Composition Matters

Thank you colleagues and commentators for some gritty discussion fodder yesterday. Although it seems that many of us agree that we all need what Barbara has aptly called “time-worthy interactions between the composer and the musicians,” I was fascinated with the range of things that were said (and that were left unsaid) about the actual or proposed content of these interactions.

It is clear in some of these accounts that there is a considerable amount of bottled-up frustration on both sides, and there are detailed accounts of numerous bad experiences. I feel wary of any argument that takes any experience with an individual composer or musician and claims it is representative of the problem. Since I am a performer as well, and frequently perform with orchestras, I can testify too: I have felt deeply insulted by a composer’s disregard for my instrument; and I have also felt deeply grateful to a composer for showing me something I never knew I could do, even though it took enormous courage and considerable practice time.

And on the other side: I have just enjoyed a delicious bottle of wine given to me by a principal flutist (thank you!) who enjoyed the challenges we worked through together in my piece, and yet I have also seen some shockingly unkind and injurious words in response to similar challenges, on those feedback sheets that “Plucky” mentions in his/her general comment. I am hoping that we can get beyond some of this pent-up frustration and story-telling. We have the much-desired forum, right here! Let’s get creative – how should we use it?

I would propose that a lot of us seem to be suggesting that a deep relationship, built on trust, and access to ongoing, evolving interaction between a composer and an orchestra’s musicians, is part of the answer. Roberto mentions the word ‘trust.’ Both Molly and Jennifer cite some compelling reasons that extended residencies, and enhanced time with musicians – if it is used well and thoughtfully by composers and musicians alike – can help build this trust. A similar criterion – enhanced access – underlies Christian’s claims as well.

Yes, we do have responsibilities to our players. We are putting fellow artists out in front of people, sometimes recalcitrant people, and asking them to put their gifts forward in the way we choose – as composers we mustn’t ever underestimate the sense of vulnerability musicians often feel when they are unveiling new work. Of course, ideally we have these feelings too! (if we are really writing sincerely, and without guile) and this could be a powerful site of commonality if we could tap into it.

Face time with players can help create a personal connection that supports this mutual act of vulnerability. Musicians know that they are not alone up there, that the composer has supported them in this act of vulnerability, through the integrity of what s/he sees on the page in the part, and through the composer’s hands-on manner, which can in the best scenario be a mixture of openness, authority and respect for the process.

Intelligence, innovation, artistry and heroic detail-management are only part of our job. Kindness and wonderment (admittedly hard to muster sometimes on an orchestra rehearsal schedule!) are the other part. We can’t move forward without these. Of course there are millions of details, whole multiple lifetimes of training brought together in one place, exponential opportunities for error on every side, involved with every single world premiere or even every performance of a contemporary piece. But that’s the wonder of it all, right? Isn’t that why we do it? It’s ridiculously difficult what we are all expecting each other to do – and we should keep expecting it! And of course, we should remember how tender this process is for everyone. I wouldn’t have it any other way.