I learned a lesson this week: The more I interact with music outside the music I am conducting/teaching, the more inspired I am to be a better musician and teacher on the music I am conducting.
Don't let me forget this.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Leadership
I'd like to talk about attitude.
Every once in awhile, I observe a conductor with a poor attitude. It makes me angry. It also saddens me that musicians have an experience with a conductor that is demeaning. Sometimes I get sassy when there are bad attitudes, because I have never observed a conductor that was so amazing they could afford to treat the musicians however they wanted. No one is that amazing. No one.
I grew into my musical adulthood partly under the guide of Weston Noble. And what does this mean? One of his tenant's is vulnerability. As a conductor, we should be vulnerable to the music. We should be receptive to the sound. This means we need to share that openness in front of the musicians. If it is a safe space, they can also be open and vulnerable to the music.
Have you ever observed choirs that are stunning? I mean, so stunning that you are transformed and lifted into the music. I have been lucky to hear those performances. And whenever there are choirs that good, they are vulnerable to the music. Now, sometimes I hear choirs that are really great. And when I say "they are great," I mean that as emphatically as possible. Perhaps technically they are just like the stunning choirs. Except it's mechanical, it's closed, it's... lacking something. And I'm not referring to warmth. Their performance is great, but it's as if you are listening to an awesome recording. You aren't in the moment of music making. You are in a moment of perfected technique. There is a difference.
I don't believe that choirs can be stunning without an openness to the music. And that requires an openness to the creation of music with others- the other singers, the conductor, and the audience.
So what happens when a conductor is harsh, constantly critical, prideful, and condescending? That destroys vulnerability.
Some conductors will think I take too much on myself, but if I am frustrated with my choir, it is my fault. I have not given them the tools to musically achieve the desired result or I did not plan the rehearsal well. Other conductors blame the singers. I don't understand this. While I agree that singers should be held to high standards and it is important to call them out on lack of focus, I don't think my singers just don't care. So if they care and they aren't doing what I want them to do, it's likely that I need to provide something else for them. And this takes good planning. And yes, it's a lot of work. It's a lot of TLC, and thinking about how to teach a concept using music. It's understanding all the basic skills that go into understanding a more complicated skill. And sometimes, one needs to have the patience to address the basic skill to build the complicated skills.
I get it. I get frustrated too. I get irritated when I have to tell my singers something three times. And do I sometimes say," Singers, this is the third time we've worked on this."? Yes. But I firmly believe that building something (a program, a choir, a community) takes time, patience, and a continual reminder of high expectations. I've seen my students make progress. I may get frustrated, but then I notice that some of them are using their pencils without me telling them to. Or I notice that they are keeping a subdivisional pulse because I say, "Tempo please." Or I hear them adjust their sound when I adjust my gesture, which tells me they are watching and paying attention.
So, attitude. And leadership. I believe in hard work. I believe in pushing my singers to be the best they can be. But I don't believe in condescension.
Every once in awhile, I observe a conductor with a poor attitude. It makes me angry. It also saddens me that musicians have an experience with a conductor that is demeaning. Sometimes I get sassy when there are bad attitudes, because I have never observed a conductor that was so amazing they could afford to treat the musicians however they wanted. No one is that amazing. No one.
I grew into my musical adulthood partly under the guide of Weston Noble. And what does this mean? One of his tenant's is vulnerability. As a conductor, we should be vulnerable to the music. We should be receptive to the sound. This means we need to share that openness in front of the musicians. If it is a safe space, they can also be open and vulnerable to the music.
Have you ever observed choirs that are stunning? I mean, so stunning that you are transformed and lifted into the music. I have been lucky to hear those performances. And whenever there are choirs that good, they are vulnerable to the music. Now, sometimes I hear choirs that are really great. And when I say "they are great," I mean that as emphatically as possible. Perhaps technically they are just like the stunning choirs. Except it's mechanical, it's closed, it's... lacking something. And I'm not referring to warmth. Their performance is great, but it's as if you are listening to an awesome recording. You aren't in the moment of music making. You are in a moment of perfected technique. There is a difference.
I don't believe that choirs can be stunning without an openness to the music. And that requires an openness to the creation of music with others- the other singers, the conductor, and the audience.
So what happens when a conductor is harsh, constantly critical, prideful, and condescending? That destroys vulnerability.
Some conductors will think I take too much on myself, but if I am frustrated with my choir, it is my fault. I have not given them the tools to musically achieve the desired result or I did not plan the rehearsal well. Other conductors blame the singers. I don't understand this. While I agree that singers should be held to high standards and it is important to call them out on lack of focus, I don't think my singers just don't care. So if they care and they aren't doing what I want them to do, it's likely that I need to provide something else for them. And this takes good planning. And yes, it's a lot of work. It's a lot of TLC, and thinking about how to teach a concept using music. It's understanding all the basic skills that go into understanding a more complicated skill. And sometimes, one needs to have the patience to address the basic skill to build the complicated skills.
I get it. I get frustrated too. I get irritated when I have to tell my singers something three times. And do I sometimes say," Singers, this is the third time we've worked on this."? Yes. But I firmly believe that building something (a program, a choir, a community) takes time, patience, and a continual reminder of high expectations. I've seen my students make progress. I may get frustrated, but then I notice that some of them are using their pencils without me telling them to. Or I notice that they are keeping a subdivisional pulse because I say, "Tempo please." Or I hear them adjust their sound when I adjust my gesture, which tells me they are watching and paying attention.
So, attitude. And leadership. I believe in hard work. I believe in pushing my singers to be the best they can be. But I don't believe in condescension.
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