The Muse in Music - Boris Brott on New Music, Bernstein, and Stravinsky

By Dan Perttu

For this blog post, I am delighted to interview conductor Boris Brott.

Maestro Brott is one of the most internationally recognized Canadian conductors, holding major posts as Music Director and Principal Guest Conductor in Canada, Europe and the United States. He enjoys an international career as guest conductor, educator, motivational speaker and cultural ambassador.

Currently, Mr. Brott is Founding Music Director and Laureate Conductor of the New West Symphony, California, Artistic Director of the McGill Chamber Orchestra, Montreal and Principal Guest Conductor of the Teatro Petruzzelli in Bari Italy. Maestro Brott is Artistic Director of Brott Music Festivals, which was established in 1987, as Ontario’s principal classical music festival and is home to the National Academy Orchestra of Canada, Canada’s unique professional training orchestra. Internationally, Mr. Brott has served as Assistant Conductor to the New York Philharmonic under Leonard Bernstein, and as Music Director and Conductor for the Royal Ballet, Covent Garden (two years), and Northern Sinfonia (five years), and the BBC Welsh Symphony (seven years). In addition, Mr. Brott’s extensive guest-conducting appearances have been in Mexico, the United States, South America, Central America, France, Germany, Great Britain, Italy, Scandinavia, Japan, Korea, Israel, the Netherlands.

Dan: My first question is what music inspires you as a conductor? Particularly, what contemporary music inspires you?

Boris: Well, I like a lot of contemporary music of various kinds. I really believe that a conductor has a responsibility to perform music of our own time. I must say I have a penchant, if you will, for dramatic works. They are colorful and use the orchestra and instruments to their maximum advantage with extra musical or instrumental techniques. From my perspective, it is the color in the language that interests me and inspires me. The music can be of a non-descriptive nature. That is, it is not necessarily program music. But having a program doesn’t hurt either.

Dan: When you talk about “color,” are you talking about orchestration or timbre?

Boris: That, and the color of the music on its own. Piano music has color, too. But I must confess that orchestrated music interests me more.

Dan: Absolutely.

Boris: And these days, I’m doing a lot of opera. The use of the human voice in an effective way is also fascinating to me. Finally, I also am interested in music that involves different cultures. We were always interested in diverse music in Canada because we’ve always prided ourselves in being a multicultural society. I think it has worked, probably best, in Canada than all of the other places I can think of. The political framework of this country has encouraged cultures beyond white, European ones in our own midst. Now there’s a tremendous explosion of interest in music of First Nations. I find the music fascinating, and I program and commission it.

Dan: That sounds like a wonderful perspective. I know many people in the United States share your values, yet it’s not always apparent to the outside world that we do. However, I really like learning more about your Canadian perspectives.

Boris: I have spent time in the United States, so I am well aware of the plethora of the interesting and effective music being written. There is so much music being written today that composers have a great desire to voice their expression in writing, and in writing for orchestra particularly.

Dan: It’s wonderful on the one hand, but there’s so much new music. How do you sort

through it? How does the “good stuff rise to the top,” so to speak?

Boris: That’s often tricky and difficult because reading a score is a laborious process. It’s much more difficult than reading a novel. To hear what is on a printed page is a process. You can’t just peruse it; it’s not fair to it to peruse it. And often, the electronic means of realizing the score, albeit better than nothing, doesn’t allow you to hear the humanity in the sound, if you will. MIDI sampling is still rudimentary by comparison. Some composers are willing to go to that trouble, and quite honestly, I appreciate it because it’s a great shortcut for me in reading a great number of compositions. Otherwise, I’d be influenced only by people I know, or people I know of, as opposed to new people I’ve never heard of.

Dan: Of course! This actually brings me to my next question. Do you have preferences to specific aesthetic orientations or styles? What does that imply for your programming? It sounds like your programming is very diverse, but I am curious to follow up a little bit on that.

Boris: I was involved in so many orchestras where a lot of contemporary music was performed. I have a very eclectic palate, if you will. I feel like, in a way, a conductor is like an actor. We put on a cloak, and that cloak is the composition we are performing. And, you enter into the spirit of that composition as much as possible. From my perspective, it's a joy to do that, to discover new aesthetics. I would hesitate to choose a particular aesthetic, or say I really like this type of music. I know I don’t personally like some music. To be honest, I feel the Second Viennese School was a big mistake. It really didn’t add anything. On the contrary, it took a lot away. On the other hand, this you might find strange: if I go back to some of the scores of Schoenberg, Berg, and Webern, I do feel real tension and release. I also feel a real diatonicism, even though it’s not really diatonic. There’s a real sense of harmony within it. It's not really foreign. After all, what I think music is about is creating a tension and resolution.

Dan: That’s very interesting. I agree with some of your thoughts on aesthetics as well. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve picked up on some tension and release in some serialist music, but I can’t say I always listen to it by my fireside.

Boris: No! The problem is this language has not yet found a real audience of any number of people. And one, as a conductor, is always balancing one’s program against the need to have people listen to it. You need to sell tickets for people to come. I don’t really care if they buy tickets or not, but I want them to come. It doesn’t make sense to perform music in a hall for very few people. I try to program in a way and find auditorium sizes appropriate for the amount of interest I think will generate. If, for example, I’m going to do a concert where even some of the music is going to be very difficult for a “normal audience” to listen to, I will go to a smaller hall.

Dan: That’s understandable.

Boris: I want it to be filled. To play to 100 people in a 2,000-person auditorium is soul destroying for anybody, including the people who came there. Dan: Oh, yes. At the college where I work, we always worry about these issues too. Boris: And I think you know the other part of the issue. As a music director of an organization, you are constantly called in to bring in audiences and justify your programming based on the audiences it obtains. For many years, I was associated with broadcasting orchestras. I was the Director of CBC Winnipeg Orchestra and Music Director of the BBC National Orchestra of Wales. Now, of course, the rules there are very different. And the masters you were serving had very different gains and objectives. And in many ways, it was very refreshing. They wanted you to take chances. They wanted you to play new music. They wanted to hear old music that hasn’t been heard before. It was an interest outside of attracting an audience.

Dan: Sure.

Boris: And that was very liberating for me. I could do all kinds of things. In fact, I was encouraged to bring in new thoughts, ideas, and aesthetics. Now, when you’re running an orchestra that is balancing a budget, it’s a different story.

Dan: Of course. Along these lines, I was very curious to fold in your international perspectives on some of these things. I understand you’ve conducted in Italy as well, right?

Boris: Yes I have. Quite a lot.

Dan: As far as programming is concerned, are audiences’ interests in music different in Canada as compared to America or Italy?

Boris: Well, I can’t give you much perspective on that. Except, I was really shocked when I started doing concerts for young people in Italy. In the birthplace of Western music, if one could say that, there was so little information being given to school children. And they absolutely had no idea of any “art” music. They knew pop music, and to some extent, Italian film music. But they had no knowledge of art music at all. From the standpoint of audiences, I think it’s very similar. There is a smaller group of people who are interested in new art music. I would say, in the major sense, I’ve had the pleasure of performing it and getting to know there is a significant interest. I think those pockets exist almost everywhere in the world -- certainly every country I’ve been in. I couldn’t really contrast this any one way or another. I don’t find there’s a greater or lesser interest to this type of music across Europe. Is it a large audience? No, it’s not. But then again, was it ever intended for a large audience? Even if you go back historically to Baroque music, it was intended for a very small percentage of the overall public. It was not a mass media by any means, and it still isn’t.

Dan: I’m not entirely surprised by this.

Boris: Now, it must be said that what I’ve been doing in Italy is mostly opera, and what I’ve been asked to do is more in the realm of 19th-century Italian opera. The Italians are very loyal to their own and very interested in their own. They’re not as much interested in anything else. Certainly in the opera houses. They’re quite happy to hear Rossini, Vivaldi, and all of the Italian composers. Certainly the audience is less interested even in German or French music for that matter.

Dan: So, with respect for contemporary music, how would you characterize the aesthetic trends currently, from your perspective. We talked a little bit about the second Viennese School and the influences that they had on the 20th century. But in the music of today, a lot of people have different views on what the actual trends are going on right now.

Boris: Well, I think the beauty of it is that it’s so eclectic. People are able to develop their own voices. For example, I enjoy compositions that celebrate the music of the First Nations, and many are celebrating them in a very contemporary way. Sometimes they include improvisatory elements, or they bring in musicians who were not necessarily trained in the “Western” tradition. These musicians bring in their own insight and creativity.

Dan: Yes, I love music that uses performance practices from different cultures.

Boris: Also, for the last few months, I’ve been very involved in Bernstein's music because of the 100th anniversary of his birth and because of my relationship with him as his assistant in the late 1960’s. In some of Bernstein’s music it was hard at first to discern the themes, and at first I couldn’t see a language that was identifiable in his music. Now, looking back, I definitely see the language. The benefit of 50 years is huge. Dan: When I think about Candide and Chichester Psalms, I can latch on to themes in those. But when I think of some of the other works, it requires more concentration.

Boris: The sixth interval is there so much, and his way of combining polytonality and jazz is so compelling. All of that stuff is there regardless of what you’re listening to, whether it’s the Jeremiah Symphony, Candide, or whatever.

Dan: That’s true. Boris: Yes! It is now, but it wasn’t so obvious when I first got to know it. It seemed so different. I just did West Side Story last week in an orchestral version. When you just listen to the music, you hear so much of the influence of the Jeremiah Symphony. There is a voice that is Bernstein. You need to have perspective on a lot of music by an individual to be able to identify that voice. In my programming, I like to latch on to a specific composer and then do a lot of his or her works in a given season. I find that provides a more interesting perspective for the audience.

Dan: That’s interesting. So, on the one hand, even if you don’t have a wide diversity of people in that season, you gain depth in conveying it to the audience. They become more familiar with that composer and even build a relationship with their music. Boris: And also, as a conductor, I build a relationship with them. I like to think that in some way, shape, or form, I would have loved to have been a composer, but I never had the courage. So, through my existing relationship with composers, and helping them perform their works, I contribute to the composer’s creative process. It’s almost a team effort. Dan: Yeah! That segues nicely into my last question, in what ways should conductors interact with contemporary composers and what does this imply for programming in the future. You’ve already answered some of that. Do you have anything to add?

Boris: I think if you have a need to create, you should create. You chose and have a particular voice. As a conductor, you choose a particular creator, or group of creators that you like. And you do a lot of their music. In performing it, you will also become involved with the writing of it. There are very few composers I know who say, “Look. This is what I’ve written. Just do what I say and don’t contribute to it.” That said, with my relationship to Pierre Monteux, I can reach back. I did know Stravinsky. He certainly didn’t like people monkeying with his works in any way. You either did it his way or forget it. But I think that was the only person.

Dan: And, if a composer wants to continue working with a conductor, then he or she shouldn’t have that kind of a closed attitude. As for Stravinsky, that was a different time, but he also had the fame behind him to do that too.

Boris: Yes, and particularly at the time when I knew him. It was around the 50th anniversary of the Rite of Spring.

Dan: Most composers that I know are very interested in the collaborative part of bringing a piece to life.

Boris: And I like that very much! It allows me to be involved without exposing everything, as I feel I would if I were writing music that was solely my own. So, instead, I can influence in a positive sense as a conductor, but the composition is written by others.

Dan: And it’s a living art form. As you say, the performers bring it to life. You have to have the wonderful, creative performers. Well, those are all of my questions for now, though I would love to follow up with you more some other time about Bernstein. But for now, thank you for your time. I appreciate learning your perspectives on these issues!

Boris: Thank you!

The Muse in Music: Michael Torke on Musical Form and Emotion - and Old People

Photo by Bryan Hainer

By, Dan Perttu

This time on the Muse in Music blog, I am honored to host the preeminent composer Michael Torke for a rich, organic discussion on what drives him as a composer. Mr. Torke's music has been called "some of the most optimistic, joyful and thoroughly uplifting music to appear in recent years" (Gramophone). Hailed as a "vitally inventive composer" (Financial Times) and "a master orchestrator whose shimmering timbral palette makes him the Ravel of his generation" (New York Times), Torke has created a substantial body of works in virtually every genre. Career highlights include: Color Music (1985–89), a series of orchestral pieces that each explore a single, specific color; Javelin, recorded both for Argo and for John William’s Summon the Heroes, the official 1996 Olympics album; Four Seasons, an oratorio commissioned by the Walt Disney Company to celebrate the millennium; Strawberry Fields, whose “Great Performances” broadcast was nominated for an Emmy Award; and two evening-length story ballets, The Contract, and An Italian Straw Hat, for James Kudelka and the National Ballet of Canada.

Dan: Let's start with something fundamental. What drives you as a composer and why do you do it?

Michael: That’s the hardest question of all. One way to answer it is to address why anyone creates art at all. Because it seems so impractical, and quite an odd activity for anyone to do. So why do we do it? That’s the first question. The second question is why do I personally compose; is there something in my biography or my genes that drives me to do it?

So, to address the first general question: when human beings have enough resources to feed and to shelter themselves, they then have extra time. And when you have extra time, you start asking philosophical questions, like “Why are we here?” and “What’s the meaning of it all?” One way people address these questions is through religion. Another way is through art. Art provides a kind of nourishment to the soul that gives life meaning. Then, on the individual level, people seem to have a need to express themselves. The need is so strong. Look at Facebook. Everyone now is a writer, a publisher, an expresser. The urge to “share” seems to be as strong as life itself.

And then for me personally, I don’t quite know. To make things and express things? My father was an architect, so he was always building. He was drawing. I think that made an impact and was an inspiration for me. I like to make things, and I like to draw. I like to impose form on things. Another aspect is that when you’re a person with a lot of energy inside, that energy can come out in positive or negative ways. You could become an axe murderer or a drug addict if the energy does not have a healthy expression. However, through the good fortune of receiving an education and getting musical training, you can take that energy, focus it, and use it to make compositions. I find this to be the most gratifying thing I do; it gives meaning and shape to my life. I love imposing form on things that produce emotion. We think emotion is the opposite of form. Form is cold and mathematical. Emotions are spontaneous. I actually think music is a wonderful way for the two to come together. What I’ve learned working as a composer is that, generally speaking, the clearer the form, the stronger the emotion that the form produces.

Dan: That’s very cogent. I sympathize with the idea that the clearer the form, the more significant the emotion, or the more the emotion can come through. In so many respects, emotions follow cognition. That leads me to the next question, which is about your compositional process. You gave a very cogent idea of why you compose, so then how do you do it? I know that’s a very general question. I’m particularly interested in how form and emotion interact in your music.

Michael: There’s this idea that when you compose you have to start with exceptional material in order to be able to develop it. On the contrary, I believe what you start with is almost arbitrary and banal. It’s what you do with it that distinguishes you from everyone else and gives you your personal voice. That’s where writer’s block comes from: it’s when a composer starts to think whatever he puts down is a cliché, or has been “done before.” Fundamentally, that is nonsense: are you never going to use middle C because it is found in prior compositions? It’s not the idea; it’s what you do with it. I used to say years ago, “What is this stupidest idea I could come up with?”

Dan: (chuckles)

Michael: In its banality, I can potentially develop some really wonderful structures. That’s one approach. Another is to use a style you never been exposed to before. I knew nothing about Bluegrass music for example, when Tessa Lark, a violinist from Kentucky, approached me about writing a Bluegrass violin concerto. This was interesting because it meant that my ears had to be opened up. I still may not have completely absorbed the genre, but I increased my understanding, and it was hugely stimulating. I began to learn the language. I learned how to write Bluegrass themes of my own that would be recognizable in the style. Then, from that foundation I developed the large form.

Dan: Yeah, it’s a language you have to be immersed in. Some people love or don’t love the genre, but you can tell when music is being spoken with a “classical” accent as opposed to music with a “Bluegrass” accent. Did you feel like you ever lost your “Non-Bluegrass” accent? Did you feel like you were able to speak the language ultimately?

Michael: Yes. I felt that I could speak the language, but I didn’t feel like I lost my personality. Bluegrass and Irish music are very presentational. Theme A is followed by theme B. End. So once I began to develop my themes from a micro level to the macro level, an entirely new reality emerges. By design, this becomes a hybrid. My concerto is not simply a medley of themes stitched together. My hope is to breathe new life in the concerto form. And it is a hybrid of performance style because Tessa and I made the executive decision not to amplify the soloist (as is customary in fiddle playing). The loose-limped bow technique of Bluegrass might have to combine with the more aggressive bowing found in classical concertos, despite my making the accompaniment as transparent as I could.

Dan: I resonate with this experience because I wrote a piece called A Scottish Triptych for piano trio. It uses authentic Scottish fiddling techniques within the fabric of the Trio, so you have to be able to perform both as a classical musician as well as a Scottish fiddler. I also put in the performance notes how to pull that off. And thanks to my wife's dissertation, I was able to notate it.

Michael: But see, what you’re doing is expanding the vocabulary of music. I see that as a really healthy thing.

Dan: Going back to form and emotion. Where does emotion come in to this?

Michael: Here’s my feeling. When musical material (which we can call “A”) either moves to something like A1 because it gets bigger, or it moves to B, then something significant has happened. In that movement I think we feel something. When the music grows and then subsides, we have a reaction. To be more specific: in order to make music go from either A to B or A to A1, how do you get there? The listener is following you and that presents a formal problem. There has to be material that, once we hear it, it moves forward because you were hearing sameness and differentness at the same time. That is a technique for development. How can I make my music, as it unfolds, sound recognizable, but different, so everything relates, as it moves forward? These are all formal problems. In the absence of form, you hook up a bunch of themes. To me, that’s just presentation. Form is making these elements have recognizable features that move forward, share properties, but are always different.

Dan: Yeah! You made me think of a couple of things when you said this. Are you familiar with mirror neurons?

Michael: No.

Dan: According to some scholars, mirror neurons are involved in empathy and responses to emotion. They perceive and reflecting input. That input could be an emotional expression, or an emotional experience of another person. You know how emotions are often contagious. I wonder if that is due in part to mirror neurons. I’m not an expert, so I hesitate to go too far with this, but I wonder if there is a neuro-physiological phenomenon going on with mirror neurons in terms of emotional experience when we are riding the waves of an emotional musical experience. Musical form is doing whatever it’s doing and that is actually mirroring an actual experience through the neurons.

Michael: That could be it.

Dan: I wonder.

Michael: One thing to point out in reference to mirror neurons—it sounds like a very cognitive part of the brain. My older sister’s partner is suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s. She’s near the end. What we’ve noticed in her decline is not a surprise; her last hold-out of any understanding of anything is music. Perhaps music comes from a deeply primitive part of the brain. Maybe it’s one of the last things to be touched by whatever is scarring the neurons in Alzheimer's. So it’s some deep part of the brain . . . but maybe the mirror neurons are going on in there even more!

Dan: I would be really interested to dig into that more. Going back to form, you were talking about formal problems to solve. Linking this back to emotional meaning, what are your ideas on the thought of building some sort of cognitive expectation through the form and then violating it somehow as the source of emotion? Is that what you’re suggesting here?

Michael: I believe that is a common technique in creating beauty, emotion, and art. When you set up expectations and then do something unexpected is how you create frisson. One of the basic properties in art is setting up and defying expectations.

Dan: On the small scale, we know that deceptive cadences continue to sound deceptive even if we know they are coming because they defy schematic memory. However, do you think the average listener can perceive large-scale violations? On the local level (such as with the deceptive cadence) it’s obvious, but on the large scale, it may not be?

Michael: Yeah. I do.

Dan: Oh? You do! I’m curious.

Michael: I think even uneducated listeners are getting way more out of music than anyone expects. Ok, so they can’t put it into words, but who cares!? Do we have to understand electricity to use it in everyday life? What fascinates me is when there is a poorly-put-together piece, in whatever way that could possibly mean, the audience senses it and is unimpressed. The applause is titter, titter, titter; the composer can barely get off the stage. But when a piece is well constructed, the audience can sense that even on a first hearing. They don't know why, there’s something about it that’s compelling. I know there is this argument that states people only appreciate something when it resonates with an aspect of their particular culture and this transaction has nothing to do with a formal critique. I understand that argument, but it doesn’t need to be incompatible with what I just said. I think that audiences really get it, but they may not know why.

Dan: Interesting. So, my last question is a two-part question. From your perspective, what can “classical” composers do to get more support from broader audiences? What can conductors do?

Michael: I may not have any good answers here, but I’ll comment around the issue. One way to think about it is that the artistic administrators are always worried that tomorrow no one will buy tickets! Classical music is all but dead! Then they all cite a common reason. I’ve written a blog called “The Future of Classical Music Audiences.” The argument that I make is as follows. When I was growing up in the 1970’s, I would go to the Milwaukee Symphony and everyone said, “The audience is too old, who will be listening in the future?” By the 80’s, commentators across the country bemoaned the aging audience. In the 90’s, we were warned the median age of classical concertgoers was 67, and disaster was predicted. By the aughts, the argument was repeated, “What are we going to do about the aging audiences?” Well, I’m thinking, people don’t live forever!

DP: (chuckles)

Michael: That’s kind of like saying, “We should rip down all the hospitals because you find so many old people being treated! They’re going to die out, and there will be no more business.” But there will always be old people! And what a great demographic! Why? Older people tend to have more money and more time because they’re retired, and they have more of a demand and appreciation for cultural nourishment. This is a great demographic! Why do people think classical music needs to be run like Madison Avenue and appeal to 13 to 21 year-olds? I’ve never understood that. Why are old people so evil?

Dan: I’ve wondered some of these thoughts myself.

Michael: There are some other factors. I spend half my time here in Las Vegas. The Las Vegas Philharmonic was blessed because a new hall was built only about eight years ago. It has great acoustics in a wonderful neo-deco building. The new conductor they have had for about 5 years, Donato Cabrera, is bringing the orchestra to a new level. Here’s the funny issue: every concert is sold out. Is that because Donato is a good salesman? Maybe. Is it because his concerts are varied? Maybe. Is it because they play so well? Undoubtedly. But maybe it’s also something else. Las Vegas is a booming city. Its population is 2.1 million. We’re soon going to have an NFL team—we’re building a big stadium—and there are a lot of retired people who are coming here. Given that Las Vegas’s main industry is the casino industry, and that, after a while, you grow tired of that, you find want something more. You want some culture! There’s such a thirst! “Oh honey! We could go to the symphony tonight!” People love it! So why is there such fear that classical music is going to die? Why don’t we focus on the good things that music provides? It’s like a medicine or a religious ritual! People love it!

Dan: True!

Michael: Obviously there are big problems when we see orchestras going bankrupt, but I think that’s a management problem more than anything else. Experts would tell me that no, it’s actually very complicated. It has to do with boards and institutional politics. But I just don’t think that classical-music-making on the symphonic level is just going to die. It’s like saying “If we don’t plant any trees none will ever grow.” Look out the window of a transcontinental airplane flight, and all you see is green down there! Whoever planted all those trees? Obviously, few were planted by humans on this large scale. There must be such a life force (behind trees) that just wants to take over. I almost feel that way about classical music. I know my analogy is weak, it’s not the same, since we do have to nurture it, foster it, and support it. But it seems like there is a more essential demand for classical music than all of these worried artistic administrators would have us believe.

What can composers do? I mean, I don’t know, write better music? I think if we wrote really great music, it’d be played more. Maybe when we write shoddy music, it shouldn’t be played. That begs a lot of questions: what makes good music? Who decides? That has a very complicated answer. The only thing that is really reliable is that over time, the good rises to the top. Sometimes it takes hundreds of years, and even then, it isn’t infallible. Think of the fact that the glories of Greek and Roman civilizations were superseded by a thousand years of the Dark Ages before the Renaissance revived these ideas. There could be another thousand-year period with people chanting and pounding on drums again. If this happened, you might hear, “Oh yeah! We knew about all this classical music, but we don’t do that anymore because it’s against our religion.” Another thousand years could go by before another Renaissance would rediscover this music. So maybe everything will just die out. Everything comes to dust. However, this scenario could be so far in the future that I’ll be long dead before that ever happens.

I don’t know if a composer can really do anything unless we get into some sort of political or artistic outreach. I was once a composer-in-residence with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra. Besides commissioning and recording my music, one of my main jobs was to help with their educational initiative. I went into classrooms of teenagers with Scottish accents so thick I could not understand what they were saying! And then these students came to the concerts. It was hands-on audience building for sure, and for them, listening to my “new music” was more natural even than listening to the older music on the program.

But back to composers writing better music. That is a bit of a glib notion, when you consider all that Beethoven did for German music; every composer who came after him for the next 80 to 100 years was influenced by his achievements. So you can say that he did more for the sake of music and for audiences than anyone, but as he was sitting there at the piano putting notes together, did he think “Well let’s see. What can I do to help the cause of broadening the industry?” I can’t imagine he was really thinking about that. He just happened to be a genius. So, I don’t know if you can predetermine this too much.

Dan: Well, thank you. This has been very, very interesting, and I appreciate your taking the time to talk with me!

Michael: Thank you.

The Muse in Music: "Fishing for Like Souls"

By, Dan Perttu

For this week on the “Muse in Music” blog, I am interviewing clarinetist and composer Nancy Williams. Nancy and I met on Facebook, and I wanted to interview her in particular because she is both an active performer and a composer. I wanted to hear her perspectives from these different angles, and I thought the readers of this blog might be interested in this too.

As with all of my guests, I start by asking about why people love to do what they do in music. The answers, while they are often on a similar theme, always have interesting variations.

Dan: Why do you love performing? What inspires you about what you do as a clarinetist?

Nancy: Performing is one of the ways I get in touch with my core self; I communicate my deepest feelings and thoughts through my clarinet. A lot of things inspire me. Sometimes I practice just because I'm curious to see just how good I can make my tone that day. So, in that instance, I'm inspired by the challenge of creating the most beautiful sound I can. Sometimes, I'm inspired by the meditative quality of warm-ups. When it comes to performing, though, I'm most inspired by the audience. I love programming and anticipating the audience's reaction to each piece and then experiencing their energy when they hear it. Performances are an opportunity to share a journey with others and to get in touch with our humanity. Education is also an inspiration for me. I love helping students find their voice. Often something will happen in my studio which helps my own performing or gets me to see a piece through someone else's eyes. Then I can't wait to perform that piece again!

Dan: Other people I have interviewed on this blog have said that they love communicating with audiences, which is a great perspective on this. What I particularly like about your answer is how you see performances as an opportunity “to share a journey with others and to get in touch with our humanity.” This seems to go even deeper than communicating. Communicating is wonderful, of course, but sharing a journey is what deep memories are made of. That’s quite an ideal to aspire to.

So, aspirations and inspiration are closely related too. What music inspires you as a clarinetist? And, What contemporary music inspires you?

Nancy: I love music that makes me feel something: the make-your-heart-sing quality of a soaring melody, a cheeky compositional technique that makes me laugh, harmonies that make me uncomfortable, a stomach-dropping unexpected chord change or change in direction, the ache of a poignant piece, or the thrill of a technical masterpiece. I don't think contemporary music is any different. It's got to make me feel something; there has to be something I can convey to the audience. I know that's generic, but the best pieces in every style have this aspect to it.

Dan: I really appreciate your descriptions of the different reactions that music can evoke. These are all wonderful sensations when we willingly subject ourselves to them. That said, it’s a good thing these feelings occur within the safe context of art! So, digging a little deeper, do you have preferences for certain aesthetic orientations or styles in new music? What does this imply for your programming and for your audiences?

Nancy: I have eclectic tastes and enjoy diversity. If I have any preferences, it's that the music be worth my time. For example, if the extended techniques are so difficult and obscure that it takes more effort on my part than the amount of satisfaction I get mastering and performing it, I'm not likely to program it again. Don't get me wrong; I love challenging literature! I, and most other performers I know, only have so much time to practice.

After a recent concert, an audience member told me they loved the programming and couldn't believe the concert was over. That's what I'm going for - for the audience to be present (mindful) the entire time, for us to be a part of an experience together. By learning a quality piece of new literature, even if I don't like the style, I create a relationship with it that helps me to grow as a musician. I believe it's important to educate the audience, as well, so I always speak about anything potentially challenging from a listening stand-point. They will be able to understand and appreciate the music more when I reveal my personal connection to it. Even if I don't love it, I can at least appreciate some part of it. People are like that, too! How many times do you find yourself becoming friends with someone you didn't initially like very much? The more exposure you had to them, the more you understood them and recognized more common ground than you initially realized. That's why I always choose at least one piece that will stretch the audience's comfort zone. Lutoslawski was once quoted as equating composing with "fishing for like souls," and I think the same is true of performing. As a performer, though, that means I have to recognize that there are a lot of different "souls" in the audience, and it's my job to find a way to connect with them.

Dan: What a great quote from Lutoslawski! Composing is indeed fishing for like souls! Finding people to perform your music is also very much fishing for like souls. So, on the subject of composing, I understand you are also a composer. What inspires you as a composer? What kind of music do you like to write, for what instrumentation, etc.?

Nancy: This inspirational aspect is what drew me to your blog. I'm relatively new to composing, but I'm finding so much inspiration that my list of "to-compose" works is quite long! I'm inspired by people, for one. If I'm writing a piece for someone who is a friend, that person's personality and the way I feel about them is my impetus. Growing up in the Great Plains, I'm also deeply connected to the land. The "scarcity" of the landscape forces you to bring something to it. You have to make an effort to notice things like wildflowers hidden in the grass or the sound of the wind. It's not a landscape that immediately hits you with its beauty. Consequently, I've paid attention to the natural beauty around me wherever I've lived, and I frequently draw on that for my compositions. I think it's because of this connection with the earth that I particularly love folk songs and dances. Just like in performing, I draw on how something/someone makes me feel when I'm composing.

I enjoy writing for wind instruments the most, although I've recently started composing art songs. I have always preferred the earthy sound of wind instruments, especially reeds. I found composing for a reed quintet particularly satisfying. Wind instruments are technically flexible as well and can produce a lot of fun extended techniques, so that's an added bonus. I sang and played piano a lot when as a young girl, which is why I suppose I'm drawn to art songs right now. I'm composing one now, and next on my list are pieces for clarinet choir, sax/clarinet duet, and young band as well as additional wind band works and art songs. It's important to choose mediums you can get performed, particularly when you live in a geographically-isolated area. Limiting factors are the price you pay for getting to hear your music performed live. Being at live performances of my pieces is critical at this point of my career; I need to know what works or doesn't work for performers as well as to be present to gauge audience reaction. For example, if what I've written sounds great on midi, but sounds very different with live musicians, I've got to figure out what's been lost in translation and how to make myself clearer. Plus, being able to work with musicians before a premiere is especially revealing. The audience is what it's all about, though, and I want to see and feel their reaction in addition to hearing their comments.

Even though my rural location has some drawbacks, I get a great deal of satisfaction exposing patrons, and particularly young musicians, to composition as a career and to new music. Had I met a female composer when I was younger, my own career may have turned out differently.

Dan: Thanks for your thoughtful and interesting comments about composition. Can I ask you further about your remark about a female composer role model? Might you have gone into composition earlier? Did the lack of a female composer role model hold you back from pursuing your compositional aspirations, and if so, can you explain why that was? I’m sure there are a lot of people who would be very interested to hear about your experience.

Nancy: I'll never know what could or would have been different had I been exposed to a female role model. Additional factors to my late start in the field may have been my undergraduate school not having a composition degree available and simply not being exposed to composition or to many composers at all when I was younger. I do know that I didn't even consider composition to be a viable career option for myself. I had zero aspirations. Had I met a composer who was more like me, maybe that interaction would have planted a seed. This is why I value being a role model now. Unless young people see composers who are like themselves, they may not realize that career is an option. Locally, there has been an increase in number and exposure of Native American composers, but none of those, that I'm aware of, are women either. I may actually be the only female composer in the region, so I feel an obligation to get out into the community, particularly the schools. Even if I never inspire a young girl to become a composer, I'm helping to establish composition as a legitimate career for women in all of the students' minds. Subconsciously, that makes a difference.

Dan: What fascinating perspectives! I am curious to hear if anyone else can relate to what Nancy said. Please feel free to comment on this blog. In any case, thanks to Nancy Williams for joining me on this post on the Muse in Music blog. Please visit her website at www.carpeclarinet.com!