The strange case of the ‘invisible’ composer
Was it insulting or just good business sense for an orchestra to delete a relative unknown from their publicity? By Ivan Hewett
How many risks can an orchestra afford to take, in these straitened times? Should they promote wall-to-wall Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov to put bums on seats, or should they do the exciting and noble thing by supporting living composers? The question has come into sharp focus in the past few days thanks to an angry tweet from one of America’s most celebrated composers.
John Adams was outraged after the Chicago Symphony Orchestra omitted the name of composer Missy Mazzoli from the headline publicity to one of its concerts – even though the concert contained a new piece by Mazzoli paid for by the orchestra itself. Instead, the headline shouted, “Muti” – music director Riccardo Muti – “conducts Beethoven 4 & 7” – Beethoven’s Fourth and Seventh symphonies. “So typical – this disgraceful way orchestra management does its best to hide the fact a new work is on a program,” he raged. “It’s maddening and insulting… Art museums and dance companies wouldn’t do it, but orchestras are creaky, risk-averse behemoths.”
There is certainly something tragicomic about an orchestra spending a shedload of money to commission, rehearse and perform a new piece, while effectively burying it. But before rushing to condemn, it’s worth remembering these “creaky, riskaverse behemoths” actually take risks all the time.
Adams himself benefited from the risk-taking of – among others – the San Francisco Symphony, the Los Angeles Philharmonic and the Minnesota Orchestra, all of which commissioned pieces from him, and paid handsomely for the privilege. So it’s not a good look for Adams to attack orchestras.
One must remember that orchestras exist in an overwhelmingly hostile environment. Here in the UK, where organisations such as Arts Council England seem to hate orchestras for being too middle-class or white, when classical music barely registers in schools, and audiences are getting greyer and dwindling, the orchestra has become a rarefied thing. Don’t be fooled by the appearance of solidity and permanence of something like the Bournemouth Symphony or the Hallé – or the New York Philharmonic. Any
‘Art museums and dance companies wouldn’t do it, but orchestras are creaky, risk-averse behemoths’
orchestra is only six months away from insolvency. The situation is acute here, where public funding covers around 30 per cent of its costs, much less than in Europe, where state subsidy often contributes 60 per cent or more of an orchestra’s income. In the US, where it can be as little as 5 per cent, putting on an orchestral concert is in effect an act of insane idealistic madness.
That is the bottom line. But this excruciatingly difficult situation is made even worse when a living composer appears on the programme. Normally loyal audiences stay away, in droves. So you could say that in keeping Mazzoli’s name out of the headline publicity, the Chicago SO was doing her a kindness. By encouraging patrons to come along for Beethoven, they were ensuring a bigger audience for her premiere.
However, we can’t let the Chicago SO off the hook. There is a line to be drawn between a shrewd marketing ploy and downright cynicism and not mentioning the name of a composer the orchestra commissioned surely crosses that line. It arouses the suspicion that it only gets involved in contemporary music as a way of pulling in a sponsor, or burnishing its credentials in the eyes of cultural pundits. With the Chicago Symphony, that suspicion seems all too plausible. It’s led by Muti, an old-style maestro whose interest in new music is close to zero, if his career up to now is anything to go by. It’s a sad decline from the days when Pierre Boulez and Daniel Barenboim brought real passion and curiosity to the orchestra.
Indeed, it’s the leader who is crucial to combating this crisis and there have been great conductor-orchestra partnerships which prove that, when a gifted and charismatic conductor who believes in new music takes the helm, audiences can be won over.
In San Francisco, Michael Tilson Thomas put on weekends of American radical composers, to packed houses. Simon Rattle during his 18 years at the City of Birmingham persuaded his audiences to follow him into modernist adventures they would not have braved before.
Mirga Gražinytė-tyla, his successor, follows in his footsteps, as does Vladimir Jurowski at the London Philharmonic. Audiences are inspired by belief, and when it’s lacking, cynicism fills the void – as the story of Chicago’s “invisible premiere” eloquently proves.