“The first movement is in sonata form, but lyric, not dramatic in any Beethovian sense. Even the grand return to opening dotted theme in the major mode has no sense of theatricality about it. The second movement is a wonderfully light Scherzo, filled with delicious rhythmic interplay between 2/4 and 6/8 time. Its middle section, with muted strings, is only slightly more serious, but there the piano undercuts the solemnity.”
These are the words of musicologist/professional program note writer Steven Ledbetter, on Fauré‘s Piano Quartet No. 1for the Eastern Music Festival 2012 season program book. (I don’t mean to pick on Dr. Ledbetter; I was just looking through some old programs I have for an example to use in this post.) This is only an excerpt from a passage of manageable length. The paragraphs preceding the excerpt provide interesting biographical information on the composer and a brief discussion of late 19th-century French music… but all of a sudden he starts throwing out words like “sonata form” and “major mode” and anyone who hasn’t taken at least a semester of music theory (i.e., much of the audience) is lost.
There is a time and a place for musical jargon. Program notes for, say, a master class, or a recital at a [IDRS/IVS/etc.] convention — performances where the audience is primarily made up of people who already have a fundamental knowledge of what exactly a “Beethovian sense” of drama might be or what constitutes “delicious rhythmic interplay between 2/4 and 6/8 time” — those program notes can be as jargon-y as you like. But at a place like Eastern Music Festival (which I’ve attended), where the audience is about 80% made up of enthusiastic, arts-supporting community members who can’t tell the difference between an oboe and a bassoon, knowing that the first movement is in sonata form isn’t going to help anyone… unless you tell the audience what, exactly, sonata form is. In fact, that would be great! Providing a succinct explanation of sonata form would give the audience something interesting to listen for, as well as a new bit of knowledge to take home with them. Program notes should educate; they should tell the reader what “sonata form” means — they just should not come across as lofty lectures, or dry lists of information, or prosy jargon-fests. The whole point of program notes is to help the audience better understand the music; in order for that to happen, the program notes must be understood as well. Continue reading →
I have been using Twitter for about two weeks now (@CCmusicblog — follow me!), and I can’t say I entirely understand how it works… or why it exists… but exist it does. And if the 125 chamber groups, orchestras, radio stations, conservatories, record labels, soloists, venues, composers, and conductors I’m currently following are any indication, the classical music world has taken full advantage of the Twitter craze.
This is, in theory, a good thing. We want classical groups to keep up with the times in order to build and maintain a broader audience. The updates provided by these groups’ tweets range from fun facts to concert plugs to retweets of audience members’ reviews of recent performances. The only issue is that, the people who would follow an orchestra on Twitter are people who are already in that orchestra’s audience, or are classical music fans in general. You would be hard-pressed to find a follower of, say, @LAPhil who clicked “follow” having never been to a classical concert before. This means that the classical music world represented on Twitter is more interconnected than ever before, but roughly the same size it’s been for years.
Social media is extremely powerful and far-reaching. We’ve seen this proven in numerous contexts, from Arab Spring to Nerdfighteria. The classical world, in harnessing this power, has the potential to reach new audiences in new ways. Social media is a great platform for fostering interaction between the audience and the performers, which makes for an engaging concert experience in which the audience members feel like participants rather than observers. Continue reading →