Take two

If you thought this was oddly entrancing (not to mention hilarious), well...



Yes, I tend to find the oddest things during my insomniac hotel moments on the road.

But more importantly, this kind of thing reminds me of the way we now interact with music, culture and each other. The original video is of Russian singer Eduard Khil from a TV show broadcast in 1976. His career had faded out by the 90's and he's been out of the public eye (and consciousness) for a while - until the video went viral. Interaction #1 - find interesting/humorous/kitschy music. Interaction #2 - make it widely available to your friends via social media (I first encountered this on Facebook).

And now, the above video - a reimagining of the original (I'm especially fond of the "Tonight...bye bye!" moment around 1:26). Interaction #3 - taking ownership and participating in (with) the art (artist).

One could take the "Kids these days..." or "Some people have too much time on their hands" point of view. Which I think is ill-advised. This is what people are doing online in their spare time. And, more to the point, this is how people interact with art - there is a desire to react and participate, which is, after all, the whole point of art. And a good point to be reminded of.

Science Confirms: 12-Tone Music Confusing

From the Was This Study Really Necessary? department:

"A new book on how the human brain interprets music has revealed that listeners rely upon finding patterns within the sounds they receive in order to make sense of it and interpret it as a musical composition."

You don't say. Go on...

"While traditional classical music follows strict patterns and formula that allow the brain to make sense of the sound, modern symphonies by composers such as Arnold Schoenberg and Anton Webern simply confuse listeners' brains."

Okay, well, first of all, both of those composers died six decades ago, so they hardly qualify as "modern." What the authors actually mean is "modernist," which was a movement that burned brightly with composers (and considerably less brightly with audiences) in the mid-20th century. These days, the number of prominent composers still working who persist in writing modernist music can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

But I'm sorry, I interrupted. You were saying...

"In the early twentieth century, however, composers led by Schoenberg began to rally against the traditional conventions of music to produce compositions which lack tonal centres, known as atonal music."

Now, there again, Schoenberg did not write "atonal" music. He created a new and complex system of tones and chord structures known as "12-tone" music. It involved all kinds of grids and math and chromatic doodads and such, but it is not, strictly speaking, atonal. Atonal means that you can just throw any combination of notes together and call it music.

Yes, I'm a nerd. But my point is that Schoenberg's music is actually more strictly organized, from a pattern standpoint, than a lot of traditional tonal music. So theoretically, our pattern-seeking brains should eventually be able to detect those patterns and relax, once we've been conditioned to hear that kind of music. And as those of us who've spent a lot of time with modernist music will tell you, that does, indeed, happen, up to a point. Your brain will never mistake Webern or Berg for Mozart, but you do eventually get a bit of an aural handle on what's going on.

"Research has shown that listening to music is a major cognitive task that requires considerable processing resources to unpick harmony, rhythm and melody."

Uh-huh. Which is why listening to a Mahler symphony is mentally exhausting (but exhilirating,) while listening to a Lady Gaga song (or, for that matter, a Strauss waltz) is the mental equivalent of eating cotton candy. But this all seems pretty common sensical. Was there some actual, y'know, science in this scientific study?

"Using brain scanning equipment Professor Kraus, who presented her findings at the American Association for the Advancement of Science in San Diego on Saturday, said the brainwaves recorded from volunteers listening to music could be converted back to sound.

"In one example where volunteers listened to Deep Purple's Smoke on the Water, when the brainwaves were played back the song was clearly recognisable."

Oh, for the love of... yah. Great. Can we assume that the double-blind study confirming that Wagner had a thing for tubas is on its way?

Dorothy Gale, Meet Catch-22

This past Thursday, we played the first concert in our Sounds of Cinema festival, which consists primarily of the orchestra playing complete classic film scores while the films play on a huge screen behind us and the audience (hopefully) marvels at the power of live music when applied to a prerecorded movie.

But that opening concert, which featured The Wizard of Oz, earned us a decided pan from Star Tribune critic Graydon Royce, and his review brings up a broader issue that I want to get into. Before I do, though, I want to say from the outset that I found Graydon's review to be a near-perfect model of how to criticize a performance without being a jerk about it. His assessment was specific in its critique, consistent in its focus, and notable for its lack of a single ounce of vitriol or smugness. He thought the concert was a noble experiment that partially failed, and he said so, which is his job. I've got no complaints.

So, what was it that Graydon thought didn't work about our collaboration with Judy Garland and the Munchkins? Well, here's the money 'graf...

"The film often sounded horrible -- as though the voices were forced through a tin megaphone. Also, the orchestra overwhelmed sweet moments that define the film, such as Dorothy's goodbye to her three companions; and iconic signatures were somehow lost. How, for example, can you have the witch's guards marching about without hearing them sing "oh-ee-yah; ee-OH-ah?" Was this just a problem Thursday night, or a function of the process that split instrumental from vocal? Yikes."

This is a perfect example of the challenge that symphony orchestras face when trying to present innovative concerts that blend 21st century technology with our decidedly 19th-century way of performing. Orchestras are built to perform without amplification, in concert halls designed specifically for that purpose. Stick us in the Xcel Energy Center, and you'll never hear a note we play, because those spaces are designed for amplified sound. Similarly, suddenly adding amplification to a concert hall can result in ear-splitting or unintelligible sound, even if you have extremely competent people running the sound board (and believe me, we do.)

The toughest challenge of all is blending amplified and unamplified sound in a space designed for the latter. This is a nightmare that our chief sound guy, Terry Tilley, lives on a regular basis. The sad fact is that, as good as Terry is at his job, budget constraints force him to regularly attempt seriously high-tech production tricks using sound equipment that would get laughed out of venues like First Avenue.

So, the obvious question is, why don't symphony orchestras, which are massive organizations by arts standards, invest in cutting-edge sound and video equipment that would make shows like our Wizard of Oz less of a risk? After all, the technology does exist to make amplified sound at least somewhat workable in a space like ours, so why don't we have it?

The answer is complicated, but it basically boils down to priorities and how you manage them. The primary mission of a symphony orchestra is to present unamplified performances of great concert music, and most musicians (myself included) believe that it will remain so for the foreseeable future. And since money is always extremely tight (yes, orchestras have big budgets, but we also have far and away the highest overhead of any type of arts group,) large expenditures for anything that falls outside that core mission tend to be a tough sell.

Musicians, in particular, are incredibly sensitive to any large-scale organizational plan that seems to be pushing us away from a concert music-based business model, and towards a model in which classical music is secondary to pops, or film music, or whatever. And since a first-rate amplification system (not to mention a permanent in-house digital video capability) for a venue like Orchestra Hall would cost millions to purchase, install, and calibrate, and since that system would be literally idle during the majority of our performances, it's tough to convince musicians that this would be money well spent, especially when we're seeing our benefits and pensions slashed, our contracts cut back, and our friends on the staff side laid off to save a few thousand dollars in the worst economy of our lifetimes.

This may well be a no-win situation. If we spend the money to bring Orchestra Hall up to 21st century A/V standards, we're open to legitimate criticism that we're not properly focusing on the core mission of a symphony orchestra and wasting the money of donors who prefer Beethoven to bells and whistles. If we stick with the technology we have, and make a point of never mounting any performances that push the limits of those capabilities, we're essentially condemning ourselves to being the kind of organization that willfully ignores modernity and eventually renders itself irrelevant.

And if we try to split the difference, mounting ambitious programs that may not be up to the considerable technological standard that many consumers have come to expect in the age of HDTV and digital surround sound, the Graydon Royces of the world are going to feel rightly compelled to point out that our capability doesn't always match our ambition.

Whenever I write a post about the challenges of the orchestra business, I try to at least throw out a few potential solutions. But try as I might, I haven't been able to come up with a solution to this problem that doesn't involve me winning the Powerball. So I'm punting this one to the readership: what would you do? The comments section eagerly awaits your creativity...

Tweet tweet

Yet another article/blog about arts organizations and their forays into online social media, this one focusing on Twitter.

While in a broad sense I agree with author Anne Midgette's assertion that "the classical music field’s attempts to be hip and draw in a younger audience are a little embarrassing, or stilted", she lost me at "I’m not sure just how many core classical fans use Twitter". I thought the whole purpose of arts organizations using these types of media was to reach people who would NOT consider themselves core classical fans?

As an outreach vehicle, it makes sense to tweet. But the problem is, many organizations assume that simply disseminating information in a tech-savvy way (and to a different demographic) will lead directly to the holy grail, bringing in "the young people"/increased ticket sales.

That erroneous assumption is apparent in the way many arts organizations tweet - "Enjoy the sounds of Mozart & Mahler 2nite @xyzsymphony". This is not going to garner you any new patrons, I assure you. Because the purpose of many of these online social engines is not "We're cool too, buy tickets!". It's more about fostering connections and developing relationships without the expectation of a tangible outcome or goal.

I tweet regularly (a couple of times a day, usually) and follow about 100 individuals/organizations, from Artsbeat (news and views from New York Times critics and arts reporters) and Tim Lefebvre (frequent bassist of Chris Botti's band) to Serious Eats (for my foodie side) and UniformProject (because I love fashion and this is just a fascinating idea, for a good cause).

I follow several dozen conductors/composers/soloists as well, and those who I most look forward to hearing from provide not information about their upcoming album release, but musings about life on the road or the fantastic wine they had yesterday or finding time to practice while their children are napping. Ironically, having a 140-character insight into people on an everyday basis (often about mundane things - "Today's lemon curd came out REALLY well") makes me feel connected to them. And when you feel privy to someone's inner thoughts, and you find those thoughts interesting/funny/thought-provoking, you might be more inclined to check out their show when they swing through town.

When it boils down to it, I look forward to logging into Twitter at the end of the day to check out what the motley assortment of people I follow have been up to/thinking/trying to do that day, and there is definitely a sense of self-created community there. Because in the end, that's the whole purpose of online social sites - supporting an exchange of ideas and fostering a sense of connectedness.

So why should arts organizations be a part of this? First, because lots of people spend their time hanging out online, and it's dangerous to not be a part of the larger conversation - and non-participation just feeds into the notion that classical music/classical art is stodgy and behind the times. Second, and more importantly, because it's simply very, very important to share ideas and forge relationships. Not just on a basic humanity level (not that I'm knocking that...), but also because when you have warm, fuzzy feelings towards someone/something, you're more likely to have a high opinion of them, feel like you relate on a personal level with them, support them in an emergency, speak well of them in public, and contribute to a positive buzz.

Positive image, accessibility, personal connection. The possibility of all this fantastic self-generated PR on a free platform. What's not to love?

Cover Models

So, the new issue of Symphony Magazine is out! (Yeah, I know - you had no idea there was such a magazine. Marketing isn't exactly their strong suit, and besides, it's put out by the League of American Orchestras, so it's sort of a trade publication in any case.)

Anyway, the first issue of 2010 is out, and I bring it up because their lead story is all about classical musicians who blog, and, um, well...

Yah. So that happened. Which is interesting, because Sarah and I are not even remotely the sole focus of the article, which also features the fantastic online work of Nico Muhly, Stephen Hough, Tim Munro, and others. I suspect that we're on the cover because the orchestra happened to have professionally shot photos of the two of us pretending to type on a computer, and I'm guessing that none of the other bloggers in the article had such shots readily available.

Anyway, the article is interesting in that it reveals how the most popular classical bloggers seem to be the ones who realize that they should write about a lot more than just how Beethoven used deceptive cadences and how much they practice. Nico writes about exotic dining experiences as often as he writes about music, and Tim gets into all sorts of logistical stuff about the difficulty of being a touring ensemble.

I don't know what it is about blogging that makes the content more entertaining when the author is writing outside his/her actual area of expertise, but it does seem to be a genuine thing. My friend Kate, a violist in the Buffalo Philharmonic, writes a hilarious and comprehensive blog about (wait for it) the Buffalo Sabres hockey team. Seriously, she does, and guess which activity - viola playing or blogging about hockey while giving her favorite players nicknames like "Pommerdoodle" - has landed her in the pages of the New York Times?

Anyway, thanks to Symphony Mag for including us, and to anyone who's just come to our little corner of the interwebs via their link, welcome, and you should probably just go over to the right and click on the "fun" tab if you want to get a basic idea of what we do here. Unless you're one of those serious musical types, in which case, you want "stirring the pot," or maybe "elitism." Your call...

Cool new stuff

I'm always on the prowl for cool new stuff, and the Eigenharp certainly fits the bill. It takes the idea of a composite instrument and takes it to a new level (the range of sounds seems limitless) - I especially like that sensors in the mouthpiece are sensitive enough to pick up tonguing which can then be translated into articulations on any instrument. (And the Apple geek in me loves that it only runs on Macs).

How much fun would it be to play around with one? Anyone out there have one and wanna lend it to me (hey, a girl can dream...)?

Check out this demo:




(A shoutout to Tony Tompkins for turning me on to this while selling me a gym membership. Now that's good salemanship.)

Monday time-waster

You've gotta try this out; it's a web widget that allows you to type in a sentence which is then played back using those same words culled from a library of popular songs. Perfect 2-minute break on a manic Monday.

Orchestra hero?

Yes, please! (and do take a listen to the soundclip towards the end of the article...)

Meformer, youformer

An interesting blurb on categories of internet social networking users (although, I mean, come on, couldn't they have come up with something a bit catchier than "meformer"?). Basically, social networkers break down into 2 categories - people posting about their current activities/emotions (80% of users) and those sharing non-personal information (news links, for instance).

In my downtime (or if I'm procrastinating on score-studying/script-writing), I can become a Facebook junkie, and I'm Twitter a few times a day - often to check up on tweets from the several dozen people/organizations that I follow, from the Berlin Philharmonic to Nico Muhly. Certainly any arts organization that's halfway with the times maintains an online presence on the major social networking sites, but sometimes it feels like this is done through the need to pay lip service to new technologies rather than to actually use them to the advantage of the organization.

Then there are those who consider utilizing the online medium to its fullest advantage; some progressive thoughts here from the new CEO of the Columbus Symphony (which has just weathered a particularly trying time) about live streaming (with which, coincidentally, the Berlin Philharmonic has been experimenting).

I'm particularly interested in the proposed collaboration with InstantEncore (full disclosure; a friend is COO of the company) and the various services it provides. I firmly believe that establishing this kind of wide presence (and wide access of product) is crucial to the future or symphonic concert music.

I guess I often feel that arts organizations need to think beyond meforming and informing and focus instead of youforming (can I coin that phrase?) - it's not enough to give information about upcoming concerts or share industry news; it's more about finding a way to directly engage potential (and current) audiences online. Which I definitely see some organizations doing. What's the next step we should take in this brave new world?

Conductor hero

A conducting game very much in the vein of "Guitar Hero" and "Rock Band"...except the cues have even less to do with the music in the conducting version than they do for the other two, making it an oddly amusical experience. Interesting idea, although I'm not sure what it does except to equate conducting to pushing a bunch of buttons. Oh, if only it were so easy...

Symphony Of A Thousand (Facebook Friends)

Who says social networking is just a way to waste time when we should all be working? Atlanta music critic Pierre Ruhe noticed a fascinating exchange on composer John Mackey's Facebook page the other day...

"Mackey, a fine composer who writes high-energy music for wind ensemble and lives in Austin, Texas, is writing a trombone concerto. He's got the New York Philharmonic's Joseph Alessi as soloist and a New Jersey concert band for the premiere, but he wants to give the concerto a shelf life. Deadline is November. Already several weeks into it, he's been posting updates to his Facebook friends.

Early this afternoon, he posted a new status update:

John Mackey can't decide whether to put saxes in the Trombone Concerto. Was going to score it for "orchestral winds," but I'm missing the sax section in the quiet sections."

Now, as it happens, I'm Facebook friends with Mackey (he wrote a fantastic bluegrass-inspired piece for string trio that I've played,) so I noticed the status, too. It didn't occur to me to offer an opinion on the sax or no sax issue, but apparently, plenty of others did, and the "conversation" that ensued actually seems to have helped John make a decision. So clearly some people are actually using Facebook for productive purposes! Just, um, not me.

Action, reaction

Last month I posted my response to Lawrence Johnsons "review" of the video screens at Ravinia. Now, reaction from the audience, and it is -surprise, surprise - positive. Whaddiditellya?

hmmmmm....

...well, look, I'm all for using technology to enhance performance experiences. But I'm all for finding the most efficient and organic way of utilizing those technologies; I don't think it makes sense to incorporate multi-media/electronic/communication gadgetry just for the sake of using the technology in itself.

Case in point, an upcoming Beethoven Sixth Symphony with the National Symphony Orchestra led by NSO associate conductor Emil de Cou in which program notes will be sent via Twitter at appropriate times during the performance.

I don't have a problem with real-time program notes, which some have found to enhance the concert experience (I would think particularly so for those less familiar with the repertoire/type of music at hand). I just don't think Twitter is really the right vehicle.

I love tweeting as much as the the next Gen X/Y-er, but the charm of Twitter is that posts are pithy reflections of experiences in real time, as they occur. The 140-character limitations creates the necessity of boiling down a thought or observation to its essential meaning, and posting is a matter delivering these as they occur to you, a running commentary on life as it occurs (some tweets I just read as I write this blog: "Running to USPS & bank so I can get my errands and exercise done at the same time."; "In Vegas for a meeting, believe it or not. Just saw the spot where Elvis waited in his cape before he went on."; "Just did a shot of aquavit and sight-read the "Moonlight Sonata." It's wild sharps in that sonata.").

Pre-written program notes, tweeted as carefully cultivated musical points, first and foremost, defeat the purpose of Twitter. This is an example of the use of technology as a delivery system (for mass texting) which is peripheral to the whole purpose of the technology itself (from the Twitter website: "Twitter is a service for friends, family, and co–workers to communicate and stay connected through the exchange of quick, frequent answers to one simple question: What are you doing?").

If you want to provide real-time program notes, why not have a super-title screen?

Ok, Ok, I know some of you will say, "Well, at least with the Twittering, those of us who don't want to be distracted by the program notes don't have to see it on some screen above the orchestra." To which I answer, what's more distracting, a screen high enough above the orchestra so that you could ignore it if you so choose, or seeing the pale glow of countless phones and PDAs as people read their screens every few minutes? Are we encouraging people to read texts during a concert? What precedent does that set?

Orchestras have slowly climbed aboard the technology bandwagon, which I applaud. What I'm less enthused about is the use of the latest "sexy" thing ("Hey, everyone's on Twitter! We need to incorporate this into what we do because it's proof that we're hip and current!") just for the sake of the thing itself, when there is a more efficient and perhaps more natural way to accomplish the same ultimate goal.

I've had a long-standing relationship with the NSO (I first worked with them back in 2002), and I appreciate this attempt to think outside the box; however, for my taste, this particular foray into use of technology seems off-mark. I'll be curious to see commentary from those who attend the concert.

PS: had set this to post on a 12-hour delay without carefully proofing, sorry for the typos in the original!

(Non-opposable) thumbs up

I know I've been posting a lot of videos lately, but this one is too good to pass up (this via Minnesota Orchestra Vice President and GM Bob Neu):



It's really kind of a fantastic idea, and musically it holds together with thematic threads (the closing few shots are actually repeats of the opening ones, so it gives it a nice sense of coming full circle). I particularly like the sudden harmonic shifts (appropriately coordinated with the...uh...soloist). I wonder, was the solo part notated? Or was this done purely with visual cues? In any case, a charming piece (kudos to composer/conductor Mindaugas Piecaitis) and a wonderfully innovative idea. With video screens, no less...

To see or not to see

A review about the opening concert of the Ravinia Festival caught my eye, primarily because a majority of content was not about the performance itself; critic Lawrence Johnson spends most of the article panning the use of the large video screens showing closeups of the performers.

One of my earliest exposures to symphonic music (besides my audiophile father and the Honolulu Symphony, which is a subject of a future blog post) was PBS's "Great Performances" - I still remember a Brahms Piano Concerto #1 with Ashkenazy/Giulini/LA Phil from the early 80's. What I loved about those programs was the up-close-and-personal sense one gets, thanks to some well-produced camera work; it's great to actually see an instrument during a solo spot, illuminating to see the cues and communication going on onstage and inspiring to see the expressions of conductor and players as they deliver an emotionally and intellectually engaging performance.

Perhaps my predilection for this kind of "produced" concert experience makes me much more sympathetic to the use of video screens in performance. We experimented with this in our final Inside the Classics concert of the season, to mostly rave review; a vast majority of responses from the audience were very favorable, while a minority pronounced the screens distracting (this data via website commentary and written survey results).

I certainly think the more conventional concert experience (of the standard, "unenhanced" variety) has its place. By the same token, I question Johnson's contention that "in its attempt to “open up” the traditional classical event, the video simulcast only serves to cheapen the concert-going experience, making it less appealing and, to be frank, irritating as hell." It may be "less appealing and...irritating" for some, but I would be curious to hear responses from the Ravinia audience; if it's anything like Minnesota audiences, many enjoyed the sense of connection to what's happening onstage. And I wonder, is there a generational disconnect here? Are those of raised on produced televised concerts in tandem with live performance more accustomed and open to different concert experiences? And does any enhancement of a symphonic presentation "cheapen" the experience (and what does that really mean?)?

Finally, Johnson wraps up with this:

Perhaps in time one can learn to tune out the video or drink the Kool-Aid and become accustomed to this MTV-ification of the classical concert experience. But I doubt it. So much contemporary pop calls for music-video flash, quick-edit dancing and assorted stimuli to distract one from the fact that the music isn’t very good. Brahms, Mendelssohn and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra don’t require such pointless “enhancements.”

What I find pointless is taking potshots/hurling veiled insults at other musical genres. This is the kind of holier-than-thou attitude that does nothing to endear those of us in the classical side of the business to...well, a vast majority of the rest of the world (because, really, less than 10% of the adult population of our country attended a classical music performance in 2008 - this according to the NEA). It's tantamount to insulting a majority of the populace for its musical tastes. Do we need to engage in this kind of bridge-burning in an attempt to elevate our preferred music?

Music is a living art; a symphony was never meant to be presented as a museum piece, with a removed reverence utterly disconnected with the era in which it is being performed (not that in which it was created). I'm not advocating for video screens for all concerts of symphonic music; I'm simply interested in keeping what I do and love vibrant and relevant for generations to come. And for that to happen, we cannot rely on business as usual.

Opera plots 4 u

A fantastic use of technology over at The Omniscient Mussel; a contest to create the ultimate opera plot synopsis in 140 characters or less, submitted via Twitter (or blog comment, if you must). The celebrity judge? Superstar soprano Danielle de Niese. The prizes? You gotta see it to believe it. It's made the press everywhere. (Winners from the first contest here.)

Such buzz! I wonder if this is duplicable in the symphonic field?

"Online" Orchestra

I've often bemoaned the slow pace of change in large arts organizations, particularly in relation to 21st century media. Which was why I was both delighted and fascinated by a recent article in the New York Times about a new "online" ensemble, the YouTube Symphony Orchestra.

In short, musicians from around the world are invited to apply by downloading sheet music provided on the site (from Tan Dun's "Internet Symphony No. 1") and submitting a video of themselves playing the selection. There's even a video of Tan conducting, to keep you in absolute tempo, because the winners of this audition will then be part of a mash-up to create an online "performance" of the entire piece.

The other component is the video submission of a standard repertory piece - that puts you in the running for a chance to play the live version of the "Internet Symphony" at Carnegie Hall, if you are selected by YouTube viewers in an American Idol-style selection process, of course.

A great use of modern media and technology, in my book, and I'll be curious to see the final product(s). Part of the purpose, ostensibly, is to create a more organized dialogue about classical music on YouTube, which is a fine idea. I cringe a little, however, when thinking about comments that may be left on audition videos; I've seen enough snide (if not downright cruel) comments attached to individual performance videos to know that the anonymity of the internet allows for a degree of mean-spiritedness usually not seen in face-to-face interactions. The eternal optimist, I hope to be pleasantly surprised!

Of course, the project has its celebrity promoters - Tan Dun and Michael Tilson Thomas, or course, and the inimitable Lang Lang lends his own peculiar flourish. My burning question, though, is this; isn't the "Internet Symphony" simply a glorified expansion of the Olympic Medal Cermony Theme from the 2008 Beijing Olympics (with a bit of Eroica added in for good measure)? Which seems such a terribly unoriginal musical idea for such an innovative project. Take a listen and judge for yourself (the Olympic Theme becomes recognizable at about 1:06').




And here's the Olympic music (with Tan conducting, too!) for comparison.

Girl you know it's true

I've been wrapped up in all matter of political goings-on, as well as trying to learn a pile of music (yep, I'm conducting a Ben Folds show at the Mann) for the next few weeks.

But I came across some more scandalous Olympic news that has been making its rounds. (Of course the Olympic "miming" scandal began with the adorable girl who "sang" in the opening ceremonies - she was lip synching for a child who was deemed less telegenic.)

It's not so uncommon to have "canned" music - in fact, one comes to expect a certain amount of lip synching in any highly-produced TV broadcast (this from last year's MTV Video Music Awards, the disastrous comeback attempt of a pre-rehab Britney Spears). The pop world has certainly had its share of lip synching scandals. But it's far more unusual for an orchestra to be caught in this position.

It's an embarrassment for the Sydney Symphony, no doubt, and prerecorded music can be a sensitive sensitive topic. I am a strong advocate of live music - because, really, there's nothing like the excitement that it can generate - but I'm not so troubled by pre-recorded tracks for extraordinary circumstances (like an audience of billions, telecast in real time). That is, I wouldn't be so troubled if it were simply a matter of an orchestra pre-recording itself and then presenting that recording as part of a televised "performance". What distresses me is the fact that the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra recorded parts of the "performance" - and that the MSO's work was passed of as Sydney's, which just seems awfully shady. Any thoughts?

(Not quite) fearing for my livelihood

A video of ASIMO conducting the Detroit Symphony in May (coincidentally enough, the week after I conducted the DSO). I confess that I found the fluidity in the motion rather extraordinary (he's quite a piece of engineering!!). I've been asked countless times after this video hit YouTube whether I feared for my livelihood, but I think the answer is pretty evident. No matter how sophisticated the technology, it is impossible for any machine to duplicated what a musician can do, until machines can learn intuition, and the delicate push/pull of a dynamic situation (like conducting) where one is making split second decisions about how to lead and convince and cajole - not based on an equation, but on a primal gut instinct. And I don't much care for his phrasing, or his lack of rubato.

I had written, shortly after ASIMO's debut, to Leonard Slatkin, a mentor I first met at the National Conducting Institute in 2002, and after discussing all manner of other topics, he answered my question about robot conductors: "As far as ASIMO goes, let's just say that it is not ready for the NCI yet." Good to know...

Future music

We're inordinately proud at the announcement this past Monday of a BMI foundation "Outstanding Musical Citizen Award" that went to our very own Beth Cowart and Aaron Kernis for their work as co-directors of the Minnesota Orchestra Composers Institute.

The Minnesota Orchestra’s Composers Institute is a program unique in the orchestra world; each year 7-9 composers are given the opportunity to have their works performed by the Orchestra in our FutureClassics! Concert following an intense week with the Orchestra, Aaron Kernis (our composer-in-residence) and Osmo. For the 2008 incarnation of the Composers Institute we received over 150 applications, a huge stack of scores by anyone’s standard. Of course winnowing this down to the lucky 8 or so composers is an arduous process, one which required a 12-hour day for the panel of judges which, this year, included me.

Conductors tend to have an abundance of new scores pass their desks; often composers send their music unsolicited in an effort to get their works out and seen. In addition, my position at the Curtis Institute requires me to work on a consistent basis with young composers (students and graduates) from Curtis as well as the University of Pennsylvania. And a few weeks back, during an epic day at the American Music Center in New York, I perused over 70 scores of composers ranging in age from 18 to 55.

Apart from the excitement of deciding on those winning scores, the experience was fascinating in that I was able to pore over new scores with some esteemed colleagues and discuss what we saw. All of the panelists remarked on a trend; pieces that relied on skilled and colorful orchestration that sometimes revealed a paucity of actual musical ideas. Writing a symphonic score requires expertise in two distinct areas; compositional skill (the ability to put together nuanced musical ideas within a coherent structure) and mastery of instrumentation (a facility in distributing the aforementioned musical material amongst the different instruments of the orchestra). Ideally, both skills are interconnected and equal, but if this group of composers is any indication, the current tendency is to highlight well-developed orchestration skills over complex musical content.

I’m not sure to what we can attribute this trend, although I have my theory about the influence of culture and technology.

First, the technology. Most composers eventually input their music for engraving via programs like Finale or Sibelius. These programs provide instant playback of an input score, allowing the composer to hear a reasonable representation of what they have written. While this is a fantastic tool, I have observed some composers writing directly via these programs, ie, doing without initial thematic/harmonic sketches or even overarching structural ideas. Because these programs are so convenient to use, perhaps there is the temptation to do without the significant step of working and reworking thematic ideas in the mind's ear and via written sketch, which I've always found to help truly internalize something that you're working on. It's easy enough to move around a slew of notes on a computer screen, push playback and see if it sounds pretty; I've done it myself. But does this ease of execution perhaps allow us a little intellectual laziness?

The cultural impact I've observed is the tremendous influence of film music (which many of my composer friends are keenly interested in, as it can be quite lucrative!). The best symphonic film music naturally uses orchestral colors to full advantage, and this has certainly worked its way into our collective consciousness. And it's gotten to the point where we can point at a young composer's score and say, "Hey, look, a Williams moment", where a sweep of harp and percussion, decorative high woodwind figures and a brass chord voicing are an unmistakable (and perhaps not entirely conscious) mimicking of the great film composer John Williams (whose music, incidentally, I've loved since I first heard his score to "Star Wars" as a kid.)

Or perhaps it just happened to be this batch of scores I saw. But while I certainly don't want to make sweeping generalizations, it seems to me that while in the past one would have to develop substantial compositional chops before attempting a large scale orchestra piece, it has, via technology and the ready availability of recorded music, become plausible for composers to take a shot at such a piece much earlier in their development.

I pondered composition at one point - I did my BA in composition at Harvard - but I found it wasn't for me. I felt uneasy creating something and then giving it away to a performer to bring to life, even if, ironically, I was the performer, conducting my own work. For me it created too much of a disconnect; and, besides, I always liked it much better the way it sounded in my mind's ear (does that make sense to anyone but me?). And I found composition to be such difficult work; it's too easy to become self-consciously avant garde, or to rely on a saccharine tonality, or to flounder around with minimalist techniques. It takes far more to actually find your own unique voice.

I'm happy to report that there were indeed some very unique and personal voices in that pile of scores, and I look forward to hearing them brought to life by the Minnesota Orchestra next fall!