Repertoire Building Is The Only Adventure

What a thoughtful, spot-on post. I work in the dance world and I fear that it is much the same. I've seen one-off ballets, some brilliant, some terrible, years go by and they are never seen again. I have a deep abiding affection for the standard repertoire, and it is an honor to our artistic past that it appears again and again, but where is the respect and honor for innovation? Just my two cents...

I thank Mr. Johnson for his comment. I guess we both misunderstood one other! I apologize. I was being ironic when I mentioned the Rite in my original post; I meant to highlight the fact that, in the current orchestra world one hundred (very odd) years later, pieces that have an immediate effect similar to the Rite's when it was premiered in 1913 are even less likely to get a second hearing, whether they deserve it or not. The economics are just too brutal. As I continued in that post, "many superb pieces seem to have this effect upon first hearing." [That's why] "We have to trust the conductor and the composer." Let me amplify: we have no choice as audience members but to trust, to hope, even to pray if that's what one thinks helps, the conductor, the players, and the composer to HIT A HOME RUN.

My ultimate point was one that was amplified (and probably stated less obliquely) by Cranky Orchestra Manager, that things haven't changed much, and that forcing more new pieces on to symphony programs is just going to antagonize the people who pay to hear the orchestra play as much as it always has. Lots of "pretty good" orchestra pieces get played, and most, as Virgil Thomson tartly remarked, "withdraw themselves."

I think Mr. Erickson has misunderstood me. The point wasn't about difficulty—Michael Torke is not going to start any riots—or even quality, but portability. I've heard of a lot of pieces that never "caught on" in the repertoire, for various reasons, haven't you?

Rather, I was seizing on the Rite because Mr. Erickson seemed to be using it as a counterexample, when really it closely resembles (to me anyway) Nico's definition of the "real" adventure in orchestral programming. Stravinsky blazed a new way, and the orchestra has followed.

I am intrigued to see that my comments (other than my ungenerous -- is it really mean to characterize a young composer's voice as "unfocused?" ... really, people! -- opinion of Mr. Muhly's compositional voice as being interesting, young, and still very much in development and far better than his prose) have been amplified and fleshed out by both "Professional Composer in LA" and "Cranky Orchestra Manager." I have little to add to their excellent posts.

That the Rite caught on after its premiere is common knowledge. That's why the poster knows about it. The point was simply that pieces sometimes take time to catch on — especially when they are hard to play and hard to take in on first hearing. I am in obvious agreement with those who point to conductors who really champion composers as the biggest heroes. Scholars and conductors really do have a LOT to say about what survives past our lifetimes — much more than music critics and fans.

I appreciate Nico Muhly's cry from the heart when he wishes orchestras would stand behind young composers' works better by programming them repeatedly. Hopefully, he'll find a conductor or two down the road who will program his works with multiple orchestras when they do podium swaps and guest appearances. After that, a recording or two, and his works will get the fair hearing they deserve. This is how the "system" (ugh, such as it is) has worked for many years.

The most heartening thing is that young composers like Mr. Muhly seem to understand now that the big classical music publishers can't do for them all that much more than they can do for themselves, that record labels who once sank money into new repertoire now mainly accept fully-funded projects, that orchestras are making their own indy labels, just like composers, and that the Internet (as Art Leonard pointed out) is making new works more accessible. Maybe these emerging truths and the Internet will allow Mr. Muhly's and other deserving young composer's compositions to catch on more quickly in the hurly-burly of the orchestra world.

Let me echo Nico's "Wow"—it's refreshing to see so many people responding so thoughtfully in a comments section. There's not much left for me to do but quibble, but that happens to be my strong suit, so I'll point out:

Mr. Erickson, the Rite may have received a disastrous first performance (for many reasons, of which the score was only one), and this is the performance that everybody remembers, but it was quite warmly received at its second performance. It's the second performance, and the third and the fourth, that make a classic of the repertoire.

I think Nico's argument here is, who's going to give a second performance to a piece for orchestra and tapdancer, or for orchestra and DJ? Torke and Bates are two composers who know how to write a solid piece of music. I'd love to be in the audience for a performance of either one of these, but such commissions are not the way to build up the orchestral literature. I think Nico's trying to distinguish between the kinky "adventure" of these wild orchestral one-night stands and the "adventure" of forging a new way forward for the orchestra. New works should be a staple of the orchestral diet, not just an exotic side-dish ("Warning: EXTRA SPICY!!").

And Nico, Jordi Savall is actually responsible for some very lovely new music! His improvisations and original compositions smack a bit of Ye Olde Renaissance Faire, but check out his Pärt commission, Роҗэесмвенская КолЬная, off of his CD Ninna Nanna with Montserrat Figueras. I'm extra fond.

Wow! I go to bed and wake up and all these people have commented. Excellent. I just wanted to quickly comment back at Cranky Orchestra Manager. I agree that I'm making a point that (a) has been made for centuries and (b) seems like it doesn't need to be made again. I guess I made it because (a) I was asked to, sort of, and (b), I realized a while ago that the kind of work that I, as a young composer, will get through orchestras is exactly this kind of one-off thing which, while super fun and awesome and thrilling, is not, to use the buzzword of this particular conversation, Adventurous. That was the only point I was trying to make; not anything about the system being broken or anything like that. I think we are, in fact, entering into a golden age for music both new and otherwise. I think, though, that the way for such an age to really glow is for there to be a real interest in repeat performances of newly composed rep, rather than the occasional shooting-star of a fun collaborative or programatically dazzling concert. Anyway, thank you for commenting! Don't be such a stranger; Chad Smith, is that you? Hit me on the hip.

I guess my post should be called "who says it its broken?"

Reading the original post by Nico reminds me of that great Oscar Levant quip — "Leonard Bernstein is revealing musical secrets that have been common knowledge for centuries." But, in this case, I'd say "Nico Muhly is making a case that has been common knowledge for centuries."

Facts:

(1.) Orchestras call new music new music because that's what it is. Orchestras really are businesses that have no choice but to accommodate (and respect, if you will) the tastes of their ticket-buyers or go out of business. They do a pretty good job of fitting in new works and building the repertoire, despite the fact that their ticket-buyers for the most part DO NOT want to hear it.

(2.) Composers who have the training and the chops to handle writing for big orchestras are well aware of the first fact (above) and, far from being "fearful," for the most part do a pretty good job of balancing the demands of their muses and the audience, just as professional composers always have been compelled to do. The best composers of these big, expensive pieces seem (by what I have observed) to be pretty darned good at remaining free of the influence of their patrons!

We must be enthusiastic. We must point out the obvious, because it isn't obvious to everyone. We must also tell people that good work is being done and that new pieces ARE getting programmed. Who says that the current orchestral artistic / business model is broken? Composers who aren't getting orchestra performances and commissions? Music Critics?

I believe that Modernist composers who wrote enormous chamber works for large orchestra that were impractical, hard and expensive to rehearse, and, after all that, unpopular with audiences, really kicked the mainstream orchestra world's butt for a few years. We're still recovering lost audience members.

I actually agree that it looks, as another poster pointed out, as though "we are entering into a relatively fervent new golden age" — partly because of the slew of minimalists, and then neo-romantic composers (who knows if any of their pieces will enter the repertoire and who cares? One can only hope....) helped audiences to trust their orchestras a little more when they saw a living composer on the program. Okay, so now we can bring in some more dissonance again into the mainstream. Carter and the best of the modernists will continue to get programmed, and the rest will disappear. This is how it has always been.

Why don't we stop distinguishing between new music and music? Isn't it better to program music that makes sense together, in whatever way--wild, harmonious, arcane, traditional, playful, etc., and give ourselves a wider palate to choose from?
If we produce art based on fear (the loss of the subscriber), we should stop calling it art. Better to respect the audience and hand over thoughtful, interesting programs that advance the art form. Some will leave, others will arrive. Some of the leavers are more likely to return if we stay true to ideals, whatever they may be, rather than construct a business plan passing for art.

Nico's making points that are already conventional wisdom in the orchestral music business. It is refreshing to read a young composer who seems to be aware that when and if he himself is commissioned by a major orchestra the gesture is quite possibly a "one-off" situation. At this point in his career (like the situation with Mason) Nico surprises me by taking what is a really conservative line, saying, in effect: commission and promote new music because it's the right thing to do.

Yes, it is the Right Thing To Do. But I'm forced to agree with Mr. Erickson when he describes the music director's quandry: "His board members will wince; the local music critic will either have a field day or only write about the new piece; his audience members will return subscriptions; and his musical reputation is put on the line." The Right Thing To Do is not as easy as people think it is in the orchestra business because of the Audience's tastes. Erickson's right when he says that most people came to see the soloist & that's why the soloist got paid so much. Then they came to hear one Classical Musique. Not very many people at all came to hear the New Piece. At worst, people walk out before the New Piece is played. At best they stay and take their Medicine.

When you go to the symphony you tend to see mainly older people. For whatever reason. Then those older people who sent back their subscriptions because there was a cool piece by Mason or Nico on the program nestled between Beethoven and Debussy die and don't subscribe anymore. But younger people like Mason and Nico get older and start going to the symphony to take the place of the older people who died.

The institution of the symphony orchestra (which was always sort of an archaic eighteenth century social construct anyway: I mean, a guy up front telling everyone what to do?) remained the same. The demographic of who went to the concerts stayed the same. Only the composers get older, fall out of fashion, re-emerge. Frankly, the conductors and the scholars have a lot to do with whether we composers' works get to live beyond our time.

Anonymous Jones pointed out that "Champions are born, not made, so in performing arts halls, they are presently a minority." I couldn't agree more. Slatkin, Falletta, Morgan, Miller, Zinman, are real heroes for getting behind composers and championing them by not just commissioning them but by programming them when they do guest shots with other orchestras. Look at what Spano did for Higdon, for example.

These are really excellent points Nico is making here. With gimmicks, you have a situation where people think about the piece as "the one with the tap dancing" rather than "the Torke". That doesn't do Torke a great service, though it may be fine if that's the piece he wants to write (and I'm not valuing that judgment). Either way, the composer is almost entirely removed from the experience because you are bringing the audience into a context where they don't associate the new commission with "what the orchestra (or whatever ensemble) DOES". I don't actually think that Mason was meant, here, to be an example of that since, as Nico well knows, that's what Mason does as a musician. I would love to hear his (Mason's) perspective on what it means to position oneself as constantly being an outsider to the mainline function of the entities that commission you. (Until, of course, we have orchestras that are adventurous enough to program an entire evening with electronics, so as to level the playing field.)

The most important point that Nico makes is about commitment. The relationship between a composer and his or her work, and an ensemble, becomes an entirely different thing when they perform it even twice - in two different runs, or venues. I completely agree with Nico's suggestion that the least adventurous-seeming commissions are the boldest, because they leave the composer naked; there's nothing that the PR department can say besides "we think he/she is awesome". Nico is talking about stepping up to the challenge of being placed directly in comparison with the most famous composers of all time, a challenge that many elements of contemporary classical culture render easy to avoid. I don't say this as a criticism; my own group is an idiosyncratic collection of instruments that makes our new repertoire feel largely disconnected to any specific tradition. But when it's an orchestra, or a string quartet, or a piano or a viola, you're right there in the same room as the old guys. That's frightening, but also exciting, and when an ensemble believes in you enough to make a commitment to your work such that they will bring the piece to the performance level of the old masters' work, that's the best possible composer-performer relationship. When an ensemble just gives a work one shot, there's no way that the piece can make that leap to the next level. It just doesn't work that way.

When I was living in Boston while attending school in the 1970s, Seiji Ozawa tried an interesting experiment with the BSO one year: every program that season had at least one piece composed during the 20th century. There were a few that might be described as "cheating" when it came to "modern music," like the Mahler 4th Symphony. But generally speaking it made the season much more interesting and helped to promote new pieces into the repertory.

Now, the really enterprising orchestral music director can aim to have at least one piece composed within the past fifty years on each program, and make sure to include works by living composers at least monthly, and drum up the money for half a dozen commissions a year.... and that music director will be making their organization RELEVANT to the ongoing development of orchestral music. And in scheduling guest soloists, ask them what is new, interesting and unusual in their repertory that they could play with the orchestra, or whether they would be interested in learning a new concerto for their guest spot... What an interesting season that would make!!

The idea of repertoire has changed so much - by joint commissioning, individual performing group labels, and especially blogs that I worry less about adventurous programming and more about adequate compensation for composers and performers. When Nico's electric violin concerto was premiered it appeared on his blog and on the orchestra's blog and I have been able to listen to it many, many times with ever-increasing admiration for its beauty, structural ingenuity and, yes, poignancy. When the Pulitzers were announced this week I was able to go to Alex Ross's blog and listen to David Lang's piece.

As a card-carrying Nico groupie I have perhaps become used to the exuberant and often outrageous in his postings. But I would urge Mr. Erickson to read through Nico's blog or some of his program notes to experience the astonishing insights when he is explaining his enthusiasms rather than his annoyances. True, this post could be subtitled "Metaphors Gone Wild" but when they are under control they are wonderful. In contrast to the confusing vegetables in this post, here is Nico describing a modest and memorable piece, "How About Now": "I wanted the piece to feel like it comes from [a] pre-existing pantry of musical devices. . . a can of chick peas here, this mysterious dried mushroom, that jar of cocktail onions, and somehow, dinner happens."

As I said, my comment about Mr. Muhly's compositional voice and current notoriety was ungenerous. But it was not motivated in any way by bitterness; it was a simple observation. It was, however, off topic, and consequently gratuitous.

Well, to me, Mr. Erickson sounds a little bitter in his comment.

I have never met Nico, never talked to him and know him only through his blog and his music, so my defense of his piece here is as a fan.

So lets rebut:

First off, nothing I have ever read or heard about Nico leads me to the conclusion that he is at all 'competitive'. Sure, he is getting a 'LOT' of attention and mention right now because the people writing about him like his work. So do the people asking him to write his music. By all rights, he appears to be highly collaborative and immerses himself in whatever role the circumstances call for. (Can you imagine Milton Babbit getting hurt by a large fiberglass horse?)

His main point in the article was to challenge producers to make interesting new music the feature presentation, and I couldn't agree more. The traditional way certainly isn't working anymore, and large mainstream producers really should choose interesting composers to commission, give them free reign to do what they are inspired to do, then promote the hell out of them. If major presenters and orchestras decided to invest just 5 percent of their budgets in new work, the corpse that is the world of 'art' music just might hack up some phlegm and come to life again.

Lastly, Mr. Erickson's characterization of Nico's 'compositional voice' as unfocused is mean and just plain wrong. Nothing about Pillaging Music is unfocused. Nothing about A Hudson Cycle is unfocused. His music is complex, emotional, shiny, attractive and fun all at the same time.

I don't worry about the health of serious music in this country...I actually think we are entering into a relatively fervent new golden age. I do worry about the ability of the business models we have constructed to deliver serious music to their audiences to survive unless they try some new ways of doing business and would urge them all to take what Nico says to heart.

Mr. Muhly (I, a fellow "music professional," do not know him; it is merely good manners to address him until we have been introduced as either Mr. Muhly or by his full name) writes: "So, is that commission an adventure for the orchestra, or just for the conductor and the composer?"

Am I understanding him to be saying that, in his opinion, Leonard and Mr. Bates were just entertaining themselves at the expense of the listening audience and the orchestra musicians?

I have only asked this question when the ENORMOUS RISK that the music director took in commissioning a composer didn't pay off because the composer delivered a piece that (for whatever reason) didn't work for the audience and the players. Many superb pieces seem to have this effect upon first hearing (The Rite of Spring is the obvious example one throws up at this point.). We have to trust the conductor and the composer. This is still scary for mainstream audiences to do, following the boxing about the ears we received at the hands of the "serial killers" for several decades.

In seeking to clarify for myself what Mr. Muhly is trying to say about repertoire I was hoping to point out that the orchestra world is set up so that persons who came to see the soloist (the reason the soloist is paid so much; and the reason the previous commentator came to the concert) also get to hear a new piece by a Mr. Bates and, just maybe, love it.

Audacity and bravery are being displayed by the Music Director in simply programming a piece by a living composer. His board members will wince; the local music critic will either have a field day or only write about the new piece; his audience members will return subscriptions; and his musical reputation is put on the line. His competitors (yes, conductors, just like living professional composers, really do have competitors, and acknowledge it) who program the three B's have a much easier row to hoe.

Nico Muhly makes a good argument. As an industry professional who considers myself a champion of new music, I see it like this (which I believe might be representative of the views of the current performing arts hall "public"): you're not going to feed a baby solid foods from birth. You're going to start off easy and graduate them into tougher stuff. I attended the National Symphony concert featuring the Mason Bates piece as well, but it should also be mentioned that the same concert featured Jean-Yves Thibaudet playing Liszt’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in A Major. I dare to confess that it was Mr. Thibaudet I went to see and happened to be pleasantly surprised at Liquid Interface.

Champions are born, not made, so in performing arts halls, they are presently a minority. Nico's sentence "lifting a three hundred-pound fiberglass stallion covered in hair, on whose back I stuck a folk singer, all in collaboration with an Icelandic sculptress in West Chelsea last weekend" is example enough of begging the question: what audience are we talking about and will there be Thibaudet fans there?

Please! Mr. Muhly is my grandfather's name!

A quick comment— I don't think anybody has any business feeling competitive with other composers; a victory for one is a victory for all as far as I'm concerned, especially in my generation. So when I hyperbolize, saying I'd take a bullet for Mason, what I actually mean is that I like him a great deal.

As far as the tap dancing goes, I guess I was being overly flip, but, when I was talking to people about that specific project, more often than not the reaction was a sharp intake of breath rather than "that sounds interesting."

And, to tie it all together, I think that inasmuch as the "weird room" is the room in which new music will thrive, I am suggesting that new music be stuck in the middle of the living room (a.k.a. after the intermission), audaciously and bravely!

Thanks for commenting — Nico

Would Nico Muhly really "take a bullet" for Mason Bates, a young composer competitor of his?

How does Nico Muhly know that "more people are going to be embarrassed than excited about the tap dancing thing?"

Mr. Muhly writes: "put it on a truck and bring it to Carnegie Hall, don't hide it in that weird room between La Mer and the Emperor concerto." But that "weird room" is where new symphonic repertoire either survives or it doesn't, Mr. Muhly!

Mr. Muhly is an interesting young composer with a poignant, though still unfocused compositional voice who is getting a LOT of attention these days. It is perhaps ungenerous to encourage him to compose more music and less prose.