as a ”crossover” artist, some even crediting her with being the creator of this genre. She has sold over 30 million albums and continues to redefine herself, moving easily between a refined classical operatic voice and an effective pop voice – sometimes in the same song (Anytime, Anywhere from Eden, 1998).

Fleurs du Mal can certainly be described as symphonic pop. I think its funny to read the discussion comments for the album on www.last.fm where dozens have argued about whether she is a classical or pop artist. Who cares, really? If you are interested in bridging the gap between classical and pop audiences then you can’t do much better than Sarah Brightman.

If Fleurs du Mal is too pop for your tastes, please check out Gloomy Sunday from her 2006 album "La Luna." (Listen Here) To me this is unquestionably modern art song with a 'middle ground' sensibility.

***

Next, a modern symphonic composer that does not appear to be consciously aiming at being a crossover artist, but whose work winds up in or near the middle ground quite frequently:

Osvaldo Golijov: "How Slow The Wind" from Three Songs for Soprano and Orchestra. (Listen Here)

I first heard his music live in Atlanta in 2010. The piece was “Three Songs for Soprano and Orchestra,” the ensemble was the Atlanta Symphony and the soloist was Heidi Grant Murphy. I was in Atlanta for the national conference of the League of American Orchestras and Robert Spano led an open rehearsal of the orchestra. Everything on the rehearsal schedule was modern – Jennifer Higdon, Michael Gandolfi and Osvaldo. In a room full of conductors, musicians and artistic administrators, the response to Osvaldo’s music (last in the rehearsal order), was obvious and telling. It was as if the orchestra had been just warming up during the Higdon (‘On a Wire’) and Gandolfi (‘The Garden of Cosmic Speculation’). When the Golijov piece began people sat up in their seats, leaned forward, and even showed emotion on their faces – all absent for the most part during the other works.

All three songs in Golijov's song set are striking, but the third, “How Slow the Wind,” has really captured my imagination. The more I listen to this piece the more I am convinced that Osvaldo is just inches away from something that could easily be mistaken for a song on my local indy rock radio station. Its not quite there, of course. Osvaldo makes no attempt to treat the song as a crossover work. But just listen to it – something new is happening in this music; something that could really bridge the gap between classical and pop audiences. The text is by Emily Dickenson (hip and trendy enough, right?) and the orchestration is entirely modern and – to my ears – quite similar in places to what I’ve heard in symphonic rock orchestrations.

Some will think a comparison with symphonic rock music is degrading and insulting to a serious orchestral work like Golijov's. I am not trying to compare content or artistic intent or even voiceleading (these are comparisons for another post). I am simply suggesting that Osvaldo has, in some places, written music that seems to offer the same kind of sweeping and dramatic appeal ('epic' is a favorite descriptive word in YouTube comments) found in music that has proven mass appeal.

Think about it for a second - Sarah Brightman and her fans would probably be thrilled with a favorable comparison to symphonic rock. But symphonic purists will likely be terribly offended by my comparison. Why? Its as if music cannot be broadly appealing and serious at the same time.

This is my point. I often wonder if the 'middle ground' is more of an attitude adjustment than a brand new style of music composition.......

Finding the Middle

Thu, 09 Jun 2011 21:55:00 GMT

In earlier posts I suggested that in order to achieve meaningful change - the kind of change that would have the power to restore vitality and relevancy to classical music within the broader community - the classical music industry needs to look deep inside its philosophies, aesthetics and traditions. It needs to re-evaluate the basic assumptions our whole training system and concert traditions are based upon.

I understand that this is easier said than done. And I understand that for many, the idea of changing the fundamental reasoning behind the way we do things may not be all that attractive. Still, I believe that without re-thinking the 19th century Romantic ideals that drive much of classical music, most other changes being made around the industry are just operating at the surface and will not have any real transformative effect - which is what we really need, isn't it?

I've been thinking about this issue since the start of my career in the early '90's. I certainly don't claim to have any superior knowledge or insight. And I don't suggest that my ideas are necessarily the solution to any problems. But its time to have open and candid conversations about where we are and where we want to go. Anyone who tries to ignore the challenges facing the classical music industry and operate as if it were still 1950 is doomed to the stale, rather un-exciting atmosphere that already surrounds the genre. So, for what its worth, here's a basic description of the ideas and concepts I have thought about for the past two decades and am exploring in varying degrees in the work I am doing now.

___________________

I want to find the middle. The center. The common ground. The sweet spot. I suspect it is probably a pretty big chunk of ground. I am convinced that I will find a huge, diverse audience in and around that middle. From a distance (like when writing about it in this post) it is clearly visible and in plain view, but when I try to actually to get there I have discovered that it is an elusive and shifty chunk of territory. I have seen ever more frequently work by others that has actually landed in the sweet spot – some by accident, others by design – and even some actually placing roots in that middle and defining themselves from that place. That’s what I want to do.

What is that big but elusive middle? It’s the place where the thoughtfulness, creativity, emotional depth and technical virtuosity of the classical music world overlaps with the accessibility, vitality and raw energy of the popular music world.

What does that spot look like? In my mind it is not quite like a Venn diagram where one circle represents all things wooden, the other represents all tables and the overlap represents wooden tables. In that example the objects in the middle retain their original identity – ‘wooden’ or ‘table.’ They just happen to be a particular kind of wooden or a particular kind of table. I’m seeking a middle ground where the old – and really very useless – terms ‘classical’ and ‘popular’ don’t even apply. Yes, it’s a middle ground with attributes common to classical music in some ways and common to popular music in other ways, but the music that lives there (I think) is something new and different enough that it can no longer be defined using the old terms.

In this middle ground, aesthetics, philosophies, tonalities, subject matter, instrumentation, and all other attributes grow out of ‘classical’ and ‘popular’ ideologies, but this middle ground music makes no attempt to align itself with either the classical or popular traditions. In other words, it is an approach to music that begins with a shift in thinking deep down at the roots. It pulls the best elements of existing traditions and adapts them to fit in a new framework that is current and vital. It also recognizes changes in music production and delivery systems not as a threat or challenge to overcome, but as an opportunity.

Also, this new musical aesthetic ideally searches out the middle of not just the classical and popular genres, but also aggressively pulls best practices from jazz, world music, hip hop – maybe even spoken poetry, drama, cinematography and dance. This trend toward fusion – or mashing – of styles is already well underway. In our digitally interconnected, post-iPod world, NOT pulling from every available source is simply unthinkable.

Finally, when I imagine this new musical territory in my mind, I see it not replacing existing genres but rather coexisting. Why is it so hard to imagine a type of music capable of getting equal play on both classical and pop radio? The barriers to this type of crossover are quickly disappearing. Only old traditions and out-dated business models stand in the way of this new music going well beyond what we’ve seen so far in crossover acts and re-defining the concept – maybe even introducing the world to the idea of a super-crossover style of writing.

Why not? Consolidation and refinement are entirely natural in the development of the arts – and all other growing and moving industries. It seems logical that the explosion of choices and nearly limitless access to every imaginable type of music we enjoy today will ultimately result in consolidation, coalescing and refining - the birth of a new art form that finally moves us past the 19th century ideals that stifle the classical music world and the old, simplistic teeny-bopper ideals that still drive much of popular music.

Imagine – a thoughtful and mature style of music that is fun and vibrant and vital. That’s the world I want to live in.

How the Music Industry Is Killing Music and Blaming the Fans

Fri, 27 May 2011 04:30:35 GMT

I know I said I would write about my own aesthetic thoughts, but I just came across this passionate and energetic article about the problems in the popular music industry. It seems its not just the classical music world that's feeling uneasy about shifts in the world around it. Here is the link to the article by Wyndham Wallace on The Quietus website: How the Music Industry is Killing Music and Blaming the Fans And here is the text of the article: While the industry continues to blame illegal downloading for its financial woes, it’s musicians who are paying the price while being forced to work harder than ever. But label inertia means culture itself is at stake, and even democracy could suffer, argues Wyndham Wallace Add your comment » For the last few years, most of the music industry – in all its forms, from record labels to artist managers, from music publishers to concert promoters – has been railing against illegal downloading, arguing that such activity is bringing the business to its knees, and pursuing those engaged in it, whether websites like The Pirate Bay or individuals, for every penny they believe they are owed. In March this year, for instance, the RIAA – the Recording Industry Association of America – and a group of thirteen record labels went to court in New York in pursuit of a case filed against Limewire in 2006 for copyright infringement. The money owed to them – the labels involved included Sony, Warner Brothers and BMG Music – could be, they argued, as much as $75 trillion. With the world's GDP in 2011 expected to be around $65 trillion - $10 trillion less - this absurd figure was, quite rightly, laughed out of court by the judge. The RIAA finally announced in mid May that an out of court settlement for the considerably lower sum of $105 million had been agreed with Limewire's founder. But while fans have been warned that without traditional income streams investment in new acts will be harder, musicians have at the same time been told by the wider industry that there are still plenty of opportunities for them to make a living if they reverse long held principles: touring is now where the money is and records, cheap or even free, should be used to promote live performance. In addition, licensing music to TV, film and advertising, the prevailing opinions insist, is no longer a dirty business and can provide significant opportunities to claw back income while social networking allows direct to fan marketing that cuts out the middle men who previously took their cut. All the time the industry talks of money: money it's lost, money it's owed. It rarely talks about the effects upon artists, and even less about how music itself might suffer. But no one cares about the suits and their bank accounts except shareholders and bankers. People care about their own money, and the industry not only wanted too much of it but also failed to take care of those who had earned it for them: the musicians. And it's the latter that people care about. Because People Still Want Good Music. It's ‘Good Music' that is now at stake, however. The effects upon musicians of the downturn in income are far more complex than that they simply won't be able to, as Lily Allen put it, “go on”, and to blame filesharers exclusively is short-sighted. Things have now gone beyond that. Industry inertia, caused by a refusal to recognise a change in how people consume music – arguably provoked by greed on an even bigger scale than that exhibited by those who want their music for free - is causing substantial damage to the artistic process and may create a situation where only those with existing wealth can pursue the craft. It's also perhaps not too much to argue that a further result will be the silencing of voices that are vital to democratic society. But if the industry wants to talk money, let's talk money, albeit the ways that developing musicians are encouraged to make up the loss of sales income in order to ply their trade. Someone's got to bring this up, because it's not a pretty picture. Consider, first, direct-to-fan marketing and social networking, said to involve fans so that they're more inclined to attend shows, invest in ‘product', and help market it. In practise this is a time-consuming affair that reaps rewards for only the few. Even the simple act of posting updates on Facebook, tweeting and whatever else is hip this week requires time, effort and imagination, and while any sales margins subsequently provoked might initially seem higher, the ratio of exertion to remuneration remains low for most. It's also an illusion that such sales cut out the middlemen, thereby increasing income, except at the very lowest rung of the ladder: the moment that sales start to pick up, middlemen start to encroach upon the artist's territory, if in new disguises. People are needed to provide the structure through which such activities can function, and few will work for free – and nor should they – even though musicians are now expected to. In addition, efficient websites need to be paid for and marketed, and the companies designed to provide exactly this service usually take their cut. Bandwidth also needs to be paid for if up- and downloading become significantly active, product needs to be manufactured and sent out on time, and that's only after it's been created, meaning music first needs to be recorded and merchandise designed. If new artists can't find the readies for all this, then they need to find investors. So with music itself often available for free, the musician is reduced to little more than a merchandise broker. Records become just an advert and, consequently, either take longer to be written and recorded, or are otherwise made available without the attention and care that was once devoted to the process. Still, if an act can find time to do these things, or has the necessary capital to allow others to take care of them on their behalf, then they can hit the road. Touring's where the money is, the mantra goes, and that's the best way to sell merchandise too. But this is a similarly hollow promise. For starters, the sheer volume of artists now touring has saturated the market. Ticket prices have gone through the roof for established acts, while those starting out are competing for shows, splitting audiences spoilt for choice, driving down fees paid by promoters nervous about attendance figures. There's also a finite amount of money that can be spent by most music fans, so if they're coughing up huge wads of cash for stadium acts then that's less money available to spend on developing artists. And for every extra show that a reputable artist takes on in order to make up his losses, that's one show less that a new name might have won. Touring is also expensive. That's why record labels offered new artists financial backing, albeit in the form of a glorified loan known as ‘tour support'. Transport needs to be paid for, as do fuel, accommodation, food, equipment, tour managers and sound engineers. These costs can mount up very fast, and if each night you're being paid a small guarantee, or in fact only a cut of the door, then losses incurred can be vast, rarely compensated for by merchandising sales. Again, financial backing of some sort is vital, but these days labels are struggling to provide it. In the past, income from record sales could be offset against these debts, but with that increasingly impossible, new artists will soon find it very hard to tour. Everyone's a loser, baby. Furthermore, touring, especially in the early stages of a career, is exhausting. It might be fun, but as anyone who's been on the road will admit, it can be a far from glamorous grind that leaves musicians drained, incapacitated and far from creative. It also seems off kilter that those gifted at writing and working in the studio should be sent out on the road rather than rewarded for just that, especially since records, in whatever format, are the ties that help bind fans to artists. There are also those for whom it's not viable, or at the very least a challenge: those suffering from stage fright; those – mothers, for example – whose family situation requires them to remain at home; those skilled at writing songs but not so adept at performing them. (It's notable that the likes of Jimmy Webb, who once made a comfortable living writing songs for others to perform, are now touring in a way that they never used to, largely out of financial necessity.) Of course touring has always been a next to obligatory part of the job for most musicians. Some are even inspired by the experience, while many improve their craft by playing in front of audiences. But the daily rigmarole of playing the same songs over and over again can also render the process joyless for both musician and fan, and increased touring again means reduced time spent working on new material, conjuring up bewitching sounds, expressing the inarticulate speech of the heart. The romantic vision of the musician in their bus writing new songs is rose-tinted, to say the least. Most are simply too worn out from the tedium to do anything other than talk shit, watch films, listen to music and sleep. Insisting that artists earn their keep by performing the role of wandering minstrel keeps them from exercising the talent that brought them attention in the first place, rendering music valuable only when it's performed live. Still, there's another well-publicised method of working around lost sales income. It's called synchronisation, and that's the licensing of music to TV, film and commercials. It was once a badge of honour to find one's music selected for a soundtrack, but these days everyone's at it so the benefits are fewer. It's interesting to watch films like Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation or Nic Roeg's Don't Look Now from the early 1970s and compare their relative silence – interrupted effectively but only occasionally by bursts of music used to heighten tension or enhance a mood – with the extended music videos that pass for Hollywood movies nowadays. The same could be said for TV, where shows like Skins are so song-saturated that numerous websites exist listing each track included in an episode (though notably these are not listed in credits). Apart from anything else, so much music often dilutes the drama by distracting from it, but more importantly it makes it harder for an impressive song to stand out, especially a new one dwarfed by others more recognisable, while those that do rise above the noise are often forever associated with a particular scene, rendering their own emotional substance next to mute in comparison. More worrying too is the manner in which old school values with regards to the licensing of music to advertising have been eroded. To be tainted by association with a product, to ‘sell out' one's art to benefit a corporation, was once seen as an evil undertaken only by the desperate, the immoral or – on the off chance that the brand was ethically sound – those fortunate enough to claim that they remained very selective. Yet in record company and music publishing meetings around the world there are now hip young things declaring that, instead of a single, they can't hear a ‘synch'. Many have whole departments devoted to the placement of music wherever possible, and acts are expected to accept the offers. Often they're in such a financial hole that they simply can't say no. This has led not only to a complicit integration of music with product marketing, but also to lower and lower fees: agencies have realised that acts remain convinced that the exposure gained is in itself almost adequate compensation for the use of their music, and there's always someone else willing to accept a lower payment if the first choice demands too much. But whatever the financial reward, the price paid is always the same: permanent association with a product. How tragic is it that the man behind ‘Anarchy In The UK' will now be forever tied in the collective imagination with Country Life Butter, even though he used the cash to help fund the reformation of PiL? The argument that he has taken money from a corporation doesn't wash: the situation should never have arisen. And if that's not compromise enough, what about the songs reduced to half minute edits, the songs that are used instrumentally, or the songs that are provided by soundalikes, thus debasing the art of those who first imagined the originals? What about the acts tailoring their music for use in these ways rather than focussing on their original intent, that of expressing something memorable? Is this good for our music? Is this how the magic should be rewarded? It's debatable, too, how easy it is to secure such breaks, given that everyone and their sister is now after their small slice of the action. The growth of music supervision as a profession has meant that many brands turn to those who represent established acts and, if they fail to secure their music, take recommendations from these same people about others they represent in order to save time. It's an almost closed shop, and for a new act it's next to impossible to get a foot in the door. Moreover, those who are successful, but for whom it's their first public exposure, rarely make it beyond, tainted as they are by the connection. Simultaneously, the question arises once more as to whether acts should be devoting time to the pursuit of synchs at the expense of refining their craft, and whether they should only be receiving payment for the public use of their music as opposed to the private use. It gets worse. The first people to give up will be those with the least money. This, some argue, will sort the wheat out from the chaff: serious musicians don't give up that easily. But this is clearly nonsense. Serious musicians might not give up, and some may thrive – if the cliché is true – because they have suffered. But if they can't afford to tour, record, build a website and pay those required to supervise their business, let alone pay their rent, then they won't make music their priority and potential stars will be lost to us. Their guitars will gather dust, picked up to fill quiet time or, perhaps, to be strummed for friends in small bars. Maybe they'll win fans, but most won't be able to do anything with that fact. A developing act can't tour anywhere unless it can afford to get there, and its products won't be bought unless it can tour, because these days that's one of the few ways to gain attention amidst the shrill shriek of marketing. The first hurdle any musician must now leap is financial: can they afford to pursue the dream? The majority that succeed will be those well connected enough to receive funding, or those from financially comfortable backgrounds. This might explain the number of upper middle class artists that have made their mark recently, something which Quietus contributor Simon Price pointed to in an article for The Word in late 2010 about the ‘Toff Takeover', where he highlighted the rise of artists like Eliza Dolittle, Florence Welch and Mumford & Sons who have all benefited from exclusive educations. Price suggested that those who ”didn't go to a private school are no longer getting a fair shot at success”, and went on to state that, “it's bad for pop. If music – along with sport, the traditional ‘escape route' for the poor – is shut off, where is the next Johnny Rotten or Jarvis Cocker going to come from?” It's a point well made, if provoked a little by inverse snobbery, and there's one further concern: those whose voices most need to be heard are often the ones least powerful, and musicians have frequently done far more than provide us with music. They've articulated thoughts that need to be heard. They've drawn our attention to injustices in the world just as they've highlighted the beauty of life. They have helped bring together communities and given them a common voice. They have spoken out and stood up for their principles, demanded change and sometimes achieved it. Our failure to find a satisfactory method in which their privileged situation – as commentators – can be protected could be very damaging. Though it inevitably sounds like a conspiracy theory, it may be more than coincidence that governments have taken so long to address the problems that the music business is facing. Music has provided a voice of dissent, and governments don't like that. By failing to ensure that musicians have the same right to be paid for their work as anyone else, they're helping to ensure that only the least controversial acts survive: those of independent wealth, often tied to the establishment; the ones that are happy to prop up the capitalist system with their advertising music; the ones who are happy to pander to the masses; the ones for whom business is their main drive and music simply a means to make their fortune. Failure to compensate those whose work is more specialist, more confrontational, more subtle, more challenging, is an act of complicity in the silencing of social and political debate. Though democracy won't allow for musicians to be gagged, it can still price them out of the market. Illegal downloading and its methods are here to stay – foolishly encouraged by the industry's increasing practise of giving away music – at least until such point as people's appetite for music, delivered when and how they want it, can be satisfied in an affordable, unproblematic fashion. But making music is work, however prosaic that sounds, and the fact should be respected. The technology to monetise it exists: subscription models like Spotify are well established and increasingly popular. To date, however, Spotify is only available in a limited number of countries while the industry fights for higher royalty payments, and similar arguments continue elsewhere: in Germany, for instance, most legitimate promotional music videos on YouTube have been inaccessible for well over two years while the country's Performance Rights Organisation, GEMA, negotiates terms. The battle is understandable: Spotify's payments to rights owners are infamously poor, YouTube's not much better, and some artists might argue that they'd rather their music be downloaded by genuine fans for free rather than used to enrich a new breed of parasites getting fat off their work. But the longer the industry continues to cling to old-fashioned values, the more people gravitate to illegal sources that are reliable, uncomplicated and modern. It's an extraordinary situation: in a roundabout fashion, the wider industry is inadvertently preventing fans from legally accessing music in the manner they'd like to, and which technology has facilitated, while blaming them for stealing because they're not so wild about the systems that have so far been approved. Whether the industry likes it or not, music is now like water: it streams into homes, it pours forth in cafés, it trickles past in the street as it leaks from shops and restaurants. Unlike water, music isn't a basic human right, but the public is now accustomed to its almost universal presence and accessibility. Yet the public is asked to pay for every track consumed, while the use of water tends to be charged at a fixed rate rather than drop by drop: exactly how much is consumed is less important than the fact that customers contribute to its provision. Telling people that profit margins are at stake doesn't speak to the average music fan, but explaining how the quality of the music they enjoy is going to deteriorate, just as water would become muddy and undrinkable if no one invested in it, might encourage them to participate in the funding of its future. So since downloading music is now as easy as turning on a tap, charging for it in a similar fashion seems like a realistic, wide-reaching solution. And just as some people choose to invest in high-end water products, insisting on fancy packaging, better quality product and an enhanced experience, so some will continue to purchase a more enduring musical package. Others will settle for mp3s just as they settle for tap water. Calculating how rights holders should be accurately paid for such use of music is obviously complicated but far from impossible, and current accounting methods – which anyone who has been involved with record labels can tell you aren't exactly failsafe – are clearly failing to bring in the cash. The industry has also failed to acknowledge the fact that the concept of ownership is largely redundant: people want access on demand, and many no longer want to pay to own a limited number of records forever when they can move on to the next one in seconds. They don't want to shell out the same for a song that they once did because the music is now sadly disposable: they may never listen to it again so its value to them has been reduced. There's no longer any point in asking why this is: it just is. In addition, the question as to why a download should cost much the same as a physical product has never been satisfactorily answered and has further undermined trust between the provider and the consumer. The net effect of this arguably vulgar focus on cash is that people now expect music to represent better value for money, and far too often the music industry has failed to justify its prices. The fact that they've spent recent years brutally discounting their product underlines the public's opinion that they were charging too much in the first place, and the countless stories of artists trapped in dubious contracts have made people thoroughly unsympathetic to the business' complaints. Perhaps the industry's in league with this too, its eyes on a more insidious long term goal: after all, big business doesn't work for the people. The people work for big business. If a world can be created where most musicians simply can't afford to exist from their work, then that'll leave the ones who do exactly what they're told thanks to the promise of fame and fortune. It's already happening on TV (especially talent shows), in movies, even in bookstores: the slow, pernicious silencing of alternative perspectives buried beneath a storm of loud, obnoxious yelling about nothing. When Bill Hicks berated the anaesthetising effects of cultural deterioration in the USA twenty years ago, the only thing he failed to warn us was that this would spread across the globe. “Go back to bed, America, your government is in control. Watch this, shut up, go back to bed, America. Here is American Gladiators, here's 56 channels of it! Watch these pituitary retards bang their fucking skulls together and congratulate yourself on living in the land of freedom. Here you go, America - you are free to do what we tell you!” Except next up, it's The Black Eyed Peas, Rebecca Black and – oh, let us briefly titillate you – Lady Fucking Gaga. “When you're in Hollywood and you're a comedian,” another tragically deceased stand-up, Mitch Hedberg, joked, perhaps bitterly, “everybody wants you to do things besides comedy. They say, 'OK, you're a stand-up comedian. Can you act? Can you write? Write us a script?' It's as though if I were a cook and I worked my ass off to become a good cook, they said, 'All right, you're a cook. Can you farm?'” This is the position in which our musicians now find themselves. They're expected to multitask in order to succeed. Their time is now demanded in so many different realms that music is no longer their business. What we can increasingly expect is a conveyor belt of smug accountants living a pop star's dream, performing aggressively marketed, lowest common denominator, unchallenging dross. The problem is, it's not really the industry that is being cheated. It's the artists and their fans. People get what they pay for, but – whatever the industry claims – most fans know that. They just don't want to hear the businessmen fiddle while the musicians are being burnt. Revenues are unlikely ever again to reach the levels of the business' formerly lucrative glory days, but in its stubborn refusal to recognise that both the playing field and the rules themselves have been irreversibly redefined without their permission, the industry is holding out for something that is no longer viable. Lower income is better than no income, and the industry has surely watched the money dwindling for long enough. Musicians, meanwhile, are being asked to make more and more compromises as they're forced to put money ahead of their art on a previously unprecedented scale. The battle to prevent filesharing has been lost, rightly or wrongly, but there are still plenty of honest folk out there willing to exchange cash for music in one form or another, and it's not that they don't want to recognise its value. It's that record labels no longer know how to earn their money, and can't decide how to let them pay for it anyway. Thanks to Paul Resnikoff (Digital Music News), Tracey Thorn, Ewan Pearson, F.M. Cornog, Mac MacCoughan & Jimmy Webb for their time while researching this article.

Back to Basics II: Living on Shifting Ground.

Fri, 20 May 2011 21:11:38 GMT

So in my last post I suggested that to effect really meaningful change in the classical music world we need to start with a review of the basic aesthetic principles that drive our traditions. This does not necessarily mean that we need to throw out everything and start over. But I do think its time to ask hard questions.

It seems to me that the classical music world is one of the last modern strongholds of 19th century German romantic aesthetics. In our concert halls we still see the composer (and by extension, the written score) as the final authority in questions of interpretation and performance. We believe that access to and training in the high arts are essential to the development of a thoughtful citizenry and the maintenance of a healthy civilization.

Yet ouside the concert hall these principles, it seems, no longer apply. Jazz and popular music are rooted in an improvsational style where the score may be just a lyric and chord changes scibbled on a paper; it is expected that each performer will add his or her own personal touches in performance. Even though most parents loudly protest cuts to arts programs in the schools, private study of an instrument and attendance at classical music events have become much less 'essential' in most households.

Actions speak louder than words. Through our actions and our choices the majority of us seem to have decided that these romantic ideals do not apply to us, tho we may still think they are good for society as a whole.

How should the classical music world respond to this shift in thinking out in the wide world? This is a question we all should be considering. For many the answer may be that we should stay the course. This is fine as long as the decision is based on honest, realistic consideration of the world around us. For others the answer may be to search for a brand new aesthetic or approach. These explorers should be respected and supported in thier quest.

Sometimes history moves like the earth's tectonic plates, snagging for a while in one spot, building pressure, and then releasing in an aggressive movement. The Black Plague and the Industrial Revolution are two historical events that caused an aggresive movement in society. Is it possible that the classical music world is experiencing its own aggressive movement? The continued rise and maturing of popular music, the ability to market and disseminate music without the aid of large institutions, an economic downturn, a growing trend by corporate and government funders to re-evaluate giving priorities - all these factors and more seem to combine in a perfect storm for the classical music industry that can't be ignored.

Anyone thinking about classical music's basic aesthetics needs to place those thoughts within the context of what is happening in the world around us - especially if the financial support systems we have enjoyed from government and corporate sources are indeed in decline (btw, to me this gradual shift in funding priorities by foundations is not the total abandonment of artistic support, but rather a reflection of the real world shifts mentioned above).

I have given these issues alot of thought and have developed my own answers, which I will share in my next post.