All Venues Are Worthy, All Performances Valid

This post explores musicians throwing shade at other musicians because they feel an opportunity is below them (e.g. too “low” in prestige). This is not a single scenario, but a compilation, a trend from personal and overheard conversations, in which two or more “in-their-minds-established musicians” are talking about another musician playing concerts in venues that lack prestige — nursing homes, community libraries, underserved neighborhoods, etc. For example, “Well that’s nice, but it says all you need to know about Musician X.”

Let’s unpack this, allowing that it says more about the gossipers than the gossipee.

First, the idea that music has value only when occurring in fancy concert halls. Although this is admittedly where I make my living, it is this very concept that has gotten classical music in hot water over the last 30 years (at least), and we need to step out of this scalding bath, towel off, pop the blisters, and open our eyes. The idea that a performance in a concert hall, and, by inference, the audiences themselves, are ranked in order of importance needs to be reexamined. Music is music.

That leads to a sub-point that somehow the audiences are less important in places without fancy lobbies and loge seating. This is utter nonsense. You can move someone at age 5 or age 95. It matters not where they sit.

Another assumption, that a musician’s worth is determined by the position they hold, their recording contracts, teaching posts, orchestra chairs, etc. must also be questioned, and I agree that we, the musicians, are in many ways responsible for perpetuating this myth. (I’ve fallen into this pit of mind-suck more than once, myself). I’m not saying that having a post isn’t important (it is), but it is a myth that happiness and/or worthiness is defined by a title, position, or the chandelier in the foyer. Sure, a regular paycheck is nice. But art is no less valuable if you lack an office or 401k plan.

Music is music. Period. If someone is cobbling together a career by adding various things to their patchwork quilt, so be it. I know people who play prison concerts, hospital recitals, park concerts, etc. Why are these still considered “non-traditional?” Playing music for other humans is traditional, and has been for millennia. It’s time we get back to that basic concept.

It is no less (or more) noble to perform from either side of this equation. So Bravo to Carnegie Hall and Bravo to the Upper Pine Valley Retirement Center Community Concert Series. You get a standing ovation at both, at least from the heart.

Copyright, 2024, Robert Baldwin

Image source: https://kin-keepers.com/

The Pequod Sails at Dawn

Two more weeks to Spring Break. I’ve got an opera, a Requiem Mass, and a big symphony yet to learn for later in the spring, along with the seemingly unending and mundane tasks of proving one’s existence, putting out fires, and planning for the future that clumps at this time of year, without fail. It’s no big deal – par for the course – a multitasker’s delight, perhaps.

It is important to reflect that one cannot have the art without the other less desirous tasks. This is the greatest challenge to the creative artist; one that leads some, unknowingly, towards a path of self-destruction. Finding balance is the key. Like standing on the deck of a ship on the ocean, one must adjust and adapt. The conditions are both predictable and sometimes surprising. The trick is to develop sea legs, knowing when to shift – left, right, backward, forward – sometimes in rapid succession. It also helps to develop a sense of the need to move to the rail to hurl your lunch overboard.

The storms will dissipate. All eventually do. The seas will once again grow calm. You’ll learn to better read the signs and prepare for the unsteady times. I am still learning to do that effectively. I think we all are.

Just some random thoughts on the calm seas of President’s Day weekend. All aboard! The Pequod sails at dawn.

Copyright, 2024. Robert Baldwin, Before the Downbeat

August Bliss

This is one of my favorite times of the year. The sunflowers are in a riot of bloom, everything taking on the color and feel of late summer. Corn is tasselling; trees are their darkest green. Nothing looks tired yet. It is a time of plenty; a time of relaxed acceptance. And strangely enough, an indication of the end.

The mornings have a cooler feel, forecasting the coming autumn. August has always meant the end of summer for me, although the astronomical season continues for about 6 weeks. This early harvest time and the start of the school year mark the close of summer activities for most of us in the northern hemisphere. It is a pattern ingrained from an early age. We continue to live it as a society. It is part of our rhythm.

Soon the year will turn fully into autumn, but not just yet — there are ripe tomatoes, beautiful summer nights, amazing skies, and dusty trails yet to enjoy. And those sunflowers…spectacular!

Copyright, 8/2023 – Robert Baldwin

An Enduring Love Story

After all these years, I still find myself saying, “WOW!” I first played R&J when I was about 16 and it’s been maybe 15-20 years since I last conducted the piece, but it feels like visiting an old friend — and discovering something new about them every time you meet. Here’s the thing: the Introduction section of the work is just as amazing as the more involved sections and famous “themes.” Like any great piece, all the seeds are planted there, even though the ultimate reveal is yet to occur. It’s like observing a single tree branch and then realizing you are standing in a vast forest. This is what makes it fun to conduct and perform. The music unfolds into deeper revelations, even throughout the coda.

Sure, it’s simply also the way Tchaikovsky composes, and you can break it down in many dry, theoretical ways. But that’s not how the magic of the music happens. The immutable power of such a work is more than just memorable melody and exciting musical sequences. It’s an evolution of wonder, a journey through a secret landscape. My florid description can barely capture the experience.

Looking forward to this process of unfolding this piece again with the Utah Phil in a couple of weeks. Performance at Libby Gardner Hall on September 14.

George Whitefield Chadwick, A Conductors Guide to Style and Resources

Presentation for the College Orchestra Directors Association National Conference, January 28, 2023 and the International Conductors Guild Conference, January 6, 2024.

Compiled by Robert Baldwin, Director of Orchestras, University of Utah

robert.baldwin@music.utah.edu

Sources for Scores (and often parts)

Overtures

Rip Van Winkle – 1879 (10’)

2.2.2.2/4.2.3.0. timp, str. (Two versions: the original, longer 1879 version- A/R Editions), and an “Americanized” version from 1929 (Fleisher, picc.2222/4231/timp. 3 perc.  It was produced by Eastman School of Music and distributed by Birchard in 1930 (A/R Editions – original edition, newly edited (preferred); Fleischer Collection – “Americanized” edition)

Thalia – 1882 (14’)

            (NEC Library)

The Miller’s Daughter – 1886 (Song and Overture for Baritone Voice and Orchestra) 2222/4200/timp. Str. (NEC Library)

Melpomene, Dramatic Overture – 1887 (12’)  2+1.1+1.2.2/4.2.3.1,timp,perc,str (Lucks, Kalmus, Fleischer Collection)

A Pastoral Prelude for Orchestra – 1890 (13’) (NEC Library, Fleischer Collection)

Adonais Overture – 1899 (15’) 2+1.2.2.2/4.2.3.1,timp,perc, hp, str (A-R Editions- a new edition, Fleischer Collection, ms. on IMSLP)

Euterpe – 1903 (10’) 2+1.2.2.2/4.2.3.1,timp,hp,str (score and parts on IMSLP, Kalmus, Fleischer Collection)

Anniversary Overture (1922) 2.1+1.2.2/4.2.3.1,timp,perc, cel, str (NEC Library, ms. score on IMSLP)

Symphonies and symphonic works

Symphony No. 1 in C, op. 5 – 1881 (30’)2.2.2.2/4.2.3.0/tmp str. (NEC Library, ms. score on IMSLP). No live recording. Midi of 1st mvt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7siY99sM6w

Symphony No. 2 in B-flat, op. 21 – 1885 (35’) 2.2.2.2/4.2.3.0,timp,str (Lucks, Kalmus, IMSLP, Fleischer Collection)

Symphony No. 3 in F – 1893 (35’) 2.2.2.2/4.2.3.1,timp,str (Lucks, Kalmus, IMSLP, Fleisher Collection) First prize of the 1894 competition at the National Conservatory of Music, with a $300 cash prize, judged by Dvorak.

Symphonic Sketches – 1895-1904 (31’)  2+1.1+1.2+1.2/4.2.3.0,timp,perc,hp,str (Lucks, Kalmus, IMSLP, Fleischer Collection) Movements are playable separately: Jubilee, Noel, Hobgoblin, Vagrom Ballad.

Sinfonietta in D – 1904 (27’) 2+1.2.2.2/4.2.3.0,timp,perc,hp,str  (Lucks, Kalmus, Fleischer Collection)

Suite Symphonique in E-flat – 1909 (30’) 2+1.2.2.2/4.3.3.1,timp,perc,hp,str (Lucks, Kalmus)

Symphonic Poems

Cleopatra, Symphonic Poem – 1904 (21’) 2+1.2+1.2+1.2/4.3.3.1,timp,perc, hp, cel (ad lib), str. (Fleischer Collection, NEC Performance Library)

Aphrodite, Symphonic Fantasy – 1911 (30’) 3.2+1.2+1.2+1/4.2.3.1,timp,perc, cel, str. Opt. offstage trumpets and drums. (Kalmus, IMSLP)

Tam O’Shanter, Symphonic Ballade – 1915 (20’) 2+1.2+1.3+1.2/4.3.3.1,timp,perc,hp,str (Lucks, Kalmus, Fleischer Collection)

Angel of Death – 1918 (14’)  2+1.2+1.2+1.2/4.2.3.1,timp,hp,str (ms. on IMSLP. Score and Parts in the NEC Library and the Fleischer Collection)

Other Orchestral Works

Andante for Strings (ed. Girsberger) (15’) – str (Kalmus)

Serenade in F for Strings – 1890 (27’) – str (Kalmus, Fleischer Collection)

Eastern Morn for cello and orch., arr. Goodrich/Girsberger (4’) 2.2.2.2/2.0.0.0,hp,str,cello solo (Kalmus)

Tabasco March from the Opera, Tabasco – 1894 (3’) 2+1.1.2.1/2.2.1.0. perc. str (IMSLP. A version also exists for Concert Band)

Elegy, In memoriam Horatio Parker – 1920 (NEC, Fleischer Collection)

3 Pezzi par Orchestra – 1923 (NEC, Fleischer Collection)

Works for Chorus and Orchestra (not studied for this presentation)

  • Dedication Ode (H.B. Carpenter), S, A, T, B, SATB, orchestra, 1883
  • Noël (Boston, 1888)
  • Lovely Rosabelle (W. Scott), S, T, SATB, orchestra, 1889
  • The Pilgrims (F.D. Hemans), SATB, orchestra, 1890
  • Phoenix expirans (cant., Lat. hymn), S, A, T, B, SATB, orchestra, 1891
  • Ode for the Opening of the Chicago World’s Fair (H. Monroe), S, T, SATB, wind ens, orchestra, 1892
  • The Lily Nymph (Bates), S, T, B, B, SATB, orchestra, 1894–5
  • Ecce jam noctis (J.G. Parker, after St Gregory), male vv, org, orchestra, 1897
  • Noël (various texts), pastoral, solo vv, SATB, orchestra, 1907–8

Selected Resources:

  • Baldwin, Robert. George Chadwick’s Tam ‘O Shanter: Culmination of a Descriptive Orchestral Style. DMA Dissertation Document, University of Arizona, 1996.
  • Faucett, Bill: George Whitefield Chadwick: His Symphonic Works. Lanham, MD.: Scarecrow Press, 1996
  • Faucett, Bill. George Whitefield Chadwick: A Bio-Bibliography. Westport, CT.: Greenwood Press, 1998.
  • Faucett, Bill. George Whitefield Chadwick: The Life and Music of the Pride of New England. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2012.
  • Hamm, Charles: Music in the New World. New York: W.W. Norton, 1983.
  • Hitchcock, H. Wiley. Music in These United States. Englewood Cliffs, NJ.: Prentice Hall, 1988.
  • Yellin, Victor Fell. Chadwick: Yankee Composer. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1990.

Thoughts on the Eve of a Sabbatical

I am officially on sabbatical from the University of Utah. Some sabbaticals are the result of a process, others are enforced by circumstances. My on-again-off-again sabbatical is an odd combination of both, and it has indeed been a strange journey.

This “first sabbatical” of my university teaching career was originally granted in 2018, to be taken in the spring semester of 2020. Fall of 2019 had a surprise in store for me, however, one where I would find myself climbing onto an operating room table and voluntarily allowing someone to crack open my chest and stop my heart for several hours in order to add new plumbing…(That was fun. No need to rehash any more of those details…)

Recovery from that experience was one of those “enforced sabbaticals,” so the actual one got shifted ahead a year. The recovery and return to duties went swimmingly well, and by December of 2019, everything was back on track. But the Fates were to throw another curve at me (and you, and the entire planet) — COVID-19.

So, all of humanity got an enforced sabbatical in 2020. Not surprisingly, my planned sabbatical would not happen, once again. The pandemic canceled my plans to conduct that year in Finland and teach and conduct in China (in Wuhan, of all places). Instead, the situation required my attention at home for over two years, helping to navigate how orchestral ensembles could operate during such unprecedented times. All that resulted in amazing experiences, and yet another delay in sabbatical plans.

There were more than a few moments when I thought I’d throw in the towel, just forget it. It’s hard for an ensemble director to step away during the best of times, and I was already behind in the count—two strikes down. Yet now, here I am, on the cusp of swing number 3. Part of me is wary of another curveball, but so far so good. (I’m planning to tear the cover off the ball this spring with that final swing, BTW).

Tickets are booked for Spain. Tickets are being booked for Florida/South Carolina. Tickets are soon to be booked for Kansas. Those are the trips—2 conferences, a self-guided writing retreat, and a concert/residency at KU. In addition I’ll be writing a couple of articles; developing a new class for DMA conductors at the U (perhaps the first of its kind in the world), and also be developing a new-concept conducting masterclass that involves theatrical improv techniques, movement, and focusing exercises. Yes, I’ll be busy, but I also am counting on writing a poem or two, because there are also beaches to comb, trails to hike, and about 120 sunrises and sunsets in the semester ahead to experience as well.

Copyright 2022, Robert Baldwin, Before the Downbeat

Image credit: https://www.nealrantoul.com/posts/sabbatical

The crack that lets in the light

Wall after earthquake

“Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” ~ Leonard Cohen

For some reason, I’ve been keenly aware lately of a sense of decay, seemingly everywhere. I’m not referring to the beautiful fall leaves, or anything related to a natural cycle, but rather the decrepit state of our roads, our sense of civic duty, our commitment to each other. It’s as if the entire infrastructure of life is crumbling from the edges. Perhaps the sorry state of our roads is but a metaphor for the current state of life. Or, maybe it is just me—the result of recovering from something (and aren’t we always doing so in one way or another?), or maybe it’s because I’m on the doorstep of 60. Maybe it’s because I’ve lost beloved family members and pets in recent years…I really don’t know…

But I do know what helps: Music. Tuesday it was conducting The Planets; yesterday and today it was listening to Bach’s B-minor Mass. Both are established monuments. And once established, MUSIC is one of the monuments that never decays. Holst is as fresh as it was a century ago. Bach’s music is as deeply moving as it was 300 years ago. So while the potholes will inevitably keep forming, the bedrock remains stable if we just open our ears, our minds, and our souls. Music is light.

Thanks for coming to my mini-Ted Talk/therapy session. It’s fall break. This is the danger of me having a moment to think.

Copyright, 2022. Robert Baldwin Before the Downbeat