And this is exactly what we did in 2022 with generous partners such as Barbara Van Dusen, James B. and Ann Nicholson, the Canton (OH) Symphony, ProMusica Detroit, and the Detroit Institute of Arts. Music For Interesting Times launched privately in May, publicly in October, and is finally streaming-on-demand since December. I also commissioned a powerful new film (PG-13) for the Chaconne For Interesting Times by Ann Arbor Film Festival curator Brandon Walley. All this music brought me to tears to create, to perform, and to often hear the concert playback. I am certain they will affect others just as deeply, if not now, then after I’m gone.

So the curious reader might wonder WHY I don’t plan on recording in the studio these new chamber works (only seven players), nor any of my previous compositions and hundreds of arrangements, so that the world might be inspired by flawless performances that generate income and perhaps a valuable Grammy nomination. The short answer is: for me it is not worth the great expense or effort, and is contrary to my accrued beliefs of what gives music its most valuable qualities (such as spontaneity).

I have always been somewhat introverted (private) and impossible to understand; a non-comformist, we would say today (see Enneagram Type-5). Ever since I was young, I noticed the constant ironies of social relationships and sought to avoid being trapped in social belief systems. That is one reason I fell so deeply in love with classical music (besides my mother’s daily piano and singing practice). The proscribed notes on the page were never a straightjacket; they were instead a magical coat I could wear for limitless self-expression, joy, self-confidence, and “blues.” Playing in orchestras led by a demanding conductor was not slavery; it was a chance to make many individual contributions for a large team and purpose. The ambiguity of wordless music was not an inability to really say something of value; it was the endless opportunities for music to say different things to different people with different contexts. Classical music, because it is largely wordless, avoids the natural limitations of spoken language; it is a release from the straightjacket of lyrics for those versed in the “language” of its music.

Naturally, I did at first pursue recording projects with CutTime Players and then CutTime Simfonica®. And today the only three studio recordings we have available are Highland Park, MI: City of Trees, Gitcha Groove On!, and Let The Children Play Part 1. We also released a concert CD, Live in Dearborn, now out of print. But being the out-of-the-box philosopher, I learned very early it would take a lot more time and money to record as well as I wanted, and then a lot more to package the final product (DiscMakers notwithstanding). Plus there would never be payback (thanks to the digital revolution undercutting the market since 1995) other than more live gigs (esp. if Grammy-nominated) and my own vanity. I realized that a commercial recording was very different from the satisfaction of coming close to a perfect live performance, not that any performance was ever perfect. I came to believe perfection is not MY goal in DOING classical music. But rather, that creating and phrasing music in different new ways is MY kind of growth as a good artist.

Friedrich Nietzsche (among others, such as Carl Jung) wrote extensively advising how to own oneself (to be “authentic”), including that it may come at great social cost. This has been my experience as well. To leave the future of humanity (and the universe, I imagine) a few new ways to express itself, I should balance fitting in (to accept the rules and conform to an orchestra and society), and then develop a unique non-conformity (bend the rules) to achieve deep satisfaction that might also benefit the world when done.

So, as far as raising and spending a hundred thousand dollars only to waste even more to campaign for a Grammy-nomination to get more live gigs that won’t guarantee financial recovery even IF I conformed fully, would seem to be an unnecessary challenge to true artistry rather than an arrival. I will gladly leave that to others. Perhaps I will meet them, or even pick them. But likely not. I am not investing in such outcomes, as they will choose themselves. I am deeply satisfied simply having performed the phrases I came up with, and can’t expect much more. I am indebted to those philanthropists who enabled my success, mixed as it was.

On the plus side, THANKS to the digital revolution, anyone with a smartphone can today freely enjoy or research 60% of our cheap, passionate, live recordings on SoundCloud and YouTube (also here and here)! So why haven’t we recorded? We already have; a few pieces many times. They form a solid foundation for future performances. Music is a form of love (agape). And “love isn’t love, until you give it away.”

The worldwide Covid-19 Pandemic has oppressed the long anticipated 250th year celebration of Ludwig van Beethoven, a German composer whose legacy is understood, or misunderstood, even by those who know nothing else about the classical music tradition. Pandemic or not, great concerts and lectures have taken place online and off, as well as major articles, including ones demanding, asking or negating whether we shouldn’t just cancel his music for “sucking all the oxygen out of the room.” I have refrained from adding to this noise simply because having performed all of his symphonies a hundred times each as a musician in numerous orchestras, I can honestly argue I’ve never played the same piece twice, which is the whole POINT of classical or any other written music: making them feel spontaneous.

I understand the resistance to this cult-ish behavior for Beethoven’s music. And perhaps at times, I’ve succumbed myself to BOTH the attraction and the frustration. As a composer working for more performances of my own orchestral output, I compete with Mozart, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky too. I would perhaps have more opportunities via a moratorium on all the giants’ works. But the symphonic soundworld would be destitute for it, and I’ll tell you why.

While there is a more-or-less linear progression from the beginning of the symphony (originally meaning all instruments play together) from its own stable musical genre (roughly Haydn) to its abdication in the 20th-Century (roughly Schoenberg), Beethoven started by setting a critical new standard for what a symphony could do (inventive power), and ended by unlocking its spiritual powers (Ode to Joy). This gob-smacked every listener, musician, and composer who followed. We can’t enjoy or distinguish later works without comparing them to the great master. We use this word master not as some oppressive enslaver, but as a top-level teacher, at whose feet we might learn so much. And this is perhaps the principal reason orchestras return to them. He refashioned the sonata form into a spiritual belief system; a church in many ways.

As eager student-musicians we relish the chance to climb these mountains of his tricky running 16th-note passages (aka licks) and thematically-related rhythms, because everything less becomes far easier by comparison. We acquire greater endurance to maintain our strength and concentration thru the grand finale of these 30 to 75-minute long dramas with surprises in nearly every bar. We learn the European aesthetics of balance, grace, power, surprise, and self-control; not to become pseudo-European ourselves, but because by mastering them we would assume ownership (and stewardship) of these powers for ourselves! We could wield Beethoven’s musical sword ourselves. Who would refuse such a superpower if they had the talent and understanding to take it?

Growing up in a family of musicians going back some generations, I took it and ran. Eventually I began to fly further with these powers as an arranger, director, and composer. And I’m black! I wasn’t primed to go very far, if at all. So let me offer some philosophical advice and a vision to address the issue of neglected composers, both living and dead ones. One thing classical music has taught me over 40 years is to lean into the ambiguity, contradictions, irony, mixed feelings, indecision, conflict, hypocrisy, and the human condition. The world is not either-or; it is both-and. We are not so much right or wrong, black or white, rich or poor, strong or weak: we are both right AND wrong, both black AND white, etc. These contradictions will and must co-exist (work together) with each other in our paradoxical universe.

In fact, these contradictions work to define each other as relative or comparison. They complement each other, esp. when they mix and alternate in artistic ways, such as the 1st theme and contrasting 2nd theme of a sonata-form work like a traditional symphony, concerto, string quartet, and solo sonata. Each of these is a mighty vehicle for self-expression, once we ourselves master both the listening to, or the performance of the top historical works, chiefly through sheer repetition of different composers.

Neeme Jarvi conducting Detroit Symphony Orchestra thru Beethoven’s 5th Symphony performance was a world different from DSO led by the current music director Jader Bignamini. Some differences will be too subtle for audience to pick up, but rest assured the major differences will likely hit us over the head in pleasant surprise. And sometimes we will even experience epiphany! Both of these world-stage conductors will RISK CRITICISM to try something slightly different if it might reward everyone watching. Knowing when and how to maintain the status quo and when to risk big, is one of life’s greatest gifts. Hint: the latter is very rare.

So Beethoven, Mozart, Richard Strauss, and ole man Bach himself will remain the inspirational foundation of this genre. And today’s composers must continue to compete with the world standards set by them. The classical aesthetic is the Olympics of the art world, is not limited to music, and is not limited to living white males. A few of our living composers, and just a few mind you, will actually rise to the occasion, and may be canonized years after their deaths as foundational composers to follow, such as Florence Price. They will become the latest masters. This, I believe, is one reason why we actually prefer our favorite composers long gone: they stand on a whole legacy. To dismiss Beethoven is to dismiss the whole of classical music.

Always look for the bigger picture and find/create your own opportunities: that’s my advice.

Now here is my vision. Since I believe we have an embarrassment of riches (first world problems as we say today) of more composers, musicians, conductors, and curious music lovers than our pre-pandemic America currently supports– PLUS we have a demand for BOTH concerts strictly of living composers AND concerts strictly of golden chestnuts (in addition to standard concerts that mix both)– I can see a time when everyone gets pretty close to what they want. The NEA and major arts foundations already support new orchestras for each audience; and yet, not every city has such new orchestras to support. Online streaming (YouTube) is your best bet.

This tri-furcation will reflect an ever-expanding, and an ever-diverse America (pandemics aside), creating much-needed jobs for many thousands of composers, conductors, musicians, administrators, venues, and supporting artists, both commercial and fine arts. This I know to be true, because I created one myself. That’s my BOTH-AND.

HAPPY 2021!

I grew up middle-class, never wanting for access to food, jobs, a warm house, a supportive family, a caring father, and educational opportunities like perhaps as much as half of America did. And I’m black; which means I really beat the odds. I knew early on, likely because my whole family was educators, artists, and doctors, that this access shouldn’t be taken for granted. So I took advantage of these opportunities to “play the game,” “listen to elders,” and “climb the ladder” to do what I truly wanted to do, which was to play symphonic music in one of the world’s top orchestras. Once I achieved that I wanted to go further, to create more music for my awkward instrument that might also bring new audiences into the wonderful universe of classical music. Few Americans can claim to have done this.

Yes, I earned good money and benefits just being a member of a major orchestra. Yes, we received praise just for joining and staying with that orchestra. But more importantly I’m very spoiled because classical music makes me feel rich beyond belief. Any time of day or night, I can recall a stirring melody by Mozart, Schubert, or Brahms that transports me to safe, imaginative spaces; a place in my head to feel alive; music that reminds me of powerful experiences I’ve had; or music from the past that adds profound weight (meaning) to the present. Few Americans pick up these powerful tools, even when they are physically available.

Even richer, I can recall my unique role, purpose, and personal differences I’ve made playing in orchestras, ensembles, solo recitals, and concertos. I made sure each musical phrase had shape and purpose, and led dramatically to the next. I made sure my sound stayed invisible when it wasn’t needed; to exaggerate the contrast of texture set up by the composer. These memories validated my capacity to be a team player, section leader, or music director as necessary. Many good musicians can claim to have done this.

Being a major orchestra musician for 22 years certainly spoiled me too. Our audiences placed us on a pedestal; we were paid well; we toured, recorded and were constantly called exceptional or special. So much so that I began to question it. For any special status seemed to further alienate Americans from trying classical in the first place; as if new listeners had to be specifically educated, special or discerning themselves.

What good is the public domain music if it becomes less and less common? What good are we elite musicians if we can’t relate (make relevant) this music to the regular folk who could never discern (decide which is better) one performance over another? Few seem to ask these questions.

And so ultimately, I spoiled myself because I learned how to transcribe my favorite music (and not just classical) to start two ensembles. Since 1994 I have had a ball leading and experimenting with them! I spoiled myself much further when I started to compose my own music blending many styles of music (Pork ‘n Beans anyone?). I express my many moods, ideas, and special occasions, and I let audience join in on toy percussion sometimes. Everyone feels validated and spoiled here as I can share this golden treasure in new ways and venues. Some of these compositions have spoiled me further with awards, large donations to compose and experiment more, and cool artistic projects. I get to eat, drink beer, ride my bike, and earn a comfortable living. Few composers can say that. So I am grateful.

Yet perhaps the biggest reward is simply finding and creating opportunities to share all these in very meaningful ways, with people who would never attend classical music concerts. As far as I’m concerned EVERYONE deserves to feel spoiled by the dramatic adventures of classical music. Paradoxically, by trying to be a more common musician, I have become more exceptional in the industry.

So, because I pretty much get whatever I want, and esp. since I sacrificed much to get it, I want to spoil America with a growing body of paid musicians who also feel driven to share symphonic music so that it works outside of traditional concerts and art spaces. We can all feel rich together! It’s neither easy nor hard: it’s attitude, talent, and common sense.

I also want to codify the working theories and methods of “new classical.” But given that I’m in my mid-fifties, my train is slowing down even as it emerges from the tunnel. CutTime® is ready for a new conductor, more cars, and engines, plus the fuel to barrel through.

For the sake of both classical music and bringing the country together around it, spoil me, would you?

(Revised Sept. 2022)

OK, so I’ve written before about classical music checking in with reality and just giving the general public some of what they want, in order to rebuild trust in our institutions and their missions. By meeting people halfway we might start to discover each other, hopefully until they become part of us (first), and then vice versa. Cum bai ya is not a bad song; because generosity is the building block of peace. Share music, food, dance, and laughter, and strangers usually become friends. However, a business model cannot grow by giving away its products; unless it is a charitable org., which is why CutTime® is leading this idea.

This idea is the genuine opening up, or feeding of classical music to the rest of the world. It is the fulfillment of the promise of the public domain. This is not unlike what theater, ballet, and even museums have been working at for longer than American classical music presenters and major orchestras. How do we make the fine arts real for people who avoid the fine arts? Most musicians double down on the special, exceptional, and authentically European traditional experiences for the people who can afford to keep it funded. And frankly, I wouldn’t change the established tradition much. It maximizes the potential impact of the music to be heard deeply by the most people. Instead, I’d create whole new menus (series) featuring spicy sauces, and so-called purple cows, and take them where classical purists wouldn’t come anyway.

It should be obvious by now that it’s not enough anymore just to make new public come to us; we have to offer new ways that show how anyone anywhere might access humanity’s legacy to itself; to build new associations that unlock this golden treasure. Casual classical for the wider public has been noticeably absent from traditional presenters who might do it best. The adoption of smoking laws during 2000s made possible the Classical Revolution movement that briefly established itself worldwide in response to this vacuum. Yet CR favors an organic, slow-growth policy: it is not a bold solution to scale up.

The traditional institutions still resist any glasnost (opening); often led by musicians who don’t want to see hard-won talent and money “wasted“ on a casual audience who might be talking, drinking, laughing, blabbing, eating, or generally trying to ignore the un-namable discomfort of trying to party with friends around classical music. It seems surreal. I’ve seen people have all kinds of reactions to a first experience with LIVE classical music in a bar: it’s just that foreign. (Perhaps moreso with me leading and hosting.)

In my experience, people will fall into three categories. Around one third will love whatever you do, while an opposite third will hate whatever you do (and usually leave or talk louder). The third in the middle, however, will depend on what we say, play, or do to entertain and engage: and that’s who we should work hardest for. What do we lose for trying to confront and comfort people with the fact of classical music? No one has ever gotten rough, and we’ve learned how to quickly calm hecklers. Adversity became our friend. And party noise became part of the setting we power thru with sound reinforcement. Because we believe everyone everywhere deserves our most lively and dramatic music, we would let deter or stop our spirit, no matter what. Can’t hear the music? We just laugh and carry on! Playing in noise is a sacrificial act of love that proves we really want to share this. It is agape or radical empathy.

This model might be enough for enterprising ensembles to live on at the start of this new cultural age. As long as people find participatory paths into instrumental music, they will grow to enjoy some regular new classical, and maybe some traditional concerts near them too. We might saturate our city while there is this soft vacuum of curiosity for practical information of how anyone practically uses classical arts. I’ve learned some techniques to draw out and test methods cheaply; eggshakers being only one impressive opportunity to include audience members from their seats in the actual music-making. Idea-generation means breaking some sacred eggs temporarily.

Dumbing classical music down? Looking at one side of this coin, yes; that is what it amounts to. Except for the shockingly dramatic irony (paradox) that for many newcomers, these are exactly what might bring them into classical music. As opposed to classical product (refined concerts), these are classical process (experiential, understanding).

The most successful classical institutions will naturally be the loudest, saying that we should only ever keep preserving the artistic integrity (and highest sourcing) centered around the classical art, the artists, and their most authentic forms (pure). But it ignores the fact that art centered around the audience can become another, equally valuable extension of the art form. Afterall, commercial (popular) and folk music have always served this purpose, no? Yes. There exists now a huge spectrum of music, from the raw to the refined, serving a gamut of purposes, from private to social. And with the granular process of all culture fragmenting before our eyes, it’s indeed surprising to notice this empty space for experiences serving up symphony with enthusiasm, humor, and minimal participation.

So, CutTime® has evolved to feed into that void with exciting musicians playing and hosting heart-on-sleeve in cities across the nation. CutTime ensembles will tour, with and without its founder (me), spreading the ideas for introducing and popularizing symphonic music. There might even be a touring CutTime orchestra that reinvents how full scale concerts can draw future audiences. Laughs, mixing movements like Beethoven did, demonstrations and excerpts, audience games, onstage seating, videos, dancers, poets, spot interviews… Doesn’t sound like a symphony concert at all, does it? That’s the whole point.

The dumbing down is also the smartening up of classical and esp. symphonic music. New York Times Music Critic Edward Rothstein in 1993 was correct to say that the American Symphony Orchestra League report “Americanizing the American Orchestra is content with a musical culture determined by demography.” He was off in his final conclusion that “In bringing the racial politics of the streets into the concert halls, it may very well Americanize the orchestra into extinction”, when he could have written “into evolving.”

Can you imagine what would happen if say an additional 10% of this country carried around a classical earworm in their heads? They’d want a regular dosage of this music just as they do songs. But we don’t give them the choices, do we? We need musicians to serve everyone, to provide everywhere possible unforgettable musical memories that matter, ones that bring both laughter and tears. We should build toward an equal mass of casual classical events just like jazz, rock, and other. It’s competitive, but there are no reasons why various musical choices can’t work in rotation in public and private venues, inc. homes.

Once classical has fully engaged that ecosystem, the meaning of classical music might shake off tired old stigmas. The musicians simply need to pitch the music joyfully, interactively, and humanely, as if to family and friends. Learning a handful of music secrets (like counting, phrasing, and silent beats) can unlock this potential.

Thanks for reading and sharing. It’s time we cut classical music loose!

• Rick Robinson (Mr. CutTime) (Revised Sept. 2022)

What I’m sayin’ is that while the classical arts pride themselves on being the highest arbiters of “Arts and Culture,” paradoxically it has also lost the culture wars to song forms between the 1960s and 70s. And yet it’s not too late to change the conversations in wider America around classical music with light to moderate exposures of instrumental music (sonatas) in places right where people enjoy discovering other music, and in ways that people are accustomed to engage with and learn about music.

What I’m sayin’ is that there should have always been more than one way to enjoy classical music; more than quiet concert halls worshiping every note as the composer initially set it. If classical music is truly alive, it will breathe and be adapted to meet the needs of a wider public. Otherwise the public domain is wasted.

What I’m sayin’ is that everyone deserves to discover and know something of the great classical masterpieces, even if the walls of the concert hall, the European authority, and formal manners tend to get in the way. When we insist that concerts must remain special, exceptional, and sacred, then we are denying attempts to ever create common experiences with them. Would dressing it down, or popularizing it be sacrilegious and devalue the art itself? I chose to believe a common approach is much the opposite: some (not most) of the standard repertoire wants and deserves to be loved by the wider, deserving humanity, and doesn’t care if we lower it momentarily to lift up the spirit of the masses. We will always preserve its original form.

It’s not that I’ve lost “faith” in the traditional concerts: I enjoy playing and listening to them, esp. since I play fewer now. But I recognize that this same tradition also leaves most Americans unable to try what could be accessible if we but establish what they feel is critical rapport.
I certainly don’t recommend ending the traditional practice. I’m only suggesting that orchestras support the development of alternative practices that can begin to let broader communities make peace with what has been a demanding, mysterious, yes exclusive, and even “academic” practice.

The traditional orchestra practice has been one that challenges its musicians, administrators, and audience to push beyond our limits. It’s clear to me that the flip side of this coin is a practice that removes much of the challenge and other barriers, to welcome, tease, inform, include, and thus inspire; a practice that lets the wider world access its own human legacy, the public domain. To the industry it may seem too much to ask, because the economy is bouncing back for now and ticket sales are rebounding for perhaps half of our organizations. But the longer trend of other music lovers ignoring, misunderstanding, or rejecting the classical arts will likely continue to fester.

Want to see a progressive future for symphonic music? CutTime® proposes some ion propulsion for the industry; starting lightly and building momentum over a long period.

(Revised Sept. 2022)

Some time ago I wrote about how I started composing unexpectedly, and using tonal, neo-classical modes (just notes). I didn’t go into how I feel about normal new music, avante garde music, experimental music, contemporary classical, or whatever you might want to call it. We each have our own thoughts about these descriptors. Working over 30 years as a professional symphony and chamber musician, I’ve played at least three hundred works by living composers. While very few did I want to play more than once, it’s important to keep in mind that there are a billion ways to create music.

One of the many challenges as a working performer is the imperative to promote new works, even if we didn’t choose the pieces ourselves. Our job, in fact, is to represent each work in front of us as though we love it. The first part of the challenge for the orchestra is showing full mastery of what’s requested on the page: playing the page, sometimes with awkward runs of notes (aka licks) or new-ish techniques. Patterns and dialects emerge with each pass. Some pleasantly; others, not so much.

It used to be that new music meant experimental ways of organize the same 11 different notes. Whether diatonic or slightly more dissonant, the “experiment” was to dramatize or entertain dramatically by relative harmonic and psychological variances of notes, rhythms, and orchestration. Radical experiments in harmonic function exploded with the turn of the 20th-Century. Composers tried harmonic devices or policies such as serialism, atonality, clusters, pointilism, and quarter-tones. Stravinsky favored primal rhythms yet light dissonances; Bartok used folk dissonances and rhythms; Schoenberg, a completely artificial serial harmonies and melody with common counterpoint; Berg, emotional colors of slowly shifting tonal clusters; Boulez, atonality with usually sparse pointillism; Stockhausen, orgasmic morphing devoid of any historic references.

Today, more often than not, new music favors non-traditional instruments, sounds, or playing techniques in an orgy of seemingly random dissonant notes, where strong rhythms often take precedence over strong melody or harmony. Other composers may choose to use motorific or Minimalist repetition with slow changing harmonies, or a simple groove that builds to a single dramatic climax before abruptly ending.

It seems that many living composers still avoid conventional melody, development, modulation or previously proven structures, as if these were easy, nostalgic, pandering, or uncritical. The results are often less than satisfactory. Gone is the sensual flow of harmonic tensions rising and releasing in a series of waves before a contrasting episode begins rising into trouble or ecstasy again. Have we trashed the techniques to spin an interesting melody into intense drama? Why would that be less challenging for the composer than trying to challenge her audience with static or atonal organizations? What happened to finding just the right notes to compel empathy, dilemma, ambiguity, virtuosity, or catharsis? Were Martinu, Nielsen, and Shostakovich among the last melodic composers? Was the baby in the bathwater?

The academic approach imposed by composition instructors leads many of us to love the non-academic Schubert and Brahms all the more, which may be why most concert programs have mixed programs. Side-by-side comparisons are very instructive. Even though I never lived in Schubert’s time or place; even though that music may not challenge me to be open-minded, or to redefine music itself, I do much prefer the relative simplicity, accessibility, and beauty of their music dialect over modern music. The conventional Common Practice Period, as it’s sometimes called, provides more to play with and listen for. And we have become very good friends.

Tonal music not only comforts me because I know them well enough to sing along with or without the radio, but when listening deeper, I sometimes discover new details, hidden patterns, or correlations with other composers. As a performer I learned to shape phrases dramatically (exaggerate), much like an actor. As audience, I pick up on unusual phrasing, balance, and timing. The potential reward remains to experience renewal, validation, or epiphany. The best works build on what came before. The keys to hearing them are experience (repetition), focus, and patience.

Between the three of us (composer, performer and audience), I am immersed in each encounter, to fall in love again and again with the human imagination, the Earth we are destroying, and the cosmos we can only watch. This never gets old. So I wonder why so few composers today tackle the challenge of creating works in the styles that worked so damn well before, but perhaps with modern subjects and twists. Must music really be so constantly reinvented? Are we not free to buck the trend of avoiding tradition? Must art music be so confusing or non-apparent? Are we writing for good professional reviews or to touch the lives of friends and strangers? 

If I said I’m going to invent a new food dish, would I start with something that’s never been eaten before? Or would I take a standard dish and modify it by preparing, cooking, or spicing it slightly differently? My own compositions apply familiar techniques to conventional melody. Some of it sounds more my own than others; but they are generally clear, emotional, and often beautiful. In half of my works I blend in urban pop, jazz and folk elements so they are fun and easy to digest; rather akin to mixing faves like spaghetti, diced BBQ chicken and broccoli. (Gee, that sounds good!)

For this, I might be called a populist composer, and that is exactly what I choose to do; my composing policy. I want to prove to the wider world that not all classical music is confusing, opaque, or academic. My music must be obvious in its joy, melt or build into tears and struggle, and then rebound. This is how human emotions flow from one to another (a classical ideal). This is how we have come to communicate complex emotions. Tonality lets us shape meaningful phrases sure as a great screenplay in English rather than in “Alien.”

Composing lets me weave together a variety of musical styles that might draw listeners into modified sonata structures. It’s amazing what variations can be made with only eleven standard note pitches and eleven standard note durations available. Music builds on what came before and innovation is usually incremental. CutTime is the tool I fashioned by first transcribing the tools that came before. Imitation is the basis for counterpoint and dance in music, connecting present with past. Sample some on my SoundCloud feed. Classical music can be fun and sexy, as well as violent and troubled. There are a thousand ways to spice it up, when we give ourselves permission.

Yes, after a lifetime playing many hundreds of them, I prefer the expressive potential offered by the same 100 traditional composers. They gave us great drama, excitement, beauty, and opportunities to shape music dramatically so we can make them our own. We may wear their genius like a magical hat or a technicolor coat, whether performing or just listening. We can look at human nature in ways that make us love our lives and the world, as paradoxical as it often is. We can trip out, and visualize singing, dancing, or flying along on a magic carpet ride to this music. So when my Big Dream in 1999 happened, from which the Essay No. 1 emerged to make me start composing, what came to mind was music built with this engine. It suddenly became quite natural for me to express some dramas, feelings, griefs, joys, resolve, and even my ethnic heritage in this way.

While I don’t have a chance of composing on the level of a Brahms, a Mahler, or an opera, the simple works that I am able to create (employing long melodies, busy counterpoint, contrary motion, modified sonata forms, surprise modulations, easy development and satisfying climaxes, and conclusions) let me to challenge the status quo with this statement:
New music can feature beauty and convention without being nostalgic.

For me the chief characteristic of great music is memorability. Will my music be something that will haunt you, such as in line at the grocery store? Next is growth. Did this music build authentically to a series of transformational climaxes? And like trying out a new food, did you want to try it again? Esp. as I get older, I care less about spending time on music that lacks compelling direction, peaks and valleys, or obvious dramatic potential. I have learned the value of mediocrity: truly great work stands out because of it.

Tonality tends to offer more surprises per minute: the harmonic changes that act like a kickdrum, the harmonic turns of a phrase that suddenly extend the phrase, the subtle harmonic differences on each restatement, the fireworks of scales and arpeggios with new twists and turns, and the animation of melodic skips and rhythms. These never fail to impress if well-writ. And how about the dramatic urgency and furious counterpoint of a great fugue? Are these really too worn out to express modern life? Must music be continuous statements of ugliness, horror, or nihilism? Was there not also ugliness, horror, and nihilism before?

We still appreciate beauty in the world. The suspensions, the appogiatura, a French sixth chord are not anathema to modern living, esp. when we look from the mountain we are climbing or into our lover’s eyes. And classical, esp. symphonic music, seem to express things unspeakable about the larger questions of life. Gustav Mahler told Jean Sibelius, “Music must embrace the world.”  What are we trying to express if not the constant emergence of mixed feelings? Great music offers a balance of inevitability and surprise, classical or not. I don’t learn anything from ALL surprise, from ALL unpredictable notes. But when the music starts to slowly build, twist, and reach into a tremendous climax I never thought possible, we internalize an experience of progress we hope to realize in our own lives.

That progress tends to come when we experience an alternation of surprise and inevitability. Thematic returns comfort us with familiarity while making us anticipate them. It is a second chance to do better. When correct, we experience validation. And when mistaken, we feel tension rise or erupt. The disruption in confidence should be strong, but need not be extreme or disproportional. Limiting the carnage is part of the charm. Compositions with an overabundance of surprise don’t take me anywhere: the emperor gets no clothes from empty gestures, avoiding historical precedent, or theoretical muck-raking. And rhythmic dominance is no substitute for setting up harmonic drive and discourse. Sonata form is neither broken nor a straight-jacket, but effective, adaptable, and infinite.

And really, why can’t we try to please the audience (pander, entertain)? At a rock concert the singers aren’t challenging us to dig deep for meaning; they make it obvious and fun. New music can preserve a balance between pleasantness and mild challenge. If what is memorable in new music is only weird new sounds leading nowhere, or an orgy of rhythm in a short, hip groove, I ask where is the craft, the drama, the clever invention painting a compelling narrative or portrait? Instrumental music is compelling when there is shape, direction, and purpose so that most can feel it welling up inside. That welling up we used to call tension and release is most visceral, and seems largely forgotten.

I accept that many people can’t stand “the standard repertoire.” They may see it as tired and worn, or too successful to compete with. But I don’t think it’s a problem of the music, rather the presentation and performance. Classical is only truly alive when performers exaggerate. The more drippingly emotive the better. If we musicians don’t shape phrases or play with palpable risk, an otherwise note-perfect performance sounds comparatively boring. There’s already enough mediocre music circulating. We must hit our audiences over the head with the difference of music. We should take ownership and flaunt what we can do with this music, including rewriting or condensing works for popular markets. That’s what artistic license and public domain mean. Music is automatically refreshed and modernized this way. Veteran listeners have never heard it this way. The musicians have never played it this way. And the newcomers may never hear it otherwise.

I believe that a historical pendulum eventually swings in the other direction, but half the time quite unpredictably. So the full use of simple 1-4-5 harmonies, which continues as the basis for much popular song, may return to classical. The 20th-Century composers, movies, and TV scores have proved that really any sounds can be employed as music, including random notes. Now can we get back to the relative music of Schumann or Bartok (related, shaped, dynamic, long), while we keep exploring absolute music of pop (extreme, static, short)?

We clearly enjoy many styles of music and discovering what we most prefer. But the warhorse objection to classical is unavailable to those who have never heard standard repertoire performed even once. Often it’s just about our mood going in: finding what we were expecting (confirmation bias).

Add a little wine or beer, a personal tragedy or triumph, connecting with the lead artists, or a good or bad day at work, and we are cocked for a very emotional or spiritual experience. Our minds leap at any reflections of our own stories, feelings, and thoughts. The combination of conductor and orchestra are the sauce and noodles of the Pad Thai. So I recommend newcomers sit in the very last row, where they can relax the most and get a bit carried away without disturbing anyone. This is where my sister sits, and plays along on her air-violin.

Tell me how or why YOU want to interact with classical music?

(Revised Sept. 2022)

In September 2015 I was delighted to serve a short composer residency for New Music USA’s Music Alive: New Partnership program with the River Oaks Chamber Orchestra (ROCO) of Houston, TX. I was especially happy to work with this newer orchestra, because it holds goals similar to my personal mission with CutTime®, to broaden the audiences for classical music. I was even happier they chose to start by trying out my club format of chamber arrangements, compositions, and info-tainment in a posh restaurant, a senior center, and a famous downtown dive.

I was immediately impressed in first rehearsal by the high-level musicianship and versatility of their musicians. We were immediately kindred musical spirits, and had the best of time showing that classical music didn’t always mean stuffy, slow, academic, or boring. We favored words like fun, familiar, and American, borrowing from blues, rock, Latin, and even hip-hop traditions as my music often does.

We used my string quartet configuration, supplemented by drummer and solo oboist to play real symphonic movements; such as parts of Mozart #25 & 40, Beethoven #5 & 6 and Still #1 to Ellington’s MLK, Tchaikovsky’s Serenade Waltz, Joplin’s Entertainer Rag to my own works Pork ‘n Beans, City of Trees, Gigue Rondo, and Mighty Love Serenade. Nearly half of these occasionally added some pop beat to form a bridge to new listeners. Some audience participated on eggshakers led by the very charming drummer, Matt McClung.

As I came to experience Houston and Texas via the director (Alecia Lawyer), a host family, a musician, and her husband, and an old friend from high school, I realized how horrible the street pavement was, how great the food and beer were, and how vital the city is. River Oaks, as a community, was rather exceptional: zoned primarily residential, well-to-do, and non-diverse. While South Texas has a lot of oil money, rich universities, and the best medical facilities in the world, many of their senior staff seem to live here. This begins to explain how ROCO was able to develop such a high quality orchestra series in 10 years and why attracting a truly broad audience to their hall will remain a major challenge.

Two weeks later, I returned to Houston– following sojourns to Dallas, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Austin, and Beaumont—for rehearsals to premiere my new orchestration of Gitcha Groove On!: a programmatic tale of six orchestra musicians going out on the town looking for cathartic dance grooves. Andres Cardenes was conducting. Being symphony orchestra veterans, we hit it off right from our meeting in Detroit 3 months earlier. Luckily for me, ROCO could not book either of their contract principal bassist and so invited me to play. While one might think it challenging to both play and listen as the composer for issues, I’ve been doing exactly this since 1994 in my own CutTime ensembles. We fixed some wrong notes, balances, and tricky tempo and stylistic conversions to enjoy two really powerful performances in the church-venue and the outdoor theater.

While I had hoped to meet and talk at length to students in public schools and at Rice University (the timing was bad in September), and perhaps a few churches, overall I believe our collaboration went well. There wasn’t really enough funding for more chamber performances than we did. For my part, I needed to proof the score better, and perhaps more importantly, reach out to local schools and churches on my own to interest more in our concerts. I ever want to share the good news that EVERYONE deserves classical music. Here’s more in an interview with Houston Chronicle.

The free outdoor concert at Miller Theater brought a fairly diverse audience and begged burning questions. I noticed about a dozen young African-Americans, people we most wanted to see at our concert, LEAVING after Gitcha Groove On!, during the amazing but long, and highly irregular Poulenc Sinfonietta. They missed out on the Moncayo Huapango, which they might’ve enjoyed better. What does it mean if we can craft a program that is delightfully challenging for one audience but intolerable for another? Is it on them for missing desert because they couldn’t stand the broccoli?  Does it mean that we give up on the latter? We could only prepare one orchestra program. Was there an acceptable artistic element we could have added to act as a bridge? (dancer(s), spoken word, video projections?) Was it simply too easy to leave an ampitheater? I can imagine several things to try.

With New Classical, almost anything is fair game to try. In traditional concerts, almost nothing is fair game to try without a committee. I hope I might work again in Houston, with River Oaks Chamber Orchestra and others, to plant more seeds for a classical revolution of art music that says “HELL YEAH” to the masses, brings us all together, and compels a few newbies to start enjoying traditional concerts.

Addendum: The double entendre of the title is not overlooked here, but rather saved for another blogpost. Am I willing to volunteer, or play classical as background in restaurants, or for low wages to experiment with what will bring new listeners into classical? HELL YEAH! Somebody’s gotta do it, and it’s fun!

(Revised Sept. 2022)

The purposes of playing “the same works over and over” I believe are some of the following:

1) The standard repertoire is so inspirational, (fun, powerful, technical, musical), that I could never get tired of playing them. I can put myself into them; make them my own. A great composition gives the musicians more to play with and the proof of its greatness is whether it still stands up in its one-millionth performance.

2) It is a valuable legacy of humanity to itself, based in part on democratic principles, and is the most dramatic among the world’s different music. Everyone can and deserves to experience something of their own humanity represented in sound.

3) These works actually CHANGE from one performance to another, although perhaps too subtle for new audience to notice. That’s why repetition (esp. time listening) is so rewarding. Different recordings, conductors, moods, players, halls then make the same music FEEL very different. 

4) Both audience and players relish more chances to discover new cross-relations within the cannon: quickly they become good friends.

5) Musicians COMPETE WITH other ensembles & musicians. When inspired, we want to out-play each other. The world-class standard is our Olympics, our dream, our mission.

6) This is what we trained for: this music DEFINES classical as a solid medium. The canon sets the high standard most composers compete with or struggle against. Such competition (in my book) makes about half of us better composers. What’s not to like? Oh yeah; if classical doesn’t necessarily reflect YOU or TODAY, try thinking of classical as FANTASY, like a movie, or even as a GAME, like America’s Got Talent.

7) We must show what came before, what happened since, and what’s happening now: there is no vacuum. One end of the timeline defines the other end.

Taking this further, I will now add

8) The problem, if any, is abundance. There’s simply too much music we might want to try. In picking our strategy to absorb all that we might, it may seem easier to write off the whole cannon. I WANT to remain open to all humanity has to offer… but I can’t imagine taking in as much as possible without getting depressed. Rachmaninoff said, “Music is enough for a lifetime; but a lifetime is not enough for music.”

9) Implicit in the names X Symphony Orchestra, X Opera and X String Quartet is the commitment to continue performing primarily symphonies, operas and string quartets; commitment to bringing what defines classical music to life with each concert. While this has come to mean PRESERVING the old medium, and a dull stagnation for arguably MOST Americans, it is nonetheless the stated mission of these institutions that we will not change much. Ensembles committed to new music are available in many major cities, and are the best prepared to satisfy any desire to chuck the old repertoire.

10) The psycho-mechanics of diatonic harmony are still valid in larger culture, thanks in part to guitars and songs. Atonality is great in its own way, but tonic-dominant structures and harmonic modulations create a dramatic alternation of building tension and release in a series of waves that climax near each ending. This makes a very sensuous blending of inevitability with surprises, even if we know those surprises are coming. We choose whether or not to suspend our disbelief in movies as well as in music. We who can’t get enough Bach choose to ride his dramatic waves, just as musicians choose to realize their own re-creations in performance.

11) The fact that someone like me can compose lyrical music in the “old styles”, blending in some “folk music of our own time” like urban pop, and make it build to a satisfying climax means the classical medium is simply another TOOL in our arsenal of self- expression and reflection. When we believe this tool is powerful, then it is truly universal and not anachronistic. It has always been about faith.

12) Speaking of faith, you’ll find me comparing classical music to spirituality and a church quite a bit in these pages. It’s a fitting way to make sense of the tradition and its impact. These long-dead composers seem to be our saints. Canonized long after death, it seems we prefer our best composers long gone anyway; perhaps because they aren’t around to be humans anymore.

13) Continuing with the church analogies; slow works tend to feel like hymns, prayer or meditations, while fast works feel like animations or a good workout, which is another kind of spirituality. This is why I believe it’s best to hit new audiences with the lively ones.

The Best Earworms Money Can Buy

As symphony musicians, symphonies become, for lack of a better word, LOVERS.  This is certainly because we’ve practiced, rehearsed, heard, watched, studied and performed them so many times. We trained to play these. And the more we studied our parts, the more we loved them, they began loving us back. Giving them up would feel like giving up SEX! Fortunately, we never have to. We know these well enough to sing thru large parts of whole works. You should see me conduct (and sing) my cat thru some Brahms 4 until he jumps of the couch to find some peace. That’s why, for me, the most valuable thing about classical repertoire is its memorability. New music has trouble meeting this standard.

In conclusion: It should not surprise us that the industry works to preserve its own foundations. I wouldn’t want to destroy art museums just for the sake of making room for new art. Instead, we built new museums for new art. The same can be built for new music: we can have BOTH and find our own balance.

A burning question new audiences pose for traditional classical musicians then becomes:
How can we infect new listeners with our deep affinity on their first time?

With CutTime events and music, we’ve uncovered several easy methods: SO easy, they will seem silly and unprofessional to most professionals. And yet only professionals can possibly do them.

Can you guess what some of them are? Here’s a clue.

I realized this focus on top performance quality also brought great limitations and even fatal self-contradictions in our declarations of being an integral part of our cities.  What opportunities we create for the whole community to actually access our model of excellence depend on having some knowledge of classical music and audience behavior. In my observations these prove to be a very weak opportunities for new listeners. We can and must do better. Are excellence and opportunity mutually exclusive, or are they values that define and complement each other (yin/yang-style)?

First of all, I’m an optimist and consciously engage in wishful thinking because I can and it energizes me. We can ALWAYS look forward to something. There’s enough pessimism, skepticism and jaded behavior in society today. Hope is a glorious evolutionary trick; a coping skill to keep us breathing after disaster strikes. Hope springs automatically so that, on average, we rebound. It even makes us feel deliriously happy at times.

Second, I latched onto this word opportunity during the DSO strike in Fall 2010… when I also learned about Classical Revolution. I kept looking for opportunities and these two words gave plenty. In the process of using these words (with permission), I discovered that showing up with other classical musicians was half the battle. When we put it right there in front of people, as long as we can bring it, people are surprised that we tried, and surprised by the particular brain massage of the classical sound world. I dare point out that many are also initially uncomfortable being forced to confront their past feelings and political positions toward classical. But the fact that a black guy (of all people!) is embracing, explaining and refreshing this music opens many to the possibility this music has something valuable to offer. The opportunity tends to provoke strong feelings in everyone, and everyone deserves beautiful music (Plato?).

BEING opportunistic happens automatically to all of life. ADMITTING how opportunistic we are is another matter. In the fine arts world, the excellence we might want to be respected for, comes with the price of a limited number of fans being aware we ARE excellent. When we stick close to the arts bubble where everyone inside knows we are, we FEEL popular. To feel popular OUTSIDE would seem to be impossible, delusional, or an opposing value to excellence altogether— but for the examples of both. This brings me back to yin-yang, because the exceptions may confirm the principle. Popularity IS an opposing value to excellence, BECAUSE there are 20% examples of both.

Does the fine art world OWN excellence? Is opportunity only COMMERCIAL? When fine art is exploited, does it cease to be fine art? When fine art is designed to be popular, does it cease to be fine art? Isn’t Rhapsody in Blue both popular AND fine art? Can I compose something similar?

It seems to me that we have an over-abundance of excellence and a burning need to trade some for more audience. Since the knowledge of the average person on the street is so low, why not take any opportunity to POPULARIZE excellence? The smoking laws of recent years have created the opportunity to showcase excellence in more popular places. Excellent opportunities are all around us. Chamber music let’s us put this music almost anywhere. The future belongs to the bold. Art, attack!

Having begun the Knight Project to expand our Classical Revolution Detroit series in January, we’ve again witnessed the usual results: several people thanking us for sharing classical and symphonic music where they least expected it. Managers for well established music venues such as Northern Lights Lounge and Baker’s Keyboard Lounge were happy to try us out during the day so we wouldn’t risk driving out their regular diners.

We amplified (as usual) so patrons could talk, move about, laugh, drink and eat without fear of being shushed out. We entertained, telling the story about who we are and why we wanted to do this. And we informed, explaining principals of tension and release (the emotional basis of instrumental music), what makes the music classical, and why two themes in music is sometimes better than one.

We featured guest ensembles Light Metal Band brass quintet and Mistral Winds woodwind quintet, in addition to CutTime Simfonica as the house band, to demonstrate the variety of instruments and music possible in classical music, about which we assume the average Joe knows next to nothing. And we gave tastes of several long-dead, recently-dead and two living-and-present composers; myself and frequent guest, high school senior Jherrard Hardemann, who conducted us in his third string quartet.

Also joining us, for her first time, was Acquanetta Moore, who loved playing Bach and Espinoza on her guitar, but may not have many opportunities to play in public.

The John S. and James L. Knight Foundation, as part of its Knight Arts Challenge series, has made possible more direct connections between artists and the community wondering what art beyond commercial art may do for them. While a few musicians playing in your neighborhood restaurant may not seem like much, a few musicians coming every few months or so may grow into a habit.

One thing I’ve begun to realize early into this, is the necessity to sustain these events in each new venue over years and without me leading them, if they are to reach their full potential warming thousands up to classical. One of the leading mechanisms of inspiration is nostalgia (perhaps in balance with novelty). Like ion propulsion, the longer the new tradition is sustained, the more nostalgia will build. By offering a taste of classical music, we develop the appetite, the unconscious hunger for this alternative way to make music.