BY JAMES JORDEN
Two monochromatic color schemes, two towering box sets, two wardrobes of lavish period costumes, two ensemble casts, two authentic orchestras—even two brightly-colored dream sequences: There are more than a few superficial similarities between two big-scale revivals playing in New York this week: Atys at BAM and Follies at the Marquis Theater on Broadway. Read the rest of this entry »
By Edna Landau
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
Dear Edna:
I read your blog regularly and am happy that you welcome questions from people of all ages and all corners of the arts world. I have worked in the orchestra sector, in the area of arts administration, for the past seven years. I enjoy the work that I do in securing guest artists for our orchestra, working closely with our music director, and planning their visits. However, I have recently begun to think that I might be happier working more closely with the artists themselves as an artist manager. Can you please tell me whether it would be logical for me to move to the artist management side and what sort of preparation I might need. Thank you very much. —a curious arts administrator
Dear curious arts administrator:
Your contemplated move from arts administrator to artist manager is certainly not illogical. Others have made that move, although not frequently. The biggest challenge in making such a move is going from a buying mentality to a selling mentality. In your current position, your goal is to secure guest artists for your orchestra at the most reasonable price possible. As an artist manager, you will need to fight for the fee that you know your artist is expecting and there may not be any flexibility in the negotiation. In your current position, you need to perform various tasks which are pretty straightforward: engage a certain artist on dates that work for the orchestra, with a conductor or music director who wants to work with them, in repertoire that will work in the particular season, at a fee that falls within the orchestra’s budget. As a manager, you will be taking direction from the artist, who may or may not be flexible about all of these things. The confidence and apparent power you may have displayed in making an offer to an artist, knowing that others could just as well fit the bill, will not sit well with an artist client who wants the engagement but relies on you to negotiate slightly different terms than those on offer. This could range from a higher fee to different repertoire, to a modified rehearsal schedule or media clause. An artist manager actually finds himself or herself trying to please two clients – the artist and the presenter, with whom they hope to book many artists in the future. Ultimately, it is the artist who must remain your top priority. The agility that is required in this balancing act is best learned by observing how the finest managers work and asking for their counsel.
In thinking further about this possible career move, ask yourself whether you are a good listener, consider yourself to be very flexible, have the patience to tackle each challenge that could come with getting all the conditions right, and the humility to accept a non-compromising established artist’s point of view. Do you have the sense of protectiveness, perseverance and long-term vision that are required to build an emerging artist’s career? Can you derive the same satisfaction from turning down an engagement that you and your artist thought was unwise at a given time as going to contract for a date that seemed just right? If you are not sure, try to speak in confidence to a few managers whom you might meet at conferences or who accompany their artists to engagements with your orchestra. Ask them to describe their day to day responsibilities – both the joys and the challenges. This is really the best preparation you can do. The technical things should already be familiar to you, such as contracts, tech riders and broadcast riders. You might also sound out some of the artists who visit your orchestra as to the nature of their relationship with their manager and what aspects of it are most important to them.
As you have seen me write before, the rewards of a career in artist management are immense and are newly experienced each time one’s artist walks out on stage and delivers a captivating performance. Helping to arrange an artist’s debut in a major city or working with an artist to commission a new piece of music generates a great deal of satisfaction for a manager who can justifiably feel that they are a part of the artist’s ongoing successful career. It is this type of satisfaction that fuels the energy that is needed to develop and help maintain an artist’s career at the highest level. There is also a special joy that comes from working closely with an artist over an extended period of time and becoming part of their lives. This is very different from the brief time you get to spend with artists in your current position. Since there is a real need for new talent on the artist management side, I personally hope that you will decide to cross over the divide. I am happy to answer any future questions you may have!
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
© Edna Landau 2011
by Keith Clarke
OK, I admit it, the editor was right. I went along to the Lincoln Center production of South Pacific at the Barbican last week and had a jolly good time. It wasn’t an overnight conversion to the world of the musical, and I can’t say I didn’t look at my watch just now and again, but it was a terrific show, and I was probably the only person in the 1,160-seat Barbican Theater who didn’t know how it came out until it came out.
But as an infrequent frequenter of musicals, I do find some aspects of the experience that really stick in the craw. Most of all, why does the audience feel obliged to yack all the way through the overture? Is the music only worthy of attention when someone’s singing?
At least this was a show that stayed on the non-cheesy side of cheesy. And in an idiom that lives on its foot-stomping, up a key, play to the gallery conventions, that says a lot. Heaven knows, it’s bad enough in the opera when the chorus trips on spraying rose petals, but musicals really know how to lay the schmaltz on thick. This South Pacific didn’t, and I’m grateful. And the rest of our party wept buckets, so it must have been good.
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The BBC’s in-house safety adviser has published a new report on protecting musicians’ hearing and come up with some useful suggestions. Sit further apart, it tells musicians. No doubt concert platforms on your side of the pond are generously proportioned, but in the UK if players start spreading out the brass will be tumbling off the back risers and the first fiddles will be back in the green room. Another helpful suggestion is that musicians should alleviate the effect of having their hair parted by the brass by chewing gum. But so many people go to see a concert as well as hear it, and televised high-definition relays tend to go in for dramatic close-ups of the players. Is the great British public ready for the vision of a symphony orchestra masticating its way through Mahler?
Meanwhile, another report, from Toronto, suggests that playing a musical instrument throughout life is likely to ensure better hearing into old age. This is good news for those of us who have managed to do that, and we live in hope that it will also protect us from muscular pain, tone up our brains, and stave off those “Where the hell did I put the keys” moments.
by Edna Landau
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
Dear Edna:
I am a member of a string quartet. We are all just out of college and trying to get our individual careers going, as well as dedicating a lot of our time to establishing our quartet. We were recently in a situation where we were offered several dates but our second violinist was not available during the proposed dates. We had to turn the work down. I had suggested to the rest of the group that maybe we should have taken the dates and found another violinist. Then we could have done the tour and gotten those performances under our belts, which we all know we need to do. My question is, I know it’s tradition that either it’s all or nothing when accepting dates as an existing quartet, but would we be breaking any “laws” or doing the quartet more harm than good by finding a replacement to make a particular tour happen, even if one of our members is not available? It’s tough getting concert dates these days and we all need to work when we can. Please help! Thank you. —L.H.
Dear L.H.:
Your excellent question is not a simple one to answer. My first reaction was to say that getting the performances under your belt with a substitute violinist will have limited value since the quartet’s collective artistry will only grow when all of the regular members are playing together. When I thought about it more, I realized that each of the three remaining regular quartet members would undoubtedly learn something from every performance and that those realizations could be shared with the second violinist upon his or her return. I then turned my attention to the financial aspect of your question. Concerts are hard to come by and all young musicians struggle in the beginning. There is certainly a reason for wanting to salvage dates, if at all possible, and you would not be breaking any “laws” or doing the quartet any harm if you tried to find a replacement to make the tour happen. You turned the dates down, which leads me to believe that your group understands the expectation of audiences and presenters that quartet members will remain constant, as that is the only way that they can hope to develop the unanimity of playing and interpretation that distinguishes the very finest chamber ensembles. You mention that you second guessed your decision, wondering if you should have taken the dates and found another violinist. That might have been an option this one time but certainly you would have needed to reverse the order of that process, checking first to see if the presenters would accept a substitute and then finding another violinist.
To get a broader perspective on this, I chose to consult with a few presenter colleagues: Jenny Bilfield, Artistic and Executive Director of Stanford Lively Arts; Samuel Dixon, Executive and Artistic Director of Spivey Hall at Clayton State University, and Bert Harclerode, Executive Director of Chamber Music Sedona. I found all of them to be quite open-minded about this situation. My colleagues pointed out that, in general, it is harder for a well-known established quartet to use a substitute on a tour because they become known for a sound and a collective excellence in all facets of their playing that has been built up over many years. Furthermore, audiences become familiar with individual members of the quartet and anticipate the specific contribution that each of them brings to the performance. Since your quartet is just starting out, the audience will be coming more out of their interest in discovering a new young ensemble than out of devotion to individual members of your group. Nevertheless, offering a substitute for a member of the quartet should be a rare occurrence . A quartet that seeks a lasting career must make a serious commitment up front to make the ensemble one of the most important priorities in their lives and to make sacrifices when necessary, for the benefit of the group. Once you start making exceptions and accepting substitutes for less than urgent reasons, the fabric of the quartet is weakened and the quality of the performances will undoubtedly suffer. Sometimes the need for a substitute may come very close to the performance date. Audiences and presenters will generally be very understanding if it is due to illness, a newborn child or a family emergency. It is important that whoever you use as a substitute be someone whom you know well and with whom you have had some sort of performance experience in the past, even if in other chamber music configurations. This will help to ease any concerns that the presenter may have. Also, be sure to alert the presenter as soon as you know about the need for a change and ask for their approval. They will be very appreciative if you send a bio and picture of the substitute as quickly as possible.
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
© Edna Landau 2011
On Saturday, September 10 2011, Alan Gilbert spoke before the New York Philharmonic performed Mahler’s Symphony No. 2, Resurrection, on A Concert for New York. Following are his reflections that preceded the performance, which was telecast nationally on PBS and can be watched in full at http://www.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/episodes/a-concert-for-new-york/watch-the-fully-edited-broadcast-program-with-tom-brokaw/1182/.
We are faced, on this anniversary, with the responsibility and privilege of commemorating the devastation and bravery we witnessed in our beloved New York City ten years ago, of acknowledging sacrifices and heroism that still leave us stunned.
We look back, remembering the fallen with a sadness that will never pass, and also look ahead, seeking inspiration and reassurance. Words pale, and we are humbled. So we do what people do when the boundaries of our reasoning are strained and we must turn to art. We make music.
In that day’s immediate aftermath we spoke through music and questioned through music. There were concerts by professionals and by schoolchildren. By saxophonists in the subways, and by singers on the sidewalks. By the New York Philharmonic, in this very hall, and by these same musicians in Lower Manhattan. We reached out to each other as Mankind always has, touching each other’s hearts and feeling our shared humanity.
We do so again tonight, with Mahler’s Resurrection symphony and its evocation of every aspect of life, from its agonies to its joys and its profound sense of hope.
This is a performance for New York City, but it is particularly for the families of those who died, along with those of the courageous first-responders, many of whom are here tonight.
As we perform and as we listen, we remember what we lost, and we honor those who have struggled to live after losing their loved ones. We also aspire to give resonance to some of the best aspects of the human spirit — tolerance, perseverance, and optimism. We are united in our hope for a bright future – a future in which we will never forget: stronger for our differences and living together in a world rich with friendship and peace.
(For more information on Alan Gilbert and the New York Philharmonic, visit nyphil.org.)
by Keith Clarke
If you’re in the classical music business and say you don’t much care for musicals, everyone just assumes you’re a musical snob. So I shall be turning up at London’s Barbican Theater tonight for the Lincoln Center production of South Pacific wearing as much of a smile as I can muster. But truth to tell, when it comes to musicals, a little goes an awfully long way for me.
True, I took to Showboat, and always include a few numbers from it in my let’s-scare-the-neighbors soirées, but Jerome Kern’s great (though overlong) score is an honorable exception.
I blame my lack of enthusiasm for musicals on a traumatic childhood. In my vulnerable early teens, we lived in a bungalow built on a former hop field in the county of Kent. Hop fields are jolly useful, because they produce the wherewithal for producing the fine ale that the Brits are famous for drinking warm. Bungalows have their uses, too, of course, but the problem with ours was that the design of the new housing estate meant that each pair of dwellings had bathrooms facing each other.
That need not have been a problem but for Ken Tripp. He was our neighbor, a salesman for a local floor tile company, and an enthusiastic member of LAMPS (the Local Amateur Musical Players – still going strong after all these years, and currently preparing a production of The Producers). They always seemed to have a new show in production – Carousel, White Horse Inn, you name it – and Ken’s favorite rehearsal venue was the bath tub.
So I would be minding my own business, enjoying a peaceful soak, when this awful whine would start up, like a troubled bison approaching at speed through the woods: “Ooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaak! Lahoma where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain.” And so on and so on.
What was worse, I didn’t just have to suffer the rehearsals. My parents were good, neighbor-supporting folk, who thought we ought to book tickets at the local town hall for every production and sit through the whole damned show.
No doubt this South Pacific will be my moment of epiphany. Certainly the editor of this site suggests that I should stop only at murder to get tickets. And we’re making up a party for a family birthday, the birthday boy in question being a dyed-in-the-wool South Pacific fan, so expectation is running high. Wish me luck.
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The hi-jacking of the Israel Philharmonic Prom last week by protesters got all the column inches they may have wished, though rather less support. The UK communications minister Ed Vaizey, who was in the audience, tweeted: “Demonstrators seem to have turned entire audience pro-Israel.”
It was the biggest such rumpus in the Royal Albert Hall since Rostropovich played the Dvořák cello concerto with the USSR State Symphony Orchestra in 1968 on the very day that Russia’s tanks rolled into Prague. I was in the audience for that, and have never heard such a highly charged performance, the Russian cellist playing through tears.
The Palestinian protest has at least served to get some issues debated, and as is usual when the placards come out in the UK, it was not without its moments of humor. I particularly enjoyed the vision of one lady of a certain age mounting her own personal counter-campaign against the protesters, cuffing one of them round his neck with her walking stick.
by Edna Landau
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
Dear Edna:
As it is now late August and booking season is heading our way, I was wondering when you think is the best time to catch orchestra executive directors. I will be sending out materials through regular mail and e-mail. If I move too soon, they will be on vacation and have a lot to sort through when they return. If I’m too late, they may have already started the decision making process and my name most certainly won’t make it on the list! When is the best time to reach out? —A Violinist
Dear violinist:
It is difficult to pinpoint the exact time that any orchestra makes decisions about guest artists. In truth, it is an evolving process that might begin about eighteen months before the start of a season and continue until six months before the start of the season. It all depends on the size of the orchestra and when they traditionally announce their season. I admire your industriousness but hope you realize that the number of orchestras who will respond to unsolicited letters and promotional materials is rather small. Make sure that whatever you send clearly highlights something that might be of interest to them (perhaps a premiere or rarely performed work of genuine substance or appeal). Assuming that you are writing to mid-size or smaller orchestras, from now until Thanksgiving is an ideal time to be in touch. If the orchestra has an artistic administrator, you would do well to write to them instead of the executive director, as chances are a bit better that they will take note of your approach to them. Good luck!
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I am grateful to my longtime friend and colleague, Ed Yim, former president and current board member of the American Music Center and Artistic Consultant to the New York Philharmonic, for his assistance in preparing my response to the following question.
Dear Edna:
I am a composer whose career is beginning to take off. I was fortunate last year to win a number of prizes and I have been receiving commissions. I also have signed with a very fine publisher who is eager to promote my work. Recently, I was contacted by a manager who is interested in representing me. I would appreciate your advice on whether a composer needs both a publisher and a manager. Thank you so much. —A Curious Composer
Dear Curious Composer:
Thank you for writing in with a question that I am sure will be of interest to other composers. It is wonderful that you are already in a position to be represented by a fine publisher. Congratulations, too, on having won a number of prizes and already secured some commissions. It sounds like things are going very well for you. At the present time, I don’t think you need to have a manager. Part of your publisher’s job is to investigate possible new commissions and to promote your published works, hopefully leading to increased performances of them. There may come a time in the future when, if your career has grown exponentially, you might want to hire a publicist or manager to call attention to certain works or projects you have undertaken. They would also be an added ally to help monitor your publisher’s effectiveness on your behalf. In general, most composers don’t have managers unless they have their own performing ensembles (for example, Steve Reich) or are active as performers in some other way (e.g., John Adams as conductor). Those performance activities generate an income stream that makes them more attractive to managers. Another raison-d’être for a manager’s or publicist’s involvement would be if the composer was undertaking substantial projects, such as extended residencies, or was the focus of major retrospectives. I hope that your current partnership with your publisher brings significant new opportunities your way and that whenever the occasion arises, you find time to share your experiences and mentor some younger colleagues. Composers’ careers develop differently from those of singers, conductors and instrumentalists, and they are always grateful to receive advice and encouragement from someone such as yourself.
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
© Edna Landau 2011
by Keith Clarke
A few years ago, in a spirit of experiment, BBC Radio’s classical and music network, Radio 3, made available for free download all of the Beethoven symphonies – a different one each day, with a limited time period in which they could be nabbed.
Since it had never been done before, the good sorts of Radio 3 had no idea whether the idea would only stir interest in a few switched-on souls and the producer’s friend Julian. Little did they know. The clamor for free Beethoven was astounding, stretching internet servers to breaking point and causing a great stink among record companies (understandably, since they only stay in business by selling the stuff).
The BBC made some half-hearted defense, saying how it had usefully tested the market for the record companies, which were then dipping their toes in the download waters, but the corporation never did it again.
These days, anything that goes out on Radio 3 is available in the UK on a listen-again basis for a week after transmission, and if you’re tech-savvy and have a disregard for copyright legislation, you can record it for posterity, which must also upset the record companies.
These random thoughts occurred last night when, returning from a fortnight of staring at the sea and trying not to do anything at all, I bestirred myself to go and hear David Robertson conducting the BBC Symphony Orchestra in the Choral Symphony. I don’t know whether anyone was illicitly recording it at home, but I doubt they would want to replay it too many times, for it was one of those off-night performances, a special disappointment as it followed hard on the heels of an entirely wonderful performance of the world premiere of Graham Fitkin’s cello concerto with Yo-Yo Ma (a review will appear on the sharp end of this site in due course).
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I can forgive David Robertson many things, but I remain envious of the immensely elegant Panama hat he was sporting when I turned up to interview him in California a few years ago. I had travelled from London bringing in my suitcase an item of headwear that was advertised as a “crushable Panama,” which was literally true, since you could certainly crush it. Getting it back into shape afterwards was a whole other thing, and as I admired Robertson’s titfer (Cockney rhyming slang – tit for tat = hat, geddit?), I couldn’t help drawing a comparison with what had taken on the appearance of a sad omelette, discarded in my hotel room.
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The summer vacation is hardly a music-free zone, since we now get music on tap from all sources, but what makes a holiday special for me is hitting the off switch and getting down to the real thing. Never mind “Practice, practice, practice” to get to Carnegie Hall – what about “Play, play, play” for the sheer hell of it?
Little in life yields such instant joy as making music with friends just for fun. It happens all the time at home, and the only difference when friends and family visit for vacation is that the instrumentation changes a bit. The resident ensemble is violin and piano and, ok, most violin sonatas were not written with an obbligato part for mouth organ, but whenever there is live music everyone wants to join in. So it is that a motley crew, variously kitted up with washboard, tambourine, saucepan lids etc., forms a lively combo that throws itself into the most unlikely music and has the neighbors shouting for more. Well, it has them shouting, anyway.
By Edna Landau
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
The answers below were prepared with the kind assistance of my good friend and distinguished colleague, attorney Brian Goldstein of FTM Arts Law, to whom I express my heartfelt thanks.
Dear Edna:
I love reading your blog and I had a question that I hope I am not repeating. I am an international student currently studying in the states. I am interested in publishing a cd with cdbaby.com but I am not sure whether it is legal for me to receive money from cd baby from sales while I am a student here. If not, are there any other options for me? Thank you so much for your time. —–Kit
Dear Kit:
Thank you for submitting an excellent question. Visa regulations are in general quite complex and, like most legal issues, depend on an analysis of your specific circumstances. Therefore, it is almost always advisable to seek personal legal advice when trying to understand them. As a general rule, U.S. law requires an artist to have a visa with work authorization any time an artist performs in the U.S.—even if the artist performs for free or is paid outside of the U.S. The mere act of “performing” triggers the need for work authorization. As a result, performances are almost never permissible on a visitor visa which, by its very nature, contains no work authorization. While recording a live performance in front of an audience would clearly be illegal without work authorization, it’s unclear as to whether or not a recording made in a studio would constitute a “performance”. Regardless, a visa with work authorization is also required any time anyone sells goods in the U.S. In your case, you have not indicated your current visa status in the U.S. but for the purposes of this blog, we will assume that you are here on an F (student) visa. While F visas do not inherently permit students to perform in the U.S., the student’s school can authorize such work. It may be possible for you to make and sell a recording here if you obtain work authorization from your school to engage in such an activity and it is related to your studies. If your school will not provide you with work authorization, you could still make and distribute a studio recording for promotional purposes, but not sell it. Please note that if you are here on a J (exchange) visa or other type of student visa, different rules may apply as it is up to your sponsoring organization to approve your activities. You might want to approach Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts with your question. They have a legal hotline to field a broad range of questions, Art Law Line, which is fielded five days a week. You can also look at www.artistsfromabroad.org or have a look at the visa information on FTM Art Law’s website, www.FTMArtsLaw-pc.com.
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Dear Edna:
My fellow students and I are often asked to sign consent forms. Sometimes we are told that the wording is very standard and that we have nothing to worry about. Usually these forms are presented to us at the last minute and we end up signing them because it seems like less trouble that way. Those of us who do not speak English as a first language find the legal jargon intimidating and confusing but we don’t want to admit to not understanding it. I was recently handed a release that, if signed, would have granted my consent to the “absolute and irrevocable right and permission to use my name and likeness to reproduce, edit, exhibit, project, display, copyright and publish the moving pictures and/or videotaped images of me with or without my voice and to circulate the same in all forms of a particular filmed show and/or any other lawful purpose whatsoever.” I was also asked to waive any compensation for such consent. I did not sign this release but there is still a negotiation going on. I am wondering: is there such a thing as a standard consent form that would be less one-sided and would give us more control? —concerned musician
Dear concerned musician:
If there were such a thing as a standard consent form, the world of the performing artist would be a simpler place. In fact, all terms are negotiable. Just because someone tells you a specific form or contract is “standard” does not mean you have to agree. I understand the emotions you have experienced when someone gave you a form to sign at the eleventh hour and you felt pressured, especially if you thought that the future release of your filmed or recorded performance might have a major impact on your career. However, you should never feel pressured or compelled to sign any agreement or form and you should never grant any right to another party unless you understand everything about how those rights will be used and are comfortable with the terms. If necessary, any future usage can be subject to a separate agreement to be negotiated at a later time. You are always entitled to ask questions. You are also entitled to take the time you need to seek legal advice and you should, either from a personal attorney to whom you have access or via an organization such as Volunteer Lawyers for the Arts (see above). Ultimately, whether it’s an engagement contract, a recording deal, or a consent form, if you want terms that are less one-sided and would give you more control, you are entitled to propose different terms. The words “absolute and irrevocable right and permission” are scary because they would give someone the right to use your name, images, and a recording of your performance for any purpose and at any time in the future, without having to seek your permission or pay you any fees. Your name, image, and recordings have value. Even if you may not be receiving compensation for your performance (by prior agreement), your name and likeness could have significant value as your career grows. The time to take control of this type of situation is right at the start, at the first mention of possible audio or video recording of your interview or performance. If you were not informed that camera crews or recording engineers might film or record your rehearsal, performance or participation in an extended event, such as a festival, you shouldn’t hesitate to speak up and question such an occurrence at first glimpse of a camera or recording microphone. In fact, unless you specifically object, your consent could be implied. You mention that you did not yet sign the release and that there is still a negotiation going on. That may not be enough to protect you. In any situation where someone presents you with a contract or form, even if you do not sign it, if you proceed with the performance and do not specifically reject the terms you find objectionable or specifically clarify, in writing, which terms are still under negotiation, you may be legally bound by the contract. Oral or implied consent can also be legally binding. A contract need not necessarily be signed.
I hope this information will make you feel more secure and in control when situations like this present themselves in the future.
To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.
© Edna Landau 2011
