Tag Archive for 'Clarinet'

Stanford Study of Orchestras

American Symphonies Often Spend
More Than They Earn

March 2008

STANFORD GRADUATE SCHOOL OF BUSINESS—Most major symphony orchestras in the United States regularly spend more money than they take in, and some dip so far into endowments that they risk their long-term survival, according to a new report commissioned by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation.

“The industry should realize that there is an inherent long-term economic challenge,” said Robert J. Flanagan, the Konosuke Matsushita Professor of International Labor Economics and Policy Analysis at the Stanford Graduate School of Business and the study’s author. “Nowadays, even if symphonies filled their halls for every concert, the vast majority would still not be able to cover their performance expenses.”

Although recessions exacerbate their woes, Flanagan said many symphonies have financial troubles even in good times. Attendance has been declining for most types of concerts, and orchestras may not be adequately scrutinizing the returns to their expenditures on marketing and fundraising, said Flanagan, an amateur musician since childhood who plays clarinet and saxophone. He said larger symphonies, for example, appear to spend nearly twice as much on fundraising as they realize through donations.

Some orchestra managers told Flanagan they disagreed with that conclusion, but other symphony officials he interviewed were hardly shocked.

“Some of them say it doesn’t surprise them because many symphonies have a bias towards revenue growth strategies and a bias against cost-cutting strategies,” Flanagan said, adding that nonprofit board members often shy away from conflict. “It’s not clear that they’re willing to be as tough minded about costs as directors in the private sector.”

Flanagan’s study includes data from every orchestra that ranked as one of the 50 largest U.S. symphonies for at least two years during the 1987-88 through 2003-04 concert seasons, a total of 63 orchestras. During that time 46 orchestras ran deficits on average—excluding their money from endowments—versus only 17 with surpluses.

In many U.S. industries, companies have been able to increase salaries gradually because technology has made workers more productive. Flanagan said symphonies have much slower productivity gains—technology isn’t about to turn a string quartet into a string duo—but musicians still expect bigger paychecks. The salaries of symphony musicians increased more rapidly than the pay of most other groups of workers in the late 20th century. Higher ticket prices did not fully compensate for cost increases, but those higher ticket prices reduced attendance at a typical performance.

Any stumbles in the economy only exacerbate the problem. A slumping economy reduces attendance as well as philanthropic support, but has little moderating effect on performance expenses.

Flanagan said the study’s scope did not try to identify similarities among the 17 symphonies that usually did have surpluses. Overall, he said, he noticed how widely all orchestras studied varied in terms of expenses, sources of income, and even how they invested their endowments. “With this much variance, it would seem there is an opportunity to discover what the best practices might be,” he observed.

One common thread he found is that the orchestras’ marketing expenses paid diminishing returns: “The last $100 you spend yields far less than the first $100 that you spend.” What the optimal threshold would be varies widely from orchestra to orchestra, but Flanagan said many could save money by scrutinizing marketing expenses.

Fundraising efforts are more complex. Professional fundraisers in many fields often say that they bring in 8- to 10-times as much money as they spend, but Flanagan is skeptical. “A lot of that money would have come in anyway.”

Flanagan said many people choose to support the local arts and hardly need a fundraising event to remind them. Based on population, unemployment, and economic data, he analyzed normal fundraising expectations in regions surrounding the orchestras. For the smaller half (based on budget size) of the orchestras he sampled, the investment was worth it: They received about $1.96 for each $1 they spent on fundraising. It was far different for the larger symphonies where each $1 spent returned only 51 cents.

Some say the fundraising efforts pay off in future years, but Flanagan did not find that during the study, which covered 17 years. “The question becomes: When are these expenditures going to pay off?”

Although Flanagan believes a best-practices effort would help many symphonies improve their financial status, he stressed that the financial circumstances vary greatly from city to city and orchestra to orchestra.

“You can’t go through this analysis and conclude that there’s a single solution—a single smoking gun,” he said. “I think the report documents the futility of single solutions.”

—Dave Murphy

Carnival of Venice

This evening at Mozart’s Café I will be performing a set of variations on the popular folk theme, Carnival of Venice, arranged by Paul Jeanjean, an early 20 century French clarinetist known for his difficult but beautiful études for clarinet and also for flute. Several other members of the Symphony will join me in a wonderful variety of great chamber music.

I am happy to say, the event is officially sold out. It is one of many fundraisers organized by grassroots supporters and the musicians themselves to support the beleaguered members of the Columbus Symphony, who were unfairly locked out of work June 1st, work legally contracted to them by CSO management, lead by Tony Beadle and Buzz Trafford. It continues to strike me as odd that the very people who should be leading the struggle to save the symphony are, to all public and private appearances, doing the opposite, destroying the soul of a great orchestra in Columbus.

The Venice song is probably familiar to most people, and has been made particularly famous more by the variations written on it than any original sources. I searched for some history of the melody and found only references to the numerous variations for any number of instruments, from flute to tuba. Wikipedia wasn’t much help, except to note that the song is associated with the words, “My hat, it has three corners”, not very Italian sounding. If anyone has further knowledge of the history of this tune, let me know. (someone forwarded more Wiki info on the piece-More than 150 years ago, French cornetist and teacher Jean Baptiste Arban created the method book, which became the standard manual for brass players all over the world. His playing of and compositions for the cornet helped to establish it as a serious classical instrument. He wrote this set of variations in the early 1860s, undoubtedly inspired by Niccolo Paganini’s 20 variations for violin on the same air, which has been attributed both to Paganini and to German opera composer Reinhard Keiser.)

Here is a fine recording of the Jeanjean variations I will play, performed by Duncan Prescott.

Carnival of Venice - Duncan Prescott (Clarinet)

Enjoy!

The Last Stand

Clarinet StandTonight, for the first time in 18 years, I brought my clarinet stand home from the Ohio Theater. After 18 years of being thrown around and used, it’s still solid and sturdy.

My grandfather made this double clarinet stand for me in the early 1980’s. He passed away in 1986. He loved making things in his retirement, having been an engineer and fine tool designer for much of his career.

He made things to last a lifetime. I also have several lamps around my house which were made by him. It seems that the knack for making things with that kind of quality has gotten lost, somehow, in the shuffle to make things cheap, and by extension, disposable.

Welsh Hymns and MelodesMy grandfather, William, also loved music. He was Welsh and sang in choirs all his life, though he didn’t read a musical note. He sang and harmonized by ear.

Up to the end of his life, he attended yearly gatherings of Welsh Gymanf Ganu, grand choirs of thousands who came together for a few days annually simply to sing hymns. Can you imagine being in a choir of thousands?

After bringing home the clarinet stand he made, I wondered what William would have to say about the attitude from “on high” in this city about the Columbus Symphony, about the surreal silence Columbus is experiencing from those who should know better about the importance of the Arts?

Tonight we played what may be that last concert as the Columbus Symphony. We couldn’t have had a better person to experience such a poignant and wistful event: Marvin Hamlisch.

Marvin not only put forth his usual wit, humor and beloved music making, but he took the time, he took lots of time, to put forth the argument for sustaining the arts in any city, and especially Columbus, a large and vigorous city which hardly knows it’s own potential.

Before the final number, he stalled and stalled, not wanting to end. He said, (and I paraphrase) “I wish we could stop the clock now, so we wouldn’t have to end; but I promise, I hope, this will not be the end, but only a hiatus.” He said, in the voice of Arnold Schwarzenegger, “We’ll be back!” He said, “Sometimes, you have to lose, or almost lose, what you have to appreciate it.”

He also said, “If and when this crisis is over, I will come back and play a concert here as a fund raiser, and I’ll donate my services. There’s one condition, however; that I will get for my services a pint of Graeter’s black raspberry chip ice cream, with one spoon, not two, because that ice cream is a taste of heaven.”

Appropriately, the encore featured two esteemed senior members in the orchestra, Steve Secan and Randy Hester, who have been playing music with the CSO since the mid 1970’s. Also fitting was the song we played, “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”.

Our audience gave us a standing ovation several times, showing their appreciation for us as people and for the Columbus Symphony as a valuable asset to the city.

After the concert, there were teary goodbyes between colleagues who have worked and grown together as human beings.

I didn’t participate much in that ritual. I don’t like goodbyes. Call me superstitious. I believe the people I meet and part from will always be in my life.

I also believe “We’ll Be Back!” Like my grandfather’s clarinet stand, the Columbus Symphony was made to last.

Muczynski, Times Pieces, Movements 1 and 2

Robert Muczynski’s 1984 Time Pieces, written for Mitchell Lurie, starts with a ragtime sounding theme built on large skips in the first movement; the second movement has a moody, Gregorian chant like melody, developed to very un-Gregorian passion. Muczynski’s music draws on jazz rhythms, but also resembles the musical vocabularies of Hindemith and Copland. David Thomas, clarinet; Dianne Frazer, piano, April 13, 2008.

May 4 Recital, photos and impressions

Ready to PlayI had a blast playing an all Mozart recital at my home last night. Working with a mix of dear friends, talented colleagues and new-found talents in Columbus, I can’t imagine a better evening for a musician.

This was the second in what I hope will become a regular series of concerts. The program, “Mmiraculous Mmozart- The Deliciousness of Mozart’s Music” (inspired by chocolate truffles) came together as a combination of pieces we wanted to play and people I wanted to work with.

The Clarinet Trio of Mozart, K 498, is a piece I have wanted to play with Brett Allen, assistant principal viola with the Columbus Symphony, since we decided to do some recitals together a few years ago. The viola-clarinet-piano combination has several substantial works written for it. In March, 2007 we performed the romantic and brooding Max Bruch “Eight Pieces” for viola, clarinet and piano with Dianne Frazer. Another delightful work for that combination is the Schumann “Fairy Tales”, which we look forward to performing in the future.

Making Music with FriendsTonight we played the “Kegelstatt” (”bowling alley” nicknamed for where Mozart is said to have conceived the piece) Trio with pianist Ahlin Min, a talented new face in the Columbus music scene. Ahlin moved to Columbus with her husband, Noah, last year, after graduating from Indiana University, where she studied with Menahem Pressler, founding member of the Beaux Arts Trio. Ahlin came to my attention at the suggestion of pianist Nina Polansky, wife of Leonid, Assistant Concertmaster of the CSO. I have to say, Ahlin Min has earned my full respect as a musician after tonight’s concert, having performed an intricate and demanding part with impressive technical and musical alacrity. Along with Brett’s top notch viola playing, the synergy among the three of us led, in my opinion, to a convincing and detailed reading of Mozart’s lighthearted masterpiece.

Appreciating our Audience after the performanceFor the second part of the program, the famous Mozart Quintet, I was joined by Robert Firdman, violin, longtime friend, colleague and passionate musician from the CSO; Orieta Dado, a gifted violinist and amazing friend and Associate member of the our orchestra; Brett Allen, mentioned above; and Mark Kosmala, cello, another shining star among the Associate players of the orchestra. Let it be known that the Associates of the Columbus Symphony contribute to the brunt of serious music making by adding their expertise and passion to virtually all of our major classical series concerts. They may be part time by definition, but their music making is full time for our orchestra.

It was a revelation for me as a wind player to rehearse this piece with four string players who have never played together as a quartet. I learned a great deal about the intricacies of string playing. Primary among those techniques, the discussion of bowing, whether to bow up or down for a particular passage, continued through the last moment of rehearsal. I began to get a feel for the significance of each bow stroke, up or down, and how it contributed to the shape of the phrase. Up bow is more anticipatory in tone and phrasing; down bow more emphatic and directed.

Deep in Music MakingThe performance found us all coming together in spirit and technique. Some parts could have been better, as they always can, but the output of these players, from beginning to end of this intimately impromptu recital, was nothing short of 110%. Personally, I experienced moments of blissful music making which cannot be surpassed, and I have my friends to thank for joining in that collaboration. I am honored and pleased to have been able to make music with these fine artists. We are already talking about our next venture into the rich repertoire of chamber music available.

Our Audience Before the ConcertOur loving and enthusiastic audience, which numbered at least 35, filled the West Dunedin house with careful attention during the performance and a healthy applause after. Enjoying the MusicAll of us, audience and performers, maintained our focus even during the unexpected soliloquy by my kitchen smoke alarm. (the oven had to be turned on ahead of time to prepare the post concert h’ours dourves) Members of the audience promptly dismantled the noisy interloper while the music continued. However, we all agreed that a repeat of the ending of the Quintet sans piercing beeping was in order.

Learning about the Music MakingMy sincerest thanks goes out to all who participated in the music making and music appreciating during this lovely Sunday evening in early May. I was doing what I loved doing; making music with and for those who loved it. And despite all the hubbub in Columbus, Ohio about whether it can (or should) afford a good orchestra, I am convinced that the music is what really matters, at least to those who attended tonight.

Vivacious Discussion after the ConcertA bustling reception followed, with delicious h’ours dourves and lively conversation. The music is alive in Columbus. And more will follow. Let there be no doubt, more music will follow.

Many thanks to all those who helped with planning, invitations, food, underwriting and recording, including among many others: the Columbus Symphony Orchestra League, the Women’s Association of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, Symphony Strong, John and Valerie Gibbs, Gayla and Robert Ebersole, Grace Sharp, Joseph Sarah, Jan Ryan, Phyllis and Randy Hester, Frank and Ann Hurd Thomas and Steve Bennett.

Before the Music Begins

(The following story was submitted to the Columbus Dispatch for their First Person column. I hope it will be printed in the next week or two. It is a heavily revised, more accessible version of my previous post, “Why I am a musician“, with several new paragraphs.)

The powerful symphony we are about to play, and my ability to play it, seem to come from somewhere beyond human capabilities. Yet it highlights my humanity and my frailty, my nobility and my baseness. It reaches across ages and shows me how history and art have formed me and the civilization I live in.

Who wouldn’t want to be inside Einstein’s head, or Picasso’s or Martin Luther King’s as they thought and felt their great deeds? My life’s commitment is to get into composer’s heads and recreate their great music for others.

The first note we play is a commitment to our colleagues, the audience and the music. Egos may clash off stage, but conflict disappears as the conductor raises his baton and we come together to go beyond ourselves.

But a lot happens behind the scenes before the concert.

My clarinet’s reed is the heart of the instrument’s tone; it must be perfect if I am to perform with utmost skill. I carve a tiny piece of wood off the base of the reed. Almost nothing. I put the reed back on the mouthpiece and fasten it with the ligature. I form an embouchure and play the scale I repeat hundreds of times a day to check reeds. The raspiness has gone from the reed’s vibrations. Now it has a bell-like ring through the instrument. Ahh!

After two hours of working on reeds, I am tired. Add several hours of rehearsals today and that’s a full day. But I haven’t finished. I still need to review sections of tonight’s music. I need to be sure the reed will resonate in the low register for the famous opening clarinet passage of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony. The clarinet’s dark, brooding low notes are perfect for the mournful melody.

Why do I do this? I smile as I ask myself. “Because I love it” might be one answer. But that’s not quite it. It’s more like an itch that needs to be scratched. Since age 12, after hearing a recording of the instrument (Robert Marcellus), I had the “ring” of the clarinet’s tone in my head, an ideal to strive for.

As a child I always enjoyed science, especially botany, chemistry and physics. I also enjoyed music, perhaps because it seemed a bit like science to me. I began studying piano at age 6. During one of my first piano lessons my teacher had me face away from the piano and listen as she played various chords. I was to identify their happy and sad qualities. It fascinated me that a few musical notes could render such varied emotions.

Upon returning to the US after growing up abroad as a Foreign Service Diplomat’s kid, I was treated like an alien by other children my age. When I was introduced to clarinet in the 6th grade, I latched on to it as something secure and knowable. Over the years clarinet became my identity. While other adolescents grappled with the meaning of life, I strove to climb the mountain before me: mastering the clarinet. I competed in and won many competitions to hone my skills. My parents never had to push me to practice. However, I often took criticism hard, as it exposed my fervent desire to be the best.

10,000 hours of practice is the only way to master an instrument. Like an athlete wishing to win the Olympics, I constantly strive for machine-like perfection with an all-too-human body and life. Beyond practicing clarinet, I have worked a great deal behind the scenes to make it seem “effortless” on stage. I exercise regularly and I have studied various techniques for focus and poise.

Of course, playing the instrument alone is still only part of this process. I am a clarinetist because I love classical music. I’ll never forget playing Brahms’ fourth Symphony for the first time, age 17, at the Interlochen Summer Music Camp, an intensive “boot camp” for aspiring young artists. Brahms’ gypsy spirit shone through the almost tortured discipline of his North German Protestant upbringing. I related to the conflict of those emotions; freedom emerging from limitation. That sense of balance in conflict, and other such ideas learned from music, have fed my attitudes in life.

Being able to communicate music directly to an audience is my dream come true. A live performance reflects a unique snapshot in time and, like sports, happens in real time. And just as the excitement of a supportive crowd can urge a team to victory, an audience affects a performer with its attention and enjoyment. The smiles of listeners inspire me to fresh new depths of expression and heights of emotion.

Many in the audience probably think they know how this piece will sound. They have undoubtedly heard it in recordings. But tonight they will enjoy a fresh, new journey through this rich music, as performed by me and my fellow musicians. Maestro Hirokami brings down his baton and I am fortunate to be able to recreate the sad beginning of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth symphony. The end is never clearly known, and tonight I somehow sense that the ending of this symphony will be more optimistic than usual.

The Spirit of Performing

When performing music, I have to balance a “subjective” interpretation from an “objective” one. This means I need to pay attention to the notes on the page and composer’s markings as much as my own interpretation of them. But both parts of the interpretation are important to good music making. The spirit of the music must be recreated, not just the notes and markings.

This week I had some trouble with my reeds warping. Those little pieces of cane don’t like the dry weather of approaching winter. So it feels like I’m going to squawk all the time. Not a pleasant feeling when you need to be relaxed to phrase beautifully. A squeak on a clarinet is not a pretty thing. EVERYONE hears it. I used to have a giggling fit when ever someone squeaked. Now, as a pro, I look innocent, hoping everyone thinks it’s my stand partner who did it. UGH!

Beginning the Practice Day

When I practice the clarinet, I try to start from a blank page, blowing warm air from my heart, not judging what comes out of my instrument. That’s me flowing out the other end (among other ends) and I best not trash it. At first it’s huffy and airy and fuzzy. But eventually it starts to refine itself, flowing into a satisfying resonance, with the depth of character I seek. And if not, I try to stay emotionally open to let it happen when it will.

I always keep the ideal of the perfect sound in my ear, to guide me and my instrument toward it. I never reach it. That’s the curse of the performer, to struggle toward an unreachable goal. But to shimmy close to that pure ideal even a few times in a career is the musicians blessing. For me to be able to express and make real the elusive perfection of music is my greatest challenge and my greatest gift.