Having "That Conversation"

Perhaps the most difficult and challenging aspect of being a Music Director today is dealing with an aging player population and having “That Conversation.”

As the need to negotiate these unpleasant waters becomes more frequent, I’m glad to have gotten the first one under my belt awhile ago, so I can continue to review and revise the formats for this difficult conversation.

Of course, one does all the usual good communications stuff; sit where both are presented as equals, without a table or other object between, and somewhere quiet and focused.

In my case, I began by acknowledging not only the musician’s many years of service, but the life-long identity as a musician, and their commitment to life as a musician. I specifically stated that being a musician is who they are, and therefore their dignity was present at the table, too; its presence shaped and inferred every word that would come out of my mouth.

In this particular discussion I needed to take the musician into a dark corner and expose him as being ‘deficient.’ Deteriorating capabilities had led him to recently play in concert a half-measure off throughout a movement of a strings-only piece, despite attempts by his stand partner and my self. Completely unaware, unable to hear, and perhaps unwilling to follow, this was a principal player no longer able to fulfill his role. I lead him down this unpleasant road of disclosure as the ultimate ‘failure’ as a musician.

First he shot back with resistance, anger and defense. I met him with passions of my own, too. And there, exposed and naked in a corner, confronted with a new reality of himself, he froze as if prepared for the blows to follow. The berating and slaps of shame and insults; that the knowledge of his limitations would now be used as a weapon against him. As if I was wielding a sword, honed to cut deep with the truth, he awaited the beating.

"As if I was wielding a sword, honed to cut deep with the truth, he awaited the beating."

Rather, we just locked eyes. The moment sunk in; the gravity, the painfulness acknowledged without further words. The moment was broken by a gesture, almost a physical body gesture, as I sheathed an invisible sword and discarded the weapon.

Looking back, this was probably the second most important element of That Conversation. To hold the power to crush a musician’s self and spirit, and yet choose dignity over insult may be one of the most important non-uses of power that conductors have.

".... to choose dignity over insult may be one of the most important non-uses of power that conductors have."

After this bridge was crossed, we could discuss options for moving forward. One option seems to be steering the player to move toward music-making which is more in their own control. The large orchestral scenario requires long-distance perceptions, long (time-wise) sweeps of extended focus and concentration. I propose an opportunity for players to regroup in smaller ensembles, as duos, trios, quartets.

My thought is that we ask players to step out of the large-scale music-making of an orchestra and we find ways for them to continue music-making on a more intimate fashion under their direct control. Let the playing field be theirs to shape: they select repertoire, pace rehearsals, set seating arrangements. As for performances, playing for peers is one opportunity, and as such we ask them to become role models for music-making as a life-long passion and way of being.

Whatever the options and opportunities, I do see it as part of our duties to find alternative avenues for music-making for that time when making music on a large orchestral scale becomes impossible. (The dance community has wonderful programs set in place to work with dancers after retirement.)

For a closing to this conversation, I offered what unknowingly became the keystone to the reception of the whole event. I simply said:

“Everything that just passed between us – stays between us.”

Sufficient time has passed since this conversation, so I now feel comfortable sharing the details. Perhaps the lesson I learned from That Conversation is - respect differs from politeness. Respect acknowledges the inherent kernel of dignity we each carry to the best of our ability.

We have much more to learn about this aspect of our jobs. Let’s start the conversation among ourselves as conductors and organizational leaders, and then turn to include the professional contractors, personnel managers and union leaders, and then let’s engage the teachers, parents, and coaches of young students.

After all, “That Conversation” reflects all of life  - with its twists and turns, as we try to carry a parcel of dignity to the best of our ability.

A Message in a Bottle - for a Young Artist

You have a gift.

They call it “a gift” -

now it remains separate

from you.

How can you say “I am a gift” -

even Plato would complain.

You have a gift.

Now what your occupation?

A dutiful messenger?

A toiling gardener through turning seasons?

An attentive slave?

You have a gift.

A willful siren whose song

refuses to be hushed –

despite imminent shipwrecks on

despairing shores.

You have a gift.

Others hope and envy -

despise and sabotage.

Lore implies – a given

can be taken.

You have a gift.

Now the waters muddle

And the nights grow noisy.

Steer safely amongst the reef

my friend -

You have a gift.

© 2013 Kim Diehnelt

Oh, the things we do and can’t blog about!

Yes, my blog has been quiet lately, but hardly because I've been doing or thinking nothing, but rather because so much of what happens….. well, it seems best to just keep quiet.

I’m thinking about behavior and actions by groups, musicians, organizations which make you wonder –incompetence? mental issues? intentional sabotage?

Simple sheet music, for example, seems to be a difficult aspect of ensemble management. Why is it that with months of preparation time groups will still need to rush parts over-night? This at a much higher cost and cutting into valuable preparation time.

Once I worked with a group where the parts for a major work that filled half the program were handed to the musicians at the first rehearsal, despite 14 months lead time (so much for marking bowings and allowing players to learn some notes). I did a concert once without the overture because even with over a year’s lead time, the organization didn't order the part until after the first rehearsal. I've also walked into the first rehearsal of a 3-hour work, with lots of thick 20^th-century harmonies and large sections written seven flats – only to see the organization’s librarian distributing the “rush ordered” parts; this with 10 month’s preparation time.

Acquiring music is simple – pick up the phone and call Performers Music and tell them what you need. Being the conscientious professionals they are, they will ask you “When do you need this?” Please be prepared with an answer.

Sheet music brings up the world of Editions. I once conducted a concert with an amazing array of editions. I was instructed to use a Schirmer score. Indeed the musicians were given the Schirmer parts, but the concertmaster stuck to a personal copy of the Watkins-Shaw – as this was marked with familiar bowings. The contractor, however, had booked musicians based on the instrumentation of yet another edition. The harpsichordist had a Kalmus edition and I have no clue what the singers used. Nonetheless, we all smiled and performed wonderfully despite just a brief 1 ½ hour rehearsal prior to the performance. After all, the quality of the product reflects directly on my reputation, not the librarian’s.

Seating seems to be another difficult issue for organization’s to grasp. Once, a production group thought it would be perfectly fine if the players sat on those half-sized kindergarten chairs. All the better for the musicians to sit lower and be less visible – to leave a clear view of the events unfolding on stage behind.  Sorry to be a diva, but – “No.”

This reminds me of a performance where I conducted with viola players on my left, the concertmaster and friends on the right, and the soloists above and behind me.

Please don’t remind me of the time I helped carry the timpani up and down a spiral staircase.

One group saw no reason why players couldn’t leave their cases and belongings in the back of the auditorium, rather than securely backstage. Again, sorry but, “No.” (Some instrument cases themselves cost more than what you’re paying the musicians!)

Lighting is frequently over looked, too. I’ve been in more than one production where the house lights are lowered and the show awaits the start of the music from the orchestra - now suddenly sitting in complete darkness.

Perhaps some colleagues will remember an infamous conducting workshop where the players all huddled under one chandelier in the middle of a ballroom – and of course sight-read a work for which we paid for the privilege to conduct for seven very expensive minutes. (I bet the music was rushed over-night, too.)

Rehearsals tend to get chaotic treatment, too. I would ask organizations to respect rehearsal time. I was once told to “keep it down” during a rehearsal because of a media interview going on simultaneously at the back of the hall.

How many of my colleagues have gone into a performance without ever playing a production top to bottom? (Yes, conductors can bring this on themselves if they micromanage rehearsals or mismanage rehearsal time, but I’m talking about a lack of rehearsals, period.) I once did a production for a company that scheduled zero rehearsals focused solely on the music. (These sorts of musically repulsive experiences receive little or no mention on my resume.)  Unfortunately musicians, conductors, and composers – the care-takers of music - will be labeled whining divas if we speak out.

Organizational behavior is so dumbfounding sometimes, too. I once worked with a group which needed to book a four-player ensemble, yet managed to sign-on five players. Apparently there was confusion as to who played what. (The pathetic part is that player’s email address contained the name of the instrument.) Of course that one player was “released” the day of the first rehearsal - without compensation. (The player had also cleared their schedule for the weeks ahead because of the contracted gig, and now had no work lined up.)

If booking players is difficult for your organization, I highly recommend for folks in the Chicago area you contact Judy Davis at Klatt Employment Service.She actively scouts out new players, screens and matches suitable players to gigs.

And once you’ve booked a player, please remember to pay them.  Funny how checks are “forgotten.”

Once I worked with a group where the program included the music of a living, award-winning composer. The composer provided all the sheet music and even traveled across country to the venue and provided commentary at the concert - all at their own expense. When I inquired about the organization’s compensation for the composer, my query was met with incomprehension. Why should a composer be paid? (This was a lack of will, not funds) I suggested a nominal ‘honorarium’ would at least be a gracious and appropriately professional gesture. They did indeed then provide the composer with an honorarium – deducting the money from my own pay.

There is also the scenario of being booked to conduct a performance involving fully-paid union players – and due to these costs, therefore being asked to donate my services.

Why is it that every group, no matter the size, seems to have its one player with special needs? Such as the player whose music - always in single sheets - covers the floor like run-away dandruff? I once had to stop and restart a masterclass performance because of music falling – literally - into disarray. (So after the event, instead of being consumed with musical excitement the first question out an audience member’s mouth was, “Why don’t musicians ever have their music bound?”) There are businesses out there that can help you with this issue, too.

Of course, I've dealt with players who ignore my baton completely and bolt off on their own. With this behavior I’m never quite sure if it incompetence, psychological imbalances, or intentional sabotage.

I once had a concert master who decided they (trying to remain gender ambiguous!) knew best how the soloist (a good friend/colleague of mine) wanted the piece to go. The string players followed the concertmaster; the winds of course followed the visible baton. I wish I could have responded truthfully to the local critic’s comment about ‘ensemble problems.’

Once in an audition I conducted the opening of a piece with broad string chords. All but one principal player cut off the notes as I designated. The one player repeatedly held the note (á la solo) as long as desired. I started again, using overly exaggerated gestures. Still the one player continued playing at whim. This was an interesting scenario - the section players ignoring their leader and the leader ignoring the conductor. I gladly walked away from this group; there were obviously some entangled psychological issues in their ensemble.

Once I auditioned with a group where none of the string players looked up. I even got a bit sassy and crouched in front of the players’ stand, peering over as if to say “gichy-gichy-goo” –seeing if a tickling gesture might crack a look or two. Nothing. Some major dysfunctional behavior brewing here!

Another audition – for an assistant position - had an odd process which involved hearing and dictation tests, as well as playing the 2nd clarinet part of a Brahms symphony at the piano. After the second-round cuts, a group of us rejected conductors gathered on a sidewalk cafe for drinks and commiseration. Soon our attention was drawn to noise coming from the sidewalk a half a block away. We turned to see the very Maestro who had just put us through a strange audition and dismissed us - having a full-blown kindergarten-style tizzy fit - complete with jumping up and down, and whining. We all turned back and looked at each other speechless. And then we raised our glasses for a toast. We were the lucky ones.

It is unfortunately rather typical for organizations to send out casual ‘Dear John’ letters as emails when they cut candidates from the application process. Once, even as a semi-finalist and having gone through an interview and extensive discussions over sample materials for the group, I was notified along with the other four (yes, 4) candidates being cut via a generic “dear candidate” email sent to us - with all of us copied (not blind copied) on the same email.

I think conductors have grown tired of the sloppy behavior of sending out causal email dismissals, especially when making the tasteless error of copying – rather than blind copying - everyone. I know of one instance where the conductors – a good list of 50-some conductors - enjoyed a volley of “reply all” - consoling colleagues and then also conjecturing whether there might be an administrative position opening soon (that of the poor soul who sent out the email!).

I admit music making is a complex team sport. We have our organizational growing pains and with luck learn from them. Yet, I’m concerned that there is very little pressure on groups or people to improve their behavior.

An organization can treat one group of players, conductors, composers, poorly knowing there will always be another new group willing to sign on.

We are also a very highly-motivated group of employees because our name is attached to the product. We will squeeze music out of a bad scenario, inadvertently making your organization look better than it’s justified to look.

So-called free-market forces hold little sway in the non-profit world. When a non-profit closes few consider it due to a shoddy product, being an unethical employer, or simply being inept.

Too often a ‘successful non-profit’ is synonymous solely with healthy finances and none of the other aspects of running a ‘business.’ The world easily remains unaware of the organizational behaviors and ineptitude - because we can’t blog about it!

Or? 
Perhaps you'd like to share your stories?

***Before any person, organization, group, or entity becomes offended that I have “outed” their incompetencies, please note, I have given no dates, times, location, country, genre, or even gender. Only you, in your head, would know I was speaking of your group. I know too, but I’m keeping my distance: you’re probably not even mentioned on my resume.

Offering Greatness by the EarFull

It’s been an autumn for exploring the world of Rainer Maria Rilke, and I've been enjoying the writings of Stephanie Dowrick as she reflects on the reader’s experience in  In the Company of Rilke 

When discussing Beauty and greatness she quotes from John Armstrong's book on Goethe

“It is obvious that one can encounter great objects…or great individuals… and yet be untouched by them, they remain ‘outside’ of us. Admiring them, saying that they are great doesn't automatically enrich your inner world.” 

Here I paused and thought about the scenario implied when we offer concerts of great music and use that double-edged word “masterpiece.” We spend a lot of time and energy telling people ‘this is great music.’ Greatness in music has become something very tangible, measurable, a thing we are able to offer in regular doses.

Greatness of music is a topic I’m quite curious about, and readers will be familiar with my habit of shifting through other arts and fields for answers and new perspectives. One of my favorite fields for mining ideas, of course, is wine tasting, which regularly deals with greatness. So what makes wine great?

One common thought is what makes wine great is complexity.

Matt Kramer in his “Making Sense of Wine” debates the topic:

“The single greatest standard used in assessing the quality of a wine is complexity. The more times you can return to a glass of wine and find something different in it – in the bouquet, in the taste – the more complex the wine. The very greatest wines are not so much overpowering as they as seemingly limitless.”

He continues: 

“What satisfies us so fundamentally about complexity is still the subject of speculation, largely in the academic field of aesthetics. It appears that we favor – relish might be a more descript if less exact term – uncertainty or lack of predictability. One researcher contends that uncertainty in music is complexity. And that uncertainty gives greater ‘meaning’ to music.”

“Another researcher in this field employs the notion of disorder or entropy. The more things are jumbled, the more “information” can be conveyed at one time. The trick is our ability to sort it out and make it meaningful. In short, there must be both –pattern and uncertainty (complexity) for sustained interest. Complexity is thus more than multiplicity. For a wine (melody) to be truly satisfying, especially after repeated exposure, it must continually surprise as part of a larger and pleasing pattern. So it is with wine.” [Now do you see why I find wine is such a wonderful playground or contemplating music?]

I tend to see this concept of ‘complexity’ more in terms of the potential for offering metaphor. When the distance between “This is That” is far - the metaphor-building space wide and rich with many detours on the way - then interactions may continually offer new and fresh reception. ‘Complexity’ could imply a ‘simple’ piece might lack ‘greatness' – yet the components of music such as color, texture, movement, gesture, etc. that go beyond structure and harmonic outline create opportunities for potentially rich and complex metaphors.  Each hearing of a work offers nudges in new directions while following a familiar path.

The quote of Armstrong continues, however, adding another layer to greatness:

“Admiring [greatness], saying that they are great doesn't automatically enrich your inner world….Goethe is alluding to the most intimate and elusive aspect of experience: that in which we take possession of the things we encounter and make them our own.”

Greatness it seems is a two-party system. While possibly a ‘thing’ of music, greatness is also an experience – and ‘most intimate’ and ‘elusive’ at that.

What jumps out here is how the current concert format is a rather heavy-handed system for dispensing greatness. How many of our behaviors on stage and in the concert proceedings (repertoire, program notes, pre-concert talks, distributed information, code of conduct, physical environment etc.) limit the listener to a role of being fed greatness as a thing  we solely supply? (I've scrutinized this topic often enough!)

When or how do we allow for this “most intimate and elusive aspect of experience?” Would we let go of our ownership of greatness and allow listeners to take possession - and make it their own?

I am seeing an important shift in concert formats that does offer space for listeners to take ownership. Usually artists who speak from the stage divulge information regarding the greatness within the music - the thingy-ness of the music. In some newer formats, however, musicians speak from the stage to share insights into their relationship with the music and how they took ownership of the music - providing glimpses of possible avenues for the listener to travel when building their own intimate relationship and ownership of the music. (The live entertainment world, ironically, knows well to avoid telling an audience what a work is or what it means, because it shuts down the welcome between the person on stage and the audience. The most gracious - and successful - response is to create space for the listener/viewers’ version of the event. But classical music is far from understanding the stagecraft of a live performer.)

This is a topic to chew on over a life-time. And I will take a public plunge into the fray on December 10^th, 2012 when I present the Classical Connoisseur - Wine and Music Tasting event at PianoForte. We will have on hand not only some great music and top-notch musicians, but some great wines. We will explore the qualities of wine and music - greatness included.

We will curiously compare the act of wine tasting and music tasting. What qualities do composers create? What qualities might the musicians add? What qualities do you the listener create in your “most intimate and elusive” act of making what you hear your own.

I’ll be sure to remember Rilke and Goethe - and point out the difference between wine tasters and wine drinkers. Only one takes the time to swallow.

__________________________________________________________________

My recommended reading list for exploring the wine-music-aesthetics connection:

Questions of Taste edited by Barry C. Smith.  Oxford University Press. 2007. 

This includes the thought provoking chapter “The Philosophy of Wine” by Roger Scruton, the philosopher, writer and wine correspondent for the New Statesmen. In the music field he’s the esteemed author of  Understanding Music Philosophy and Interpretation 

Kent Bach in his chapter: “Knowledge, Wine and Taste” raises the question “What good is knowledge in enjoying wines?”

Making Sense of Wine by Matt Kramer. Running Press 2003. 

A chapter deals with the concept of connoisseurship, a topic the music field would do well to understand more thoroughly. One of the classic books on wine.

Reading Between the Wines   by Terry Theise. University of California Press 2010. 

The chapter called “Befriending your palate” offers perspectives on qualities: what we know (informational bits) verses what we know via our experience. A fun book, too.

Discarding the Fourth Wall of Classical Music

This summer I’ve been taking a break from my own musicking and taking in other people’s performances and compositions. One concert oddity keeps coming up: the fourth wall.

You may well know the scenario. You arrive early to a concert with high expectations only to be kept in the lobby because the orchestra is “still rehearsing.” Then you’re allowed into the hall only to be subjected to the furious chaos of musicians practicing away, cramming for an event moments away.

The anticipation of an exquisite evening of live music shatters under the cacophony.

Imagine for a moment – you excitedly arrive at a venue for a dance production, but are held in the lobby while “the troupe is stilling practicing.” Once inside you witness a pair of dancers still on stage as they practice a tricky lift, another dancer repeatedly leaps across the stage trying to ace a difficult leap, and yet another couple rehearses their pas a deux.  Absurd! I’d certainly want my money back!

Or – imagine a theater company “still rehearsing”. And while you sit reading the program notes actors practice lines - all at the same time, at that! – on stage, in their own little world, pretending there’s no audience in the room. Absurd and rude!

Classical music seems the only performance art that refuses to accept that music is performed on a stage – a place with unique responsibilities and demands.

The stage is somewhere other than the practice room, greenroom, workshop, or studio. The stage is both a place and an experience between performer and audience. The theater world knows there is no fourth wall between the actors and the audience. (There may be a fourth wall between the characters and the audience, but everyone knows there is no wall.) Classical musicians, however, remain convinced of the fourth wall between them and their audience. Many traditional behaviors even reinforce this point to the audience.

For example, besides the practicing on stage, the first entrances on stage by musicians are usually casual, with attention given to equipment, seating arrangements, music stands, page turns, etc. rather than the audience. Then the musicians’ awareness is directed to a few notes that the musicians play between themselves, for themselves, in that traditional tuning routine. When the conductor appears on stage, the musicians stand – for the conductor rather than the audience! By now, before a note of the musical program has been played, the audience has accepted the idea that the players are indeed behind a fourth wall.

Once the wall’s presence is mutually accepted, it is there for the course of the event. Later, when it comes time for the audience to offer applause from the house, it is directed toward those performers who have remained in front of the wall -  a soloist, conductor, or perhaps composer. Considering the fact that applause is something an audience needs to do, we put an unfortunate damper on their needs very quickly, within the first few moments of a concert.

I can hardly blame musicians for this behavior when I consider the historical context of classical music performance. Musicians have often been an invisible workforce. Either they were considered the anonymous doer who should only be heard or they provided the back drop for a star conductor or soloist. For the most part, musicians could create, or were forced to create, a fourth wall and pretend the audience wasn’t watching or listening because the real show began when the maestro, diva, or virtuoso star entered.

As a conductor in the 21^st century, I’d prefer to give musicians an honest stage where they may create a fully-acknowledged relationship with their audience.

One group, St. Martin-in-the Fields treats the stage as a special performance space, and the effect sweeps you into the spell of their music. Pre-concert, the stage is set-up, half-lit and empty of musicians. Everything suggests. The silence and stillness begs for sounds and movement. Then, at “curtain time” out rush the musicians from all sides of the stage, walking swiftly to their place, where they remain standing. They immediately acknowledge the audience’s presence. Then they sit – and bang – the exhilarating wow! of live music fills the room. The pacing is especially effective. Notice the lack of hand-shake and bowing ceremonies. Relegating the tuning process to backstage also prevents the creation of a fourth wall.

The more we keep the stage about the relationship between performer and audience, the more magical.

At a recent concert I sat with a friend, a retired lawyer who frequently attends music, arts, and theater events. During intermission – while the stage was a buzz with string players tackling fast passages, the proverbial trumpet player repeating that one phrase with a large leap, some winds doing fast tonguing passages - I asked him what he thought about this pre-performance noise. His comments were stronger than I expected. “I’ve always wondered why we must be subjected to such crud before we can hear the program. I come to a performance hyped up for ‘on with the show!’ This is just crud.“

Today’s audiences are seeking an experience of live music which engages them with the events and the people on stage. That is – a stage where players and audience fully acknowledge each other’s presence. From here, perhaps we can create a live-music experience that is “worthwhile, unique, and essential” - the goal of live performance as James B. Nicola remarks in Playing the Audience: the Practical Actor’s Guide to Live Performance.

We could learn much from the theater world in regards to the ‘contract with the audience.’ Classical music/musicians seem to relish their distance from the audience. Perhaps this attitude sufficed under a Toscanini or Stokowski with the dazzling spotlight on the conductor. But today’s performers are artists of live music. Let’s give them three walls and a stage worthy of their art.

Elgar Resonates with Full Voice in Toronto

When a review begins with:

"This afternoon, a packed house at Koerner Hall was treated to a rare and stirring performance of Edward Elgar’s oratorio The Kingdom by the Pax Christi Chorale, in honour of its 25th anniversary."

And closes with:

"More, please."

Perhaps we should take note.

The occasion was the music of Elgar resonating fully with listeners and performers. As the Musical Toronto Review reports.

The performance was led by conductor Stephanie Martin. Her attentive and skillful musicianship created a highly polished performance of depth and force.

Interview with conductor Stephanie Martin by David Perlman

Having had the fortune to be present at the concert, I concur.

More, please.

Debriefings on Recent Jury Duty

Jury duty is a unique experience. The premise is ‘getting it right.’

The task is neither governed by the clock (it’s 4 o’clock - I’m done, time to go home!) nor by just getting it ‘done.’ (it’s off my desk!)

Here the goal is to get it right - just and fair.

‘Getting it right’ entails listening, thinking, seeing more than one side, holding an open mind, and questioning.

Privately grappling with matters of rightness and being human.

There is no answer key to supply a conclusion.

Jury duty is a duty, rather than a hobby.

Our actions carry a burden of responsibility and importance that goes beyond us.

The task touches people’s lives.

We are aware of the heightened obligation and fully commit our time, skills and energy to ‘getting it right.’

The task garners $17.20 per day.

Thus jury duty means committing to the obligation of ‘getting it right;’ accepting the weight of the endeavor, wrestling in seclusion over questions of truth and human-ness – all while receiving a meager reward.

It is no wonder people prefer to avoid jury duty. What person would embrace such a life?

We’re called artists.