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Toby Thatcher

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The same drum

March 30, 2020

I recently read a statistical survey. In fact, I have it right here, as I’m writing this. It was collected by the online classical music magazine bachtrack, an analysis of “Classical Music in 2019”. Cursory research shows that gathering annual classical music statistics is something bachtrack have been doing since 2010, developing in range somewhat in recent years. Unfortunately, it makes for fairly predictable reading.

In 2019, out of the top 10 most performed composers, the most contemporary example died more than 126 years ago. Of the top 10 most performed pieces, the most recently composed is 132 years old (and by the same composer as the previous statistic, Tchaikovsky). Of all opera performed, nearly 1/3rd was by three composers. The most recently composed work of their oeuvre is 96 years old. Of the Top 10 performed living composers, the youngest is 49. That may not sound supportive of what I am sure you can already guess as being the point of all this, but the average age of these 10 most popular living composers is nearly 74. In all of the top 10s listed so far, not a single person appears who could be described as anything other than a white man. Of the Top 100 most-performed living composers, 24 were women. The number of concerts which included at least one work by a living composer ranged, depending on country, from 9% to 24%. There are some statistics which aren’t even deemed worth calculating, the presumption being there’s essentially no point. I’m not going to mention the demographics of performers. This is partly because I’m sure you can make an accurate guess (and if you can’t, you can look at the study for yourself) and partly because it is of far less concern. Obviously I want to see parity and diversity in the custodians and ambassadors of art music, and besides, that is already an increasingly well-trodden path of progress, in one form or another.

In my opinion, all of this uncovers one particularly alarming conclusion -

We collectively have no right whatsoever to claim, a genuine interest in reaching new audiences, a disappointment/bafflement at stagnant audience trends, or a frustration at any expression of our irrelevance, when we fail to acknowledge our limitations and make concerted efforts to find solutions.

I’ve always loved music as an expression of the human spirit. It’s time now to expand whose spirit we broadcast. This is not to say the canon, suddenly, becomes worthless. As I write this, beside me are scores of Berlioz, Ravel & Beethoven. It’s music I adore and can spend hours pouring through. It’s also not to say that all perspectives of the canonical composers are identical; of course they aren’t, far from it. But there are many glaring gaps. Gaps made all the more evident by the diversity of 21st century society. And as I see it, these gaps are fascinating in their potential to explore humanity in entirely different musical ways, to broaden the ways we represent our world. These gaps provide a means to view old work in a new light and with a new metric. These gaps conform entirely with demographics often sited as the target when speaking of new audiences - young people, people of colour, non-binary people, women. Our work should reflect the audience we wish to have, as well as society in general.

This for me represents a necessary challenge which is impossible to ignore - finding ways to incorporate and mainstream the voices of these demographics, exploring how these contextualise the canon, and discovering how art music in the 21st century functions when we represent a 21st century audience, the audience we claim to want. Again, these opportunities are not exclusionary of the work that predominantly appears in surveys such as bachtrack’s, but rather a necessity in order to evolve the orchestral organisation into a vital cultural & societal pillar. In fact something I think to be of crucial consideration is how to fuse elements, voices, and styles without undermining or cheapening any individual work, without speaking down to any part of an audience (new or old) and definitely without implying any kind of hierarchy of worth or objective quality. Of course, nothing substitutes the live experience. However we shouldn’t ignore the fact that we live in a time, the first time, where huge numbers of people have access to just about every recording of every work by every orchestra and featured artist that’s lived since the dawn of recording technology. Staggering recordings of great work, in times when rehearsal time wasn’t at the same premium it is today, when musicians were better paid. Both video and audio. We shouldn’t ignore the fact that by continuing to exclusively perform this work, we’re banging the same drum. But what if we were to instead leave that drum to bang itself, and focus on a new ensemble of sounds and colours which, together with this continuous beat, combined to create something wonderful?

Ours is a history of constant evolution. In fact, most of the traditions and “ways it’s always been” which presently define programming, performance environments, dress, & orchestral repertoire aren’t much more than 100 years old. There’s no reason not to move these centenarian goalposts, and to potentially paint them an entirely different colour while doing so. In fact it will be harmful to our art forms, our critical thinking, and creativity, if we do not.

I spend considerable time thinking about this issue, and discussing it with anyone who will listen. One result of this thought and dialogue is the Nineteenth Circle. The Nineteenth Circle is a new organisation specialising in the performance of 19th Century work. At the centre is an orchestra, whose role is as a conduit for collaboration with a large and increasing pool of spoken word performers, non-classical singers & occasionally actors, directors & dancers. We treat collaboration as an opportunity to present programmes exclusively from the period, and mostly from small windows within. In each programme, the purest form of any work is performed by a specialist or group of specialists. There is no desire to “dress up” any content, rather to assume that a programme of work from within a narrow window will be interesting, relevant and, if well programmed, take an audience member on both an emotional & intellectual journey.

I’ve chosen to limit the organisation to a single century of work for historical reasons. The orchestral organisation that plays everything, all the time, and therefore expects its members to leap with great adroitness from vastly contrasting styles at the drop of a hat is an historical anomaly. Perhaps we’re spreading ourselves too thin, and that by ensuring all members and all guest artists are specifically invested in a style (or select few styles) we may stand a better chance of presenting a considered product. I also think this allows us to demonstrate the obvious benefit of programming within narrow windows of time, wherein all material comes from a specific zeitgeist of an era, and can be easily shown to be heavily influenced either by other items/artists on the programme, or by a single shared social event.

An example is our pilot programme, (Un)shackled. It explores readings of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony as a truly political statement through a programme of work drawn from voices of the time (from Romantic poets to proto-feminists to enslaved people) and comments on both the French & Haitian Revolutions (both occurring at nearly the same moment, both tied to French imperialism and colonialism). In collaboration with the Barbican Young Poets the spoken-work pieces will be performed by 5 exciting young poets, specialist musicians will bring the Beethoven to life, folk performers will present street songs and academics from around the world will inform the approach of each performer. The inclusion of certain still under-represented voices allows us to crucially seek their advice for how to engage in proper dialogue with their communities and perspectives that are otherwise sidelined. By bringing this breadth (yet specificity) of material, communities, specialists & artists together - think of the contemplative and forensic experience and discussions it could yield; consider the rich exchange between performers and academics through socio-political lenses and the resulting memorable experience for audience members.

Needless to say, I’m impassioned to test out this hypothesis in the hope that it will enrich all of us, and bring us closer to evaluating art, history, life, and the human experience together as the more rounded and representative collective. I’m hugely excited by the potential for discussion, growth and development that this could yield, and I hope you’ll join us online as our path continues.

““Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.””
— John Keats, letter to G.F. Matthew (Nov. 1815)1

The spirit of cross-disciplines - The Case for a New Generation of “HIP” Performance (BARS Conference 2019 - Abstract)

January 22, 2019
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When it comes to the performance of Romantic work there exists a notable distance between the communities of musical and literary studies. Conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt spoke of his attempts to “retain the feeling of the spoken word,”2 while Leonard Bernstein extolled the “spirit of cross-disciplines” in his celebrated lectures as Charles Eliot Norton Professor of Poetry at Harvard University.3 But mainstream attempts in music performance to connect these lines of influence and inspiration for the sake of entertainment and engagement (as well as expansion of the concert institution) have yet to be claimed among a younger generation of performers. As Artistic Director of Ensemble Eroica, in collaboration both with Claire Holden and her research team at Oxford University, as well as scholars and performers specialising in the poetry, literature and theatre of the period, I intend to demonstrate that the humanity to be found in the eccentricities and peculiarities inherent in HIP—the fantasy extracted from the historical fact, and the power of their unmodernised presence—will connect with audiences. Our first project, titled “(Un)Shackled”, will include performances of work by Beethoven, Shelley, Wordsworth, and the work of enslaved people of the Haitian Revolution. By highlighting the revolutionary strains across these different media (and expanding the theory that the Fifth Symphony stands as Beethoven’s only overtly political statement), we will aim to animate the social and political charge for white and non-white readers, writers, and audiences of Romantic works, whether in the years following the Napoleonic Wars or in today's charged climate. Using the language of the Romantic (and Classical) writers to inform the performance of that era’s music I intend to use the connections between language and music, bridging the gap between the performance fields of music, literature, and theatre, to stoke the fire of contemporary enthusiasm and for these paradigmatically classical works.

1 John Keats to G.F. Matthew, letter (Nov. 1815), in Letter of John Keats, Vol. I: p.100.
2 Nikolaus Harnoncourt, Baroque Music of Today: Music As Speech: 11.
3 Leonard Bernstein, quoted in Allan Keiler, "Bernstein's The Unanswered Question and the Problem of Musical Competence," The Musical Quarterly Vol. 64, No. 2 (Apr., 1978): pp.195-222.

“Expression is always concentrated in the dissonance - ”
— Charles Rosen

Dissonance

August 08, 2018
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We have a problem. By we, I mean performing musicians, particularly those of us who border on the evangelical in our belief regarding the importance of contemporary music. Our problem: we are obsessed with abstraction. With the removal of all external factors, with any narrative, with all tools for clarification. There’s surely some long-established rule of online etiquette similar to Godwin’s Law which dictates that the second Nietzsche is mentioned the writer loses all semblance of relatability, but here goes:


‘They muddy the water to make it seem deep’.


The elephant in the room, which, for the time being, I’m going to leave right there in the far corner, behind the pinball machine.

For some time I’ve been thinking about how a standard audience hears new music. How do they engage with something as perceivably foreign to their life experience as avant-garde musical language? Why should they endeavour to find a way to engage? And most strikingly, why do they traditionally struggle, when the genre is so richly colourful?

Historically speaking, we live in a period where audiences are less familiar with the evolution of musical styles. Of course I’m aware of geography as a defining element regarding this familiarity (or lack thereof), with audiences closer to the birthplace of our art at a significant advantage. A matter of weeks ago I attended a concert in Munich, with the extraordinary Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by my mentor Peter Eötvös. It was a programme of works exclusively by Helmut Lachenmann, including a 40-minute work for solo piano performed by Pierre-Laurent Aimard. Lachenmann’s music, while never far removed from great humour, is defined by its brutality. Yet the concert was sold out and both the composer (who was present to witness a premiere) and the performing musicians received several standing ovations from a relatively diverse audience which included children, adults attired from faux pas to vogue, and a wonderful blind man beside me who had clearly never been informed that growing up involves losing an unchecked child-like range of emotions on one’s face during exciting and enjoyable experiences. The key here, in part, was the audience’s familiarity with Lachenmann. He’s a prominent and constant voice in German culture, and from what I understand the Munich locals have developed a fondness and respect for him and his music. Comparably, in Paris after a performance of Pierre Boulez by Ensemble Intercontemporain I witnessed a similar thing: his relentless similitude was accepted and appreciated by a public who knew him, loved him and had witnessed his evolution first hand. The roots of our art-form grow from European origins, and thus European audiences represent a part of a constant relationship between artist and consumer. These audiences are familiar with the path of change, have protested, acquiesced, and embraced over and over again. In such communities the general and unquestioned belief is that this journey is of ultimate importance to their world. The pride of a local culture, of that culture’s presence on the world stage and the importance of supporting it, intermingled with the audience’s understood and accepted duty to “give it a go”, ensures that contemporary music thrives. Not all of us, however, have grown up under such conditions.

To return to my opening confession regarding abstraction, I must say that abstraction in music is a considerable reason why I do what I do and love it. I say this in a feeble attempt to halt jealous academics and purists. Music, to them, is purely abstract. To suggest that it means anything is, largely, a doomed argument. However, the way I see it, music is, intentionally or not, influenced by the world of the artist. Notice that I don’t claim it to be about the world around them, but rather a result of everything within their experience. It could not be produced in any other world or at any other period of time. Contemporary music is influenced by the world around us, the listener, and the contemporaneous nature of the work means that we share a space with both it and its creator. By listening to the music of our time and striving to understand what it has to say, we are searching for an understanding of our world through ideas and observations of the creatively gifted. We are attempting to piece together, philosophically, elements of life which pain us, bring us joy, or cause us to think and consider. Maybe we are simply seeking the relief of observing mundanity in a mode of communication apparently removed from such things. In order to benefit from this, I would suggest that background knowledge will only help. It can pertain to the specific work, or the general oeuvre of the artist. Anything that furnishes you with a knowledge of where the composer sees themselves, either in relation to the evolution of western music, the promulgation/development of their own national style or to pertinent issues. In January of this year I was fortunate enough to perform Threads, a new work by young American composer Aleksandr Brusentsev. The performance marked a moment of arrival for a long-term project, and the evidence is online. Put simply, the work represented a process of coming to terms with suicide and a general exploration of mental illness. A significant section of the work is dominated by a single violinist scratching with immense pressure, creating gratingly unbearable sound. Upon the completion of the performance an audience member divulged to me that, at this point in the work they had been on the verge of standing up and demanding it stop. What could possibly be a more perfect reaction to a simulation of unrelenting and insuppressible mental disorder?

It should always be a privilege to hear voices of significant creative talent speak. In an episode of the BBC panel show Q.I., British/Danish comedian Sandi Toksvig expressed a wish that poets, painters and writers were taken on space missions, so that we could explore vicariously through the eyes of the most lucid and observant. Space may not yet have been graced by such presence, but Earth has been and, for the time being, continues to be.

Finally to engage with the elephant, who has been waiting so patiently. Perhaps you should ignore “them”, the people patrolling the realm of contemporary art. Perhaps contemporary music shouldn’t be heard, it should be listened to. And listened to with a purpose, with a method. To quote Charles Rosen, the eminent musicologist - ‘To appreciate a new and difficult style…takes an act of will, a decision to experience it again’. Perhaps the mode with which all of us can experiment (particularly those who tell themselves that contemporary music, all of it, is simply not for them) is to remember that it is a voice engaging with our world, this one that we all share. It is the manifestation of someone, who loves something (music) you also love, analysing questions with which you engage and which you quite possibly haven’t yet found the answers to of your own volition. That the world contains beauty as defined differently from our own should not be surprising, the exploration in various modes around its value and beauty is a constant and vital discussion.

Join the conversation. We need you, and I promise it’s worth it.

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2017

December 12, 2017

It's been quite a year. Not only personally, but globally. Not only artistically, but socially. Whilst the political system tore itself apart and the darker sides of humanity exposed themselves (an unfortunate turn of phrase for 2017), I have been unavoidably distracted by many opportunities to purely learn and make music. My time with the SSO came to an end after over two years of life-changing connections and the next chapter began seamlessly. Throughout 2018/9 I will work as a student and assistant to Hungarian living-legend Péter Eötvös (Sydney-siders might remember his work performed by the SSO in November). I will also attend the Tanglewood Music Festival for the very first time, following in the steps of one of my heroes, Leonard Bernstein. My personal ambitions and interests in music evolved and transformed through time spent with the remarkable Richard Gill, and my own projects in London continue to reinvent themselves as we seek financial allies with whom to realise new ideas. The discovery of both Spira Mirabilis and MusicAeterna informed and inspired me by demonstrating and championing methods and philosophies I have long been considering. They demonstrated the benefits of prolonged and engaged rehearsal and revelled in the excitement of engaging with and educating audiences in new and challenging ways.


Over the past 28 months I spent roughly half my time in Sydney and half in London. No matter where I was, I woke up every day to a partner who demonstrates the very power that has been transforming the world, and my world: the power to do tangible good through creative thinking. Her charitable organisation, Play for Progress (please hyperlink http://www.playforprogress.com/), working with unaccompanied minor refugees in London through the medium of music, inspires me. My infrequent opportunities to engage directly with PfP has left me revitalised and determined to find ways not to treat the news of the world as a distraction, but rather an opportunity to use my talents and interests—and those of the amazing artists and thinkers around me—to change that news, to try to create some better headlines.

It’s important for me to say, for the sake of clarity, that both my partner and myself are performers first and foremost. Our ambitions, passions and loves centre on music and its performance and exploration. However we also share a belief in its potential to do more than entertain, more than exercise either the emotions or cognitive functions. We also believe that within everyone is the potential to do more, and to demand more from those in positions of privilege. We also expect more from those willing to learn: children and adults have an extraordinary capacity for learning—for curiosity, for creativity, for correction and reflection—, and without exception for wonder. Provided half a chance, young people especially will rise to a challenge that appears beyond them. And even if they don’t quite reach a point of understanding (whatever that means) they will learn from the effort, the tacks they employed and the journey they have taken.


In 2017 I was fortunate enough to work with Sinfonieorchester Basel on a long-running and ever-developing project that integrates young children from schools in economically-challenged suburbs of Basel into the performing arts. Many of these kids are also refugees or the offspring of those who were, who demonstrate on a daily basis the immense ever-remarkable and criminally underestimated ability of children to learn and absorb. Whilst struggling with a new culture, climate and surroundings, they are coming to grips with at least two new languages: German and music. More than 50 of these young children were sitting before me, flanked by professional players from the city’s leading symphonic ensemble. This stands as an exemplar of a sincere attempt by an organisation to do the right thing with the tools at their disposal. The professional players became mentors, and each showed enthusiasm for and belief in the initiative. Most importantly, the organisation and those responsible for guiding its interests demonstrated an indifference to current pedagogical thinking by creating a space in which learning and curiosity took the lead. Only in small pockets of the globe will such projects take place in a city’s premier performance space, be open to the general public, contain unabridged musical content (in this case, mostly Handel) in a resolute refusal to stoop even an inch and be presented by the children themselves in such a way as to use the students to educate the public.

We can all take a leaf from the book of these people: both the children and the people willing to work with them. We should, moving forward, challenge ourselves again to view art as a means for change. These moments challenge both ourselves and our society, time for reflecting on that which goes on around us. That our surroundings are increasingly uncomfortable cannot help but be clear in the art of today, and in the manner in which the art of yesterday is performed and interpreted.

By all means, in 2018 and beyond, continue to enjoy your favourite works as incidents of relaxation and escapism. But allow yourself to explore discomfort, and pursue answers to questions you wish didn’t need to be asked. After all, what could be more exciting?