Posts Tagged ‘conducting’

Podium Concerns

Tuesday, September 26th, 2023

If you’re like me, you’ve been following the drama unfolding at the Cleveland Institute of Music surrounding their current orchestra director, Carlos Kalmar. If you haven’t, here’s an article from last week that sums things up: https://van-magazine.com/mag/cleveland-institute-of-music-carlos-kalmar-discrimination-bullying/

It occurred to me that a few ideas about the direction we all ought to take as ensemble leaders might be in order.

We live in a time and place where educators are expected to pay close attention to the emotional needs of their students. Gone are the days when sarcasm, vitriol, and personal attack were accepted as marks of sincerity or even genius in a conductor. We have all been musicians in this type of situation: I myself played for several years in a community group led by a man whose podium talk resulted in an almost continuous turnover in the membership of the group.

I stayed because we played well, and I had a group of friends in the band, but we could have been better if that director’s nastiness hadn’t driven away many good musicians. I never felt personally attacked, but I saw good people and good musicians bullied out of the group by a director who relied on intimidation and verbal abuse.

As a twenty-something trombonist in that group, I felt challenged and pushed to be the best musician I could be, and I felt that I was learning from people who were vastly more experienced than I was (I learned how to tear apart a Sousa march and make it really hum along in that band).

As a forty-something father, I wouldn’t want my children to come in for that kind of abuse, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t stick around for it, either. (Even though I never felt like a target, that director eventually declined to write a recommendation supporting my application to graduate school, so that’s about where I stood with him).

Today, it is incumbent on us as musicians, leaders, and music educators to find a balance between rigor (and the honesty that goes with it) and kindness.

So: some friendly suggestions, take them or leave them:

  • Be aware of the variety of ability levels, ages, and backgrounds in our community groups. Some of your musicians have multiple music degrees, while others have only part of a high school experience. Some are retired and have plenty of free time, while others might be full-time college students with full-time jobs.
  • Remember that your two-hour rehearsal should include a break. This is built into the class schedule as the 15 minutes past two hours, but many of us just wrap 15 minutes early… it may be time to revisit this policy. At one time, the Civic Orchestra used this as a coffee break, and there was socialization (the coffee pot is still in the locker!).
  • Balance teaching music and making music. There should be some of both in your rehearsal; I tend to lean more on teaching early in the rehearsal cycle and making music later.
  • Strongly consider playing or singing every note at every rehearsal. This isn’t always what we would do in a daily rehearsal, but remember that someone who misses a weekly rehearsal could very well go two weeks without looking at their music.
  • On a related note: tell musicians what they should practice, but in the back of your mind, don’t depend on outside practice. They all have busy lives.
  • Similarly, consider giving a week’s warning to a section before you jump into that one difficult passage.
  • Consider holding sectional rehearsals: we all have musicians in the group who could run their section if you split the group up. This eliminates the trombonist’s dilemma of waiting through long stretches while others practice their parts.
  • Have a plan: going into rehearsal with a detailed plan keeps you focused and gives energy to the proceedings. My plan usually consists of a set amount of time for each piece along with a list of “spots” and possible solutions.
  • That said, be flexible: the military adage is that “no plan survives first contact with the enemy,” and it’s true in rehearsal, too.
  • Consider recording your rehearsal.
  • Don’t forget to practice yourself: mixed meter is the bane of my existence, but I love modern music, so what’s a guy to do? I wave my arms around like a crazy person with a baton at home until I’ve got it.
  • Everyone in the group is doing the best they can that day. It will never be perfect, and any imperfections are not personally directed at you.
  • Say “please” and “thank you” a lot. All of our arm-flapping would be pointless without the people in front of the podium.
  • Don’t be afraid to acknowledge your own shortcomings—and then work on them!
  • Before you say something, use the THINK acronym: is what I’m about to say True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, and Kind? Above all, be kind.

I became aware of Bible verse that has a lot to do with how we perceive ourselves on the podium and as teachers, and when it was in the sermon a few weeks ago, it really stuck with me:

“…Jesus said [to the Pharisees], “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’.

Matthew 9:12-13 (New International Version)

There’s a whole context here, but the question we should be asking is whether we are demanding sacrifice from or offering mercy to our students and musicians.

For many years, I didn’t offer mercy to students, and demanded only sacrifice, and it made all of us miserable. I hope that you can learn from my mistake in this! Students have trouble learning and musicians can’t make music when they are constantly asked to sacrifice for our vision of their art but not granted mercy in return when life keeps them from achieving that vision.

I’m happy to discuss any of this with anyone, and certainly, I would love to benefit from everyone else’s experience, so don’t hesitate to reach out.

Returning to the Cleveland Orchestra

Saturday, December 1st, 2018

It hasn’t been so many months since I wrote about why I didn’t subscribe to the Cleveland Orchestra this year. With the dismissal of concertmaster William Preucil and principal trombonist Massimo LaRosa, I felt as though I could at least attend a concert with a clearer conscience, however. Hopefully, this is the first step to a more enlightened approach. I look forward to seeing if programming follows personnel in this case. I chose a concert that I would have been sure to pick as a subscriber: composer John Adams conducting his own work and that of Aaron Copland. As I said to my wife when I got home, every piece on the program was a banger, and there was no sense that I was waiting out part of the program to hear what I really wanted to see: an American orchestra performing American music, some of it from the 21st century.

One of my reasons for not subscribing was the customer service experience, and I was somewhat hesitant to buy a ticket given the iffy weather last week–I did not want a repeat of last winter’s having to forego Mahler’s Ninth symphony despite having the ticket in hand. So I put off buying until the day before the concert. The Friday night performance, unlike some Fridays, included the entire program, except for the pre-concert talk, which was not made clear on the website. I also had trouble using the website to purchase my ticket–I could not remember my password, and wasn’t able to reset the password once I had been emailed the code. I am very much in the database there–I actually received four copies of the email promoting this concert. A phone call to the box office solved the problem, however.

So–thinking I would hear the talk, I arrived an hour early, and once I found out there wasn’t to be one, I resigned myself to killing an hour until I ran into Mike Leone, who I know from my time at Ohio State, and who played trombone in the Lakeland Civic Orchestra for a time. We reconnected, and it was time well spent in the end.

The concert itself, then.  Buying my ticket late, I did not have my pick of seating locations, but I was able to find a seat that was very well-priced, and actually well-situated.  In particular, while I wasn’t any closer than I often have been, I feel like I could see and, more importantly, hear very well, and I will be looking for seats in this location in the future.

A side note: this is not my first time at Severance Hall this fall.  On October 30, I took my family to see the United States Marine Corps Band, another world-class ensemble. It was, of course, fantastic. As seating was first-come, first-served, we found seats in the Dress Circle, and the experience was very good.

The concert opened with John Adams’ Short Ride in a Fast Machine. Of Adams’ works, this is likely the most familiar, and with good reason. In fact, it is one of the pieces I emphasize in my music appreciation classes. The playing was exactly what the piece requires–precise, forceful, and on top of the beat in a way that I don’t always hear from the Cleveland Orchestra. Adams’ conducting is perhaps more suited to band than orchestra: mostly small beat patterns and a very literal approach to the stick. For Short Ride, it is appropriate, however, and it got what was needed from the musicians. Interestingly enough, after 30 years, Adams still conducts from the score for this piece (and all the others on the program). It gives this conductor-turned-composer-turned-conductor some hope. While I came to see Appalachian Spring and Leila Josefowicz, the curtain-raiser sticks firmly in my mind from last night’s program as the standout moment, perhaps because I knew immediately that I had returned on the right night.

Then to the music of Aaron Copland, and an incredible performance of Quiet City. This may be the Copland piece best suited to the Cleveland Orchestra, as it showcases this group’s incomparable string section and two of its strongest wind players–principal trumpet Michael Sachs and English hornist Robert Walters. The performance was impeccable, and, unsurprisingly, the strings seem to have adapted to the reality of acting concertmaster Peter Otto, who leads the section with confidence.

Appalachian Spring has long been one of my favorite pieces of music. For a time when I was young, it seemed like every group I was in performed the Variations on a Shaker Melody in either its band or orchestra version, but when I played the full 1945 suite in youth orchestra, it was a revelation. I normally study scores in advance of attending a Cleveland Orchestra concert, and I have the score to Appalachian Spring on my shelf, but it wasn’t really necessary in this case, although there are some things I am going to go back and look at when I get the chance.

One of my favorite Cleveland Orchestra concerts of the last few years was Marin Alsop’s rendition of Copland’s Third Symphony, so I knew that the orchestra was more than capable of presenting an inspiring performance of middle-period Copland (that said–wouldn’t it be great to hear Connotations or Dybbuk Severance? Just a thought…). This is a much tougher piece to lead than either of the two previous pieces, and Adams seemed somewhat less comfortable with it–I would be, too. He conducts mostly from the wrist and elbow, letting the stick do the bulk of the work, and saving the shoulder for bigger moments, which is similar to my approach, but this may limit his expression. I also saw more knee-work from him than I am comfortable with–since musicians can’t see your knees, for the most part, bending them isn’t particularly helpful, and can actually obscure what is happening with your upper body as you bob around in their peripheral vision.

The Orchestra, of course, takes all of this in stride, having played the piece many times. There was a tiny flub in the trumpet section, a rarity at Severance, and it was fascinating to see that lead the orchestra to sit up and take notice–tighten up in the way that the best musicians do in such situations. Overall, Adams’ interpretation was fairly strong, if not really ever unorthodox, and the musicians bought into it. While I have played Appalachian Spring and the Variations, I believe this is my first time hearing it from the audience, and it does not disappoint. I realize, now, how it truly is a suite of the ballet–it is very modular in its construction, shifting from one episode to another relatively quickly. As luck would have it, I am just completing the first draft of a piece, Channels, for the Blue Streak Ensemble, that is constructed more or less the same way, and I have been worried about whether it will convey a sense of unity. Copland here demonstrates that unity can arise from the sorts of rhythmic and melodic and stylistic variety that one finds in Appalachian Spring, and it is a balm to this composer with a looming deadline!

After the break came Adams’ own work again, his latest violin concerto Scheherazade.2, performed by its dedicatee Leila Josefowicz. I first saw Ms. Josefowicz perform when we were both teenagers–I in the audience and she onstage with the Columbus Symphony playing the Tchaikovsky. That vogue for very young violinists seems to have passed–and that whole generation (Josefowicz, Sarah Chang, Joshua Bell) has gone on to show that our excitement over them was not unfounded.  Josefowicz did not disappoint in the slightest, although Adams’ orchestration at times threatened to overpower her–this is suprising after reading his thoughts on his experience with his first Violin Concerto in the late 1980s in his memoir Hallelujah Junction. In his remarks from the podium, Adams admitted that his first experience with Scheherazade is Rimsky-Korsakov’s tone poem of the same name which, ironically, would have demonstrated a more careful approach to balance between solo violin and a large orchestra.

This is an interesting piece at this moment, and Adams admitted to this as well. I consider myself an ally to feminism, and it is clear that Adams does, too. Yet, is he the one who should be writing this piece? Aren’t there enough examples of men telling women’s stories? The other component of this work is its attempt to deal with male violence against women, and this is certainly a poignant moment for the Cleveland Orchestra to present such a piece, coming less than a month after the ouster of two misogynist members. In the notes, Adams states that the work is a “true collaboration” between himself and Josefowicz, and I would be curious to see how that collaboration unfolded. (Copland, of course, worked very closely with choreographer Martha Graham in creating Appalachian Spring, with Graham going so far as to suggest specific rhythmic ideas as well as the scenario–perhaps this is the reason Adams programmed the pieces together).

That said, I will be giving Scheherazade.2 more listening and score study. It is a kaleidoscope of orchestral effects and in juxtaposition with Short Ride in a Fast Machine, one sees just how far Adams’ style has progressed over the three decades since he came to prominence. One misses, at times, the organic, unified approach to a composition that his more minimalist-inflected work brought, but this is truly a different language, and Adams has long insisted that he never meant to be a minimalist. The cimbalom adds an interesting tonal element to the work as well, providing a link between the harp and the rack of tuned gongs in the percussion section. What I heard was good, but as the only work on this concert that was unfamiliar to me, I will have to return to it.  With Josefowicz having performed the piece 50 times in three years, it hopefully is finding a permanent place in the repertoire.

And so I returned to the Cleveland Orchestra, as was inevitable. It felt right, and I felt the joy I always hope to feel when I go, that I should always feel when I go. I felt both comforted and challenged, and I felt like the musicians had something important to say about the music they were making.  In all, it was time and money well-spent, and if it is professional development, I feel that I grew as a musician last night.

Library Matters, Part Deux

Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

Summer is a great time for big projects, right?  Especially if they’re a little bit tedious and time-consuming, and therefore much easier to accomplish when there aren’t as many students around.

So I’ve been getting a vast number of scores in our band library into protective envelopes, numbering and labelling the envelopes with the needed information, etc.  I’m now out of envelopes, after filling 809 of them (yes, if you order 800 envelopes, you might get 809 envelopes… how about that?).  I need about 1000 more to finish the job, but we were short on funds last spring when I made the order (but–the new fiscal year starts July 1, and I know what one of my first P.O.s will be…).  The pause gives me time to reflect, and to update the catalog we have on the computer.

If I were a librarian, I would have just done the deed, but since I’m the conductor who will be choosing repertoire from this library, it was only natural to make an assessment of each piece’s Wertung, as they say.  Overall, the Wertung was pretty low.  The story is that one of my predecessors bought out a music store that was going out of business, so there is a lot of, well, junk in there.  I’m a pack rat, like my father before me, so nothing’s getting thrown out, but if I were sifting and not just cataloging, the library would end up a lot smaller.

Don’t get me wrong–there is also a fair amount of usable music, and a good selection of great music, including several winners of the ABA/Ostwald Award, original band music and transcriptions of orchestra music by some great composers and even some very interesting looking pieces by completely obscure composers who may deserve to be better known, but got lost in the process of building the canon.

But the amount of schlock (from the German schlag, for mine-tailings, according to Neal Stephenson’s excellent book Quicksilver) is just amazing.  A medley of songs by New Kids on the Block.  Arrangement after arrangement of Christmas music (all you really need is Leroy Anderson).  How many versions of “Ode to Joy” do there need to be?  Cookie-cutter Grade 2 and 3 band pieces that are clearly written with no purpose in mind other than to provide something that will score well at contest.

I can’t even begin to fathom why some of the things I’ve seen were even published.  Calling your medley Great Sounds from Today’s Movies is just asking for irrelevance within a decade (this is of mid-1970s vintage).  And what is with medleys anyway?  Why aren’t arrangers creative enough to come up with at least a variation on a pop tune or (heaven forbid) a development section?  Music of the Special Olympics?  Really?  I mean, I have no problem with the Special Olympics–it’s wonderful.  But really?

And marches–the marches!  Composers–there are enough marches now.  The shortage is past.  We don’t need to write anymore marches in the traditional style.  We don’t need to go dig up anymore marches from 100 years ago and give them new “editions.”  It’s done.  Write something else.  Again, don’t get me wrong–the march style is one of the major heritages of the band world, and I program a march on every band concert.  But seriously… stop writing them!

The era of historical development in this chunk of the library spans (from what I can tell) about 40 years, from around 1950 to around 1990.  In that time, there seem to have been two major eras.  The 1950s and 1960s were the glory years for bands, but composition hadn’t caught up, so publishers were just putting out everything they could get their hands on.  Lots of marches, lots of orchestral transcriptions, and some absolutely fantastic original pieces for band.  Plenty of garbage, as well.  This is the raw material of the canon that we don’t see when we look at the Classical and Romantic periods.  The sort has been completed.  I would say that even up to about 1945 or so, in that band world, we have a fairly well-established canon or original works for band.

The second era is the real problem here.  In the 1970s and 1980s, we start to see the beginnings of the “synergy” model.  Most blatant, I think, are the very large media companies of this era such as Warner Brothers and Columbia Pictures (owned by Coca-Cola at that time).  It is here that we begin to see piles and piles of pop song arrangements, movie tie-ins and TV show themes.  Adorno’s Culture Industry at work.  The result–original band composition largely stagnates (yes, there are still composers like Michael Colgrass and Joseph Schwantner doing incredible work in this era–more on that below).  As middle schools and high schools give their students a steady diet of tie-in music, serious composition shifts to the Grade 6 level, aimed at college wind ensembles (and the occasional amazing high school band).  Where is the Michael Colgrass or Joseph Schwantner of Grade 3?  (Truthfully, they are out there… it just takes some digging).

If I see one more piece that begins with trumpets playing an open fifth…

It’s early to make a verdict on the 2000s, but it seems like it has been another sort of mediocre decade for bands.  Lots of good pieces; nearly infinite bad pieces; but where is the 21st-century equivalent of Grainger’s Lincolnshire Posy, Husa’s Music for Prague 1968, Colgrass’s Winds of Nagual?  Where is the music that not only is wonderful to listen to but also makes musicians think?  In the end, it probably doesn’t matter whether my students can play.  It really doesn’t matter what score a band gets at contest.  Have we used music to make musicians and audiences think?

I’ll leave you with a sobering link–C.L. Barnhouse is a major publisher of music for band, one of the three or four largest in the country.  They publish band music almost exclusively, and should be a leader in the field.  They also have a large recording arm, Walking Frog Records.  These are their Editorial/Submissions Policies.  I will be having nightmares about this for years.

Musical Theatre

Sunday, April 19th, 2009

I used to pick on musical theatre a lot in college, and not undeservedly.  There is a great deal of musical cheese out there, some of it wildly successful and making piles and piles of cash for its authors and producers.

Honestly, though, in the end, I have to come down on the side of any medium that emphasizes live performance, gets young people and community members involved in the arts across the country and does so much to blend artistic and popular streams of composition.  As much as I wish that opera were more relevant to society, there’s a lot to be said in favor of musical theatre.

I got to experience a good shot of that this week with OPSU’s production of Urinetown: The Musical, which closed on Saturday after three fantastic performances.  The show’s music is extremely pithy, with a huge debt to Kurt Weill, and not a little bit to Leonard Bernstein (the jump number “Snuff that Girl” is placed in just about the same point in the story as “Cool” is in West Side Story (an aside–my former Cincinnati classmate Karen Olivo is currently playing Anita in the Broadway revival of Lenny’s incredible show, and had a write-up in The New Yorker a couple of weeks ago.  Again, I brush up against fame)).  The book to Urinetown is fantastic, with great use of a very post-modern narrator and exactly the kind of snide, knowing, sophisticated comedy.  Congrats to director Tito Aznar and a great cast for pulling this off.

It was an absolute joy to play in the pit of this show and listen to my students and colleagues expand their horizons as both performers and as human beings.  This is the point of both theatre and college, in my opinion.  Sometimes this can be done in the classroom, or through the experience of real life, but sometimes we have to put on a show and band together with others to do so.

Part of what I loved most about Urinetown was its social conscience–a wonderful ability to look at a problem that involves all of us, and to look at it from multiple angles, and to affirm, at the end, that the answer that seems morally right might actually be morally reprehensible.  The road to Perdition is indeed paved with good intentions.  We need theatre like this in all our lives.  If we all lived in New York City, we could experience the Broadway and off-Broadway shows like this that don’t get long runs or touring companies or movie adaptations (although Urinetown has gotten a fair amount of play, and did have a touring company earlier this decade… the movie version could be absolutely fantastic if they made one; I would actually vote for a cartoon by Seth McFarland).

So my plea to community and school theatre directors–choose shows with substance, that make your students make important statements and evaluate them.  The world does not need another revival of Grease, or Bye-Bye Birdie, or The Girlfriend, or even Once Upon a Mattress (which is one of my all-time favorite shows).  Even though I think it’s a snore, and extremely self-righteous, South Pacific at least confronts racism and imperialism.  The Music Man has a lot to say about prejudice and gossip.  Find edgy, exciting music–Kurt Weill or Jean-Michel Schonberg or Sondheim–and wry, dry, meaningful dialog (and for Pete’s sake, if you do put on Grease, don’t let the actors play it straight).  Shows from the last twenty years or so have nice, tidy little pits based on jazz and rock combos, and let the music have a bite and a relevance that just isn’t achieved when a pianist plays the orchestra reduction (or fills in most of the string parts).

I’ve been asked to conduct Sweeney Todd in the fall here in Guymon, and I’m really looking forward to digging into a difficult score and bringing it to life with a great director (Michael Ask, who played Bobby Strong in Urinetown at OPSU).  Will it be a reach for our community theatre?  Yes, but I have confidence that it will come to life.  Was I a little sickened by the movie version last Christmas?  Yes, but, with the chance to dig into Sondheim’s score and reflect on what’s really in the show, I’m hoping that I’ll be able to find the point to the show that justifies all that.

So… this is the time of year that many high schools are putting on their annual shows.  Get out and see one and support a hugely meaningful educational experience and a very important American art form.