The Minnesota Orchestra: A Conductor’s Musical Instrument Torn Apart?

Burt Hara with MO (credit: Nate Ryan LLC)

Emotions have been swirling high around the Minnesota Orchestra (MO) this past week.  First came the news that their Principal Clarinetist (much beloved) Burt Hara had won an audition for Associate Principal Clarinet with the Los Angeles Philharmonic.  Hara has been a staunch long-time member of the MO and an active member of the Twin Cities music community as a teacher and performer.  His departure is a wounding blow, but I don’t believe anyone blames Hara.  He commented that if there were no lockout, he wouldn’t even consider accepting the job offer.

Next came the news that Music Director Osmo Vänskä had written another letter, only his second during the lockout, to Jon Campbell and Michael Henson, his boss and Chairman of the Board, and the President and CEO of the MOA, respectively.  As Music Director and in that role, Chief Artistic Manager, Mr. Vänskä made it clear what the priorities need to be in order to maintain the artistic excellence of the MO, honor their invitation to Carnegie Hall in November and honor their recording commitments, especially in light of musicians’ departures.  He wrote that the Concertmaster had two offers from other orchestras but didn’t want to leave.  Mr. Vänskä underscored the direness of the situation by saying he would be forced to resign if Carnegie Hall canceled the MO’s concert because they had lost confidence in the MO’s ability to perform at a high level of artistic excellence.  The lockout needs to end and MOA management led by

Disappearing MN Orchestra Musicians

Campbell and Henson have the power to end it, not the musicians.

I have to say, in my opinion, the MOA management has worked hard to blame everyone but themselves for the truly devastating situation they’ve created.  It’s the musicians’ fault for being union, having a contract that protects their working conditions and pay, and for Pete’s sake, not offering a counter-proposal to the MOA’s “final” proposal offered last year when one is not necessary for negotiations.  (That last is a “stalling tactic” if ever I’ve seen one.)  They blame the Twin Cities community for not supporting the MOA financially with enough donations that could sustain the orchestra and organization at the world-class level the community wants.  They blame rotten advice from an investment advisor (no longer advising them) back in 2007-08.  But they do not take responsibility for their fiduciary duty to the orchestra and organization, and the mistakes and miscalculations and misdirection in the past 5-6 years that has led them to the present moment in which the orchestra has begun to disintegrate and the Music Director is threatening to resign.   They blame others so that they can say it’s up to others to bring the parties back to negotiations so they do not have to own their responsibility in stalling, deflecting, going back on agreements, treating the musicians with disrespect, and in being untrustworthy.

As a writer, not a conductor/musician, I cannot know what Osmo Vänskä has been going through since the lockout began on October 1, 2012.  From my extensive research for the Perceval series into conductors, their education, training, jobs, and lives, I can say that it must be excruciatingly painful to watch MOA management destroy his musical instrument and everything he’s accomplished since he stepped onto the Orchestra Hall podium as Music Director in 2003.  I was a pianist years ago, and the analogy for me is if someone started to dismantle my piano, one key at a time, preventing me from playing my instrument.  I fear that it may become too much to bear and Osmo will resign anyway.  He will do just fine on his own – as a conductor, he’s in demand all over the world.  But not us, not Minnesota, not the classical music world and not the MO.  MOA management just doesn’t get it, and they don’t understand that they don’t get it.

In an interview with the Minneapolis Star Tribune this past week, Board Chairman Jon Campbell said that in 2009, when Osmo signed his contract extension, they gave him a “heads-up that the business model was changing – in short, contract talks would be tough.”  What business model?  I feel like I’ve missed something because I don’t recall the MOA spelling out in detail what their new business model would be.  I hope they don’t mean the Strategic Plan 2012-15?  I thought that was under review and analysis by an independent financial analyst?  Plus, this comment also confirms that MOA management had planned how they would crow about the MOA’s financial stability and balanced budgets, even though neither was really true, until they approached contract talks, and then the financial situation would become dire to force the musicians to accept a completely gutted master agreement.

Has Mr. Henson and Mr. Ebensteiner accepted 50% cuts to their salaries?  No.  Instead, they have laid off staff until there are really not enough staff to support effectively the organization.  Instead, they have orchestrated a contract offer that cuts musician salaries by 30-50 percent, and deleted all the gains in establishing secure, safe, and positive working conditions since 1983.  Instead, they proceeded with the $50 million Orchestra Hall lobby and auditorium renovation which still needs more money.  Instead, they slashed  the orchestra’s season, shortening it and the summer season to such an extent that revenue decreased.  Instead, they have inserted into the musician master agreement sections that would transfer artistic decisions from the Music Director to MOA management.  And the Board of Directors does nothing?  They agree with all this?  Do they despise classical music so much?

If they weren’t so entrenched and rigid in their approach to negotiations, MOA management and the Board would probably agree that there are always several ways to resolve a conflict.  First stop blaming others for your mistakes.  Both sides need to be flexible.  No “final” proposals, in other words.  No need for counter-proposals.  End the lockout and enter a “play and talk” period.  That would go a long way toward giving the musicians reason to return to negotiations.  But don’t be surprised if they don’t trust you completely.  MOA management has the power and the control at this point to act.  What happens in the next few weeks will reveal their true intentions regarding the Minnesota Orchestra and its future.

How Does a Composer Know What to Write?

While in college studying music, I watched a series of lectures on PBS given by Leonard Bernstein at Harvard in which he talked about music as a language.  WOW.  Before those lectures, I had not thought of music as a language.  Bernstein illuminated how music communicates ideas and emotions through a system of notation.  Spoken language does the same.  The notation in music represents sound produced by instruments or the human voice.  The rules of composition are its grammar and syntax.  Every musician learns them.  How a composer uses those rules, or breaks them, gives a sound or “voice” to the music unique to that composer.

As a literary writer, my ideas come as images or words.  A composer’s ideas arrive as sounds or are stimulated by something visual like art, literature, movies, etc.  In Perceval, Owen te Kumara, Evan Quinn’s composer friend, hears sounds arranged according to the rules in his mind rather than a description in words, such as “in c major, begin with a chord….”  He’s steeped in music’s language and the sounds.  Thinking in sound comes as naturally to composers as thinking in words.

The idea or series of musical ideas dictate what form the piece will take, e.g., symphony, sonata, concerto, etc., and what instruments will play it.  Sometimes a composer may want to compose something for a specific instrument he likes or for a particular musician, or an orchestra or conductor commissions the composer to write something.  Throughout the Perceval series, Owen works on a symphony in memoriam of a dear friend, so his emotions about the friend, the friend’s personality and the friend’s musical instrument (piano) will influence what Owen writes.  The form Owen chooses, a symphony, reflects his friend’s personality, i.e., big.

Each composer has her own approach. Some sit in silence, listening to the sounds in their minds, writing the notes on score paper. Others sit at the piano and test out chords and phrases as they write. Or they work at the computer, using software that will check their writing against the rules every step of the way and then produce the sounds for them to hear.  However a composer works, she is invariably alone.

As his writing progresses, the composer may share it with trusted musician friends or family or not.  Owen shares his work with Evan because Evan has agreed to conduct the world premiere. Sometimes, if a foundation or contest is funding the composition, the composer may be required to meet certain agreed upon milestones and submit proof that he’s met them.  Sometimes composers work closely with the musician for whom they’re writing the work.  For example, Samuel Barber consulted pianist John Browning while he composed his piano concerto for Browning.

How long does it take?  There is no set duration, just as there is none for literary writing. Some composers work faster than others.  Sometimes the music comes in a white heat, sometimes it’s like pulling teeth. If the work is a commission, the composer may have a deadline — he’ll need to finish well before the premiere performance in order for the musicians and conductor to learn the music and rehearse it.

As part of my degree work in college, I composed music.  The ideas never came fast and my musical grammar and syntax were clumsy.  As with a foreign language, it takes time to learn the basics and the rules, and facility comes with practice. I’ve found learning a foreign language easier than composing music, so I have the highest admiration and respect for people who compose music well and produce a large body of work.  And I love hearing new music for the first time.

Owen te Kumara is a fictional character — the music he hears in his mind remains inaccessible to me.  But I wish that he existed so that I could hear the music I imagine him composing…..

Composer Institute 2008

This past week at Orchestra Hall, seven young composers gathered to participate in the Minnesota Orchestra’s 2008 Composer Institute.  During the first part of the week, they attended concerts and seminars, learned the business side of being a composer and met with Osmo Vanska, orchestra musicians, Aaron Jay Kernis and each other to discuss composing and their compositions.  As if that weren’t intense enough, on Thursday the orchestra began rehearsing their works for the “Future Classics” concert on Friday evening.

Rehearsals: Once again, I attended the first two rehearsals (the third is the dress rehearsal) to observe the orchestra and Osmo Vanska working on new music and with the composers.  I had my conductor, Evan Quinn, and his composer friend, Owen te Kumara, on my mind.  The hushed atmosphere in the hall contrasted with the bright lights and activity onstage.  More observers than last year sat in the main floor seats after row 15 while the seven composers (5 men, 2 women) waited their turn to address the musicians.  Most of them sat with oversized scores in front of them on black music stands.  One fellow walked up and down the aisles, along one row after another of the seats, over to the side aisles and back, always in motion.  Nervous energy. 

Each composer introduced his or her piece to the orchestra before they worked on it.  All expressed their excitement and gratitude for this opportunity.  Then Osmo and the musicians dug in.  With each piece, they played through it first.  The longest was 13 minutes.  Then came the detail work, clarification, changes from the composer who heard something he/she didn’t expect or didn’t hear something expected.  The composer approached the stage, score open in their hands, looking up at Osmo.  Their stance reminded me of religious paintings I’d seen in Europe of mere mortals beseeching God for something.  Osmo Vanska would be the first to say he’s not God, but I don’t think anyone would dispute his position at that moment in each composer’s life.  When Osmo responded to their call, usually he grabbed his score and squatted down or sat on the edge of the podium to consult with the composer.  He was patient.  He understands, being a composer himself.  Occasionally, a musician took the opportunity to shout out a question for the composer.  The energy was focused and intense.  The orchestra’s muscles were flexing.

At breaks, the orchestra relaxed.  Musicians left their chairs and the stage.  Some remained to talk or to practice their parts.  Osmo usually sat on his stool, looking around, available for questions.  At the lunch break, the exodus off stage was nearly immediate.  What amazes about this orchestra and this concert is this: they polish seven compositions of totally new music, some of which have never been heard before, and then perform them as if they were standard orchestral repertoire at the concert the next evening.

Future Classics Concert:  People streamed into Orchestra Hall ’s auditorium, older couples and 20-somethings, an audience mix surprising and wonderful in its eclecticism.  They filled the hall to almost three-fourths full, far more people than the last two years.  This was so cool.  Plus the radio audience listening to MPR on their stereos or computers.  Steve Seel got the ball rolling by introducing the president of the American Composers Forum, John Nuechterlein, who gave Osmo Vanska the “Champion of New Music” award.  Wild applause, including the orchestra musicians.  I think it is true that Vanska believes the credo that “all music was once new.”

Fred Childs, from MPR’s “Performance Today” program, took over the hosting duties, introducing each composer before his/her work.  The concert began with a 10-minute sonic portrait of “urgency,” jagged and intense sonorities, shifting meters to give the feeling of tension.  The next piece, inspired by the four seasons (and nary a quote of Vivaldi which was refreshing) smoothed out the previous tense music-muscles and played, danced, enchanted with landscapes of seasonal sounds, and one rad tuba solo “snowman.”  The third work was an abstract sound painting of “conflict,” unique in its nearly constant tension and probably the loudest, at the end, that I’ve ever heard the orchestra play, at least fffff .  Fortunately, that loud section was brief.  However, it was interesting to see percussion players and other musicians insert earplugs into their ears before it.  The last piece on the first half, another abstract portrait of ideas, was like rolling on an ocean of sound, tossed at times on the crest of a forte. 

The second half began with frantic strings, gasping clarinets, caterwauling flutes and string bows tapping hard on instruments.  This piece combined musical intervals from China with western sounds very effectively.  The next work was a minimalist musical portrait of a machine as it begins to work, adding layers of mechanical workings in sound one after another.  Incongruously, toward the end the strings burst forth in a section that was pure 19th-century Romanticism.  Lovely incongruity.  The last work echoed some of the emotion of the first on this half, its inspiration being an atrocity committed in El Salvador in 1980.  During rehearsal I had thought of this music as “vampire music” before I learned of its backstory.  A provocative way to end the concert.

At the Q&A session following the concert, the composers expressed gratitude and amazement about the audience, how many people had showed up to hear their music.  But really, all music truly was new at one time.

Evan Quinn sat next to me during the rehearsals and the concert, mumbling about Owen te Kumara and the five-movement symphonic work he’d promised to compose in memory of a mutual friend.  This year I think I really solidified in my mind how I want their relationship to play out over the course of the Perceval series.  And how that five-movement symphony will sound. The Composer Institute inspires me…..

Only Beating Time? A Gentle Guide to Classical Music Concerts

September brings the beginning of a new school year as well as the opening concerts to the Minnesota Orchestra’s new season.  And it has been about a year since I began writing this blog for the Perceval novels and Evan Quinn.  I was trying to remember this week the first time I ever saw a conductor on a podium.  I suspect it was a community band concert at a summer ice cream social in my hometown.  As children do, I imitated the conductor and thought he was a rather funny guy, his back to us, waving his arms around.  At times, I understood he controlled the music, how loud or soft, how fast or slow, but didn’t pay much attention beyond that.

In elementary school, I experienced conductors as a performer in both the choir and school orchestra.  And I also watched Leonard Bernstein’s Young People’s Concerts on television.  I don’t know if it was my experience as a performer or not, but I’ve never been one of those fidgety, coughing, snoring audience members who applaud at the end of every movement in a symphony.  I sit as still as possible, breathe quietly and concentrate on the music.  I don’t consider myself an “elitist” either, simply someone who loves to attend live concerts.  For a hilarious take on how to be a concert snob, please check out Sam Bergman’s “How to be an Elitist Snob in 20 Easy Steps.”  As a violist in the Minnesota Orchestra and long-time musician, he definitely speaks from the experience of a performer….

For a gentle guide to watching a conductor at work:

You’ve arrived with hundreds of other people (it’s a “good house”) at a concert hall to attend a symphony orchestra concert.  The people around you wear suits or sport jackets, dresses with diamonds or a casual pantsuit.  Open your concert program and find the section that encourages the audience to turn off all cell phones and pagers (please, please do this!) and that taking photographs is forbidden (please respect this!).  If you tend to cough or have a cold, the ushers can help you with cough drops, or bring your own.  If you do cough during the music, please cover your mouth with a handkerchief (or cough into your arm) to muffle the sound.  In most concert halls, the acoustics are extremely sensitive and a barrage of coughing is not appropriate accompaniment for the orchestra, especially during the really quiet parts.

The musicians begin to come onstage to take their seats.  They wear formal black attire, continue their warm-up on their instruments or wait quietly, watching the audience (yes, you!).  Three minutes or so before the concert is scheduled to begin, the concertmaster walks onstage.  Greet him/her with polite applause.  The concertmaster by tradition “tunes” the orchestra to the principal oboe’s “A” and takes his/her seat at the front of the first violin section.

When the stage door opens again, the conductor walks onstage.  Pay attention to his demeanor and pace, how the musicians react to him.  A purposeful walk, confident and relaxed manner, whether or not he smiles, signals a conductor in control and the concert will go well.  Usually.  (I love it when a conductor behaves as if he can’t wait to get to the podium to share the music with the audience and runs onstage.)  The musicians should be relaxed, attentive and respectful.  No fidgeting, frowns or glares, please.  The conductor will bow and smile to the welcoming applause, and gesture to the orchestra to include them in the applause.  He’ll shake hands with the concertmaster before stepping onto the podium, his back to the audience.

If a conductor stands for a moment before raising his arms, he’s preparing for the downbeat, waiting for the audience (you) to quiet down, for the musicians to focus on him (usually they already are) or focusing his concentration.  When he raises his arms, the musicians ready their instruments.  The conductor drops his right hand holding the baton — the downbeat — and from this moment until the music’s end, he is responsible for keeping the orchestra together.

His right hand keeps the beat and tempo, his left hand signals changes, phrasing, dynamics and any necessary cues for the musicians.  Musicians know also to watch his face for cues and encouragement, shoulders for the beat, and so on.  Each conductor has his own unique way of expressing the basic vocabulary of gestures conductors use to communicate to the musicians during the concert that he’s learned and practiced and perfected over years of experience.  Clarity and consistency are essential for this body language to be effective.  A conductor’s gestures will reflect what the composer wrote in the score.  Watch his hands and listen to the sound that follows.  What did he do to make the music louder or slow the tempo?  At the end, his right hand, often with the left hand, will “cut off” the music.  It will be clear, whether it’s a downward slice of the baton or a small circle traced by the baton’s tip.

Conductors also move on the podium, although I’ve seen a few conductors who stand and only move their hands and arms, and use their faces to communicate.  This stillness tends to intensify the attention on their hands.  But for the audience, it’s not quite as much fun to watch.  Does the conductor lean down to the first violins for emphasis?  Has he lowered himself to a half-crouch to decrease the volume?  Movements like these can signal emphasis, guide the audience through the music, and is part of the “showman” aspect of conducting.  These movements are like a living, physical representation of the music.  The wise and experienced conductor moves as he’s comfortable doing in the service of the music and his orchestra, however, not to call attention to himself.

When the music is completely finished — at the end of each section or movement, the conductor remains facing the orchestra and the audience needs to wait quietly for the next section — the conductor puts down his baton.  Simple.  But wait for the conductor, especially after an especially emotional piece of music, like the Verdi Requiem, before expressing your appreciation with applause.  Sometimes, the silence after the cut-off is part of the music….  The conductor turns to the audience and bows, steps down from the podium and shakes the concertmaster’s hand, waves for the orchestra to stand and bow with him to receive your applause.  He then exits the stage.

For more detailed and specific descriptions of conducting technique, I’d recommend Max Rudolf’s The Grammar of Conducting which covers how to beat different meters to controlling dynamics or tempo to rehearsal techniques.  Knowing what a conductor does and why opens wider the window to understanding and enjoying the music and concert experience.