I’m a conductor. That one phrase will cause many people who read this blog to reach for an antacid. Despite that it does have some relevance to what is going on in Philly.
Every time I open a score on an airplane it happens – “Are you writing music?” I just nod politely and move on, because I have found it too hard to explain that the score I have in front of my is printed, and it would require me to have some kind of alien super-power to move around the previously engraved black dots on the page. Ergo, I am studying music, not writing it. But Joe Layman didn’t get any music education in school (thank you Ronald Reagan and the so-called Conservative Revolution) so Joe won’t have the background to understand that anyway. I’m just studying the music.
Or am I? The $64K argument among performing musicians is whether we are merely interpreters of previously written music, or are we creators of something new? Are all those little dots on the page sacrosanct or do we have free license to do whatever the hell we want? I tend towards the former, though I would find the word “sacrosanct” to be a wee bit strong. About 8 months ago I posted a facebook rant about how this pianist was summarily ignoring all the markings in the masterwork Goyescas. I was surprised, and slightly offended, that some of my friends commented with “he should do whatever he wants.” My feeling of sacrosanct-ness increases in direct proportion with my feelings on how good the piece is. True masterpieces like Goyescas – you had damn well follow every freakin’ mark on the page because anything less cheapens that amazing piece. So there. And, for the record, I trust the musical instincts of Granados in the piece he wrote much more than I trust yours. If that offends you then so be it.
But I freely admit that I’ve been known to surreptitiously change a few things here or there when I thought it necessary. As great as Dvorak’s 7th Symphony is I still make a couple changes at the end of the last movement. I think he made an orchestration mistake, which leads to an acoustic mistake, which leads to a musical mistake. Once I’m in that realm I feel like I should do something, albeit very very gingerly.
But the score is a contract between myself and the composer. Said composer wrote it, I’ve signed on, and I think it’s my responsibility to try and fulfill all those little clauses and phrases and whatnot. When I run across performers who feel like they have license to throw out composers markings willy-nilly it flat out enrages me. Some poor schmuck has poured heart and soul into this piece of music and your response is “Hey! I can do it better! Who cares what the composer said!” Really? Then I guess the music isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.
Ditto Philadelphia. What is the score in this situation? The contract. God knows there are probably enough outdated clauses, ridiculous stupidities, and various lunacies buried within the contract between the Philadelphia Orchestra Association and the musicians of said orchestra (and please, we all know that what was relevant during the Eisenhower administration does not necessarily make sense in the economy of the post-9/11 world), but is not a contract a contract? Did not both sides enter into said contract with the express purpose of fulfilling said contract? Is that not the purpose of a contract?
I think this is what disturbs me about the bankruptcy proceedings in Philadelphia. The Association’s stated reason for declaring bankruptcy is to get out of all of their contracts. If this is allowed then any organization can arbitrarily decide to declare bankruptcy whenever they so desire for no more reason then they want to and they feel too lazy to fulfill their contractual obligations. At this point any contract will not be worth the paper it’s printed on. This has very disturbing implications that reverberate far beyond the music industry. Bankruptcy has historically been, and should remain, the avenue of last resort. Either that or every contract written today is fundamentally worthless.
And the next time I call someone out on doing the exact opposite of what a composer has written, and said person looks at me all hoity toity and says “Well, I just feel it this way!”, I’m going to have a full on conniption fit and call them musically bankrupt. See how they like it.
As an orchestra member, it’s helpful to read about what considerations conductors make in the background, and their thought process involved. Very well written.
You are so looking in the right direction with all of this Bill. One of the very real concerns behind closed doors is that if the Philadelphia Orchestra Association is released from contractual obligations given the arguable conditions behind the filing, it will be the impetus of a stampede of bankruptcy filings.
In particular, pension obligations will serve as the spearhead but no one should be surprised if that is followed by a long shaft of riders to remove everything unrelated to economic or operational issues. Case in point, look at the initial contract that was implemented by the Detroit Symphony Orchestra that contained everything from removing tenure to gutting the audition and artistic review process along with declassifying musician positions and not being sufficiently musicianish.
What’s particularly ironic about all of this is even though much of this is being promoted under the banner of progress, increased relevance, flexibility, etc. much of it is as old school as Ray Hair’s embarrassingly outdated rhetoric in the recent WQXR panel discussion.
As a result, the reasons behind why so many of those contractual items you mentioned that are really no longer applicable are held onto over a deep rooted fear that if you start letting go, it will be followed up by exactly the sort of old school nonsense that took place in Detroit.
It’s becoming increasingly clear that for some in this field, the cultural cold war never ended, it simply underwent a rebranding campaign.