Finally I’ve gotten this season’s SCHEDULE up on the site, so if you want to check out where I’m conducting this season it’s all there.  Come and say hi!

Right now I’m in Las Vegas doing Sgt. Pepper with Cheap Trick again.  I have to say that one of the more eclectic experiences of my life was leaving the run here to do a show with Frederica von Stade in Canada, then getting on a private jet the next day and flying back for Cheap Trick the following night.

First of all, Flicka was sublime and she sang a world premiere by our very own Nathaniel Stookey called Into the Bright Lights.  Flicka wrote the words herself and they are personal to the point of being confessional.  It is such a wonderful thing to sing on her farewell tour and I hope she keeps doing them.

Flicka is such a consummate musician, and standing next to her while she sang “Baïléro” and other gems like that was of course unforgettable.  It’s this incredible combination of beauty and humanity and truth that is unique to her.  I’m glad our paths crossed on stage, if only for a brief moment.

Then back to the Cheap Trick show — we did this at the Hollywood Bowl a few years ago, and it’s taken on a life of its own.  This time they’ve put the orchestra directly above the band and me dead center on stage.  Robin Zander gave me this cool jacket to wear, and it occurred to me right away that I’d better do something different.  I’ve seen enough rock-orchestra shows where the orchestra looks disengaged and the conductor is a big ol’ nerd compared to the band.  So I decided to be part of the band and do all of the rock stuff: dance around, look at the audience, smile, sing along, play cowbell, and so on.  I think this works very well!  And it’s fun!  The Vegas orchestra players are very aware they are being watched, and don’t have terribly difficult parts to play, so they want to get involved.  As we were rehearsing to coda to “I am the Walrus” there are these huge downbows in the orchestra parts and the concert master offered me the so-called “LA Flail,” in which the entire string section flails their head on every downbow!  Yes!  One of the reviewers said listening to “I am the Walrus” live made him want to “drop acid and pick up a cello.”  Now that’s a good review, and if you haven’t payed attention to the cello parts on this song, you should.

And finally …

Someone emailed me a little while ago and asked me what I was listening to these days. So here are two things I keep coming back to over and over …

First of all, anything by JORDI SAVALL.  He is an endless well of musical genius and basically I listen to him all the time and wish orchestras played that way.  For instance check this out:

And then on the other side of things I just can’t stop listening to The Bird and the Bee. The songs are so elegant and witty, the voice is so sexy.

I’m getting to the end of our La Traviata run at San Francisco Opera.  For a conductor who mainly does symphony work, it has been refreshing and revelatory working on this score.  I can see why Stravinsky gushes about him so much in his Poetics of Music.  There’s something pure about his music: perfectly distilled sounds, perfectly distilled emotion and expression.  But more importantly, there is the beauty and sensuality of the sound itself. Human emotions and foibles and mistakes and failures are transfigured into something glorious and profound.

It’s also amazing to actually conduct a seasoned and accomplished opera orchestra. I love the feeling of each and every one of them listening along with me, ready to go any direction at any time.

And singers, well, it’s just sexy to work with a great singer.  

Beyond this, it’s refreshing to see how much is done in opera that’s not written in the score. Of course this is the result of tradition, and some tradition is bad.  But we don’t run into as much musical literalism here.  A 16th note is not necessarily a 16th note; what is written is not exactly what the singer sings.  Everyone knows this.  I’ve never been a fan of musical fundamentalism: the idea the the written text means literally what it signifies.  There are many musicians who are musical fundamentalists, which is infuriating.  They can’t see beyond the written page, like some religious folks can’t see beyond what is written in the Bible, or some legal scholars can’t see beyond what is written in the Constitution.  This can make Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony sound very bad, for example.

One of the greatest challenges in performing classical music now is getting an orchestra to go beyond the notation, because that’s where the expression really is.

Hi!  I’m writing from San Francisco — tomorrow is the dress for La Traviata.  Lots of fun with Anna Netrebko and company.  More on that soon.

Right now, I want to mention that the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony is in the midst of a matching challenge.  Every new and increased donation will be doubled up to $129,000.

I don’t want this blog to become a fundraising site, but I think once a year or so won’t be too bad.  Our orchestra, and every orchestra, is worth supporting.  And I think the main reason is that we provide inspiration to people.  It’s a hard thing to quantify, but if you think back, the things that define the positive aspects of our lives are inspiring moments.  It could be a class, a conversation, a relationship, a novel, a meal … or a performance.  I’ll never forget the first time I heard an orchestra live, my first Beethoven, my first Mahler, my first Verdi opera (happening right now!).  Great music has changed the way I see the world, and the part I play in it.  I can’t imagine life without it.

We need to continue to transmit the messages of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, and all the new artists who love the orchestra.  We need to keep kids close to sounds that are profoundly beautiful.  We need to unite our communities through music.

It’s not easy.  I think of the arts as a delicate flower in an indifferent environment. It can be knocked over easily by cynicism and indifference.  It has to be cared for and nurtured, not sporadically, but constantly.  If it stays alive and beautiful, people will walk across the desert to see it, it might even become a garden someday.

Won’t you add just a drop of water to the musical garden we are growing?  You don’t have to be Canadian!  Everything helps, everything counts.  You’ll be supporting truth, beauty, and inspiration.

You can donate HERE.

Thanks for considering this.

OPEN EARS started last night. You should be sad if you’re not here with us, you really should. Buy a ticket to Kitchener-Waterloo now!

We started with an orchestral concert which began with a tribute to David Byrne and Stop Making Sense. I stood alone onstage for about 15 minutes while a powerpoint flashed over my head alternating words about classical music and the natural landscape. “Viola” “Cloud” “Crescendo” “Lake” etc. etc. The concert was about the Romantic Landscape in music and featured Mendelssohn’s HebridesOverture, Frank Bridge’s The Sea, and R. Murray Schafer’s The Darkly Splendid Earth: The Lonely Traveler, a violin concerto played by our amazing concertmaster, Stephen Sitarski. In the lobby before the show, students from Wilfrid Laurier University did a lively performance of In C. We also performed 4′33″ which I had never done before. It was amazing to hear people settle into the silence after a while, when their nervousness about the piece faded.

This festival is about sound and environment. Yes I mean THE environment (oceans, trees, and so on), but also the environments in which music can take place (concert hall, jazz club, lobby, forest, factory, bathtub). I think in the world of symphony orchestras, environment is key. We’re taking a good, fun look at this.

There’s still some YouTube symphony press floating around. Particularly amusing is MEASHA BRUEGGERGOSMAN’S ACCOUNT of preparing John Cage’s Aria, which was performed simultaneously with the same composer’s piece Renga. She also mentions my musical integrity and hair in the same sentence. Which is so Measha.

Ok so it happened. I conducted part of it. It was really really really fun. Here is part 1:

The responses were amazing to read …

There was a GOOD REVIEW…

A BAD REVIEW …

A blogger and “industry professional” WHO TOTALLY LOSES IT… sample quotes: “And really, I think I’ll stop now, because I’m feeling more than a little cruel right now, even though (to be perfectly honest), I’ve pulled a few punches in what I’ve just said, no matter how critical I might have seemed.” and “During intermission, I talked to some orchestra professionals I know, and none of them were happy. Two even left, one out of boredom, the other with a sense (I think it’s right to put it this way) of faint disgust.”

I love the idea of “orchestra professionals” walking out of the building with “faint disgust.” What would they do if they were “deeply disgusted” at a concert? Maybe someday all “orchestral professionals” will unite and save classical music. Oh yeah, they’re already in charge. (just kidding, some of my best friends are “orchestra professionals” haha).

So how was the MUSIC? I think generally what was written was true: not fully refined, but enthusiastic. Some of it was even quite rough at times, like the Harrison piece I conducted. But it all sounded way better than when we started it a day or two earlier. All of my colleagues who were helping to prepare this concert were impressed and moved by the process, even if it didn’t meet the highest technical standards. We all knew it wasn’t going to be perfect, and that was an unusual and liberating feeling. For those of us involved, meeting these intrepid musicians was inspiring — and it was a privilege to help them get their orchestra rolling. There was deep joy in the process.

I think that’s what we all were so excited about. It was a moment in history, a bold experiment, well-funded (for once). The fact that it came together as it did on the musical, technical (meaning stage-changes, lights, video), personal, and audience level was exhilarating. I’ve never seen an undertaking that complex come together so fast, and so well.

Finally, the orchestra itself had a special quality, different than, say, some of the other brilliant young orchestras at conservatories and music festivals around the world. It think what set these musicians apart is that they actually took the time (and had the nerve) to audition on YouTube. To me, that implies a certain sense of adventure, lack of cynicism, and desire to have fun. I wonder if I would have done it? If I hadn’t, it probably would have been for cynical reasons.

So yes I was moved, inspired, energized, and more. I’m so glad I was a part of it, even if it was far from perfect. Looking at the faces of the orchestra and my musician colleagues, I don’t think I was alone. It was fun. And in classical music, believe me, we need more fun.

It seems to me that music-making in the classical world is a struggle between joy and perfection. That’s because those rare peak performances are instances of joyous perfection (maybe that’s because Bach has been such a huge influence on all of us). But what about those moments when we don’t reach the top? They usually fall into one of two sub-categories: “rough and joyful” or “perfect and lifeless.” I’m afraid “perfect and lifeless” is the more common category of the two, because it’s safer, and implies hard work. The YouTube Symphony made a case for more “rough and joyful,” music making I think. And that’s a good thing.

PS check out Jeremy Denk’s YouTube Symphony VLOGS. They capture the vibe really well. Plus I’m in them! making quips. I’ve included part one below.

On my way to NYC for the YouTube Symphony.

As I was packing, I was listening to Radio David Byrne. There’s a lot of new, interesting stuff on, including the new Dirty Projectors album which hasn’t come out yet. (They are my favorites these days along with some others on the playlist: St. Vincent, Final Fantasy, The Bird and The Bee). What’s great is how Byrne-influenced all this music is. The Children of Byrne & Eno have grown up and continued the tradition of artsy, beautiful, witty, world-influenced, electronic music! Yay!

And I discovered a recipe for Chicken Fried Bacon.

And I’m now on twitter (eoutwater), if you’d like to keep track of me that way.

End Transmission.

What a strange and mysterious symphony. What captivates me is its use of “negative space.”

It opens in a void. All darkness and quiet, no key, no specific tonality. It’s like wandering in a dark room. How big is the room? We don’t know — we’re lost in the emptiness.

And as the symphony progresses, it always wants to return to the darkness, the negative zone of silence. It’s as if the notes of the symphony are written around a great emptiness, to show its architecture.

It’s about something other, something mysterious.

I conduct it this weekend, in misty, beautiful Victoria, BC.

So rehearsals for Mahler 9 begin tomorrow. Mahler entered my life as a teenager.  I spent hours and hours listening to this music by myself, playing bass gigs so I could buy another Mahler CD.  I think a lot of teenagers have their own personal “sad” music.  For my friends it was The Cure or New Order or Depeche Mode; for me it was Mahler. It’s tragic, cathartic, full of yearning. Even when it’s joyful there’s always a tremendous cost. The hugeness of the music reflected the feelings I had inside of me.  The questions it asked were questions I was asking myself, too shy to ask others.  From a young age, I always took metaphysical questions very seriously. I thought about death and what it all meant. Mahler became my constant companion on this journey,

I opened up my high school yearbook last week and there it was, an “I <heart> Mahler” bumpersticker.  I put it up over my seat in student government for everyone to see.  I wanted more people to <heart> Mahler too.  But more importantly, it was a mark of my individuality, what set me apart.  Mahler’s sadness was my sadness. It was my mark of rebellion. Mahler was my purple mohawk.

I’ve spent the last few months immersed in Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, in preparation for a concert in a few weeks with the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony. It amazes me that I’m actually going to conduct this piece soon — it’s something I’ve dreamed of doing for a long time. I’ve been trying to figure out how to share this experience on the blog. I could go on and on, but I’ve never been into reading long blog posts (or writing them). So I’ve decided to do a series of “Mahler Entries,” which will be a collection of experiences I’ve had with the piece. I hope it will get people excited about the work. I personally couldn’t imagine what my life would be life without it.

So I’ve got a Mahler 9 coming up in a few weeks with the Kitchener-Waterloo Symphony. As you might imagine, I’ve been working on this piece for months and months and living with it for years and years. This symphony is about the end of a lot of things, not least among them the end of Vienna as Mahler knew it. The symphony is, in my mind, a witness to the end of the Austro-Hungarian empire and a collapse of the traditions and culture of that city. A good book to read about this is the extraordinary epic novel by Joseph Roth, The Radetsky March. It talks about how the Radetsky March becomes a parody as the empire collapses and becomes more and more decadent. Sound familiar? Those who know the second and third movements of Mahler 9 will get what I mean. In fact, the third movement of Mahler 9 may be a parody of the Radetsky March itself.

But what about the parody of the second movement? It’s about the ländler and the waltz. As I’ve been studying the second movement this week it occurred to me that I’d never seen a ländler danced or heard an authentic folk version played. So I did a search on YouTube and decided to go even further by typing in “Bohemian Ländler,” the kind of sounds Mahler might have heard in his childhood in Iglau.

This is what I got:

It occurs to me that there are more sources at our fingertips to learn about music than ever before. Who knows if this clip is accurate, but it certainly feeds my imagination.