CONTENTSCONTRIBUTOR BIOS: Evan Hause, 3 LIVE EVENTS
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Thoughts on the Orchestra as Anachronismby Evan Hause "RZEWSKI: But it is an anachronistic form. The social structure
of the orchestra is really something inherited from 18th-century feudal
society where the musician is not an artist but some kind of servant.
Of course, this is something that shouldn't exist. It shouldn't be allowed!
[laughs] My wife Nicole always thought that orchestras should be abolished.
Maybe one should be kept, some kind of museum like they have some kind
of gagaku ensemble in Japan just to keep the tradition going. And I
sort of agree with that. I don't see any reason orchestras should continue.
They don't do anything useful." Rzewski does not go into any detail about what is anachronistic about the "form." Are they the instruments themselves that are anachronistic? Is it the specific combination or numbers of these instruments the orchestral ensemble itself? Are they the time-honored routines and practices of rehearsal and performance? (Is this what he means by "social structure?") Is it the old repertoire they are accustomed to playing? In this essay I will look briefly at the orchestra from these different angles, make some digressions based upon recent experiences, and finally add a proposal (or remind the reader of an old proposal) and consider those recent experiences in context. A discussion of whether or not the violin, flute and French horn (e.g.) are anachronistic can be a lengthy one. Any composer who has dabbled in building new instruments can attest that all soundmakers essentially work the same way: something is blown, struck, plucked or bowed or some combination thereof (electric and manipulated recorded sound notwithstanding). As instrument builder Skip LaPlante observed (in conversation with the writer), a successful instrument projects well and facilitates the tuning (or musical) system that it operates within. There are no better acoustic instruments for carrying on the tradition of 12-note even-tempered music than those of the orchestra. Furthermore, most, if not all, of these instruments could function quite well in other musical systems in a pinch. (The music of Ben Johnston is such a repertoire.) The reason this rarely occurs is the re-training of the instrumentalist that needs to occur for each new system. It would be impossible to teach every new musical system in our conservatories, but I believe that every applied music student should have a survey class that explores a dozen or so contemporary alternative musical or tuning systems by way of initiation. The orchestra evolved via cycles of instrumental "add-ons." It began as an SATB collection of strings and expanded to the titanic Mahlerian symphony. The pianoforte, contrabass, and synthesizers evolved similarly, introducing more timbres, wider ranges, more dynamic contrast, and so on. With each new instrument, a new tradition was also absorbed into the orchestral fabric. The clarinet brought scents of the opera house, brass and timpani brought things militaristic, and percussion evoked exotic cultures. Saxophones, though invented in 19th century Europe, evoked jazz in the 20th century concert hall, and is still being rejected from the orchestral roster as a result! (This will change.) Oswaldo Golijov's La Pasion Segun San Marco is squarely in this tradition, importing as it does the traditions of bata drumming, Cuban and Brazilian dance music, Venezuelan vernacular singing, and a plethora of other styles into the concert hall. Actually, he swamps the ship, for the there is little left of the symphony orchestra in his orchestration (12 string players, to be exact), rendering rogue programming of the work unfeasible. Regardless, it has been performed by many large orchestral organizations augmented by traveling musicians, leading Alex Ross of the New Yorker (in "Resurrection" - March 1, 2001) to correctly observe that its special personnel requirements makes it more closely resemble a Broadway troupe on tour than a symphony orchestra. The orchestral rehearsal process (time allotment, especially) of new works is famously inadequate and already much-discussed. I used to think that this short shrift was endemic only of the average American professional orchestra, but then I moved to New York City. Here I have witnessed small, elite contemporary chamber groups, whose members are typically under personal financial duress, give the most thorny of contemporary works the same two or three paid rehearsals and performance as an orchestra would, with little outside practice time. (The foil to this, of course, is the litany of groups who practice music they love for long hours for no pay—the academic model spilled over into real life.) Though most such players do not lack commitment or talent, they usually lack the requisite time with the music. This shortcoming will always be with us, I now believe. It is overcome by technical virtuosity and savvy by the best musicians. This savvy must be cultivated in our conservatories, not only with those students who are interested in new music, but with those who are not. The wrong solution, which is being perpetuated by the current state of the orchestra, is for composers to write their music anticipating scant rehearsal time and the surety that there will be no detailed rehearsing of more than a couple of thorny passages. The orchestra maintains many anachronistic rituals. These rituals do not in and of themselves contradict the making of modern music, but the very fact that they exist is a hearty "hoorah" for the ensemble's history. The concertmaster bow, the tuxedos, the unchangeable placement of the instruments. The latter could be argued: the old repertoire with its use of choirs of instruments demands the seating – it was written with choirs in mind. However, Leopold Stokowski did experiment thusly, though it never caught on. The modern orchestra, then, is bound to their rituals to the same extent they are bound to the repertoire. Too many conductors (and board and audience members) are too interested in the iconography of the orchestral institution to devote much consideration to change. Composers are to be held equally accountable for the orchestra's current holding pattern. Too many of us have no choice but to buy into the constraints posed by the old repertoire and performance practice. The reasons for this is a study unto itself which deals, probably, with notions of grandeur and a blushing giddiness upon being invited by an orchestra to add a note to the grand tradition. Also, there is little up-front, external support for the average composer who does wish to add to a new wrinkle. Every orchestral reading program in America targeted at the "emerging" orchestral composer (few as they are) offers virtually the same guidelines: no concertos or works with soloists, no instrumentation deviating from a highly specific standardized ensemble (sometimes explicitly stating "no non-standard instrumentation"), and durational constraints which, unbelievably at times, have a minimum time requirement. It is as if these organizations are priming young composers to write only the ambitionless 10-minute concertpiece that satisfies every practical need that the more interesting repertoire confounds, always giving old music the upper hand. Here is my suggestion for reformation (which, apparently, has been previously suggested by long-time L. A. Philharmonic executive Ernest Fleischmann as well as Pierre Boulez, to name two). I believe that we could easily replace two or three dozen of this country's orchestras with a paid, sanctioned pool of musicians (like a Union directory, but regulated by audition, as an orchestra). This extra-large consortium handles all music from a Beethoven symphony to a contemporary cello solo to an eclectic Big Band. This pool presents orchestral music old and new of any instrumentation, morphs into chamber groups, chamber orchestras, mixed consorts, trios, and so on. A gifted music director, in collaboration with the musicians, is responsible for seeing that every instrument gets a certain amount of work (including saxophones, organ, and other unfortunately-called, and Union-endorsed, "auxiliary instruments"). This organization can have a branch for jazz and world music with a separate programming director, if desired, devoted to local and imported offerings. Naturally, an instrumentalist who leads the increasingly common double life of "crossover" musician would have an outlet here. The Los Angeles area seems already poised to solve the problem in this way, with its vast pool of studio (i.e. reading) musicians on virtually every instrument. The Pacific Symphony (under Carl St. Clair) recently gave William Bolcom's paean to symphonic inclusiveness, his Songs of Innocence and Experience, a high-caliber and natural performance. This is a composition forged by the assumption that, in order for the orchestra to be relevant it needs to be the kind microcosm of the musical world it was in the 19-teens. Its particular model for a microcosm came to the composer in the form of the large mid-Western university department of music (Michigan) that premiered it. A brief digression: the 19-teens as an point in time (mentioned by composer Bolcom in conversation with the writer) symbolizes not only an orchestrational high point vis á vis Stravinsky and Mahler, but the beginning of the orchestra's refusal to (permanently) include the saxophone and other new instruments save various percussion instruments. As a percussionist, I would like to say that this section of the orchestra often becomes a catch-all for all things auxiliary, especially in non-Union settings. I've been asked by conductors to fire mortars, hold props, dance, bark, mime. Except for the mortar-firing, I had no interest or talent for these things, but was obliged as a percussionist. The analogy of the orchestra as museum (like Rzewski's gagaku ensemble) is very similar to the current situation. However, museum exhibitions are typically very good about placing presented styles in historical perspective. Musical works need to be placed alongside other works for a purpose, not simply at the whim of the board, music director, or the urgency of the star soloists. The Brooklyn Philharmonic (under Robert Spano) has been excelling at this for some time now, and has even commissioned composers to write in response to very general themes (rock music, ritual, etc.) that are played alongside existing music of a similar aesthetic, old and new. They have even gone so far as to "theme" an entire season. That said, themes and history are only a part of the solution. It is really the good sense to make sense that creates smart programming. The reason for playing the classics should always be, on some level, to inform the audience of the symphony orchestra's history, not uphold it as sacred. Old repertoire is a jumping off point for new experiments. I think that if this can be established as a ground rule in all the nooks and crannies of the machinery, change might occur. |