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I want to take some of the issues in my last post a little further, particularly jumping off a comment left by friend and colleague Ian Moss. He writes:

To me, that freedom is the stereotype. No matter what, you’re going to hear stuff that you don’t hear every day, and that isn’t limited by someone else’s idea of what music is supposed to be. That’s not very specific, but I think it captures the creative impulse that is shared by those who call themselves composers.

And in response I am moved to write, “Exactly!” Many people (Hi, mom!) say they want music to comfort them, to keep them company in their day-to-day life. It’s the sort of music you find on the radio, even if it’s the intellectual hits on All Songs Considered. But for the subset seeking “new” music–that “unlimited” music we’re talking about here–that audience tends to be conversely very open to a wide range of sound, stylistically speaking. But for their patronage and support, how can we do better by them?

Brian and I have been having a lot of car-ride conversations about this issue as he gets a music series up and running here in Baltimore at the Contemporary Museum. Maybe it’s the city or the venue, but this is not an academic exercise. “Quirky” is actually the new music box it’s tough to stay out of in this town. So we’ve spent a lot of time talking about ways to build up the trust of a new audience base. How do you get to the point that you can really stretch out as far as you like as a curator without anyone getting nervous? This means the focus has to be on consistently delivering quality, not a gimmick.

And at points, the discussions have been as basic as: Should we have a lighting designer come in? Should there be snacks? What should we wear? These are not frivolous decisions, because I would argue that it does play into the music you’ll be able to present and the distance you’ll be able to take your audience with you. It’s the same as saying, “Let’s respect ourselves and all our massive amounts of training enough to do this well, right down to the last detail.” You may be focused on the repertoire, but your audience is taking in the entire event.

My liberal arts education began, strangely enough, with a book that explored why stereotyping was necessary and good. The author’s point (sorry–for the life of me I cannot remember his name or the title of the text) was not to encourage the blanket hatred of groups of people or the dismissal of new thoughts and ideas, but rather to suggest that without stereotypes, it would be impossible to function. Sure, we need to remain open to contradictions in our personally formed stereotypes and amenable to modifications, but if we didn’t have them in the first place and instead had to think through every interaction we had from the beginning, we’d probably find it impossible to locate the car keys and leave the house.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what the identifying “new music” stereotypes are, and some of you have been leaving comments with similar thoughts and questions. If we’re not cool like the jazzers, not hip like the indie rockers, and not formal like mainstream classical musicians, what are we? As a genre, it seems we are uncomfortable, or at least not cohesive. We cannot be recognized as a group for who we are musically by the presentation of our concerts or the slant of our cowboy hats. It’s easy to see how this freedom is liberating. But is it also paralyzing and, to some extent, a little lonely–each new ensemble and collective trying to make it up fresh for themselves? 

Instead of borrowing identifiers from our neighboring genres, which often fit us poorly, I’m curious: If you were passed the magic scepter and told you could dictate, how would you want new music to be stereotyped? Of course that’s not how it works. A stereotype is an average–and a popularity contest (for better and worse). But if the music itself has no common practice, can (or should) the presentation and the performers have some semblance of one anyway? Instead of glancing left and right at what the other kids are doing, what tailored-to-fit features could we make distinctly (and comfortably) our own? 

I’ve been on this internet block long enough that I should have known better than to title a post “Did I mention the naked dancing girls?“. Inevitably, this has waylaid a few Google researchers on their way to other places, but to them I say, “Welcome! Stay for the hot intellectual discussion about culture!”

But actually, that brings the conversation neatly around to the importance of honesty and straightforwardness in audience development. The “butts in seats” movement is often focused on inspiring folks who are not already in the club in such a way that they will feel interested enough or comfortable enough to walk through the gilded gates. And those efforts are sometimes wonderfully well-intentioned. And sometimes they are not–they just fulfill things like the “audience diversity” line in grant requirements. In either case, attracting attention by posing as something else is often the go-to tactic in these operations, and it doesn’t do anyone much good. More often it just makes everyone feel a little silly, or worse. My mom once told me that a cough medicine was just some Kool-Aid before she plunged the spoon into my unsuspecting mouth. I feel resentment about that rude shock to this day.

Recently I had the chance to chat with some students who were trying to make a go of a performance career backed by a serious amount of classical training. These people were all heavyweights in the skill dept. Some of them also signaled a particular cross-scene comfort with trendy haircuts and demonstrative clothing choices. But this left other performers in the room with questions. They didn’t want to be cool like this or hip like them. They loved the work of some obscure 17th-century Baroque composer and wanted to present that work to their audiences. Still, life as a performing musician was already hard enough; was this a point that they would have to concede? Was a faux-cool-like-that stance the only way to an audience? Was a MySpace page and an American Apparel wardrobe seriously the only way?

If I had felt it was appropriate to yell in such a well-appointed conference room, I would have taken the opportunity to plead, “NO! NO! PLEASE STOP AND THINK BEFORE YOU DRINK THAT/PIERCE THAT/LET THAT MAN TATTOO THAT ON YOUR BODY!!”

If anything is clear to me while my nose is pressed this close to today, it’s that people–the strangers you pass on the street everyday–are interested in the lives, loves, hopes, and dreams of real people. Reality TV, Facebook, and blogging have been good for that lesson, if nothing else. But what has evolved out of that is a demand for truth. We have only to look at the history-stretching memoirists who’ve been taken to the gallows to see how serious the audience is on this point. Stories are no longer good enough; we want to escape into each other’s stranger-than-fiction realities. So express that. Don’t traipse awkwardly in heels through repertoire you wouldn’t buy yourself. Say your own thing, and–just as importantly–say it very well, very loudly, and with all the conviction you can gather. Your audience–maybe 3,000, maybe 30–but your audience, is waiting for you.

The first time I was tagged, I was no where near any books, so I thought I could sneak away quietly. But the second time I was tapped, I realized there was no escaping karma, so here ’tis.

The rules of the meme:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

This passage comes to us courtesy of Vikram Chandra’s Sacred Games, nearly 1000 pages of film noir that’s been kicked down a Bollywood alley. Good stuff.

“‘Gaitonde,’ he said, ‘they are bajaoing your baja, you better run away and hide, you’ll get finished.’ After our thirteenth death, three of my boys just didn’t appear for morning attendence the next day. I knew they hadn’t been killed, but that they had just walked away from a losing game.”

I believe I’ve lunched with some performing arts professionals who sport pretty much the same outlook.

I send the iChain along to The Husband, The Professor, The Journalist, The Ethnomusicologist (who swears he wants to play in the mud of new music with us), and The Man Who Introduced Me To My Life. Play ball.

If you hate the impact Peter Gelb and Gawker.com have had on our level of cultural discourse, the Friday Informer is probably not for you. If you subscribe to the mash-up, however, here’s this week’s dish.

The Friday Informer: Come As You Are

Many of us have had the experience of going to a conference at which you end up in a cramped, fluorescently lit room for a panel discussion. And just when the introductions are finally over, the audience all caught up on the issues to be discussed, and everyone is finally positioned to dig into the topic at hand…um, time’s up, thank you all for coming.

This is how I felt after reading the highly publicized “Music Copyright in the Digital Age” position paper recently released by ASCAP. (You can get your own free copy here. It’s all legal, no worries.) To be clear, I’m no “trash copyright; information wants to be free” naïf, but the paper underlined for me once again how seriously far behind the technology we trail as an industry in terms of legal and economic development. The paper’s position–after 21 pages of material–was a whopping:

Amid the many “shades of grey” of the copyright debates, it is important to remember that some issues remain black and white… Discussions about how copyright should adapt and evolve along with our changing society are both important and productive–as long as these essential truths are not overlooked in the process.

Well, huzzah! Let’s have a good talk. And then maybe a good cry. I don’t mean to pick on ASCAP–it’s an issue that goes far beyond a single organization, and ASCAP actually won a major online performance issue in court today–but this paper was nowhere near the public leap forward I was hoping for. Where are the new practical and clearly defined rules for licensing creative work in digital formats? There aren’t even any preferred proposals for such a scheme that would benefit music creators on view here. Perhaps that was just not within the purview of this paper. And admittedly, many cooks in the kitchen and a roster of unknown unknowns have made it paralyzingly difficult–the proverbial herding of feral cats and four large elephants. Yet, in an addenda to the position paper, we read:

While copyright law can be difficult to understand, its complexity does not render it invalid. “Simpler” does not equal “better”–particularly when it comes to protecting long established rights that make creative professions viable in a financially driven culture.

I’m not a lawyer, just a professional working in the field, but I don’t buy that. I think complexity is a big stumbling block in getting artists paid. If it was easier, couldn’t we be paying them by now? Is this waiting helping the situation? Can technology, if not the law, help us make it easier? Also, I am unconvinced that if it was easier to pay for the online usage of music, most people would avoid doing so. We could fill up gallon jugs of water at the local public fountain, but we don’t. In my experience, the true problem outside of the notorious pot-smoking, dorm-room downloaders (see how dangerous a stereotype can be?) is that your average person can’t figure out what’s legal or who to pay (let alone negotiate the “how much”) without hiring a legal team and a couple of research assistants–not something available to the average non-profit performing ensemble that just wants to make a YouTube video to promote its shows. New amateur broadcasters using Live365 pay their dues every day because it’s a package deal. Just print, sign, and send, and you are good to go. The machine makes sure what you are doing is legal. But if you’re building podcasts in the basement or adding content to your digital player, the technology lets you do a lot with a few mouse clicks. But following the rules and paying the artists? Well, remember the last time you called the IRS with a question? Just multiply.

Alongside my ASCAP reading, I was working my way through another hot document on the issue–Gerd Leonhard’s Music 2.0. (Download a copy here.) In 200+ pages largely culled from his blog postings, Leonhard outlines a “music like water” profit scheme that would turn music access into a service that “feels like free” rather than focus on collecting a fee for copies. (Technological developments being basically the equivalent of one huge Xerox machine, that counter is spun out and broken.) But was his proposed alternative reality too good to be true? If he had the answers, why wasn’t anyone doing anything like this? I got to ask him these questions and more in an interview a few days later. You can eavesdrop on our conversation here.

The very next day, as these things seem to go in internet land, the topic was everywhere I looked and the options and arguments multiplied. What if the major labels end up holding the reigns, or what if Apple does? If you’re hooked, dig in. More it to be found on Slate and Hypebot.

Feeling left in the dust by internet development? Here’s the CliffsNotes course. (Note the heroic inspirational background music, not that you could miss it. Don’t you feel more optimistic about the future already?) Sometimes I wonder if we’ve put too many eggs in the technology basket for no good reason other than that we’re attracted to the shiny new toy. But then I see how people half my age are using the platforms, and I realize that I’m the one overly fascinated with the delivery method. I suspect that the new phone ringing (record player playing, radio crackling, car transporting) was also once this much fun.

[via MediaFuturist]

If I haven’t been to hear the local symphony in a while, I sometimes forget about this.

In the 21st century, the tuxedo is still generally the costume of the classical musician. I don’t mean to beat on this fashion choice–though in most cases I’m not sure how much of a choice it really is–but seriously, Patrick Dempsey and George Clooney aside, who really carries this look with conviction these days?

But it’s an iconic trope, with as much expressive weight in a music performance as flannel or safety pins, and so maybe the field shouldn’t be quick to shirk it in those attempts to “attract a broader audience” that we hear so much about at conferences. After all, Esquire designed a nine-page layout around capturing classical music mojo as seen draped in Armani and such. Why ditch the branding?

The general argument against such formal wear, of course, is that it gives off the wrong vibe. It’s not like being suited up for a shift at Mickey D’s, but it can look as uncomfortable and as insincere. Also, it’s hard to cry, “No, no, you’re wrong! Orchestra performances are not formal, elitist affairs!” while wearing a cummerbund. But as John Stewart pointed out recently in reference to Barack Obama’s struggle with a (loosely related) issue, “Doesn’t elite mean good?” 

When you’re dealing with a crew of 70-some musicians, the options are limited. Any kind of continuity in dress is going to get you some sort of stock feel, which conflicts with the  whole “creative performing artist” side of the equation. But for better and worse, classical = formal wear, there’s just no point in running from that. I mean, would you want to see the tuxes traded for the bolder images of, say, punk? Minding the gap doesn’t mean tripping into the ditch, just sayin’, and I’d hate to see the dry cleaning bill on that $4,000 suit.

Dear kindly readers of this blog: Often I wonder what the hell people are thinking, and now that I have been empowered with my own personal “publish” button, I am going to start asking them directly and sharing the results with you. If there is anyone you’d particularly like to see grilled here, please drop me a line!

Steve, you wrote the title song for Morgan Spurlock’s latest film Where in the World Is Osama Bin Laden? It’s not every day that a composer gets to participate so directly in the war on terror–even in America. How was your tour of duty?