I finished my little summer break recently, and have started teaching again. For those who don't know, I teach private cello lessons. It's often kind challenging, and you have to be a little bit careful about well meaning but over bearing mothers who are making their kids do a thousand and one different extra-curricular activities, but... it's a lot of fun. At least, it is to me. I know other people who hate it, which makes me wonder why they're doing it. I mean, ok, money, but come on. The money isn't that good in private teaching. If you chose private teaching to make lots of money, well. You chose poorly.
Early on in my blogging, I wrote a couple of times about a book called "How People Learn." I thought it was a good book while reading it, but I'm convinced it's actually a great one. That's because I took some of the principles laid out in the book and used them in my lessons. The impact was immediate and profound. When you see a student's bow grip and bow stroke change dramatically for the better, and when even the student realizes they've hit on something good because they can feel and hear the difference, then you know you've got a winner.
All in all, they were some phenomenal lessons. When I did my post-teaching debriefing with myself (where I ask myself what I did well, what I did poorly, what was ok but could have done better, what I missed, etc.), I spent a lot of time thinking about what went right. Clearly, a lot of it came from the book, but there was something that happened that the book didn't cover very much. The students all had, within the lesson, epiphanous moments. Ah-ha moments. And I realized during my debriefing that those moments, while not consciously engineered, were not accidents either.
Either that, or we were terrifically, miraculously lucky.
Here's what I think happened.
The Will to Power
One of the biggest points "How People Learn" makes is, you don't teach the facts, you teach the principle. If you teach the principle, the facts will make sense and come naturally on their own. That's basically what the whole book is about, actually, and how to approach that fact of learning/teaching. I have puzzled over what the principles of movement are since I wrote about that particular pedagogical problem. Talking with numerous friends and a few teachers, here is what I have come up with.
1. Strength is highest in your core (torso), decreases as you move away from the core, and is lowest at the periphery (feet and hands). This is pretty easy to observe, actually. The muscles in your hand are far smaller than even the muscles in your forearm.
2. Strength is not the same as tension, and tension must be balanced: too loose, and you'll drop your bow; too tense, and you will hurt yourself.
3. Finally, movement starts from the muscles you activate and moves outward. If the movement starts from the wrist, the hand will move; from the forearm, the wrist and hand and fingers. etc.
The principle at work is thus quite simple: effective and relaxed movement starts from strength (the core) and radiates outward; but in order for that strength to be leveraged, it must be channeled. Too little tension, and the strength dissipates, too much and the strength is blocked. While not strictly part of the above principle, it should be noted that twisting (torque) is more effective than pushing (force), and that we should strive to gain mechanical advantage (give me a large enough lever and a fulcrum, and I can move the world) wherever we can.
Learning Bug in the Teaching Web
Once I had settled on the principle, I set about trying to teach it. But I didn't start with the principle, as the book tended to suggest. I instead hid the principle at the center of discussion, and led my students around the periphery, covering a wide variety of apparently unrelated problems. I did a number of the tricks in the book: Socratic method; teasing out assumptions; testing assumptions rather than simply correcting them; creating hypotheses and testing those. Those were all quite effective.
But then, slowly, gradually, I led my student towards the actual issue, the thing that tied everything together. When we got there, a most fascinating thing happened: an epiphany. And not just a random one, either! In teaching, we don't want to rely on chance... Natural epiphanies can be enlightening, but they are rather flighty birds, to be sure. No, this epiphany was instinctively (or accidentally) constructed. As soon as the principle became clear, the student went: "Oh. Oooooh!"
Thinking about what an epiphany is should make it quite obvious that this was the most natural reaction in the world. An epiphany is simply the sudden realization that a number of unrelated facts or problems are all related by an underlying idea. And that's exactly what we made. Epiphanies. The best part? Epiphanies are some of the most powerful aids to memory we can come across. It is very difficult to forget something that comes in the form of an epiphany. In its most extreme form, think of religious conversion. Now scale it back to earthly levels, and that's exactly what we've got.
Now go out and make some epiphanies happen!
Daily Recommendation
As usual, I have a couple of pieces in keeping with the theme. The first is a little piece by Claude Debussy called "Dr. Gradus ad Parnassum." The title alludes to what is perhaps the first musical text book in Europe, "Gradus ad Parnassum" by Johann Joseph Fux. The book is a series of exercises in counterpoint (the art of writing one melody against another), and was studied by a Haydn, Beethoven, and Mozart, among many others.
The second is the 4th movement of Mozart's Symphony 41. It, too, allegedly uses a motive found in Fux's text, but uses it brilliantly in a 5 voice fugetta (little fugue) featuring four themes all more or less at the same time.
Claude Debussy: "Dr. Gradus ad Parnassum," from the Children's Corner Suite.
Amadeus Mozart: Symphony 41, K. 551* 4th movement.
*Mozart's works were written before number works with an opus number was common. His pieces were all catalogued by 19th century scholar Ludwig von Köchel. Hence the "K." Like K-mart. Except klassier.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Composer Composting
Yesterday, I had a great time listening to and playing at a festival commemorating the cello teacher Lev Aronson. Here is a picture of me being awesome:
Yeah, look at that hottie. I'd totally jump his bones. Wait. No. Ew.
The event, as far as I could tell, was hugely successful. Despite the country music you hear at their page, the All Good Cafe was absolutely packed with customers. So everybody knows, yesterday's performance was part of a larger festival given in honor of Lev Aronson, a week long cello fest which will be recurring every year. I think that's pretty amazing, really.
All of the cellists were amazing. It was great hearing so many talented players all in one spot. There was, however, something which niggled at my brain while I was listening. It wasn't until I played near the end that I figured out what was bothering me: I was the only one who played any new music. Granted, it was mine, but still. We heard Vivaldi, Handel, Popper, Lee, Cassadó... But nothing from the 21st century.
So! I will rant a bit about that! What's going on, here? It's a problem I know I've touched on, before. The reasons why new classical music doesn't get performed regularly are multifaceted and complicated. I'll talk today about my experience in college, and maybe some people out there will recognize that experience and set about changing it in what ways they can.
The Great Gulf
In music school, there were two groups of people. Performers. And composers. Performers didn't compose. Composers didn't perform. There were also subtle undertones of "Four legs good, two legs bad" syndrome. People on both sides had a slight tendency to look down their noses across the aisle. It's like... When you're at a wedding. And the wife's side of the family doesn't entirely approve of the husband, and the husband's side of the family really isn't all to sure about it either, but it's a wedding so they're forced to more or less put up with each other... It was like that. And I know, from playing in the orchestra, that when student orchestration readings came up, there was often a slight tension in the air, as if some number of the musicians felt rather put upon.
I can only speculate as to how things got this way. Surely the fact that the two sides have become so distinct from each other is part of the problem. Composers, of course, play an instrument. But in my time, I never really saw too many composers compose for themselves, or groups they had created. And performers almost 100% never wrote any music. Most of that has to do with perceived ability, I imagine. Our current school system goes to great lengths to try and stamp out creativity where it can, and it leaves a lot of wounded souls in its wake. "I can't compose" is a phrase I heard not entirely infrequently.
Part of me is tempted to say "You mean, 'you won't compose.'" But... That is somewhat inaccurate and certainly callous. Mental blocks, as I wrote about yesterday, can be incredibly powerful, and it is foolish to imagine that something that is "all in your head" shouldn't have an impact in the physical world. Placebos, for example. Well, it's even more pronounced when it comes to creative endeavors. So there's that.
But there's also something else. There's very little music theory in high school programs, and none in middle school. Insofar as some amount of music theory is helpful for composing, it's perhaps also true the "I can't compose" line comes as much from ignorance as it does from self esteem. So there's that as well.
Building Jeff Bridges
The simplest way to start is to simply connect. Shake hands, make friends, grab a beer. Think back in the past how many pieces were written with specific performers in mind. Benjamin Britten for Peter Pears. Mozart for Anton Stadler. Haydn for Esterhazy. Brahms and Joachim. Etc. Etc. Etc. The list goes on and on. Collaborate. All the great composers of the past did, so should you.
Also, composers: Write for yourself. There is no easier way to get immediate feedback about what works and what doesn't than if you write something you can play, and go out and play it. The best part about it is, you don't have to pay for rehearsals. And performers: well... Try and break out of your shells a little bit. Write a short song. Or something in simple binary. Or a fugue or something. Whatever you want. It doesn't matter if you never perform it. Just getting into the composing mind set will help you understand music in ways you never get when you are just studying it for performance, or for theory. It's amazing how it clarifies things.
Recommendations of the Day
Today, I want to highlight a couple of the collaborations I noted above. In particular, Brahms' Violin Concerto and Britten's Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings. Brahms wrote the violin concerto for Joseph Joachim, a great violinist from the 19th century, and the Serenade was written for Peter Pears, an absolutely phenomenal tenor. Both are somewhat long. If you're strapped for time, the Dirge from the Serenade will knock you flat, and the last movement of the Violin Concerto will pick you up again.
Benjamin Britten: Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings, op.31
Johannes Brahms: Violin Concerto, op. 77
Yeah, look at that hottie. I'd totally jump his bones. Wait. No. Ew.
The event, as far as I could tell, was hugely successful. Despite the country music you hear at their page, the All Good Cafe was absolutely packed with customers. So everybody knows, yesterday's performance was part of a larger festival given in honor of Lev Aronson, a week long cello fest which will be recurring every year. I think that's pretty amazing, really.
All of the cellists were amazing. It was great hearing so many talented players all in one spot. There was, however, something which niggled at my brain while I was listening. It wasn't until I played near the end that I figured out what was bothering me: I was the only one who played any new music. Granted, it was mine, but still. We heard Vivaldi, Handel, Popper, Lee, Cassadó... But nothing from the 21st century.
So! I will rant a bit about that! What's going on, here? It's a problem I know I've touched on, before. The reasons why new classical music doesn't get performed regularly are multifaceted and complicated. I'll talk today about my experience in college, and maybe some people out there will recognize that experience and set about changing it in what ways they can.
The Great Gulf
In music school, there were two groups of people. Performers. And composers. Performers didn't compose. Composers didn't perform. There were also subtle undertones of "Four legs good, two legs bad" syndrome. People on both sides had a slight tendency to look down their noses across the aisle. It's like... When you're at a wedding. And the wife's side of the family doesn't entirely approve of the husband, and the husband's side of the family really isn't all to sure about it either, but it's a wedding so they're forced to more or less put up with each other... It was like that. And I know, from playing in the orchestra, that when student orchestration readings came up, there was often a slight tension in the air, as if some number of the musicians felt rather put upon.
I can only speculate as to how things got this way. Surely the fact that the two sides have become so distinct from each other is part of the problem. Composers, of course, play an instrument. But in my time, I never really saw too many composers compose for themselves, or groups they had created. And performers almost 100% never wrote any music. Most of that has to do with perceived ability, I imagine. Our current school system goes to great lengths to try and stamp out creativity where it can, and it leaves a lot of wounded souls in its wake. "I can't compose" is a phrase I heard not entirely infrequently.
Part of me is tempted to say "You mean, 'you won't compose.'" But... That is somewhat inaccurate and certainly callous. Mental blocks, as I wrote about yesterday, can be incredibly powerful, and it is foolish to imagine that something that is "all in your head" shouldn't have an impact in the physical world. Placebos, for example. Well, it's even more pronounced when it comes to creative endeavors. So there's that.
But there's also something else. There's very little music theory in high school programs, and none in middle school. Insofar as some amount of music theory is helpful for composing, it's perhaps also true the "I can't compose" line comes as much from ignorance as it does from self esteem. So there's that as well.
Building Jeff Bridges
The simplest way to start is to simply connect. Shake hands, make friends, grab a beer. Think back in the past how many pieces were written with specific performers in mind. Benjamin Britten for Peter Pears. Mozart for Anton Stadler. Haydn for Esterhazy. Brahms and Joachim. Etc. Etc. Etc. The list goes on and on. Collaborate. All the great composers of the past did, so should you.
Also, composers: Write for yourself. There is no easier way to get immediate feedback about what works and what doesn't than if you write something you can play, and go out and play it. The best part about it is, you don't have to pay for rehearsals. And performers: well... Try and break out of your shells a little bit. Write a short song. Or something in simple binary. Or a fugue or something. Whatever you want. It doesn't matter if you never perform it. Just getting into the composing mind set will help you understand music in ways you never get when you are just studying it for performance, or for theory. It's amazing how it clarifies things.
Recommendations of the Day
Today, I want to highlight a couple of the collaborations I noted above. In particular, Brahms' Violin Concerto and Britten's Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings. Brahms wrote the violin concerto for Joseph Joachim, a great violinist from the 19th century, and the Serenade was written for Peter Pears, an absolutely phenomenal tenor. Both are somewhat long. If you're strapped for time, the Dirge from the Serenade will knock you flat, and the last movement of the Violin Concerto will pick you up again.
Benjamin Britten: Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings, op.31
Johannes Brahms: Violin Concerto, op. 77
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Be Excellent to Each Other
There's still debate among researchers as to whether or not music is an evolutionary accident that arose alongside language, or if it music provides some kind of evolutionary advantage to humans. I'm sure the question is important in an academic sense, in that the answer might help determine how to research music in the future, but for our purposes the question is entirely irrelevant. All that matters here is that music is an incredibly powerful mode of human communication.
To that end, I have given thought to musicians connecting with people in times of need. Whether it's a few symphony players alleviating boredom during a long flight delay, flying halfway around the world to play for a grieving friend, or something as simple as volunteering time at a retirement home, music can often help make other people's lives better. Not just because of the music, although that certainly counts for something, but because the music is being given by an actual, honest to gosh human being.
However, I will admit to having felt a powerful mental lock recently, one which I wish hadn't been an issue but was for a number of reasons. So it's about to get personal up in here.
The Game of Life
The Game of Life is one of the worst board games you will ever come across. It's truly awful. One way it is awful is, they forgot to put in the explosions and tornadoes. I mean, if you're going to have the game of "life," you might as well go all the way. I am referencing two recent events in particular: the refinery explosion in West, Texas; and the recent rash of tornadoes up in North Texas and Oklahoma.
Now, I will admit, these events seemed about as far away from the topic of music as you can get. And yet, when I heard about the West, Texas explosion and the tornadoes, and kept hearing about their impact on the radio, I began to think that these people are among those who not only want music because of a basic human drive to create and listen to it, but actively need it. That while the human support they receive in the form of money, clothes, food and shelter are all critical, there existed an existential need that only be met by art or religion. Funny how those two things always seem to be closely linked, eh?
Anyways. I had that thought, epiphany even, and was just about to grab my cello and jump in the car when I had just about the worst case of the "What If's" I have ever had in my life.
What if I can't find a place to stay?
What if it's still dangerous out there?
What if I can't find a place to play?
What if they don't want me there?
What if it's inappropriate or presumptuous?
What if... What if... What if...?
I have to say, the What If's literally paralyzed my brain, and all action stopped, and I reluctantly went back to my routine. The frustration was enormous. Here I was, being prevented from helping in a way that is rather unique to trained musicians, and I was being stonewalled by a list of What If questions that all simply didn't matter. Granted, it was a five hour drive or whatever. Granted, I am an introvert to the extreme. Granted, some of the questions actually did matter. But whatever was standing in my way was equally unimportant. I had the opportunity to help, and I didn't.
Let It Be
In my usual way, I was pretty hard on myself for a while, but I calmed down pretty quick to do what I do best: think. It gradually occurred to me that stories about musical charity contributions were all rather exceptional. Not even in the way of "Rostropovich flew halfway around the world to play for his friend," kind of exceptional. Just the act itself was rather uncommon. Sure, you have musicians who put together benefit programs for charities or relief funds, but those are largely unattended by the people who were actually affected (I'm guessing, here, but I assume if you don't have food or a house, you're pretty off in a bad way as far as finances).
So thinking back, I found the other events that plagued me with What Ifs. They were: the first time I asked a girl out; going to college; and my first solo performances. In other words, they were all things which I had no experience with. And music as a charitable act was something I simply wasn't exposed to. It didn't even occur to me until my 26th year that it was something to do just because it's something you just... do.
Know people who need help? Play music for them. It's not bread, it's not a roof over their head, but they'll know in their bones that they're truly not alone.
The Daily Dose
Today I shall recommend some elegiac music. Fauré's Elegie for Cello and Piano is quite wonderful, but if you want something to truly knock your socks off, listen to Arvo Pärt's "Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten." Never has a scale been played with such emotion.
Gabriel Fauré: Elegie for Cello and Piano, op.24
Arvo Pärt: Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten
(If you're wondering why I don't link directly to a performance, just remember one word: copyright. And Google. Ok. Two words, I guess.)
To that end, I have given thought to musicians connecting with people in times of need. Whether it's a few symphony players alleviating boredom during a long flight delay, flying halfway around the world to play for a grieving friend, or something as simple as volunteering time at a retirement home, music can often help make other people's lives better. Not just because of the music, although that certainly counts for something, but because the music is being given by an actual, honest to gosh human being.
However, I will admit to having felt a powerful mental lock recently, one which I wish hadn't been an issue but was for a number of reasons. So it's about to get personal up in here.
The Game of Life
The Game of Life is one of the worst board games you will ever come across. It's truly awful. One way it is awful is, they forgot to put in the explosions and tornadoes. I mean, if you're going to have the game of "life," you might as well go all the way. I am referencing two recent events in particular: the refinery explosion in West, Texas; and the recent rash of tornadoes up in North Texas and Oklahoma.
Now, I will admit, these events seemed about as far away from the topic of music as you can get. And yet, when I heard about the West, Texas explosion and the tornadoes, and kept hearing about their impact on the radio, I began to think that these people are among those who not only want music because of a basic human drive to create and listen to it, but actively need it. That while the human support they receive in the form of money, clothes, food and shelter are all critical, there existed an existential need that only be met by art or religion. Funny how those two things always seem to be closely linked, eh?
Anyways. I had that thought, epiphany even, and was just about to grab my cello and jump in the car when I had just about the worst case of the "What If's" I have ever had in my life.
What if I can't find a place to stay?
What if it's still dangerous out there?
What if I can't find a place to play?
What if they don't want me there?
What if it's inappropriate or presumptuous?
What if... What if... What if...?
I have to say, the What If's literally paralyzed my brain, and all action stopped, and I reluctantly went back to my routine. The frustration was enormous. Here I was, being prevented from helping in a way that is rather unique to trained musicians, and I was being stonewalled by a list of What If questions that all simply didn't matter. Granted, it was a five hour drive or whatever. Granted, I am an introvert to the extreme. Granted, some of the questions actually did matter. But whatever was standing in my way was equally unimportant. I had the opportunity to help, and I didn't.
Let It Be
In my usual way, I was pretty hard on myself for a while, but I calmed down pretty quick to do what I do best: think. It gradually occurred to me that stories about musical charity contributions were all rather exceptional. Not even in the way of "Rostropovich flew halfway around the world to play for his friend," kind of exceptional. Just the act itself was rather uncommon. Sure, you have musicians who put together benefit programs for charities or relief funds, but those are largely unattended by the people who were actually affected (I'm guessing, here, but I assume if you don't have food or a house, you're pretty off in a bad way as far as finances).
So thinking back, I found the other events that plagued me with What Ifs. They were: the first time I asked a girl out; going to college; and my first solo performances. In other words, they were all things which I had no experience with. And music as a charitable act was something I simply wasn't exposed to. It didn't even occur to me until my 26th year that it was something to do just because it's something you just... do.
Know people who need help? Play music for them. It's not bread, it's not a roof over their head, but they'll know in their bones that they're truly not alone.
The Daily Dose
Today I shall recommend some elegiac music. Fauré's Elegie for Cello and Piano is quite wonderful, but if you want something to truly knock your socks off, listen to Arvo Pärt's "Cantus in Memory of Benjamin Britten." Never has a scale been played with such emotion.
Gabriel Fauré: Elegie for Cello and Piano, op.24
Arvo Pärt: Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten
(If you're wondering why I don't link directly to a performance, just remember one word: copyright. And Google. Ok. Two words, I guess.)
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Art is Not Just Art
Continuing my musings about building societal value in music, I come to an interesting point: Music, art in general, is not just music and art. It's also a service. Now, I personally hope that we can come to an age where music is learned just because music is awesome and fun. But the reality right now is, we have politicians who are deciding whether it is worth the budget space to fund music programs in schools across the country, and those politicians need "reasons" for music to be included. Especially in a culture which highly prizes its standardized testing, and is constantly giving weight to that which is testable and 'objective,' the arts tend to get shafted. How do you test music or art? How do you test its impact on the life of a person? You can't. Not really, because those values are totally subjective, holistic, and multifaceted. There is no multiple choice answer to the question "How has music made your life better?"
A. It lets me socialize with my peer group.
B. It helps me form my own identity distinct from other people.
C. It helps me learn how to regulate my emotions.
D. It lets me communicate with my grandmother who has Alzheimer's.
The list goes on, but "all the above" doesn't cut it because music is everything for everyone, and everyone has different issues, and you can't just say "This is the right answer. Oh, music helped you form a social life? Wrong, the correct answer was 'Music helped you regulate your emotions.'"
However! There are, of course, numerous benefits to music, both listening and performing. Granted, many of these benefits are merely correlations, as we find in the Dana Arts and Cognition Consortium. Things like art relating to increase in sustained attention, geometrical representation, long term memory, etc. They are careful to note these are not yet causally related, but that's why they exist. To help draw research attention to these correlations for further study.
Music Therapy
Music in the realm of medicine has been increasingly validated by science. I admit, when I first heard of "music therapy," I was pretty skeptical. It sounds awfully similar to a lot of snake oils we've had in the past. But then I started reading. Alleviating Alzheimer's has already been noted. But there are numerous other benefits as well. Everything from helping depression and bipolar, to speech and even movement therapy.
Oh man. Speech and movement therapy. Let me tell you about that. Paraphrasing from Oliver Sacks' book "Musicophilia": A patient, Samuel S., developed severe aphasia following a stroke. Regular speech therapy produced no results even after two years. Then, a music therapist heard him singing "Old Man River," though only managing one or two words of the lyrics. The therapist worked with him to recover the rest of the song, and soon other songs followed. After two months, Samuel was able to make short answers to questions.
Also from Oliver Sacks' "Musicophilia," regarding movement therapy: An old lady required surgery for her hip, which required a long period of immobilization, both before the surgery and after. However, even after recovery, the leg remained apparently paralyzed, with no obvious cause. Upon questioning, Sacks found that the patient's leg responded to movement while listening to Irish jigs. Wondering if, perhaps, dance music could help, they went through jig after jig, march after march, for weeks. At the end of it all, she had totally regained the movement in her leg.
The Usual Disclaimers
It should be noted, Oliver Sacks' book is filled with the extraordinary. It may be we cannot expect such phenomenal results from every person who needs therapy of one kind or another. However, research continues to show the benefits of music for people recovering from stroke, or suffering from Parkinson's or Alzheimer's.
The ultimate point is, music is not just music. Art is not just art. These activities have benefits beyond just the pleasure of doing them (which is, in itself, quite a motivation for including these activities in your life). One day, we will understand that we do art just for the sake of doing art. Until then, we should strive to remind everyone we can that there are powerful justifications for the inclusion of the arts in any educational program, and beyond.
Recommendations of the Day
I think I should recommend something in line with today's article. To that end, I highly suggest, almost demand, that you put Beethoven's Heiliger Dankgesang into your life. It is longish, about 15-20 minutes or so, but you will not regret it. The piece itself is a "Song of Thanksgiving," and is dedicated as such: "A Convalescent's Holy Song of Thanksgiving to the Divinity." This was written after a long period of illness, and is phenomenal in every respect.
Heiliger Dankgesang, Beethoven String Quartet op*. 135, 3rd movement**
*Opus. Meaning "Work."
** Longer compositions are often divided into units which are simply called "movements." A typical symphony, say by Mozart, has four movements. It might be helpful to think of them as chapters in a book.
A. It lets me socialize with my peer group.
B. It helps me form my own identity distinct from other people.
C. It helps me learn how to regulate my emotions.
D. It lets me communicate with my grandmother who has Alzheimer's.
The list goes on, but "all the above" doesn't cut it because music is everything for everyone, and everyone has different issues, and you can't just say "This is the right answer. Oh, music helped you form a social life? Wrong, the correct answer was 'Music helped you regulate your emotions.'"
However! There are, of course, numerous benefits to music, both listening and performing. Granted, many of these benefits are merely correlations, as we find in the Dana Arts and Cognition Consortium. Things like art relating to increase in sustained attention, geometrical representation, long term memory, etc. They are careful to note these are not yet causally related, but that's why they exist. To help draw research attention to these correlations for further study.
Music Therapy
Music in the realm of medicine has been increasingly validated by science. I admit, when I first heard of "music therapy," I was pretty skeptical. It sounds awfully similar to a lot of snake oils we've had in the past. But then I started reading. Alleviating Alzheimer's has already been noted. But there are numerous other benefits as well. Everything from helping depression and bipolar, to speech and even movement therapy.
Oh man. Speech and movement therapy. Let me tell you about that. Paraphrasing from Oliver Sacks' book "Musicophilia": A patient, Samuel S., developed severe aphasia following a stroke. Regular speech therapy produced no results even after two years. Then, a music therapist heard him singing "Old Man River," though only managing one or two words of the lyrics. The therapist worked with him to recover the rest of the song, and soon other songs followed. After two months, Samuel was able to make short answers to questions.
Also from Oliver Sacks' "Musicophilia," regarding movement therapy: An old lady required surgery for her hip, which required a long period of immobilization, both before the surgery and after. However, even after recovery, the leg remained apparently paralyzed, with no obvious cause. Upon questioning, Sacks found that the patient's leg responded to movement while listening to Irish jigs. Wondering if, perhaps, dance music could help, they went through jig after jig, march after march, for weeks. At the end of it all, she had totally regained the movement in her leg.
The Usual Disclaimers
It should be noted, Oliver Sacks' book is filled with the extraordinary. It may be we cannot expect such phenomenal results from every person who needs therapy of one kind or another. However, research continues to show the benefits of music for people recovering from stroke, or suffering from Parkinson's or Alzheimer's.
The ultimate point is, music is not just music. Art is not just art. These activities have benefits beyond just the pleasure of doing them (which is, in itself, quite a motivation for including these activities in your life). One day, we will understand that we do art just for the sake of doing art. Until then, we should strive to remind everyone we can that there are powerful justifications for the inclusion of the arts in any educational program, and beyond.
Recommendations of the Day
I think I should recommend something in line with today's article. To that end, I highly suggest, almost demand, that you put Beethoven's Heiliger Dankgesang into your life. It is longish, about 15-20 minutes or so, but you will not regret it. The piece itself is a "Song of Thanksgiving," and is dedicated as such: "A Convalescent's Holy Song of Thanksgiving to the Divinity." This was written after a long period of illness, and is phenomenal in every respect.
Heiliger Dankgesang, Beethoven String Quartet op*. 135, 3rd movement**
*Opus. Meaning "Work."
** Longer compositions are often divided into units which are simply called "movements." A typical symphony, say by Mozart, has four movements. It might be helpful to think of them as chapters in a book.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Lead by Teaching
Tickets are boughten, bags are packed, we're on the train to Valuetown. Classical musicians and music lovers have an instinctive feeling that classical music is valuable. However, we can't just assume that other people will see it in the same way, not least because the forms and harmonies which structure classical music often sound foreign and unintelligible to people who aren't used to them. So of course, some amount of teaching is assumed, even if I don't personally believe that an audience member needs to know everything going on in classical music to enjoy it.
It's like... When The Simpsons was in its prime, did people stop liking it even when they didn't get all of the multitudinous obscure or downright esoteric jokes? No. There was plenty of stuff for everybody to hang onto. But oh how you felt good when you got one of the jokes none of your friends got. It's like that.
Still, musical education in general is something we find missing in a lot of people's lives, whether it is classical or not. So lets look into some ways we can leverage what students we have to help create more societal value in what we do.
Disclaimer
Not everybody is a teacher. Oh wow, is this ever true. If you don't like teaching, if you don't want to teach, if you can't teach water out of a plastic cup, then don't. There are far too many good/great teachers who aren't being utilized because the pay is generally too low... but that doesn't mean the gap should be filled with terrible ones. Just because you can play doesn't mean you can teach, and if you really, honestly can't, just... do what you're good at, and play awesome concerts. Trust me when I say, everyone will be much happier that way.
First, Teach by Leading
It's not enough to be a teacher if you don't know what the heck you're talking about. Like, I could have a PhD in Physics, but that doesn't make me qualified to teach a high school English course. That makes me qualified to teach a college physics course. Should be obvious, right? Well, apparently it's not obvious to some school districts which require teachers to have a master's degree, but don't require a degree in the subject you're going to end up teaching.
Like, I don't know...Imagine you're reading Grapes of Wrath, and your teacher suddenly says, "A train leaves west from station A at 45mph, and a train moves east from station B at 30mph. If station A and station B are 400 miles apart, how long will it take the Joad family to find work in California?"
Trick question. They never find work in California.
Wait, what was I saying? Right. Teach by leading. Don't just teach your students. Play for them. As often as you can. Show them that you know what you're about and that you mean business. It's amazing how quickly you earn respect that way.
Then, Lead by Teaching
So now you have a bunch loyal minions. I mean, students. What do you do? You tell them about all of your concerts. More specifically, you tell their parents about all of your concerts. This achieves a number of things. First, it puts some bodies in the seats. This is important because ticket sales.
But just as importantly, you're filling your audience with people who are slowly learning how to listen to music at a higher level. The students not only get to see you strut your stuff, but they also get to hear their own learning. Over time, they start hearing more and more from pieces they thought they knew. They start to get Haydn's inside jokes. They start to hear why Claire de Lune isn't just sparkly vampires.
They of course fail to pick up on the subtle subliminal messages put in by the Mozartian Masonites and, much later, by the Schoenbergian Fraternity of Tonebros, but that's all according to plan. If they knew what they were really listening to, it wouldn't work.
Finally, Play Music with your Students
You know what's awesome? When a teacher you really respect works with you on what is being taught/learned. It can be as complex or as simple as necessary. But there's something really cool about that kind of collaboration. Suddenly, you don't feel like just a student, and you aren't just a teacher. You're two people doing what people have been doing for tens of thousands of years. Making art. And ultimately, isn't that what's really important?
I mean, besides the pay check.
It's like... When The Simpsons was in its prime, did people stop liking it even when they didn't get all of the multitudinous obscure or downright esoteric jokes? No. There was plenty of stuff for everybody to hang onto. But oh how you felt good when you got one of the jokes none of your friends got. It's like that.
Still, musical education in general is something we find missing in a lot of people's lives, whether it is classical or not. So lets look into some ways we can leverage what students we have to help create more societal value in what we do.
Disclaimer
Not everybody is a teacher. Oh wow, is this ever true. If you don't like teaching, if you don't want to teach, if you can't teach water out of a plastic cup, then don't. There are far too many good/great teachers who aren't being utilized because the pay is generally too low... but that doesn't mean the gap should be filled with terrible ones. Just because you can play doesn't mean you can teach, and if you really, honestly can't, just... do what you're good at, and play awesome concerts. Trust me when I say, everyone will be much happier that way.
First, Teach by Leading
It's not enough to be a teacher if you don't know what the heck you're talking about. Like, I could have a PhD in Physics, but that doesn't make me qualified to teach a high school English course. That makes me qualified to teach a college physics course. Should be obvious, right? Well, apparently it's not obvious to some school districts which require teachers to have a master's degree, but don't require a degree in the subject you're going to end up teaching.
Like, I don't know...Imagine you're reading Grapes of Wrath, and your teacher suddenly says, "A train leaves west from station A at 45mph, and a train moves east from station B at 30mph. If station A and station B are 400 miles apart, how long will it take the Joad family to find work in California?"
Trick question. They never find work in California.
Wait, what was I saying? Right. Teach by leading. Don't just teach your students. Play for them. As often as you can. Show them that you know what you're about and that you mean business. It's amazing how quickly you earn respect that way.
Then, Lead by Teaching
So now you have a bunch loyal minions. I mean, students. What do you do? You tell them about all of your concerts. More specifically, you tell their parents about all of your concerts. This achieves a number of things. First, it puts some bodies in the seats. This is important because ticket sales.
But just as importantly, you're filling your audience with people who are slowly learning how to listen to music at a higher level. The students not only get to see you strut your stuff, but they also get to hear their own learning. Over time, they start hearing more and more from pieces they thought they knew. They start to get Haydn's inside jokes. They start to hear why Claire de Lune isn't just sparkly vampires.
They of course fail to pick up on the subtle subliminal messages put in by the Mozartian Masonites and, much later, by the Schoenbergian Fraternity of Tonebros, but that's all according to plan. If they knew what they were really listening to, it wouldn't work.
Finally, Play Music with your Students
You know what's awesome? When a teacher you really respect works with you on what is being taught/learned. It can be as complex or as simple as necessary. But there's something really cool about that kind of collaboration. Suddenly, you don't feel like just a student, and you aren't just a teacher. You're two people doing what people have been doing for tens of thousands of years. Making art. And ultimately, isn't that what's really important?
I mean, besides the pay check.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Valuetown
I'm going to spin a riff off of yesterday's post. Yesterday was about going out to less competitive waters. Today is about something different, but related. I'm going to talk about building value.
One of the critical problems we classical musicians are facing is, people don't value our stuff. Oh, they may say they value our stuff, but similar to the way Congressional representatives will say they value education, their spending habits don't match what they claim. If we are to move forward, we will have to change people's minds about classical music, and start to build value in the eyes of our customers. We must appear to be musicians worth spending money on.
Valuetown
I'm not going to be shy. I play Magic the Gathering. I know, what a huge nerdy thing to do, right? Well, yes. But it's also incredibly good for your brain in so many ways. I just wish the players in general were a little more socially graceful. And bathed.
That's beside the point. The point is, players who play Magic for a living (or attempt to) talk about "getting value." What they mean is, they spend X amount of resources, and they get X+Y amount of resources back. I will grant, this is an incredibly important definition of value. I'm going to talk about it sometime. I just want to make clear: if this is your concept of value, that's not what I'm talking about at the moment.
The value I'm talking about this post is, other people view your profession as something worth spending time and money on. A plumber is valued because he knows how to fix pipes. A banker is valued because they safehold your money against theft (in theory), and provide other convenient services along the way, like loans and such. Etc. Etc. Etc. You get the idea.
Right now, us classical musicians have a bit of a problem. I talked earlier about building a new audience, as well as audience retention. What we have now is, we retain audiences fairly well. Our fans are quite dedicated and devoted, to the point where some are vociferous about classical music being "the only music worth listening to." Which is wrong, but hey, I love the enthusiasm. If we're going to build an audience, then we're going to have to build value in other people's lives. We can't just play music, we have to make our job something essential, something that can't be replaced by anything else.
Whistle While We Work
One of the first issues we need to address is the idea people have in their heads that musicians "just happen." Not that they don't think we practice. Just that they don't realize how much we practice. The problem here is one of visibility. Audiences only ever see the concerts, the end product. But unlike a regular product where people have a strong idea of "well, people put in five 9-5 days a week to produce this," they don't have as strong an idea of "those musicians practice 4 hours a day on top of 3 hour long rehearsals... plus driving time. Oh, and they teach."
This is really simple to fix. It's mostly an educational problem. The easiest way is to just acknowledge the work you put in. Another, perhaps better, way is to sell tickets to open rehearsals. That way, audience members can see first hand how work intensive a rehearsal is. Still more is to make sure music programs are available to as many students as possible, because it's one thing for a parent to be told "we put in 3-4 hours a day," and quite another for that parent to actually experience. Not that young students should put in 3-4 hours a day, not at all. Just that even listening to their kids struggle through 30 minutes of practice will help make the practice WE do that much more clearly difficult.
There's more we can do, of course, but I will stop here for now.
Till Next Week
Well, the weekend is upon us again, which means you and I will part company for two whole days. T.T In the meantime, I am going to start ending with music recommendations. Before I get to that, though, I'm going to shout-out Kristin Center's project again, because it's pretty awesome, and you should donate money to it because it's awesome. Oh, and also because if you don't, Schoenberg's Fraternity of Tonebros will know. And, just to make the threat clear, the Tonebros are a branch of the Masonites, who themselves are a large subsection of the Illuminati. Just saying, your donation is a choice, but... if you don't, we're going to have another Great Recession on our hands. Your call.
Recommendation of the Day
Disclaimer: due to copyright reasons, I will not link directly to any recording I recommend. But you have this wonderful thing called "Google." You put what you're looking for in, and what your looking for pops out. It's like magic. Or magnets. Or both.
Beethoven Cello Sonata #3, op.* 69**
Mendelssohn Songs without Words: any, but especially op.* 30
*op. is short for "opus," which means "work." Very large works like symphonies were given their own opus number. Shorter pieces were usually collected into groups, and provided an opus number for the collection. This helps differentiate between pieces of the same name, as well as giving a somewhat chronological ordering. In this case, there are 48 or so "Songs without Words," in 8 groups of 6. The opus number lets you know which your are listening to in relation to the rest.
**(pfffpffpfpfpfpf)
One of the critical problems we classical musicians are facing is, people don't value our stuff. Oh, they may say they value our stuff, but similar to the way Congressional representatives will say they value education, their spending habits don't match what they claim. If we are to move forward, we will have to change people's minds about classical music, and start to build value in the eyes of our customers. We must appear to be musicians worth spending money on.
Valuetown
I'm not going to be shy. I play Magic the Gathering. I know, what a huge nerdy thing to do, right? Well, yes. But it's also incredibly good for your brain in so many ways. I just wish the players in general were a little more socially graceful. And bathed.
That's beside the point. The point is, players who play Magic for a living (or attempt to) talk about "getting value." What they mean is, they spend X amount of resources, and they get X+Y amount of resources back. I will grant, this is an incredibly important definition of value. I'm going to talk about it sometime. I just want to make clear: if this is your concept of value, that's not what I'm talking about at the moment.
The value I'm talking about this post is, other people view your profession as something worth spending time and money on. A plumber is valued because he knows how to fix pipes. A banker is valued because they safehold your money against theft (in theory), and provide other convenient services along the way, like loans and such. Etc. Etc. Etc. You get the idea.
Right now, us classical musicians have a bit of a problem. I talked earlier about building a new audience, as well as audience retention. What we have now is, we retain audiences fairly well. Our fans are quite dedicated and devoted, to the point where some are vociferous about classical music being "the only music worth listening to." Which is wrong, but hey, I love the enthusiasm. If we're going to build an audience, then we're going to have to build value in other people's lives. We can't just play music, we have to make our job something essential, something that can't be replaced by anything else.
Whistle While We Work
One of the first issues we need to address is the idea people have in their heads that musicians "just happen." Not that they don't think we practice. Just that they don't realize how much we practice. The problem here is one of visibility. Audiences only ever see the concerts, the end product. But unlike a regular product where people have a strong idea of "well, people put in five 9-5 days a week to produce this," they don't have as strong an idea of "those musicians practice 4 hours a day on top of 3 hour long rehearsals... plus driving time. Oh, and they teach."
This is really simple to fix. It's mostly an educational problem. The easiest way is to just acknowledge the work you put in. Another, perhaps better, way is to sell tickets to open rehearsals. That way, audience members can see first hand how work intensive a rehearsal is. Still more is to make sure music programs are available to as many students as possible, because it's one thing for a parent to be told "we put in 3-4 hours a day," and quite another for that parent to actually experience. Not that young students should put in 3-4 hours a day, not at all. Just that even listening to their kids struggle through 30 minutes of practice will help make the practice WE do that much more clearly difficult.
There's more we can do, of course, but I will stop here for now.
Till Next Week
Well, the weekend is upon us again, which means you and I will part company for two whole days. T.T In the meantime, I am going to start ending with music recommendations. Before I get to that, though, I'm going to shout-out Kristin Center's project again, because it's pretty awesome, and you should donate money to it because it's awesome. Oh, and also because if you don't, Schoenberg's Fraternity of Tonebros will know. And, just to make the threat clear, the Tonebros are a branch of the Masonites, who themselves are a large subsection of the Illuminati. Just saying, your donation is a choice, but... if you don't, we're going to have another Great Recession on our hands. Your call.
Recommendation of the Day
Disclaimer: due to copyright reasons, I will not link directly to any recording I recommend. But you have this wonderful thing called "Google." You put what you're looking for in, and what your looking for pops out. It's like magic. Or magnets. Or both.
Beethoven Cello Sonata #3, op.* 69**
Mendelssohn Songs without Words: any, but especially op.* 30
*op. is short for "opus," which means "work." Very large works like symphonies were given their own opus number. Shorter pieces were usually collected into groups, and provided an opus number for the collection. This helps differentiate between pieces of the same name, as well as giving a somewhat chronological ordering. In this case, there are 48 or so "Songs without Words," in 8 groups of 6. The opus number lets you know which your are listening to in relation to the rest.
**(pfffpffpfpfpfpf)
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Open Waters
Open Waters was a terrible movie that you've never heard of. Don't watch it. It's bad. Instead of watching that, you should check out Kristin Center's Kickstarter project. It's about music and bees. Well, rather, using music to help increase awareness of certain social/environmental problems that we are facing. In this case, bees. It's a pretty cool project, with or without the bees. Music has long been used as a vehicle for social ideas and ideals, whether it's Wager's Gesamtkunstwerk in art, Shostakovich's private rebellion against dictatorship and authoritarianism, or Schoenberg's revolutionary ideals in the emancipation of dissonance. In fact, it is difficult to find any composer whose music doesn't put forth some social idea or another. Even Cage, or rather especially Cage, was putting forth a social and personal ideal when he was using chance procedures to create his music.
All of this is very interesting. You could spend a whole tenure writing about this idea. But it gets academic rather quickly. Instead, I want to talk about a different aspect of Kristin's project that we can abstract and extract for ourselves. This is where the open waters come in.
Bloody Oceans, Blue Oceans
I read some time ago a business book titled "Blue Ocean Strategy." The book itself is not so great. The idea, however, is quite relevant to the problems we face in Classical Music. The central idea was, there are two kinds of markets (sitting on extremes across from each other, of course): bloody oceans and blue oceans. Bloody oceans are markets where there is intense, vociferous, often cutthroat competition. Blue oceans are areas where there is very little competition because nobody is there.
If you consider the current market for classical musicians, the symphonies are most obviously bloody oceans. There are so many players competing for almost no spots in the symphony. The first few rounds of cuts are essentially a total gamble. You might as well be playing the lottery. This is bad business as a musician, pure and simple. We don't want to gamble our entire livelihood. We want to create something reasonable and sustainable.
This brings us to the blue oceans. Kristin's project represents a blue ocean. Not only is she using her classical training in combination with her singer/songwriter skills, but she is using that music in a way which is not often (or ever) used by contemporary classical musicians. You never see the symphony using their music to draw awareness towards social issues. It's just pure music. That's not a bad thing. I'm just pointing out the difference, and why the market Kristin is entering into is open.
Breaking Bad Boxes
Right now, the audition market is so bloody because of our preconceived notions. We have an idea in our head of what a successful classical musician looks like. That musician is usually wearing a tux or a black dress on stage with a bunch of other musicians wearing tuxes and black dresses. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be in a symphony. However, right now, it's a terrible market to be in. Total buyer's market, and us musicians are the sellers.
If we want to move forward and find success, we must start redefining success for ourselves. We must start driving forward in new, possibly risky directions. But consider this question. Which is riskier: going with a risky plan, or gamble your musical livelihood in the 1/10,000 odds feeding frenzy that is the symphony audition? I know my answer. It's not necessarily your answer. But you must answer it.
All of this is very interesting. You could spend a whole tenure writing about this idea. But it gets academic rather quickly. Instead, I want to talk about a different aspect of Kristin's project that we can abstract and extract for ourselves. This is where the open waters come in.
Bloody Oceans, Blue Oceans
I read some time ago a business book titled "Blue Ocean Strategy." The book itself is not so great. The idea, however, is quite relevant to the problems we face in Classical Music. The central idea was, there are two kinds of markets (sitting on extremes across from each other, of course): bloody oceans and blue oceans. Bloody oceans are markets where there is intense, vociferous, often cutthroat competition. Blue oceans are areas where there is very little competition because nobody is there.
If you consider the current market for classical musicians, the symphonies are most obviously bloody oceans. There are so many players competing for almost no spots in the symphony. The first few rounds of cuts are essentially a total gamble. You might as well be playing the lottery. This is bad business as a musician, pure and simple. We don't want to gamble our entire livelihood. We want to create something reasonable and sustainable.
This brings us to the blue oceans. Kristin's project represents a blue ocean. Not only is she using her classical training in combination with her singer/songwriter skills, but she is using that music in a way which is not often (or ever) used by contemporary classical musicians. You never see the symphony using their music to draw awareness towards social issues. It's just pure music. That's not a bad thing. I'm just pointing out the difference, and why the market Kristin is entering into is open.
Breaking Bad Boxes
Right now, the audition market is so bloody because of our preconceived notions. We have an idea in our head of what a successful classical musician looks like. That musician is usually wearing a tux or a black dress on stage with a bunch of other musicians wearing tuxes and black dresses. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be in a symphony. However, right now, it's a terrible market to be in. Total buyer's market, and us musicians are the sellers.
If we want to move forward and find success, we must start redefining success for ourselves. We must start driving forward in new, possibly risky directions. But consider this question. Which is riskier: going with a risky plan, or gamble your musical livelihood in the 1/10,000 odds feeding frenzy that is the symphony audition? I know my answer. It's not necessarily your answer. But you must answer it.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
With Our Powers Combined...
Today will be about kindergarten. Remember that? Remember how your teacher was always like, "Make sure you share your toy, Billy. Sally, don't hog all the crayons." and the like? That's what today's article is about. It's about sharing.
As musicians, we have a tricky line to tow. Our business is collaborative by nature. But it is also competitive. Symphonies are by definition groups of musicians playing together. But when a chair becomes vacant and the symphony holds open auditions, well... it's blood in the water. Fair is foul and foul is fair. Love and war and all that. The point is, our business is odd.
What I think has happened in recent years, though, is we musicians have learned to view each other almost exclusively as competition. Now, I am happy the musicians I know aren't like this, but I have met my fair share of musicians who need to take some happy pills and stop acting like a cornered ferret all the time. To be sure, I am not arguing to end competition between musicians. That competition can be healthy and useful. It's just about balance. We must collaborate if we are to succeed in our field.
The Feud Fugue
Before I continue, a short note about competition. Brahms and Wagner, for instance. Two of the great musical minds during the late 19th century. Also centers of some of the most vitriolic competition between fans as we are ever likely to see again. I'd hardly wish for those times to recur. However, there is something to be said about the... enthusiasm which permeated the scene. It wasn't just an argument of music. It rarely is. It was an argument of values. And what is this blog but an attempt to convince others that classical music is something worth valuing?
Disagreements in and of themselves are not a bad thing. They can certainly get out of hand. But a disagreement is a sign that people care about the issue at hand. If people don't value something, they won't take the time to argue about it. However, disagreements can escalate to the point they stifle innovation, destroy competition, and otherwise make a scene so insufferable that it actively repels potential fans. That is the competition we must strive to avoid. In short, we must avoid becoming Congress.
Frenemies
The important thing to note is, our current supply of classically trained musicians far exceeds the demand for them. Hundreds of musicians will show up to the first cut of a major symphony audition. All but one will be turned away, where players will either suck it up and try, try again, or fall into the Wastebasket of Disappointing Reality.
But there is hope! A recent survey by the Philharmonia Orchestra found some 8/10 people listen to classical music with some regularity at home and in the car. The usual skepticism applies: lies, damn lies, and statistics, you know. But if there is any grain of truth to this, it is a sign that while the symphony market is over saturated with musicians, the audience market is not. And here is where sharing comes into play.
In order to find success, we must be able to tolerate each other to a point where we help each other promote each other's works and concerts and services. Think of it like this: if you're available to play a wedding on a Saturday night, but there are three weddings happening that night, you can't fill that demand. But if you pay the favor to another group and say "Yeah, those guys are awesome, too, you should talk to them," then, unless you are dealing with total assholes, the favor will come around back to you. Pay it forward, and all.
Similarly, there is very little to lose in helping promote the work of people who are not in your market. Musicians, even classically trained ones, often know many people who play different genres. But though the musician's market is separate, the audience's favored listening will often be split among many different genres. While another musicians work may appear to have nothing in common with yours, you never know where the Venn Diagram of Musical Consumption will overlap. You also begin to reap the benefits of an extended circle of contacts, helping you eventually meet Kevin Bacon. And who wouldn't want to meet Kevin Bacon? Not anyone I want to know, that's for sure.
As musicians, we have a tricky line to tow. Our business is collaborative by nature. But it is also competitive. Symphonies are by definition groups of musicians playing together. But when a chair becomes vacant and the symphony holds open auditions, well... it's blood in the water. Fair is foul and foul is fair. Love and war and all that. The point is, our business is odd.
What I think has happened in recent years, though, is we musicians have learned to view each other almost exclusively as competition. Now, I am happy the musicians I know aren't like this, but I have met my fair share of musicians who need to take some happy pills and stop acting like a cornered ferret all the time. To be sure, I am not arguing to end competition between musicians. That competition can be healthy and useful. It's just about balance. We must collaborate if we are to succeed in our field.
The Feud Fugue
Before I continue, a short note about competition. Brahms and Wagner, for instance. Two of the great musical minds during the late 19th century. Also centers of some of the most vitriolic competition between fans as we are ever likely to see again. I'd hardly wish for those times to recur. However, there is something to be said about the... enthusiasm which permeated the scene. It wasn't just an argument of music. It rarely is. It was an argument of values. And what is this blog but an attempt to convince others that classical music is something worth valuing?
Disagreements in and of themselves are not a bad thing. They can certainly get out of hand. But a disagreement is a sign that people care about the issue at hand. If people don't value something, they won't take the time to argue about it. However, disagreements can escalate to the point they stifle innovation, destroy competition, and otherwise make a scene so insufferable that it actively repels potential fans. That is the competition we must strive to avoid. In short, we must avoid becoming Congress.
Frenemies
The important thing to note is, our current supply of classically trained musicians far exceeds the demand for them. Hundreds of musicians will show up to the first cut of a major symphony audition. All but one will be turned away, where players will either suck it up and try, try again, or fall into the Wastebasket of Disappointing Reality.
But there is hope! A recent survey by the Philharmonia Orchestra found some 8/10 people listen to classical music with some regularity at home and in the car. The usual skepticism applies: lies, damn lies, and statistics, you know. But if there is any grain of truth to this, it is a sign that while the symphony market is over saturated with musicians, the audience market is not. And here is where sharing comes into play.
In order to find success, we must be able to tolerate each other to a point where we help each other promote each other's works and concerts and services. Think of it like this: if you're available to play a wedding on a Saturday night, but there are three weddings happening that night, you can't fill that demand. But if you pay the favor to another group and say "Yeah, those guys are awesome, too, you should talk to them," then, unless you are dealing with total assholes, the favor will come around back to you. Pay it forward, and all.
Similarly, there is very little to lose in helping promote the work of people who are not in your market. Musicians, even classically trained ones, often know many people who play different genres. But though the musician's market is separate, the audience's favored listening will often be split among many different genres. While another musicians work may appear to have nothing in common with yours, you never know where the Venn Diagram of Musical Consumption will overlap. You also begin to reap the benefits of an extended circle of contacts, helping you eventually meet Kevin Bacon. And who wouldn't want to meet Kevin Bacon? Not anyone I want to know, that's for sure.
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
The Doctor is In
So yesterday I talked a little bit about interacting with your audience, and how even a little bit of per-performance talking can go a long ways towards building rapport with the people you want to keep around. There are other ways of doing this, as well. Q&A sessions with people who pay a little extra, maybe with a little wine and cheese. Happy Feelings Time, of course of course. A little brainstorming, and I'm sure you can come up with more ways of interacting with the audience. Today, though, I'm going to talk about something else. I'm going to talk about interactivity in concerts.
Boulez may be a bit of dick, but...
There's this composer you may or may not have heard of. His name is Pierre Boulez. When I was tube surfing on the YouTubes, I came across a fascinating video. If I am not mistaken, it was a concert directed specifically at Conservatoire students, but it appeared to be an open concert, as well. At this concert, he was conducting his own music. Boulez is one of those composers whose music is often labelled "difficult" here in America. That is, his music is not just a rabbit, but a Babbitt Rabbit as well. But here was a nearly full hall, including music students, musicians, and lay people, all gathered to hear his music. Granted, this was in France, and European concerts tend to feature more "difficult" music than here in America, but he was doing something I have never seen in America. He was breaking his music down into its musical parts, and discussing how they all fit together into the piece they were about to hear.
It was a phenomenal use of time. Yes, he took about 20 minutes just laying the nuts and bolts out, but by the end of it all, you knew how to listen to his piece. You knew what to expect, how it was put together. You could no longer make the claim that it was all just "random nonsense," because he was so clear, so lucid, you would have to either be totally, or willfully, dense to not get it. I was blown away. Here was a man who knew how to connect with his audience. True, he was using his own music as an example, but it worked. I walked away from that concert respecting Boulez a bit more than I had before.
Yes, but he's a Stinky Cheeseman Frenchy. What about us patriotic Americans?
Well, here in America we have a similar, but far less avant garde, conductor. We have Michael Tilson Thomas. He is director of the San Francisco Symphony, as well as the New World Orchestra. These are great institutions, but what I really want to spotlight is the TV series Keeping Score. In each episode, he discusses a specific work in its historical and musical contexts, as well as how that piece personally relates to the composer who wrote it. If you haven't seen any of these documentaries, they are really wonderful. Thomas is a genial and, just as importantly, knowledgeable host. He not only discusses the music, but plays some of it as well. He's kind of like... Well, he's kind of like a contemporary Bernstein, who used television to similar effect, bringing classical music into the homes of millions across America.
Concluding paragraph
If you want to connect to your audience, talk with them. Discuss the music. Bring it into a place where the audience feels they can relate to it. Or failing that, at least understand it. Break the music apart. Show how it's put together. Like Boulez. But just as importantly, make the music human again. Like Tilson Thomas. Building understanding will get people to respect you. Building humanity will get people to come back for more. You need both, which is tricky... But it's doable. It must be, or we die. In a fire. While being eaten by raptors. Sneaky, sneaky raptors...
Boulez may be a bit of dick, but...
There's this composer you may or may not have heard of. His name is Pierre Boulez. When I was tube surfing on the YouTubes, I came across a fascinating video. If I am not mistaken, it was a concert directed specifically at Conservatoire students, but it appeared to be an open concert, as well. At this concert, he was conducting his own music. Boulez is one of those composers whose music is often labelled "difficult" here in America. That is, his music is not just a rabbit, but a Babbitt Rabbit as well. But here was a nearly full hall, including music students, musicians, and lay people, all gathered to hear his music. Granted, this was in France, and European concerts tend to feature more "difficult" music than here in America, but he was doing something I have never seen in America. He was breaking his music down into its musical parts, and discussing how they all fit together into the piece they were about to hear.
It was a phenomenal use of time. Yes, he took about 20 minutes just laying the nuts and bolts out, but by the end of it all, you knew how to listen to his piece. You knew what to expect, how it was put together. You could no longer make the claim that it was all just "random nonsense," because he was so clear, so lucid, you would have to either be totally, or willfully, dense to not get it. I was blown away. Here was a man who knew how to connect with his audience. True, he was using his own music as an example, but it worked. I walked away from that concert respecting Boulez a bit more than I had before.
Yes, but he's a Stinky Cheeseman Frenchy. What about us patriotic Americans?
Well, here in America we have a similar, but far less avant garde, conductor. We have Michael Tilson Thomas. He is director of the San Francisco Symphony, as well as the New World Orchestra. These are great institutions, but what I really want to spotlight is the TV series Keeping Score. In each episode, he discusses a specific work in its historical and musical contexts, as well as how that piece personally relates to the composer who wrote it. If you haven't seen any of these documentaries, they are really wonderful. Thomas is a genial and, just as importantly, knowledgeable host. He not only discusses the music, but plays some of it as well. He's kind of like... Well, he's kind of like a contemporary Bernstein, who used television to similar effect, bringing classical music into the homes of millions across America.
Concluding paragraph
If you want to connect to your audience, talk with them. Discuss the music. Bring it into a place where the audience feels they can relate to it. Or failing that, at least understand it. Break the music apart. Show how it's put together. Like Boulez. But just as importantly, make the music human again. Like Tilson Thomas. Building understanding will get people to respect you. Building humanity will get people to come back for more. You need both, which is tricky... But it's doable. It must be, or we die. In a fire. While being eaten by raptors. Sneaky, sneaky raptors...
Monday, June 3, 2013
Playing Doctor
Today's post is about interactivity! It's not just enough to play music. It's not just enough to have Happy Feelings Time. Those are both necessary, but it's the bits that fill the cracks that will be the glue holding it all together.
Music is ultimately about human connection. If the people in the audience don't feel like the musician is an actual person, the audience will not relate as well to the player. This happens with some frequency, as symphonies bring soloists in to perform concerti. The hope is, the sheer virtuosity presented will be enough to draw people. Problem 1. Most people don't know who Liszt is. Problem 2. Most people don't know who the soloist is, either. That's two strikes already. The third strike is the feeling that the value of the concert is not worth the ticket price. And out.
Happy Feelings Time is a great way to start. It allows lay people to meet the musicians in question, shake hands with them, realize the musicians are actual people. But there's a lot more we can do to help connect the audience to the stage. One is talking to the audience. Another is interactive concerts.
Table Talk
One of the simplest ways to create interactivity and bonding is to talk to the audience. Here is what happens in a concert today: Orchestra sits on stage. They warm up, and there's general cacophony for fifteen minutes. Curtain call happens, and the orchestra settles down. Lights dim. 10% of the audience falls asleep because the chairs are comfy and the lights are out. Concert master walks out to halfhearted applause. Orchestra tunes. 20% of the audience is out like a light. Conductor walks out to slightly more than halfhearted applause, but only from the people who have managed to stay awake and from the somnambulists. Conductor bows, then utterly ignores the audience. 30% is dozing. Baton lifts. Concert starts.
What's missing? That most basic of human interaction: talking. The best part about it is, at a concert, you likely don't have to cater to deaf people. I mean, maybe you want to cover your bases. Just in case. Anyways. It's amazing how much connection can be accomplished if the people in the audience actually feel like they are being addressed personally. You don't even have to talk that much! Thank them for coming out. Tell them why you like the piece you are about to play, why you are passionate about it, and that you hope to convey that same passion to them. Maybe throw in a joke or two. Like this: What's the difference between Beethoven and a cat? The cat can sing in tune. And make sure to shake it up. Remember Durdle the Turtle. You don't want him around too much.
Happy Feelings Time is, by nature, talk oriented, as well. It's even better because people are drinking alcohol. Speaking of which! You should be allowed to bring alcohol and drinks into the concert hall. All music gets better when you are a little bit toasted. The drawback is, you get old couples playing footsie with each other rather than listen to your performance. But no. Don't think of it as a drawback! Think of it as a goal! If your music can draw the attention of footsie playing elders, you're doing really, really well.
Until Tomorrow!
I have decided to make my blog posts shorter. People are busy. I'm busy. I still want depth, but it will be spread out a little more for my sanity and yours. If I'm writing 5 days a week, I want to pace myself. So! This is all for today. Have a great day. If you don't have a little coffee, or meditate a little, or pray or whatever it is you do. Then listen to good music. It's amazing what good music will cure.
Music is ultimately about human connection. If the people in the audience don't feel like the musician is an actual person, the audience will not relate as well to the player. This happens with some frequency, as symphonies bring soloists in to perform concerti. The hope is, the sheer virtuosity presented will be enough to draw people. Problem 1. Most people don't know who Liszt is. Problem 2. Most people don't know who the soloist is, either. That's two strikes already. The third strike is the feeling that the value of the concert is not worth the ticket price. And out.
Happy Feelings Time is a great way to start. It allows lay people to meet the musicians in question, shake hands with them, realize the musicians are actual people. But there's a lot more we can do to help connect the audience to the stage. One is talking to the audience. Another is interactive concerts.
Table Talk
One of the simplest ways to create interactivity and bonding is to talk to the audience. Here is what happens in a concert today: Orchestra sits on stage. They warm up, and there's general cacophony for fifteen minutes. Curtain call happens, and the orchestra settles down. Lights dim. 10% of the audience falls asleep because the chairs are comfy and the lights are out. Concert master walks out to halfhearted applause. Orchestra tunes. 20% of the audience is out like a light. Conductor walks out to slightly more than halfhearted applause, but only from the people who have managed to stay awake and from the somnambulists. Conductor bows, then utterly ignores the audience. 30% is dozing. Baton lifts. Concert starts.
What's missing? That most basic of human interaction: talking. The best part about it is, at a concert, you likely don't have to cater to deaf people. I mean, maybe you want to cover your bases. Just in case. Anyways. It's amazing how much connection can be accomplished if the people in the audience actually feel like they are being addressed personally. You don't even have to talk that much! Thank them for coming out. Tell them why you like the piece you are about to play, why you are passionate about it, and that you hope to convey that same passion to them. Maybe throw in a joke or two. Like this: What's the difference between Beethoven and a cat? The cat can sing in tune. And make sure to shake it up. Remember Durdle the Turtle. You don't want him around too much.
Happy Feelings Time is, by nature, talk oriented, as well. It's even better because people are drinking alcohol. Speaking of which! You should be allowed to bring alcohol and drinks into the concert hall. All music gets better when you are a little bit toasted. The drawback is, you get old couples playing footsie with each other rather than listen to your performance. But no. Don't think of it as a drawback! Think of it as a goal! If your music can draw the attention of footsie playing elders, you're doing really, really well.
Until Tomorrow!
I have decided to make my blog posts shorter. People are busy. I'm busy. I still want depth, but it will be spread out a little more for my sanity and yours. If I'm writing 5 days a week, I want to pace myself. So! This is all for today. Have a great day. If you don't have a little coffee, or meditate a little, or pray or whatever it is you do. Then listen to good music. It's amazing what good music will cure.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)