The idea of authenticity evokes many provocative thoughts. When a friend of mine said he was convinced that the notion of authenticity was highly overrated, misunderstood, and too often at odds with important elements of music making like imagination and change, I had to agree. The concept of authenticity in choral music is a frequently discussed subject connected all too often with a static definition of performance practices governed by a rigid set of rules. While the adherence to established musical traditions and historically situated performance practices is generally acknowledged as a sign of distinction, particularly within the formalized contexts of academic institutions, it is not always recognized that traditions and performance practices are necessarily dynamic, and that they offer opportunities for change and innovation.
One of the leading conductors who questions the notion of musical authenticity is Nikolaus Harnoncourt , a legend in the area of period performance, who calls for a “fresh vision” of authenticity – an examination of historical music from a diversity of perspectives. Harnoncourt criticizes the twentieth-century attempts to render historic music in its original form as the ideal . He questions the growing demand for “authentic” renditions of old music as old music . “This attitude toward historical music – the unwillingness to bring it into the present, but rather undertaking to return oneself to the past – is a symptom of the loss of a truly living contemporary music.” This approach “satisfies neither the musician nor the public, both of whom reject a large portion of it .” 1
No musical tradition is frozen in time, and nor is the meaning of “authenticity.” This chapter examines authenticity in conducting and teaching choral music and considers it as a dynamic and continuously evolving opportunity for change and innovation, a personally sensitive and socially responsive practice I call engaged musicianship . Introducing a more fluid definition of what constitutes authenticity in conducting and teaching choral music, the chapter looks beyond the formal properties of musical notation, voicing, instrumentation, and the performance setting, toward matters of cultural context and the human condition. This brief effort looks at the less tangible aspects of musical experience, including ethically driven considerations such as personal sensitivity and social responsibility.
The first step in this inquiry begins by examining the essence or true nature of authenticity. Even dictionary definitions vary radically, from the notion of authenticity as something made or done in the traditional or original way, fully resembling the original, to a more existential view of authenticity as an appropriate and responsible mode of human life. Most definitions relate authenticity to that which is genuine . Some sources define “authenticity” philosophically, as the quality of being genuine or true to oneself. Socrates refers to “the authenticity of self” as genuineness of thought and action. 2
What constitutes authenticity in choral music and conducting? The answers are as diverse as they are contingent. They rely on circumstances as well as the conductor’s insight, knowledge, and level of experience to determine what is appropriate or desirable in given circumstances. They also depend on the knowledge and skill level of the partners in the collaborative effort – the chorus. Ultimately, both elements relate to considerations that are closely aligned with the conductor’s musical accomplishments and personal shortcomings. Whether we are ready or not to accept this notion, authenticity as we understand it in relation to our choruses and ourselves is a direct reflection of our character, personality, and spirit.
Our decisions regarding musical materials and interpretations are contingent – each and every one of them. From our choice of performance edition to how many singers are assigned to each part, we rely on both our knowledge of musical traditions and practices, and our sensitivity to the unique circumstances of the situation. Whether we use keyboard alone or a larger continuo group, perform in the original language or a singing translation, we consider both external factors, such as the information that informs our understanding, and internal factors, such as our musical intuition, empathy, and what we understand as “good work” – a topic to be explored shortly. Whether we perform with original instruments, one on a part and senza vibrato , or on modern instruments, with large performing forces and full-bodied singing tone, to practice authenticity is to be genuine, adaptable, cooperative, and respectful in relation to the music and the singers.
In the context of graduate studies in choral conducting, the term authentic is most often associated with the external, visible elements related to scholarly investigation, knowledge acquisition, and information gathering. We contemplate musical editions that are faithful to the composer, interpretations that are faithful to original performance practices, and professional practices that are based on accurate historical and empirical knowledge. Less often, however, do we concern ourselves with the term “authentic” in relation to the internal, invisible elements such as intuition, character, ethics, and social responsibility.
Some of the most exciting scholarship today addresses the less visible and the unseen elements associated with qualities of culturally sensitive and socially responsible choices in many professional fields, including the arts. Of particular interest is the GoodWork Project , which was undertaken in 1994 at Harvard University and led by professors Howard Gardner , Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi , and William Damon . It started by examining “good work” in journalism and genetics; over time it expanded its investigations into myriad professional fields and issued a large body of books, reports, and related documents. “Good work” in this context is defined in a dual sense: “work that is both excellent in quality and socially responsible.” 3
In the original “Good Work Project,” three teams of investigators explored the ways in which leading professionals in various domains, including the arts and education, carry out “good work.” Since the original project was launched, research teams throughout the United States have also looked at changes in professional practices since the September 11, 2001, attacks. They asked the question, To what extent have our work lives changed since the terrorist attacks? Amidst numerous cautionary tales, the report offers inspiring examples of those who carry out work that is both excellent in quality and socially responsible. They also found that consciousness of and efforts toward social responsibility have increased notably since the attacks. In taking stock of these and related findings, the present examination of authenticity is dedicated to the exploration of what constitutes “good work” in conducting and teaching choral music for the twenty-first century.
How do we integrate professional practices in conducting and choral teaching that are externally defined and deemed to be of high quality with the perspectives of less visible, internal elements of personal sensitivity and social responsibility? As professionals, we are likely familiar with conducting curricula that assure the attainment of external skills and understandings related to professional skills, musical materials, and performance practices. Yet we may never have encountered curricular offerings that address the internal skills required to make culturally sensitive and socially responsible choices, invisible forms of knowing that extend beyond the conventions of urtext editions, beautiful tone, and perfect intonation. These less visible skills require ownership for both our musical work and its wider impact on the world – a form of knowing I call “engaged musicianship” – a mindfulness quality of being fully present, and engaged in community service.
Engaged musicianship as a form of twenty-first-century musicianship is embodied in the conductor’s ability to practice conscious listening and concentrated musicianship supported by ethical discernment – the ability to do the right thing at the right time for the right reasons. Making culturally sensitive and socially responsible choices requires the integration of both external and internal forms of musicianship as these relate to the professional practice of conducting choirs. The external, visible skills and bodies of knowledge, including musical analysis, musicology, conducting technique, and rehearsal pedagogy, constitute the core curriculum at the majority of universities and music conservatories. But the internal, invisible skills, including reflective practices of self-awareness, concentration, and deep listening, are rarely taught. In my view, these invisible skills are in fact core practices , not alternative electives. They need to be included in socially conscious conducting curricula – programs that aspire to teaching conducting and choral education based on what the previously mentioned Harvard research calls “good work.”
Another Harvard research team charged with the study of “good work” in education examined the role of contemplation and reflection in developing “good work” in teaching. 4 The lessons from this research suggest that contemplative forms of engagement facilitate new ideas, novel solutions, and enhanced perspectives related to “good work.” While reflective practices are often associated with personal benefits such as pain reduction, stress release, or energy renewal, these same practices may also be keys to developing the essential qualities of awareness, concentration, and deep listening – qualities of attention closely associated with the musical and personal choices made by conductors and choral teachers every day.
An authentic choral conductor is one who embraces engaged musicianship practices being fully present to the music, to the chorus, and to the social conditions that benefit the quality of musical experience for artists and audiences alike. That which makes an authentic choral conductor makes an authentic person – the two are inseparable. Choral leadership based on reflective qualities of engagement that develop from the conductor’s awareness, focused attention, and deep concentration on the podium differs radically from autocratic forms of leadership that fail to take into account the human beings who are our singers.
Ethically driven and socially conscious conducting curricula should embody reflective practices that include meditation and movement forms in courses designed to improve the conductor’s self-awareness, listening capability, and concentration in rehearsal and performance. These internal, less visible skills requiring reverence, receptivity, and attention can be taught alongside score analysis and conducting technique.
Non-sectarian contemplative practices like mindfulness focus on developing the conductor’s life skills as these relate to the power of attention and deep listening in rehearsal and performance. For example, the simple skill of “conscious breathing” or “breathing meditation” encourages the conductor’s stillness, calm, and concentration. When practiced over time at the start of each conducting lesson, conscious breathing helps conductors learn to listen with their ears and with their hearts. 5 From a place of inner calm and stillness, the conductor’s awareness of herself and others deepens. Yoga, tai chi, and other similar contemplative practices can be of value to both the conductor and the choir. Contemplative breathing and movement exercises can be adapted easily into rehearsal warm-ups to engage bodies and minds for a more focused and self-aware period of deep listening and musical concentration in rehearsal and performance. 6
There are more questions than answers related to the notion of what constitutes an authentic conductor in the world today. The present investigation, however, embraces the notion of authenticity as a fluid idea rather than as something fixed or absolute. The notion that authenticity is limited to the observance of a stylized set of performance practices fails to take into account important considerations such as the relationships around us, the nature of our communities, and the social conditions of the world today.
We likely agree that part of educating the next generation of choral conductors means teaching musical analysis and musicology, style and interpretation, gesture and pedagogy; but in relation to what? – musical works? – the human beings who form our choirs? – the world around us? Is it possible to be musically authentic and socially insensitive? Is there a link between musical authenticity and personal integrity? Are we not morally bound to ask the important questions that ground our practices, define our curricula, and promise to impact the next generation of conductors and choral teachers?
Particularly at the advanced levels of musical study, when students presumably come to us with musical backgrounds that invite deeper levels of investigation, we may be missing an important opportunity to guide emerging conductors toward a socially responsible form of musicianship – a twenty-first-century form of musicianship that integrates the external and internal skills, linking musicality and personal sensitivity.
Working without regard to the social conditions that surround us can have serious consequences. Music making decontextualized from the realities of poverty, war, oppression, or from any moral or social engagement whatsoever misses a powerful opportunity artistically and socially to play a more active and intentional role in social inquiry and change.
We can no longer afford to teach musical performance as a form of aesthetic contemplation. A twenty-first-century musicianship must be different. What may have been considered “authentic” in nineteenth-century European society is not necessarily authentic for twenty-first-century cultures around the globe. Given the current challenges of our world, it is time for our profession to consider integrating the non-dualistic values of musical excellence and personal authenticity within our conducting education programs. This is the essence of the concept of “engaged musicianship” that I introduced earlier, an idea that will be examined again further in this chapter.
Many of us have our own stories surrounding performances of Handel ’s Messiah . Because Messiah is an icon of world culture, it seems fitting to use this well-known work as the basis for our examination of the meaning of authenticity in conducting and teaching choral music. My own experiences with one particular Messiah performance relate to memories of my first month as the new music director of a community-based symphonic chorus.
As I began rehearsals for a previously scheduled Messiah performance, it soon became clear that the large ensemble was unfamiliar with baroque-style articulations and phrasing. Through the use of dance, movement exercises, vocalizations, and lots of fun and good will, the 130-voice community chorus began enthusiastically singing new life into their beloved Messiah . I was confident that while our first Messiah together would not come close to a refined, baroque-style performance of the work, this enthusiastic and committed chorus would be able to sing an articulate, joyful, and textually informed rendition. Then came the surprise. Oh my God, a basilica – architectural wonder, musical nightmare!
After several weeks of rehearsals, I visited the large and looming Our Lady of Victory Basilica in Lackawanna, New York. Designated a basilica in 1926 by Pope Pius XI, the church is truly a masterpiece in the nobility of its lines, the splendor of its marble, and its massive solidity. With great pride, the chorus had chosen the basilica for its forthcoming Messiah concert. While this beautiful and sacred space is an architectural wonder and an ecclesiastically prominent setting for Catholics in western New York, it is an acoustical disaster for anything other than repertoire in the style of Palestrina , Duruflé, or Pärt . It was the last venue I would ever have selected for a performance of baroque music. What now?
From then on, things went quickly downhill. How would I reconcile this ultra-resonant cathedral acoustic with a chamber orchestra playing on modern instruments, accompanying an enormous, stylistically and vocally “developing,” symphonic-size chorus? I remember thinking, Who would do this? Why would they schedule a Messiah performance in a cathedral? Pragmatist first, teacher second, and musicologist third, I thought I needed to find a technically manageable and artistically viable solution to these daunting challenges. What would you do?
First, I went back to Handel ’s life. I remembered that Handel had once performed in such an acoustic and had felt that it had been a positive, spiritual part of the music-making experience. Handel participated in about two dozen performances of Messiah during his lifetime and tinkered with it constantly, adding, cutting, rewriting, and transposing according to his taste and the needs of each performance. So far, so good, I thought .
Recalling performances of Messiah with the Chicago Symphony Chorus and Orchestra during the astounding Solti –Hillis era, I was reminded of the colossal staging of Messiah at Westminster Abbey in 1784, with hundreds of singers and instrumentalists. Though this was an extreme example, Handel ’s narrative account of prophecy, passion, and promise was presented in large-scale, festival-style performances well into the twentieth century.
Traditionally, musical authenticity is associated with historical correctness, manifested in performances that are conceived in relation to the “original context.” But what about the lessons of Socrates , who defined authenticity as being true to oneself, being genuine in thought and action? What about real people singing real music? Somewhere between the unsustainable position of authenticity as period instruments, no vibrato and obedience to a set of rules, and the notion of authenticity as a dynamic form of sincerity, truth, innovation, and change, each one of us can and must find what constitutes a “truthful” musical experience. Regardless of how deeply we may appreciate the original context of the works we perform and the rules we have memorized, we face the realities of what world music scholars call “recontextualization”: our communities and our world are different and have different needs.
Most conductors and choral teachers have found themselves in what we might call an “unsustainable position” – a situation in which they have made performance decisions based on their knowledge of period, instrumentation, ornamentation, and other traditional choices, then found to their great surprise and bewilderment that these decisions were not understood or embraced by their choruses or audiences. These cases, like the personal story that follows, illuminate a crossroads between our respect for tradition and the real-life constraints of our institutions and social circumstances.
As I pondered our Messiah performance options (venue change was non-negotiable), I also remembered the graduate seminar I had taught the previous year. I had asked my conducting students to consider this question: “Given your knowledge of performance practices associated with the repertoire of Bach and Handel , how would you approach the performance of this repertoire as the music director of a large community chorus? ” Some students answered that they would create an “auditioned chamber choir” from the larger choir, using only a small percentage of the membership. Others suggested that they would include the entire membership and perform a version with large forces on a nineteenth-century scale. Still others argued that they would not consider programming baroque repertoire without a chamber choir of professional singers and an orchestra of early instruments.
We continued our discussion of this problem from the various perspectives of musicology and music education. The question broadened to, “How can conductors create stylistic, informed performances that are true to the values of diversity, inclusion, and community service while at the same time recognizing the values of historical performance practice, current research, and compositional integrity?”
Education and experience played a significant role in the way each graduate student addressed the questions. Students who came to conducting studies from backgrounds in music education and composition answered differently from those with backgrounds in musicology and applied performance studies. Together, we examined everyone’s ideas and created an elaborate epistemology of performance options based on contrasting sets of missions, values, and conditions.
The performance options comprised a mosaic of possibilities from strict adherence to historical (“informed”) performance practices, to what we called modern (but “informed”) performance practices. Each set of solutions was “informed” by different criteria that included cultural, social, and educational considerations that are an important part of the human experience called music making. What seemed authentic for one choir – that is, true to the values, conditions, and resources of that ensemble – was not so for other choirs. The themes of social responsibility and cultural context played a significant and recurring role in these discussions.
The term “authentocracy” has been used to denote the negative effect that an unyielding insistence on authenticity can have on endeavors, be they musical, 7 spiritual, or material. My Messiah experience was to give me an object lesson in its meaning.
Confident conductor and radical optimist that I am, concerto style came to mind as a practical, “informed” solution to the performance of Messiah by a large, untrained symphony chorus accompanied by a small chamber orchestra in a huge cathedral. I was determined that the chorus should have what I considered to be a more “authentic” experience of Handel , one that honored this beloved oratorio with reasonable technical accuracy and stylistic integrity. Pleased with my innovative solution to the problem of style and “authenticity,” I embarked on a detailed plan of singing assignments for chamber and tutti choirs.
As I began rehearsing in this manner, I saw smiles turn into frowns and enthusiasm turn into question marks. At first, I thought the challenges of learning to sing in a rhythmic, dancelike manner were beyond the technical capabilities of the chorus. So, I taught them more vocal techniques. Gradually, the atmosphere became hostile and I had absolutely no idea why the singers were so upset. In an uneasy discussion with the board president, I found out that the chorus members were upset that they were not all singing all the Messiah choruses, as they had done before. I thought, “They’ll get over it. When they hear how brilliantly Messiah will sound with the benefit of clear articulations and an in-tune, well-balanced ensemble, they’ll love it.” Whoops, wrong again .
The chorus as a whole did not “love it.” They told me so in many different ways, including not-so-nice written messages that suggested I was “dividing” instead of “unifying” them. This was a painful lesson indeed for someone who prides herself on high-quality musicianship and good teaching. As in all crises, however, there were important lessons to be learned.
What was the right thing to do ? As the chorus grew frustrated and unhappy with their concerto-style assignments, I began to question the concept of musicianship that I had conceived: of performance as a form of procedural knowledge . 8 Neither the aesthetic theory of music as knowing nor the praxial philosophy of music as doing seemed sufficient for the challenges I faced. 9 And neither theoretical construct helped my choristers enjoy their Messiah performance experience.
Contemplating the social implications of my “failed” plan, I began to investigate the subject of music and ethics. Wayne Bowman’s seminal work on this subject posits the notion that musicianship is concerned ultimately with following a moral course of action that is “right” and “just” in a given situation. 10 Closely related to the development of character and identity, this ethical way of being musical, known as “ethical discernment,” requires that conductors give up attachments to generalized knowledge and do the right thing at the right time. 11 This work resonated with me and came to serve as the philosophical foundation for my concept of “engaged musicianship.”
The notion of engaged musicianship is profoundly different from the concepts of musicianship that have been addressed in the philosophical literature over the past four decades. Engaged musicianship extends beyond the aesthetic view, a disengaged, intellectually oriented notion of music separate from personal, social, or moral considerations. 12 It also extends beyond the more recently formulated praxial philosophy of music related to musicianship as a form of musical knowing or thinking-in-action. 13
In the end, both the aesthetic and praxial views posited in current music education philosophy are based on standards related to rational and intellectual clarity, patriarchal assumptions that have guided our practices in choral music for too long. Historically, the starting point of our work as choral conductors in the Western tradition has been limited to reason – reason construed, rather narrowly, as the work of logic and intellect. 14 With few exceptions, conductors and choral teachers today perform our canon of repertoire according to the rules closely aligned with a nineteenth-century, Western European aesthetic. Is this a problem?
The “rules” for the performance of music from earlier times often seem to have acquired a life of their own, as if anything other than meticulous obedience renders a performance invalid. But all too often the rules we apply are separated from the social and ethical considerations situated in the reality of our own uniquely formed communities. Generalized knowledge that is separated from particular or “situated” circumstance is often dangerous. I learned this lesson the hard way through my Messiah experience. While it may be logically correct or technically accurate to apply a set of historically driven rules in a given situation, it may not always be right . The question is, if it is not right or ethical in a given circumstance, can it be authentic?
What is not the right thing? As already noted, in the personal narrative related to finding the “right way” to perform Handel ’s Messiah in a reverberant basilica acoustic with 130 untrained singers, I made my way experientially through a minefield of possible performance options. With some confidence that a concerto-style approach might work, I decided to divide the chorus in two. The small chamber chorus of more skillful singers would sing the florid, fast-moving coloratura sections, while the larger, less-skillful singers would sing the sections doubled by the tutti orchestra. While this practice is rarely followed in modern performances of Messiah , I thought it might be a practical solution that would help both the singers and listeners to hear structurally. At the same time, I thought it would buy me time to teach the larger chorus the vocal techniques related to baroque articulations and phrasing while assuring that the more skillful singers in the chamber chorus could successfully articulate the phrases in the reverberant performance acoustic.
With some pride at having figured out what I thought was a meaningful solution to the problem, I truly believed my decision to use a chamber/tutti approach in our Messiah concert was made in the best interest of my chorus. I thought the singers would grow musically to appreciate baroque style and interpretation as part of their growing musicianship. I admit that I was equally concerned that this well-known and beloved masterpiece be heard as clearly and stylistically as possible in an impossible acoustic. Why did all hell break loose? Is what seems “right” musically, sometimes different from what is ethical socially?
The concept of “ethical discernment,” of doing the right thing , at the right time with the right intent , is a very difficult proposition. As Aristotle concedes, it “is not for every person, nor is it easy.” 15 Many things can go wrong when one is in a situation like that I faced in performing Messiah , and while I thought I had made the “right” decision as a conductor and as an educator of singers, I did not take into account one particularly relevant factor: the perspectives or previous concert experiences of the singers – their own “historical performances” of Messiah in which they all stood, singing together as “one voice,” for decades before I took the podium as their director.
What did I forget? As a conductor, was I engaged with the music? Yes . As a teacher, did I skillfully rehearse the “rules” related to baroque performance practices and seek historically, stylistically, and pedagogically appropriate means to deal with a difficult acoustic and a chorus of unskilled singers? Yes . As the kind of conductor who considers herself an ethical agent in relation to music and musicians, was I sufficiently engaged with the singers themselves? Probably not . The truth is that I was so concerned with teaching in a way that I thought would empower my singers’ musicianship that I missed the opportunity to exercise the sorely needed personal sensitivity and social responsibility incumbent on the leader of the human institution called a “chorus.”
Nel Noddings ’s work related to the ethics of empathy would have been an ideal source of help. Had I considered Noddings’s work on the “pedagogy of caring” I might have handled this situation differently:
As we listen to our students, we gain their trust and, in an on-going relation of care and trust, it is more likely that students will accept what we try to teach. They will not see our efforts as “interference” but, rather, as cooperative work proceeding from the integrity of the relationship. 16
Wayne Bowman suggests that as musicians interested in the education of our singers, we are not concerned exclusively with developing musicianship. We are necessarily concerned, at least in part, with people and the quality of their musical experiences. 17 While I knew the history of performance style, I didn’t know the history of this particular chorus – those persons who made up this large and human body of loyal amateur singers with a long history of performing Messiah together. These folks loved their Messiah – their tradition of over seventy years. And while the chorus members understood the concept of concerto style intellectually, they rejected it emotionally.
What is the solution? Conducting Messiah , or any other work, with chorus is not just about the choice of musical edition, the careful crafting of rehearsals, or the employment of creative performance practices. The practice of engaged musicianship extends beyond these important considerations to include ethically driven and socially responsible leadership. Engaged musicians are adept at responding to changing circumstances, including those that might be unpredictable. Continuous and ongoing adjustment is a fundamental requirement.
Our work as conductors requires using skillful listening in rehearsal interactions to change and adjust musical tone, phrasing, articulation, and intonation. But do we listen deeply to our singers as people? Are we using our “listening ears” only, or are we exercising our “listening hearts” as well? Do we work in partnership with our ensemble members and in a cooperative and caring manner when problem solving is required?
Engaged musicianship embodies awareness and is a way of being fully present to a particular set of circumstances. It is thus a social endeavor, guided by concern for right action with and toward Self and Other. This form of musicianship requires openness and attributes such as receptivity, cooperation, and respect. Our work as conductors, then, is as socially situated as it is musically defined. Do we problem-solve in rehearsal and give guidance respectfully even when we have repeated ourselves relentlessly? Do we view these instructions as musical empowerment for future adaptation, or as rules to be memorized on the spot? Do we work toward long-term musicianship or are we more interested in a short-term fix?
Engaged musicianship is also a matter of caring for others that goes beyond the technical and the factual. As a form of ethical behavior, our work with choirs is a manifestation of personal authenticity that extends beyond the aesthetic realm into a form of musical performance that often transcends virtuosity or technical achievement to make a difference in people’s lives.
After three years in my position in western New York, I find that some choristers still recall our concerto-style Messiah performance with chamber and tutti sections as a form of personal discrimination and social inequity. Although I made these choices as a “teaching opportunity,” I realize that I permitted my desire for technical excellence to trump personal caring. I like to think back on this experience and the choices I made as a “nineteenth-century aesthetic hangover” – a way of thinking that lingers from my early addiction to aesthetic theories of music and music education.
Francis Sparshott writes, “Some things must be worth doing for their own sake; musical excellence is then the only proper justification for learning to do them.” 18 But while musical excellence may be the “proper justification” for musical performance, excellence goes hand in hand with social responsibility and personal sensitivity – an ethically driven form of musicianship that attends to what matters most in a particular context. The essence of this theme concerns the conductor’s ability to work cooperatively with her ensembles as co-creators, and in musical collaboration. Wayne Bowman articulates this succinctly:
Excellence is at once elusive and the whole point of music, facts which necessitate that musical fluency go hand-in-hand with the development of responsibility and response-ability: a keenly intuitive “ear” for what matters in the particular musical practice at hand. 19
Engaged musicianship then benefits “Self” and “Other” through collaborative leadership that regards the entire community of those engaged and committed to the music. It is not only about what the conductor knows or, for that matter, a particular set of skills. Musical success is “bound closely to who one is, such that one’s musical accomplishments and shortcomings are inevitably and unavoidably manifestations or reflections of one’s character.” 20
Remembering the haunting words of the Nigerian-born novelist Ben Okri, who reminds us that “certainty is the enemy of creativity,” this Chicago girl reads Oprah Winfrey’s monthly column “What I Know for Sure” in The Oprah Magazine . 21 In spite of Okri’s warning about certainty, I find Oprah’s journalistic initiatives affirming and entertaining. Plus, I enjoy the easy reading that manifests feminine energy, pure and simple.
What I know for sure is that everything changes . The Zen Buddhist philosophy of “not-knowing” (known also as “beginner’s mind”) calls this phenomenon “impermanence.” Whatever it is called, change is a sure thing. Years ago, gospel music was the music of my “south side” friends. Maybe this is another Chicago “thing,” but the gospel music tradition has been an important part of my life since my schooldays singing with the Chicago All-City High School Chorus . Gospel music, of course, has been at the forefront of Chicago life since it first began at the Pilgrim Baptist Church . It received its name in the 1930s from Thomas Dorsey , the blues pianist and composer who helped to blend church spirituals with the fiery power of rhythm and blues.
The all-city chorus consisted of both “north side” and “south side” students who met together on Saturday mornings – “choral keeners” as we were called. We performed a broad spectrum of music, often with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in Chicago’s Orchestra Hall. Our repertoire ranged from Samuel Barber to Anton Bruckner to the blues . Gospel music was standard fare. Despite my “whiteness,” I absorbed everything about gospel singing, and I enjoyed the assurances of my childhood friends who told me I didn’t have to be “black” to sing in the Chicago gospel tradition. This early experience, however, did not prepare me for yet another surprise in my first year as the new director of the large symphonic chorus in western New York.
At a post-concert party following our sold-out concert of Messiah , a member of my symphonic chorus, smiling with enthusiasm, presented me with a CD along with a confident “you’ll love it!” Being new to the region, I had been lamenting how surprisingly “all white” the audience was in a city where nearly sixty percent of the population was African-American. This chorister took up my social challenge and told me I could keep her recording over the holidays.
The CD was a gospel version of Messiah with a cover note written by the recording’s executive producer saying, “I’d like to thank George [Handel ] for writing such wonderful music, and God for inspiring him (and now us).” 22 Delighted, but musically doubtful, I listened to the recording to find with surprise that this soulful celebration of Handel ’s Messiah was both moving and brilliantly crafted; it thoroughly engaged me with its imaginative adaptations, skillful improvisations, and spiritually inspired singing.
I shared this soulful Messiah with many fellow musicians over the holidays, during which, in Toronto alone, more than fifteen concerts of Handel ’s Messiah were performed. We agreed that we were fortunate to live in a culture where a favorite musical masterpiece could be presented in a broad spectrum of styles and interpretations. These Messiahs included a plethora of versions, from strict historically conceived interpretations, to stylistically articulated performances on modern instruments, to massive presentations with hundreds of happy amateurs and a church organ. Add to this an assortment of adaptations, including our postmodern gospel arrangement, and you have what could justifiably be called a dynamic tradition!
In this chapter I have suggested that our profession needs a “fresh vision” of what constitutes authenticity. On one hand, this vision must grow out of a deep appreciation and respect for the traditions and practices of times past. Of equal importance, as Nikolaus Harnoncourt suggested, is a “diversity of perspectives” that must also include a deep commitment to contemporary culture.
Authenticity in choral music involves a continuum of properties that moves from something made in the traditional or original way, to something made of genuine thought and action. The latter concept involves personal qualities of character and personality, suggesting that what we do in conducting and teaching choral music is always contingent and never separate from the invisible, internal skills and qualities of adaptability, cooperation, receptivity, and respect.
From the Harvard University studies on the relationship between excellence and ethics, to recent accounts of feminine wisdom in choral music, there is a growing interest in “good work,” defined in a dual sense as work that is both excellent in quality and socially responsible. This chapter recommends the development of conducting education programs in choral music that link the teaching of visible, “external” skills and realms of knowledge such as analysis, musicology, conducting, and pedagogy, with the teaching of invisible, “internal” skills developed through reflective practices and the contemplative arts.
Engaged musicianship is a twenty-first-century extension of traditional musical excellence that includes ethically driven and socially responsible leadership, the ability of a conductor or choral teacher to make ongoing adjustments as required by the music in relation to human circumstances. The social and ethical qualities of service and caring are closely linked to this form of musicianship, in which a collaborative leadership considers the entire community of those engaged in the music. The astounding realization that both our musical accomplishments and our musical shortcomings are manifestations of our personal character is strong support for the initiation of change and innovation in conductor education programs. The belief that “we are the music we make” is a strong invitation for curriculum renewal.
Linking the performing and contemplative arts in the education of conductors and choral teachers can prepare the next generation of dynamic music professionals to cope with the shifting grounds of our societies. Contemplative forms of engagement go beyond the benefits of stress release or energy renewal toward the facilitation of new ideas, novel solutions, and enhanced musical perspectives that are and will be required of twenty-first-century musicians and teachers.
Engaged musicianship as the study and performance of choral music in relation to the wider world diverges from the traditional Western European concept of music described earlier as “aesthetic contemplation.” To conduct and teach choral music decontextualized from moral obligation and social responsibility is no longer a viable option in contemporary culture. Leadership of any kind unrelated to the suffering and challenges of the world around us cannot be ignored because we are “artists.”
Referencing the pioneering work of Elaine Brown , the founder of Philadelphia’s Singing City , Kathy Saltzman Romey and her fellow authors suggest that our work as conductors can be a vehicle for social inquiry and change as a way “to celebrate the human voice and its power to educate, enrich, unite, and inspire.” 23 Conductors and choral teachers aware of their potential to aid in the transformation of their communities and to play a more active role in twenty-first-century society are engaged in this musical form of social responsibility.
The American conductor Leonard Bernstein issued a social challenge when he wrote that our “reply to violence” should be “to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.” 24 I would describe Leonard Bernstein as a front-line “engaged musician,” a peacemaker whose life as a composer and conductor was devoted to artistic, educational, and social change. The Bernstein legacy is an invitation for conductors and choral teachers in contemporary culture to do “good work” – work that is both excellent in quality and socially responsible.
Sensitive to the power of musical performance defined in relation to the social contexts of our respective communities, conductors and choral teachers may consider their musical mission as a mode of social action. This action starts in but extends beyond the rehearsal and concert halls: there are many examples of conductors and their choirs interacting with and changing the world today. From leading singing revolutions in the Baltic nations to free themselves from decades of Soviet occupation to undertaking socially innovative programs such as the Minnesota Chorale ’s Building Bridges, socially responsible conductors of our time are dedicated to using dynamic programming and education as vehicles for social engagement and dialogue relevant to contemporary society and social change through choral singing. 25
As culture evolves, so too must our performance decisions and pedagogical practices renew themselves in order to meet the needs of the world today. We must be cautious not to impose a nineteenth-century, Western sense of authenticity upon a modern, twenty-first-century world view.
The bridge that connects historical traditions and practices with personal sensitivity and social responsibility, defined in this chapter as ethical discernment or good work , can be understood in the context of conducting and choral teaching as an inclusive and non-dualistic practice of engaged musicianship that integrates the visible and invisible skills of musical performance and teaching to benefit Self, Other, and the Divine.
This chapter is dedicated to Helmuth Rilling. My deep gratitude to Lori-Anne Dolloff whose collaborative efforts inspired the completion of this writing. Professor Dolloff introduced me to the research of Huib Schippers and she contributed her reflections on the narratives included in this chapter. I am indebted to Gordon Paine both for his insightful editing and for the conceptual challenge his questions provided me during the final stages of this writing. Professor Paine’s perseverance made all the difference.