Applause = Bad!

Now that I've got your attention, what does THAT mean? When Billy Joel finishes a rousing chorus of "Piano Man" the audience leaps to their feet. When the cast of Hamilton absolutely slays "Right Hand Man" (a number in the middle of the first act) it nearly stops the show. When arias are performed beautifully at prestigious opera houses the applause LITERALLY stops the show until the piece is sung again....see here ... and here ... also here. So if this is the case, why is it important that we sit on our hands between movements of symphonies, tone poems, and concertos...and maybe most importantly, IS it important?


Well duh, Matt, we sit on our hands for the benefit of the performers. What's interesting is that many artists do not mind and in some instances encourage the mid-performance applause. Check out what some of these key soloists and figures in the orchestra and opera worlds have to say...


“Clapping does not bother me in the least. When Beethoven pieces premiered, people would clap within the middle of the piece.” says Marin Alsop, conductor of the Baltimore Symphony and São Paulo State Symphony.


″(Clapping) should be more a spontaneous part of the performance. Exploding in applause after a movement of a symphony — this does not bother me. We are trying to reach the heart of the people.” Gianandrea Noseda, music director of the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington, D.C.


When asked about the noise (applause between movements), Proms director David Pickard said: “I loved it."


“I really hope we can go back to the feeling that applause should be an emotional response to the music, rather than a regulated social duty.” Emanuel Ax


My personal favorite is the video below featuring Chris Thile, and a "shushing" story. This is one of the most brilliant minds and musicians in the world (I mean, the dude won a MacArthur Genius Grant) and he got a concert clap death stare from another patron who thought he was in breach of an unwritten etiquette law. I wonder if they knew who they 'shushed".


Recent Matrix Festival speaker, David Pogue takes the idea a step further, reminding us that it is commonplace for an audience to hold their coughing, sneezing, and seemingly any other bodily function, until the "silent moments" between movements. I've attending concerts when the sound is so cacophonous that it is a miracle the soloist doesn't wear a HAZMAT suit to avoid getting the Plague...


The trouble is this, orchestral music (and most music performed in a concert hall), is perceived as stuffy. Folks who have never experienced this type of music think it is arrogant and elitist. By behaving in this manner, we feed this stereotype and are hurting the art form we love. We make newcomers feel unwelcome and they don't return. The data backs this up. The brilliant Aubrey Bergauer, formerly of the California Symphony, alerted us of the Oliver Wyman Study that indicates 90% of those who attend a "classical" concert for the first time will not return. What if we all worked together to ensure these folks had the best possible experience rather than passively demeaning them over the timing of applause. We all love music and ensuring it continues to thrive is reliant on ALL of us. So my final plea is this...when you hear someone clapping at the "wrong time" replace this move:

with this one:

You never know how you can alienate or enhance the experience of an orchestral newbie. Let's all work together to make sure we all have a great time at a performance.

And now, listen to this amazing music and have a great day!

R.I.P "Classical Music"

Classical Music - what the HECK is it anyway ?!?!?!

Unpopular opinion alert, unpopular opinion alert, unpopular opinion alert!!!!!

 I've spent my life studying music. I've been fortunate enough to have had great teachers, colleagues and mentors, and through them I have learned such wonderful content...from the dates of obscure composers, to the number of symphonies they have written (except Schubert, the chronological/finished and unfinished bit throws me off every.single.time), to hallmarks of Franco-Flemish style (at least I remember this when I took comps).... But there is one pivotal question that lingers: what IS classical music, anyway?

 The word "classical,  is used so often, but it has almost no universal meaning - it's highly subjective and highly individualized. I've spent nearly 12 years in collegiate music schools and I feel more equipped to define obscure medical terms (my wife can attest to the fact that I know nothing about anything in the medical field) than I do this seemingly colloquial but complicated phrase phrase: classical music. I have many questions, so I will use this as a medium to start tossing them about. Does it mean music exclusively from the Classical Period - which has been semi-arbitrarily deemed 1750 - 1800? If so, why are the works of Brahms and Mahler, who were born after that, considered classical? Is it only works written by composers we deem to be worthy of the distinction? If that is true, why do the symphonies of Tchaikovsky receive this "distinction", but "Nutcracker" and "1812" do not? Is it because they are highly recognizable pieces that they have become too popular to be deemed "classical"? Then why do we consider the opening movement of Beethoven 5 to be a classical piece, everyone knows that, right? It gets even more complicated than that, the Candide Overture is standard repertoire and widely considered to be "classical" but to some, the rest of Candide is not, why?!?!?!?!

While the questions are complicated, and I've presented a few of thousands, I have a bigger question: Why does it matter? In an era where the phrase, "classical music" carries exclusive, and at times elitist, sexist, racist, and hurtful connotations, why do we need it? I worry that the moniker is neither descriptive, nor inclusive; and quite frankly damaging to music. How often do people hear the phrase "classical music" and the knee jerk reaction is, "I don't like that"? If it is a challenge for musicians and patrons to define, how can the casual fan understand the "that" in which they "don't like"?

Thus, "classical music" is dead to me. No, not Brahms, Beach, William Grant Still, and Mendelssohn - I love them, and I love their music, I mean the phrase. Requiem aeternam, "Classical Music," I will never utter you again.

My question for you - is it important to refer to music by genre? Are these phrases limiting? If we don't call it "classical music" what do we call it?

Giving Thanks

Giving Thanks

We all have songs that makes us emote...sometimes one or two chords can stir a dozen emotions. Giving Thanks by Jeff Blumenkrantz is undoubtedly one of those songs in my life. In December of 2017, Katie and I were rehearsing for an upcoming performance at the State Theatre. A father of just a week or so , I was red-eyed and emotionally vulnerable. I remember that rehearsal as if it were yesterday, as it was the first time I heard that song. By the final line, "thank God for fathers who love their children, and most of all, thank God for you..", I was a weeping mess. It was that special moment when a meaningful piece was performed by someone you love, that got you thinking about others that you love; in this case, my daughter and my incredible dad. It's one of the most compelling things about music - the way it can so quickly encapsulate so many feelings and memories. What are some pieces that have a similar effect on you?

Here is my favorite rendition, one Aunt Katie recorded last year at Thanksgiving.

https://youtu.be/KalWE1dGgN0

PS. These questions need not be rhetorical, would love to get a dialogue going :)

Home

There's No Place Like Home

We can all recite the lines by heart..."there's no place like home, there's no place like...Home - it's a remarkable image, but what does it mean? I think the ambiguity in the idea of home, is what makes it powerful, and what makes it so beautiful. Does home mean where you live? Does it mean heaven? Does it mean a sense of peace and comfort? I think in many ways the answer is yes, to all of them. Home is a finite place, yes, but it is also a mentality. For me, it is that serene sense of comfort, often a shared experience with those that you love. Maybe it's at your folks' house, or maybe it's a place where you have a special memory. Regardless of where it is, it's the place, physical or ideological, that we always want to be.

There have been so many amazing musical settings on the word home, but I'd like to share with you one of my favorites, a beautiful setting by Stephen Paulus. Here is the text:

Tell me were is the road I can call my own,

That I left, that I lost, so long ago?

All these years I have wandered, of when will I know?

There's a way, there's a road that will lead me home?

After wind, after rain, when the dark is done,

As I wake from a dream in the gold of day,

Through the air there's a calling from far away,

There's a voice I can hear that will lead me home.

Rise up, follow me, come away is the call,

With love in your heart as the only song;

There is no such beauty as where you belong,

Rise up, follow me, I will lead you home.

Have a listen, your ears will appreciate it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbwhSP3ZIq4

In this arrangement, Paulus sets a lovely tune from 1835 in a hymn texture. The beauty lies in the simplicity, allowing the listener the chance to day dream, and consider the lovely setting.

What are the songs that make you think of home?

Homegrown

About 20 years ago, a good friend, Trevor Keyes, talked about wanting to make Bay City and the surrounding area "cool." I have to admit that a much younger version of myself laughed at that idea. How could this area possibly be viewed as hip, interesting, or desirable?! Trev was way ahead of the curve, and he's been living this mission as CEO of Bay Futures. So Tiks, this is my public apology for laughing at you. You were right -  this area really is wonderful, and I am so glad to be here in this thing with all of you.

While I was finishing my studies at University of Connecticut, I saw my friends take jobs in academia. This seemed like the logical projection for me. At the time, in 2015, I was on pace to complete coursework, pass comprehensive exams, and complete and defend my dissertation. I had essentially spent 10 years of my life preparing to be Dr. Travis, and teach at (insert name of institution here). This certainly would have been a wonderful and fulfilling life. However, an incredible mentor once said, "When opportunity knocks, have your bags packed."  (Cue knocking) To my surprise,  good friend and mentor Jim Hohmeyer invited me to conduct the Camerata Singers, a chamber choir at the Center for the Arts. I had a wonderful residency, and  loved working with the group. They sang well, and I was able to develop a rapport with the ensemble in just a few days. I thought - gee, this could be fun. Maybe I will get to work with them again someday.

Following the summer with Camerata, I returned to Connecticut.  I kept swimming, and working towards the degree. I happened to be scanning Facebook one day and an article about an upcoming choral concert at Midland Center. I didn't typically read these things, but for whatever reason,  this time I did. While the article was largely about the Chorale concert, there was a brief  mention that Jim would be retiring the following season. At this point it was on, a full court press for this job. THE job. My colleagues and peers know that when I set my mind on something, I can be alarmingly persistent until I get it done. (Just ask the admissions counselor at U of M who I sent letters to weekly reminding her of recent accomplishments, pleading to get of the waiting list; or to Lin Manuel Miranda's assistant who I emailed for 11 months to get an interview, or to my incredible boss, Bryan Jao and Terri Trotter who I bothered daily to book The King's Singers).  I was going to get this job, or at minimum, go down with the greatest fight in the history of job applications. I think we all know how this played out.

So why Midland, why Michigan? I cannot overstate how fortunate I am to work at the Center. Five years ago, if you had told me I would be in a position to create a concert about baseball and Hamilton, and to perform alongside Dan Dickerson, Conspirare, The King's Singers, Matthew Morrison, and Co...I would have chuckled, but this reality has been far better than the wildest dreams of many. But in some ways, what has been most rewarding is the element of programming that has become a pivotal part of my job. I am able to impact the singers and audiences in the music I program and conduct, but in selecting repertoire for the Midland Symphony Orchestra and working in conjunction with my programming colleagues, Dexter Brigham, Katie Miller, and Anne Schroeder, Bryan Jao we are able to have a broader impact on the artistic scene of the region and beyond, encouraging and at times, developing a new and different appreciation for music. Last year Daryl Freedman, a Metropolitan Opera Singer, performed a recital here at the Center. Watching a group of students interact with her, knowing that many of them had never heard vocal production like that was truly inspiring. I couldn't help but wonder, will one of these young people be the next Daryl Freedman? It's a simple but profound moment among many that I will cherish forever.

But I've loved the opportunity to reconnect with friends from many years ago. How cool is it that Mary Rita and Steve Johnson were involved in Mame, a show I did at the Center over 20 years ago?! Isn't it awesome that Lora Keenan, who just completed an incredible career at Bay City Western sings in a choir I conduct? My folks, who drove me to hours of rehearsals at the Center as a kid, are now seeing a skinnier, better-looking 35 year old version of that kid conduct on the same stage - how amazing is that?! It's funny, sometimes life comes full circle in ways that you don't expect. Several years ago, I didn't didn't anticipate that mine would, but man, I am so glad it did, and am genuinely thankful to be a part of the music community and to be here with all of you. To be back here with my incredible wife and daughter is beyond words - thank you. 

I love quoting Brahms, and Sondheim, and Mozart; but in this case, this seems more appropriate: I've got everything I want, and nothing that I don't. Homegrown.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8N8_CRpL6wk

It's you I like.

Spending time with my wonderful daughter has given me a chance to reconsider some of my favorite songs of childhood. Ultimately, the ingenuity in many of these songs, and the messages have never been more relevant, perhaps a timeless relevancy that is reflected in the skill of the songwriters. Kermit has been discussed, Big Bird and Company has been discussed, but one of my favorites was written by our favorite neighbor, Fred Rogers.

It's you I like... what an incredible message for kids young and old? It's a reminder of what truly matters, not the material things, but the beauty of the individual. While finding that beauty within ourselves can be a challenge at times, understanding that others see it, and recognize it, especially when we struggle to see it ourselves, is something truly inspiring.  That is what Mr. Rogers is trying to tell us. When all is said and done, it's you I like, it's true, I promise.

Here are some of my favorite clips:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGgzhJesKeI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHlGOx-rOWM

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdYzvyJT3y4

From the mouths of babes...or at least their music

Rubber Ducky, you're the one. You make bath time lots of fun...

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood...

The real American hero!

It was fascinating to hear all of the wonderful responses on music from childhood that really resonated with many of you. I wanted to take a minute and dig a little deeper, and take a more detailed look at one of my favorites, sung by our favorite frog, Kermey.  I am not entirely sure why "Rainbow Connection" always moves me, sometimes, admittedly, to tears. Although I think it is the incredible message about dreaming. Whether you are 5 years old, 35,  55, or 105. How can we live without dreams?

In a time when things can be dark, and things can be scary, we seek hope. We look for that idea of a "happy ending', "an aspiration", a "dream", whatever that may mean to us. While the song is simple, the message is profound, even when sung by a froggy, playing the banjo while sitting on a log.

My favorite stanza is as follows:

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered,when wished on the morning star?

Somebody thought of that, and someone believed it, and look what it's done so far...

Above all else, hope prevails. It must be true, a green Muppet told me so!

Rainbow Connection