What are they up to over at the NY Phil tonight? I don't really know. Ligeti and singers and staging, oh my. It's so fun that Alan Gilbert is this excited about his programming.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
cartoon conducting, the first of what I suspect will be a series
Just as conductors appear in commercials and movies, they make appearances in cartoons. A lot of appearances in cartoons.
For an easy synopsis of how a conductor should appear in a cartoon, Bruce Blitz says he should be a determined mad professor with a baton:
Sesame Street knows they have to make each character very clear, so they adhere strictly to those guidelines.
Tex Avery agrees that the hair, the tuxedo, and the baton are the most important attributes to identify a conductor, as you can see at 1:58 below. Then at 5:53 the singer sees that the hair has gone missing and therefore recognizes the conductor to be a fraud. In between is three minutes of alternately very funny spoofs and indefensible racial stereotyping. Enjoy.
Elmer Fudd has a slightly less kempt approach.
I was raised on Bugs Bunny, so I'm not saying he's not funny, but this is not his best moment. Poor guy thinks he's supposed to conduct every note.
"In the name of dignity and art, put yourselves in a receptive frame of mind."
And, finally, apropos of nothing except that the animal orchestra reminded me of it, a hippo singing:
For an easy synopsis of how a conductor should appear in a cartoon, Bruce Blitz says he should be a determined mad professor with a baton:
Sesame Street knows they have to make each character very clear, so they adhere strictly to those guidelines.
Tex Avery agrees that the hair, the tuxedo, and the baton are the most important attributes to identify a conductor, as you can see at 1:58 below. Then at 5:53 the singer sees that the hair has gone missing and therefore recognizes the conductor to be a fraud. In between is three minutes of alternately very funny spoofs and indefensible racial stereotyping. Enjoy.
Elmer Fudd has a slightly less kempt approach.
I was raised on Bugs Bunny, so I'm not saying he's not funny, but this is not his best moment. Poor guy thinks he's supposed to conduct every note.
"In the name of dignity and art, put yourselves in a receptive frame of mind."
And, finally, apropos of nothing except that the animal orchestra reminded me of it, a hippo singing:
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Dudamel
Gustavo Dudamel has been on t.v. and in the news lately, having just begun at the L.A. Philharmonic, which is a pretty good gig. People are amazed--this man doesn't look like a conductor! He's not white or old and his hair is curly! The PR machine likes him because of that--oooh, diversity! He's controversial because people are excited about him, and then critics ask if it's hype. "Are we just excited because he's not a stereotype?" (Those reviews were from Philadelphia and Chicago, respectively. The hometown L.A. paper's response to them and their like is basically "thppbt.")
It is a problem of ignorance. The general public don't know much about conducting, and they have some assumptions about what it is, what it means, what conductors do. Hopefully they'll start reading my blog and begin to understand, and then critics won't be in charge of telling us who is an artist and who is a product of PR hype. Until then, I can only persistently repeat myself.
Have you seen Ratatouille? It's the cg animated movie about a rat in France who loves to cook. I really like it. The moral of the story is told to us by Peter O'Toole, who plays a food critic (Ahem. A critic.), named Anton Ego. The moral is that "not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere." It sounds best when Peter O'Toole says it at 1:26.
Immediately following this moment in the movie, Anton Ego is punished for his "defense of the new:" he loses "his job and his credibility" when the health inspector condemns the restaurant for having rats. It's okay, though: he invests in the rat cook's new restaurant and the great work goes on in a less high-profile venue.
I also love the moment in the beginning of this clip when Anton Ego, the critic, takes his first bite. They show what it feels like in the moment that you are moved, touched by art. Their depiction of that experience rings deeply true to me. It leads me to believe there were people working on that movie who had a real sense of the importance and power of art both high-profile and small-scale. And it's amazing that they work on a big, huge movie like Ratatouille so that masses of people can see and hear about that power.
Dudamel knows that power, too. He is passionate and his passion is contagious. This is a YouTube clip that made the rounds a while back:
I wrote about emotional contagion last week in order to set up this post. Dudamel has infectious energy. He's charismatic, which is a notion I started writing about yesterday.
His interpretations are neither nuanced nor subtle, but they're dramatic. He takes risks, such as artists take, by putting his work out into the world for us to judge. That's impressive. If he's not a consummate artist yet, well, he's twenty-nine for heaven's sake! I wouldn't want a newspaper reviewing my current work--I feel pretty good about my work, but I'm aware that I'm still what they call a "young conductor" and I see how much I have to learn before I become a conductor like the really great ones. Dudamel's got fire and passion and gets people excited about going to hear art music! I'm all for that. The sophistication will come with age and maturity. And maybe he'll take his audience with him. If that doesn't happen, oh well. It's just music, no one dies if the woodwinds are a little sloppy or the string tone lacks richness. I say, let's celebrate the attention and use it to have conversations about art and expressiveness. Instead of saying, "it's not good enough," let's say, "it's interesting," "my experience of it was..." and "here's what we might do with it!"
Because it's just art.
It's the most important thing human beings do on this earth, but it only benefits us. Bad art never hurt anyone, mediocre art can be accessible and useful, and great art has lifted souls like nothing else can. Let's have it all!
It is a problem of ignorance. The general public don't know much about conducting, and they have some assumptions about what it is, what it means, what conductors do. Hopefully they'll start reading my blog and begin to understand, and then critics won't be in charge of telling us who is an artist and who is a product of PR hype. Until then, I can only persistently repeat myself.
Have you seen Ratatouille? It's the cg animated movie about a rat in France who loves to cook. I really like it. The moral of the story is told to us by Peter O'Toole, who plays a food critic (Ahem. A critic.), named Anton Ego. The moral is that "not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere." It sounds best when Peter O'Toole says it at 1:26.
Immediately following this moment in the movie, Anton Ego is punished for his "defense of the new:" he loses "his job and his credibility" when the health inspector condemns the restaurant for having rats. It's okay, though: he invests in the rat cook's new restaurant and the great work goes on in a less high-profile venue.
I also love the moment in the beginning of this clip when Anton Ego, the critic, takes his first bite. They show what it feels like in the moment that you are moved, touched by art. Their depiction of that experience rings deeply true to me. It leads me to believe there were people working on that movie who had a real sense of the importance and power of art both high-profile and small-scale. And it's amazing that they work on a big, huge movie like Ratatouille so that masses of people can see and hear about that power.
Dudamel knows that power, too. He is passionate and his passion is contagious. This is a YouTube clip that made the rounds a while back:
I wrote about emotional contagion last week in order to set up this post. Dudamel has infectious energy. He's charismatic, which is a notion I started writing about yesterday.
His interpretations are neither nuanced nor subtle, but they're dramatic. He takes risks, such as artists take, by putting his work out into the world for us to judge. That's impressive. If he's not a consummate artist yet, well, he's twenty-nine for heaven's sake! I wouldn't want a newspaper reviewing my current work--I feel pretty good about my work, but I'm aware that I'm still what they call a "young conductor" and I see how much I have to learn before I become a conductor like the really great ones. Dudamel's got fire and passion and gets people excited about going to hear art music! I'm all for that. The sophistication will come with age and maturity. And maybe he'll take his audience with him. If that doesn't happen, oh well. It's just music, no one dies if the woodwinds are a little sloppy or the string tone lacks richness. I say, let's celebrate the attention and use it to have conversations about art and expressiveness. Instead of saying, "it's not good enough," let's say, "it's interesting," "my experience of it was..." and "here's what we might do with it!"
Because it's just art.
It's the most important thing human beings do on this earth, but it only benefits us. Bad art never hurt anyone, mediocre art can be accessible and useful, and great art has lifted souls like nothing else can. Let's have it all!
Monday, May 24, 2010
click
There is a culture of devotion to ensemble music-making. Band geeks, choir kids, community choir singers who devote hours to fundraising. I write about it in the "Thoughtful Gestures" article, how entrainment unites ensembles into passionate, powerful bodies. But there's an added dimension to that, and that is devotion not just to the ensemble, but to the conductor.
I don't think this is true with professional ensembles. Professionals do not necessarily connect with their fellows over the experience of music-making because they do it a lot, and the level they have to reach in order for that to occur increases with their experience. I'm talking about amateur ensembles and school groups.
When I was in the seventh grade, my junior high school choir director left and we had a new one for eighth grade. In the tenth grade, the high school choir director (who had been teaching for so long, he had been my mother's high school choir director!) retired and we got a new one for eleventh grade. Right before I started college at the University of Delaware, the choral director left and I was at UD while they searched for his replacement. I taught at two schools, and at both I replaced a choral director who was beloved. My first year at Westminster Choir College was the year after Joe Flummerfelt retired, so I was there while they searched for his replacement. At the University of Connecticut, I am currently assistant to two interim conductors, waiting for them to search for and hire a permanent Director of Choral Activities. (If you know anyone who's looking for that kind of position, pass the word along that they'll have they best doctoral assistant ever!)
The point of that history is that I've seen transitions at every level from many perspectives. I've seen kids nearly worship a choir director, love him, weep over his leaving. Singers, especially adolescents, can easily feel bonded to a conductor--more easily than with a math teacher, I would venture to guess. And today I'm asking, "why?"
I subscribe to Whole Living Body + Soul magazine, though I object to the duality suggested by the name. I think Self gets it right with the title, but actually tends to be about bodies, not whole selves. There is an article in this month's issue about the book Click: the Magic of Instant Connections, which I think makes a step towards explaining why singers, especially amateurs, feel connected to their conductors.
According to the book, reported by the article, the "recipe for clicking contains five ingredients: proximity, vulnerability, resonance, similarity, and a safe place."
All this happens in an ensemble.
Proximity, because, yes, we rehearse together. Duh.
Vulnerability--this is where I think the gap lies for professionals, because they are well trained and therefore feel less vulnerable as they perform. Most amateurs, especially singers, are relying on the conductor to help them learn both what to perform and how to perform, and that reliance can make them feel vulnerable. A conductor's job is to make them comfortable and confident enough to perform, which means the conductor steps into their vulnerability, embraces it, and then provides them support and strength. It's a powerful act that creates a bond between conductor and singer as well as among the ensemble.
Resonance is described in the article as "tuning in to others' emotions." I'd have to read the book to get a clearer picture (or maybe Emily will pipe in with some details) but if it has anything to do with sharing a common emotional experience, then singing in an ensemble will provide it.
I subscribe to Whole Living Body + Soul magazine, though I object to the duality suggested by the name. I think Self gets it right with the title, but actually tends to be about bodies, not whole selves. There is an article in this month's issue about the book Click: the Magic of Instant Connections, which I think makes a step towards explaining why singers, especially amateurs, feel connected to their conductors.
According to the book, reported by the article, the "recipe for clicking contains five ingredients: proximity, vulnerability, resonance, similarity, and a safe place."
All this happens in an ensemble.
Proximity, because, yes, we rehearse together. Duh.
Vulnerability--this is where I think the gap lies for professionals, because they are well trained and therefore feel less vulnerable as they perform. Most amateurs, especially singers, are relying on the conductor to help them learn both what to perform and how to perform, and that reliance can make them feel vulnerable. A conductor's job is to make them comfortable and confident enough to perform, which means the conductor steps into their vulnerability, embraces it, and then provides them support and strength. It's a powerful act that creates a bond between conductor and singer as well as among the ensemble.
Resonance is described in the article as "tuning in to others' emotions." I'd have to read the book to get a clearer picture (or maybe Emily will pipe in with some details) but if it has anything to do with sharing a common emotional experience, then singing in an ensemble will provide it.
Similarity is kind of a given: everyone there loves to sing. Or play, if it's a band, but my inclination and the majority of my experience is with singing. Additional similarity beyond that is gravy.
A safe place. This is so important to conducting. Creating a safe place to be expressive and emotional, and to sing (which scares the willies out of a lot of people!) is a huge part of my job. The love and support and guidance and encouragement I give isn't just me being nice, it's making the choir sing better. They feel better so they sing better, and that serves the composer and the performers and the audience. The article described a safe place as anywhere "that separates you... from the rest of the world." Choir is exactly that. When high school kids come to choir, their other world is left out in the other parts of the building. I've seen so many instances where students behave entirely differently in choir than they do in any other class--usually much better for me than for other teachers.
No wonder people feel connected to their conductors. No wonder it's emotional and challenging to lose a conductor, and difficult to replace one.
The the heading of the last paragraph in the article is DARE TO DISCLOSE. It continues, "when you chance a little intimacy, perhaps by sharing something that you're currently struggling with or a personal anecdote, you make yourself vulnerable and give the other person something to respond to." I have a whole set of other reasons for conductors telling true stories about their own lives, which I write about in the "Thoughtful Gestures" article, and I'll have to talk about later here, but this is a another one, related to the social, communal responsibilities of a conductor. Good conductors are comfortable with themselves, with their flaws, and are content to be themselves, in all their imperfection, in front of the ensemble.
One of the reasons I say that conductors have to live a life that is conducive to their profession--that you can't be a composer and then expect to get up and conduct as well as an actual conductor--is that you can't get up in front of an ensemble and lead them anywhere for anything unless you feel pretty good about yourself. If you feel self-conscious or insecure, you won't be very effective. Self-knowledge, self-awareness, and self-love are fundamental necessities for conductors. They're important for everyone as human beings, but a conductor can't do his job without them.
I think this might add to the mystique of conductors. As singers are considered "divas" for taking care of themselves the way they need to in order to maintain the health of their whole selves that is required for them to sing as well as they can [must write post on opera singers!], a conductor could be an interesting creature off the podium. There are no stupid conductors. I've never met a shy conductor. Most conductors are highly verbal and are easy in conversation. The quality of their listening varies--not surprising since in our work we're nearly always the one talking/leading/in charge.
The magazine article says the ability to "click," to provide all the social ingredients for connection, is a set of skills to which some people ("high self-monitors," which is yet another thing I'll have to go into separately at another time) have greater natural inclination than others, but that can also be taught.
I wonder if clickers tend to become conductors, or if the process of learning to be a conductor happens to teach those skills. Probably a combination of the two, don't you think?
Friday, May 21, 2010
Glee. *sigh*
I don't like Glee. It doesn't have much to do with conducting--at least they don't try to make the guy a conductor!--but it's related to the Mr. Holland post, so I'm just gonna get it off my chest.
Some caveats:
Jane Lynch, who plays the cheerleading coach, is hilarious in everything she does. A Mighty Wind. Forty Year Old Virgin. Two and a Half Men. She even played Julia Child's sister in Julie and Julia and was subtle and funny as could be. I mean, she sat next to Meryl Streep and was subtle and funny! I love her to pieces.
Also, the guy who plays the teacher is, apparently, an actual singer who can sort of dance. He performed on the Tony awards... I can't remember his name or what year it was and I refuse to look it up, but honestly I was so surprised and impressed I posted about it on Facebook. Something to the effect of "Amelia Nagoski Peterson is surprised and impressed that the guy from Glee can actually sing!" To which all my Glee-loving friends replied, "see, I told you they were talented people!"
Which I never denied... it's just that--
Wait. One more caveat before I explain.
I've only seen, like, four episodes. When they first advertised it, I thought, "hm, that looks like it could be good" so I set my DVR to record it. I watched the first episode and was unimpressed, then watched parts of episodes after that and decided I didn't like it. I deleted the DVR timer. But then I found that many, many of my musical friends had been seduced by the show, drawn into its cleverness, wit, and musical numbers. So I tried to watch, both so that I could try to see what they saw, and also to discover an explanation for why it irritated me so much.
So, with that said, here's my issue:
It's like with Mr. Holland's Opus, in that the teacher (whose name I don't know--I don't know any of the characters' names. If you watch the show, you know who I mean; if you don't watch it, it doesn't matter anyway) actually teaches math or something. He does Glee Club after school because he loved singing in high school and, although he, himself, has had NO TRAINING SINCE HIGH SCHOOL!!! wants to give the opportunity to the students. Nice sentiment, generous desire, deeply misguided.
First of all, is there no music teacher in the school? I've never seen one. What the hell is up with that?
Second of all, since when does singing in a high school choir make you qualified, ten years later, to lead a high school choir? I took math for years in high school, but not since. Even if I had loved it, I would never, never, never say "these kids here at the school where I teach music should have the opportunity to experience math. I should volunteer to lead an after-school math club!" That would be ridiculous. Everyone would say, "but, Amelia, you're not qualified to do that. Let's hire a math teacher." But in the show, a math teacher volunteers to lead music, and no one blinks. Because music's easy. Nothing to it. Anyone can do it. And to prove it, we have a group of misfit kids whom he leads to glory.
Speaking of "glory." Their performances aren't bad for what they are. As a Broadway/pop style show choir, they do well. But, really, is that the only music in the school? I have no objection to show choirs or to singing pop music in school if it's balanced with a curriculum of high quality art repertoire that teaches something more than notes and rhythms. History, culture, our connection to all of humanity. Maybe the kids in Glee learn to connect with each other through the fun experience of singing together, but there's the potential to connect with so much more and they're missing out on that. Why? Because their teacher is underqualified.
Also, let's talk about one particular performance on the show in the middle of last season. It was by a group from a girls' juvie, I think. They sang some R&B song, I think, and the choreography basically replicated sex acts. It was supposed to be sexy and amazing, like a rap video or something. And all the characters we're supposed to like were worried that this group was going to get the big award because the judges were so impressed.
It doesn't work like that.
The girls in that choir should not be learning to display themselves as sexual objects. And the show should not be promoting that kind of behavior. Real judges would never, ever consider giving them any kind of big award. We'd shift uncomfortably in our seats for a while, searching for words to explain the problem, and deduct points for appropriateness or something, and try to encourage their director to find repertoire that teaches a more universal kind of love. Or something. These are teenage girls for heaven's sake. It's not impressive, but rather completely repellent that they would be grinding on the stage singing about how they are desired by everyone in the audience.
Awful.
So, to sum up: the show bothers me because it settles for the lowest possible level of education, repertoire, and artistic experience. It's supposed to be about how this teacher guy loves music, but all he loves is the superficial fun. He doesn't know enough to understand that there's much, much more to it. It's nice that he loved singing as a kid, and if he wants to sing in a group to stay connected to that in his adulthood, GREAT!!! But if he's going to pretend to teach kids, he's cheating them. He doesn't know enough to provide a real opportunity to the students. But the problem isn't just with that character: that underlying assumption of music-as-fun cheapens the whole show. It cheapens music. It cheapens teachers. The show would redeem itself to me completely if, in the end, the students and the teacher discovered together that, for example, Bach expressed great truth about humanity and the performance of art music provided them with a powerful experience learning and making music together.
Because music--especially music in a school--while it should and can be fun in exactly the addictive way they portray on the show, is supposed to be about art. It's supposed to be about the big picture. And no amount of witty dialog or Beyonce parodies can add up to that.
In my opinion.
Which is not, as you can tell, even slightly humble.
Next week, I'm going to post about things I like because all this ranting and complaining isn't as much fun as raving about Bernstein or science.
Some caveats:
Jane Lynch, who plays the cheerleading coach, is hilarious in everything she does. A Mighty Wind. Forty Year Old Virgin. Two and a Half Men. She even played Julia Child's sister in Julie and Julia and was subtle and funny as could be. I mean, she sat next to Meryl Streep and was subtle and funny! I love her to pieces.
Also, the guy who plays the teacher is, apparently, an actual singer who can sort of dance. He performed on the Tony awards... I can't remember his name or what year it was and I refuse to look it up, but honestly I was so surprised and impressed I posted about it on Facebook. Something to the effect of "Amelia Nagoski Peterson is surprised and impressed that the guy from Glee can actually sing!" To which all my Glee-loving friends replied, "see, I told you they were talented people!"
Which I never denied... it's just that--
Wait. One more caveat before I explain.
I've only seen, like, four episodes. When they first advertised it, I thought, "hm, that looks like it could be good" so I set my DVR to record it. I watched the first episode and was unimpressed, then watched parts of episodes after that and decided I didn't like it. I deleted the DVR timer. But then I found that many, many of my musical friends had been seduced by the show, drawn into its cleverness, wit, and musical numbers. So I tried to watch, both so that I could try to see what they saw, and also to discover an explanation for why it irritated me so much.
So, with that said, here's my issue:
It's like with Mr. Holland's Opus, in that the teacher (whose name I don't know--I don't know any of the characters' names. If you watch the show, you know who I mean; if you don't watch it, it doesn't matter anyway) actually teaches math or something. He does Glee Club after school because he loved singing in high school and, although he, himself, has had NO TRAINING SINCE HIGH SCHOOL!!! wants to give the opportunity to the students. Nice sentiment, generous desire, deeply misguided.
First of all, is there no music teacher in the school? I've never seen one. What the hell is up with that?
Second of all, since when does singing in a high school choir make you qualified, ten years later, to lead a high school choir? I took math for years in high school, but not since. Even if I had loved it, I would never, never, never say "these kids here at the school where I teach music should have the opportunity to experience math. I should volunteer to lead an after-school math club!" That would be ridiculous. Everyone would say, "but, Amelia, you're not qualified to do that. Let's hire a math teacher." But in the show, a math teacher volunteers to lead music, and no one blinks. Because music's easy. Nothing to it. Anyone can do it. And to prove it, we have a group of misfit kids whom he leads to glory.
Speaking of "glory." Their performances aren't bad for what they are. As a Broadway/pop style show choir, they do well. But, really, is that the only music in the school? I have no objection to show choirs or to singing pop music in school if it's balanced with a curriculum of high quality art repertoire that teaches something more than notes and rhythms. History, culture, our connection to all of humanity. Maybe the kids in Glee learn to connect with each other through the fun experience of singing together, but there's the potential to connect with so much more and they're missing out on that. Why? Because their teacher is underqualified.
Also, let's talk about one particular performance on the show in the middle of last season. It was by a group from a girls' juvie, I think. They sang some R&B song, I think, and the choreography basically replicated sex acts. It was supposed to be sexy and amazing, like a rap video or something. And all the characters we're supposed to like were worried that this group was going to get the big award because the judges were so impressed.
It doesn't work like that.
The girls in that choir should not be learning to display themselves as sexual objects. And the show should not be promoting that kind of behavior. Real judges would never, ever consider giving them any kind of big award. We'd shift uncomfortably in our seats for a while, searching for words to explain the problem, and deduct points for appropriateness or something, and try to encourage their director to find repertoire that teaches a more universal kind of love. Or something. These are teenage girls for heaven's sake. It's not impressive, but rather completely repellent that they would be grinding on the stage singing about how they are desired by everyone in the audience.
Awful.
So, to sum up: the show bothers me because it settles for the lowest possible level of education, repertoire, and artistic experience. It's supposed to be about how this teacher guy loves music, but all he loves is the superficial fun. He doesn't know enough to understand that there's much, much more to it. It's nice that he loved singing as a kid, and if he wants to sing in a group to stay connected to that in his adulthood, GREAT!!! But if he's going to pretend to teach kids, he's cheating them. He doesn't know enough to provide a real opportunity to the students. But the problem isn't just with that character: that underlying assumption of music-as-fun cheapens the whole show. It cheapens music. It cheapens teachers. The show would redeem itself to me completely if, in the end, the students and the teacher discovered together that, for example, Bach expressed great truth about humanity and the performance of art music provided them with a powerful experience learning and making music together.
Because music--especially music in a school--while it should and can be fun in exactly the addictive way they portray on the show, is supposed to be about art. It's supposed to be about the big picture. And no amount of witty dialog or Beyonce parodies can add up to that.
In my opinion.
Which is not, as you can tell, even slightly humble.
Next week, I'm going to post about things I like because all this ranting and complaining isn't as much fun as raving about Bernstein or science.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Mr. Holland
I do not like Mr. Holland's Opus. Mr. Holland would and should get fired for letting a kid get on a bus to New York. Mr. Holland is a crappy conductor. These fundamental problems ruin, for me, any redeeming value the movie might have, but they are not the end of the problems.
Ha! I'm watching the YouTube video below and my husband just asked from the next room, "What are you watching?"
"Mr. Holland's Opus," I confessed.
"Why?!" he replied, baffled.
"Because I'm writing about it for my blog."
"About how stupid it is? Because the governor of the state couldn't keep his job?" he groaned.
"Mmmmyep."
Look, Richard Dreyfuss is a great actor--amazing and moving and real. I like him a lot. But his conducting is crap.
I adjudicate festivals and competitions, and I have seen some bad conducting of school ensembles. Mostly it's by art/English/drama teachers who got drafted into teaching music, then into directing the choir because the administration says, "hey, anyone can teach singing!" and the poor teacher doesn't know enough about it to argue, and they don't have any training or preparation, so they're coming at it, like Richard Dreyfuss, with the best of intentions, but a total lack of actual understanding of their job. Yes, I've seen crappy conducting, but I've never seen a real band director conduct as badly as poor Mr. Dreyfuss.
There's the leaning, the knee bouncing, the fact that his hands cross in the middle of his body, the lift of his elbows on every beat four. A two-minute conversation with anyone who has taken an undergraduate conducting class or even just a week-long summer seminar in conducting would have supplied him with training enough not to make those fundamental mistakes.
If I look a little deeper, I see that this may be an accurate choice by Mr. Dreyfuss.
More than anything else, Mr. Holland irritates me because he is a composer who needed a job and got sucked into teaching band. He got hired, though he was not actually qualified to do it. He does the job, even though he has no actual training. So of course his conducting is crap: he never studied conducting! Everyone around him just took for granted that because he was a musician, he could conduct. As if clear communication is taught alongside Roman numeral analysis. As if expressive gesture is taught alongside the ear training.
So the problems with movies like this aren't just the surface inaccuracies, but the deep underlying assumptions about the nature of the work of teaching and conducting. Namely, that conducting is something every musician can do, and that leading music requires no skills different from participating in music.
Where do these assumptions come from? I believe that people simply don't know any better. They observe conductors, so they think they have seen something, but all they have done is make assumptions. How could they possibly know differently (unless they, like you brilliant people, read my blog)? And, in ignorance, they make movies where the main character conducts a full instrumental ensemble in front of a cheering crowd, even though you have spent the whole movie telling us he's not a conductor and was never interested in being a conductor.
I recently told a roomful of people that conducting isn't just what I do, it's who I am. I think that makes me typical for a conductor, and I think it's why we're good at it. Because the work we do isn't just our job, it's about using ourselves as expressive vehicles. That requires your whole self to be engaged in the act; it requires your whole self to be healthy and capable of giving--James Jordan calls it "perpetual emptying of self." And that means you can't just get on the podium and do it, you have to live a life that allows you to do it. A composer who conducts will conduct poorly. A violinist or a section leader who gets suckered into leading a rehearsal isn't going to be as good as someone who is a conductor.
Mr. Holland tries to convince us that conducting is an independent skill that can be whipped out when it's needed, and tucked away when you're doing your real job. Well, I suppose it can be. But you'll end up conducting like Mr. Holland. And... eeeww.
So.
To the filmmakers of the world:
Please keep making touching, moving movies about music teachers. We love our music teachers, and we want to show the world what they do to benefit our lives. Please honor them by valuing the training that is required for them to be successful! Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
ARNP
There's the leaning, the knee bouncing, the fact that his hands cross in the middle of his body, the lift of his elbows on every beat four. A two-minute conversation with anyone who has taken an undergraduate conducting class or even just a week-long summer seminar in conducting would have supplied him with training enough not to make those fundamental mistakes.
If I look a little deeper, I see that this may be an accurate choice by Mr. Dreyfuss.
More than anything else, Mr. Holland irritates me because he is a composer who needed a job and got sucked into teaching band. He got hired, though he was not actually qualified to do it. He does the job, even though he has no actual training. So of course his conducting is crap: he never studied conducting! Everyone around him just took for granted that because he was a musician, he could conduct. As if clear communication is taught alongside Roman numeral analysis. As if expressive gesture is taught alongside the ear training.
So the problems with movies like this aren't just the surface inaccuracies, but the deep underlying assumptions about the nature of the work of teaching and conducting. Namely, that conducting is something every musician can do, and that leading music requires no skills different from participating in music.
Where do these assumptions come from? I believe that people simply don't know any better. They observe conductors, so they think they have seen something, but all they have done is make assumptions. How could they possibly know differently (unless they, like you brilliant people, read my blog)? And, in ignorance, they make movies where the main character conducts a full instrumental ensemble in front of a cheering crowd, even though you have spent the whole movie telling us he's not a conductor and was never interested in being a conductor.
I recently told a roomful of people that conducting isn't just what I do, it's who I am. I think that makes me typical for a conductor, and I think it's why we're good at it. Because the work we do isn't just our job, it's about using ourselves as expressive vehicles. That requires your whole self to be engaged in the act; it requires your whole self to be healthy and capable of giving--James Jordan calls it "perpetual emptying of self." And that means you can't just get on the podium and do it, you have to live a life that allows you to do it. A composer who conducts will conduct poorly. A violinist or a section leader who gets suckered into leading a rehearsal isn't going to be as good as someone who is a conductor.
Mr. Holland tries to convince us that conducting is an independent skill that can be whipped out when it's needed, and tucked away when you're doing your real job. Well, I suppose it can be. But you'll end up conducting like Mr. Holland. And... eeeww.
So.
To the filmmakers of the world:
Please keep making touching, moving movies about music teachers. We love our music teachers, and we want to show the world what they do to benefit our lives. Please honor them by valuing the training that is required for them to be successful! Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
ARNP
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
conductor down
I just read about this, though it happened last week.
Gustavo Dudamel "pulled a muscle in his neck... heard a loud pop and lost sensation on one side." Dude. The man is younger than I am, and already pulling muscles! I told you a conductor is an athlete!
Alas, the price of passionate artistry is high.
Gustavo Dudamel "pulled a muscle in his neck... heard a loud pop and lost sensation on one side." Dude. The man is younger than I am, and already pulling muscles! I told you a conductor is an athlete!
Alas, the price of passionate artistry is high.
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