Mozart in the Jungle

I just finished "Mozart in the Jungle." For those of you not familiar with this book, it's a memoir of professional oboist Blair Tindall's rise in the classical music world of New York and eventual decline as she begins to hate her life of squalor and greedy directors, coupled with her boredom of repetitive and unfulfilling musicianship.

Starting out in my first semester in a music program, I feel a little on edge after reading this book. I'm planning to stay within academia as a composer and teacher, not freelance classical performer as Tindall (the author) did, but it really opens my eyes to the possible terrible, monotonous life a professional musician could have.

I'm questioning the worth of the professional degree I'm seeking in what has become such an over-saturated field, and even more, contemplating the value of classical music in our society, just as Tindall does. It really is so on the periphery of culture at the moment, and I'm wondering what the scene will be like when I'm done with my education. Tindall herself witnessed a decline in her field throughout her career, from the heavily supported orchestras of the 60's to the all-but-forgotten, debt-ridden behemoths of today. Who knows what 30 more years could do to art music?

I'm an optimistic person and can't see myself doing anything but music, but this book gives me a lot to think about. My brother, an astoundingly good writer who graduated with a BFA in screenwriting, told me not to pursue what I loved because I would end up hating it, as he did with writing. I don't think that's true and I'm extremely motivated to do what I want to do, but Tindall's book really makes me constantly question my trajectory and keeps things in perspective.

Apologies for this rather self-indulgent post. Any thoughts on this? Personal experience? who else has read this book?

Not read the book, but been in contact with both extremes of what you describe.

I've known musicians who perform with the symphony here and have for many years, who are thoroughly bored with what they are doing.

And at the same time, I've known others who do the exact same thing, yet are as passionate and inspired by what they do now, as the day they started.

I don't think it's any fault of the "system". I believe it's a fault with the person.

One violist I know, is completely bored and disilusioned with the music scene. The symphony in which he plays performs the same music every season (according to him), and the chamber music he performs on the side is boring him as well.

However, I notice one important thing about this particular musician: he has NO openness at all to doing anything slightly different. He scallopes about performing the same dull music over and over, yet never bothers to try doing any NEW music. He is completely closed to the idea of doing anything that is "outside" the scope of what he has always done.

I blame him for his predicament. His own self-imposed blinders are what are boring him.

On the other hand, another musician in the SAME symphony orchestra, plays with such a variety of groups, and is always premiering new works, and trying stuff completely outside her usual sphere of music (she's done jazz, broadway, pop, etc...). Her life is always fun and exciting, because everyday is something new and different. So playing that damned Beethoven 3rd piano concerto AGAIN, for the 6th time in 2 concert seasons, well... She doesn't mind, because she got to do a crapload of fun stuff in between.

As for the concert music scene "going down hill", well, it's always had ups and downs. It's a fact of history.

I've read the book and experienced similar feelings after doing so... but the difference is that by that time, I'd already been a part of the music scene and had seen it first-hand.

Music is a self-directed field; you must direct your future in music, whether in performance, composition, or pedagogy. If you are unhappy with your path, it is up to you to either change it or accept it and deal with it.

I will agree that the "music field" is overpopulated with people with inflated ideas as to their actual ability to find a suitable career in music. But for every negative person who declares that "there's no jobs! OMG ONOZ", there's another who finds/creates a niche for themselves through hard work (and a little luck).

Until audiences tire of real musicians (as opposed to electronic substitutes), there will be places for musicians to perform. If there are places for them to perform, there will be professionals teaching and working. And even if at some point the uneducated begin to prefer electronic music, there will always be a small subset of people who love real music for music's sake. Comiseration with fellow musicians, at least, will always be possible.

I think too many kids get into music to be a musician as a career. One needs to realize that your avocation doesn't necessarily need to be your occupation for you to be happy or successful.

Damn, this post has made me feel like an old man. :-p

Well I'm really not on the side of actually performing music myself, so my concerns are different. Though, I think the "Music scene" in every country, if not every CITY is quite different one from the other, it's all also fluctuating constantly.

So, dunno, being an alarmist doesn't help specially when you go elsewhere and it's something entirely different. Not that it's better or worse but all environments have different problems you have to overcome to get anything done. In South America for example the biggest problem is getting people to even PAY for concerts that play classical music at all. I mean, again, it's very variable but there simply isn't any money going around for this and no money is invested into it so as a result you get a lot of mediocre stuff.

Well most people in SA that can actually get out, do get out. There's (almost certainly) no future what so ever there for anyone trying to build a career on music, much less modern music. So some problems simply put you in no-win situations no matter what you do and in that case you either have to put up with it (have a bunch of "real jobs.") or GTFO.

So, invariably, my sentiment is "lol what are you scalloping about" when I hear people from places like Europe or north america considering that having even the slight chance of getting anything done is way better than being condemned to a dead-end job because the education/money/infrastructure/etc simply ain't there.

I mean I was used to going to concerts for free simply because they didn't charge you money as if they did the attendance would be 1% of what it was (and we're talking at most 30 people attending being a loving success here.) Hardly the crowds that gather to go concerts here in Europe.

But well, that's the kicks; nobody knows what they really have until they actually lose it...

Funny you should say that SSC, I did actually get a very alarmist tone from much of the book...Tindall seems rather selfish, frustrated, and closed most of the time to new experiences, placing much of the blame on the system when it was her who was thinking she deserved better without trying for it.

I agree with all the things that have been said in this thread, but something you wrote, flint-wwrr, brings some questions to mind.

there will always be a small subset of people who love real music for music's sake. Comiseration with fellow musicians, at least, will always be possible.

This is true and comforting (and I know only hypothetical), but to whom is it valued besides the musicians? Will it be a valuable part of a larger culture or exist only to perpetuate itself? I believe in art's for art's sake, but when talking about careers I guess it's a question that bothers me.

Just musings, I don't really have anything to scallop about as I'm about as young and green as they come.

Interesting to hear everyone's take on this subject.

I have not read the book, but to an extent I can identify. A while back I found myself in the enviable position of not having to sing or play for money for the first time in my adult life, and suddenly all desire to do it at all drained away like bathwater. After many years as a professional musician, I'm gradually pulling away from everything I've been doing. Last year I quit my church job after singing there for 10 years, even though it's arguably the best church choir in Los Angeles and the music is consistently marvelous. The year before I quit working for all the local chorales I've been a member of for years. I'm also taking at least a hiatus from the local symphony.

This isn't a sudden thing, though. I realise now that it's a process that has been going on gradually since practically the beginning. At first, I wanted to do everything I could possibly manage - playing piano, playing viola, singing, composing, directing, anything. Focusing on so many things meant, essentially, that I focused on nothing, and aside from singing and to a lesser extent composition, I never became really good at anything. Only my exceptional musicianship even put me "in the league" in some cases.

Gradually I ditched things that didn't work. I quit directing church choirs after trying my hand at it for 6 years because I found that at least 50% of the job was wrangling mediocre amateur singers (with disproportionate egos and their own conflicting agendas) and negotiating the incomprehensible maze of petty church politics. I quit playing chamber music (despite my intense passion for it) because it exposed my technical weaknesses. I quit opera because my relatively light voice condemned me to a career of comprimario roles and the life of second-class citizen in opera society, which I could have lived with if I hadn't despised opera singers themselves on the whole (everything you've heard about them is true, and then some). I enjoyed choral singing with occasional steps out of the chorus as a soloist - it suited me and the people were great; but after years and years and YEARS of three-hour rehearsal as many as 5 nights a week and performances or services virtually every weekend on top of a full-time day job, I burned out on it. I developed an unexplained illness in my throat about 3 years ago (3 ENTs and a gastroenterologist have still not figured out definitively what it is) that made it difficult to sing well and wrung out what little joy I still had in singing, so I reluctantly let that go, too.

Once I recovered from the inital "Oh God! What do I do now?" panic, I felt a great weight lift off of me. Soon, I searched my heart and realised that not only was I basically just fine, but I didn't even miss singing or playing in public. The guilt I felt about bereaving my directors and colleagues of my exalted presence was assuaged quite effectively when I stopped getting phone calls and e-mails from anyone even asking how I was; once I stopped playing the game, I dropped off the face of the earth as far as any of them were concerned. No matter how indispensable people made me feel (because my musicianship made their lives easier), there was always someone waiting in the wings to take my place; the world didn't stop revolving, and life went on without me. Again, once I got over the ego bruise, this was marvelously liberating. For all I know, I subconsciously created this mystery illness to help me make my getaway. Once I no longer needed the money, it was surprisingly easy. I also had the satisfaction of making my exit from professional singing while I was still on top, before whatever this is had taken enough of my voice to be noticeable to anyone but me.

I now make music when and if I want to do so. Sometimes I feel as if I'm wasting my talent, but then I remember that I made double-time use of my talent in as many different ways as I could manage for over a quarter century, nor am I even now completely out of the picture, and then I feel better. The future has limitless possibilities. It's anyone's guess what I could come up with next. But for now, I'm enjoying my semi-retirement.

Essentially, one could distill what I think the lesson of Tindall's book might be thus: music isn't going to make you happy if you're not already happy with yourself. Expecting music, or love, or people, or things, or anything external to make you happy is a sure source of disappointment. It has to come from within you.

Didn't read the book either. But Tindall's perspective, at least as I understand it from this thread, seems a bit cumulative. Think about it. At some point hundreds of years ago there were probably the same folks deriving the same view of their art - same old, same old.

JCharney, you mentioned art for art's sake. It means just what it means. I agree with QC to a point. If you're tired of the same old music, it's really your own fault. Just about every type of music is out there right now to be performed, from old to new and everything in between. But it's all art in its own right (hopefully), and if you don't truly, sincerely, and honestly believe in it you're bound to become bored by it.

I'm just one of those people that can listen to something a thousand times and never get tired of it. Case in point: John Williams "Adventures with E.T." (I'm getting the score for Christmas - finally!). I can listen to this ten times in one sitting. I can put it on at night and fall asleep to it. I have such an appreciation for it that, for whatever reason, keeps me on that steady path to creating music - one note at a time. I can say the same for Bach's Prelude in C (you know, the accompaniment to Ave Maria). It's the only piece I can play on piano, note for note, entirely from memory. I learned how to play it almost 7 years ago (it's not hard, but still... I appreciate the subtleties of the work).

Is this strange? To some, maybe. To me it's natural. Even when I step away from music, I get a hunger to come back to it. Things come to me and grow. This doesn't just come to people, certainly not to those dedicated to seeing only what is in front of them and not the full environment around them.

From my perspective, Tindall seems to be looking only forward - to a dismal future for Classical music, maybe even concert music or music performance on the whole. But none of this is any different from the issues performers coped with 200 years ago. The music survives because, like Graham points out, there's someone else to come along and continue the contribution. In whatever way such a person does it, the haphazard, steady growth that occurs over time because of this phenomena is the only real thing that keeps music "constant" (if we can call it that). In short, it's a lot of crying wolf when we look at the musical phenomenon on the broader scale.

Only when it ceases to pass traditions forward to future generations will music ever be in any real danger, yet even this has just as much potential for growth if the drawing board is completely and utterly reset down the road. It's a balancing act - balanced entirely by the instrumentality of individuals who participate within the global environment of music and their desire to perpetuate, advance, or otherwise reform the artform (reform being the characteristic of the 20th Century in the broader sense). To be less interested in music, to become "bored" with performing it or creating it, is more than just a failure of the individual to look around. It's just as much a failure of the individual to look within.

Art for art's sake means just that - not the performer's sake, the composer's sake, or the audience's sake. I feel for Tindall, at least where it concerns such a personal struggle with feeling fulfilled while remaining engaged. But there's only so much pity we can have for this... with so much out there to do in music, earning a living or otherwise, I have to wonder why Tindall lasted so long in her profession as unhappy as she must have been.

I understand the need some people seem to feel for making a "contribution" to music. That's why I get it when people talk about not wanting to make the same old tired sonata or Baroque work. But what I don't get is how that is any different than the individual seeking to keep that same tired, old work alive. The only true "contribution" to music is the time you spend with it. Nothing more. Nothing less. If that just isn't producing value for Tindall, I'm sure there's an Oboist who's just dying to take her place who might have even become a performer to do exactly what it is that she does. This individual may enjoy that work more than Tillman. But that's the beauty of music today (or maybe as it's always been), that there has almost always been someone to step right up and take their piece of the musical pie. There's plenty to go around, and when you get full, get out of the way!

So, props to Tindall for hopefully getting out of the way so someone else can do what she does and can get their meal out of it. It's the enrichment and improvement in one's own quality of life that is the true reward offered by music.

It reminds me of Tim Robbins in The Shawshank Redemption when he plays Mozart over the loud speakers of the prison yard and ends up getting locked up in Solitary confinement for several weeks. He gets out and sits down for a meal with his friends, and says the time was a breeze with Mozart's music playing in his mind. That's something that no one can take away from us - and he compares it to hope. How appropriate.

I rambled long enough. Too bad Tindall. Get out of the way and let someone else have their time. If you're full, you're full. Time to step back from the table and give someone else the chance to get their fill.

Dear JCharney:

Thanks for your well-written thoughts about my book, and about your professional direction. As I said in the book, by all means go into music full-on if it's something your truly love. That said, plan your education carefully, and with a lot of consideration for the future. I can't stress enough the importance of getting a well-rounded education. This doesn't mean doing so to have "something to fall back on," but as a toolbox that will help you have a more interesting and diverse creative career within music. Especially as a composer, a background in history, science, political science, English, and so on will only enhance your work as a musician. Look at Yo-Yo Ma, a Harvard alumnus who majored in history (I think) and went on to create the fabulous Silk Road Project. Or Josh Bell, who graduated from Indiana University. Or the late conductor Giuseppe Sinopoli, who at the time of his death was weeks away from earning a PhD in Egyptology.

You may find that studying other things leads you to a richer composing career. If you go into film and commercial composing instead of or in addition to an academic career that can truly contribute to your writing. And you may even find that expanding your interests leads to a parallel or alternate career or graduate school in an unrelated field.

As anyone who has read Mozart beginning to end can tell you, it's a book about the *rise* of culture in America. In it, I clearly say that classical music is in the best shape ever here in the US, although many administrators have done everything they can to kill it with overspending in the wrong places, poor policy, and other bad business practices that wouldn't last long in the private sector. (Classical music is almost 100 percent a nonprofit-organization field.) I used my life, which paralleled the whole story of nonprofit arts funding in America, as a way to bring the story to life. I love music and had, and continue to have, a wonderful career -- and said so often in the book. But performing as a musician is not right for everyone. People have unique personalities and desires, and music, like sports, is a career one must settle upon when one is far too young to make such a serious decision. The book is not about me. It is about arts funding and policy in America. It's a book written so musicians can better understand and control what happens in their careers, as one of the respondents above so intelligently points out.

A friend of mine, a violist, went to the Viola Congress this year and asked 50 musicians what they thought of the book. All had strong opinions, mostly negative. Unfortunately, only one had actually read it -- and he liked it. It's a timeline of how we went from music as a hobby and part-time career as recently as the 1950s (there was no full-time orchestra in the US until the NY Phil went to 52 weeks in 1964), to the burgeoning field of today -- where some 2500 players can make a real living from their orchestra salaries alone.

As for the poster right above me, who had not read the book but had strong and negative opinions about it, could you enlighten us on the identity of this "Tillman?"

Anyway, JCharney, worry not. Just think and plan ahead and really take control of your future. Make sure you have a handle on all the latest technology, explore all the ways music gets made today, learn to communicate well with your audience and performers, and enjoy!

Wow, the author herself responds!

If you check this thread again, I just wanted to let you know I really enjoyed the book, contrary to some of the doubts it raised in me and things I said about it, especially its engaging narrative and look into the (VERY) personal life of a professional performer. I really didn't know what it was like out in your world (other than that glamorous, romanticized view of the performer in the "magic dress" you talked about :) )...what a journey you had. I immediately let my friend who is majoring in horn performance borrow it.

Anyway, I guess I misinterpreted your book as a memoir or cautionary tale and ultimately missed the whole theme of the state of the arts. I focused too much on the negative parts of your experience as an individual. When you first introduced the historical tidbits about arts funding I thought it felt out of place in your story until you kept tying it into your own life, but I understand how that hierarchy and system works much better now. A lot of my worry about the whole non-profit system you describe is its kind of isolation if that makes sense. I think it will be something I'll be more aware of as I grow as a musician.

I guess most of my pessimistic thoughts after reading were probably generated by my own self-doubt and empathy with a lot of the situations in which you found yourself. I have zero experience as a professional musician but I could really empathize with your frequent feelings of inertia...personally, it's probably also the entrance into a university environment where there are so many talented people competing--and I have pretty much no sense of competition, especially not having to compete prior to college -- I know you experienced this feeling at NCSA!

Thanks for your book, and especially the personal response. I'll definitely be considering what you and everyone in this thread has to say...

As for the poster right above me, who had not read the book but had strong and negative opinions about it, could you enlighten us on the identity of this "Tillman?"

Bleh, it's a typo. Your name was referenced correctly at the beginning, but my apologies for the errors that followed. No offense was intended.

And I don't want my comments about you as an individual to be construed as "negative." The poster's interpretation of you was what I was responding to, which is why I and everyone else prefaced our reactions with "I have not read this book." And I may actually read your book and see what your position is when I have time to do so, but for brevity, I hope you'll see that my response is in the context of what "art for art's sake" means in music as it pertains J's interpretation of your position.

***Backpedaling for the WIN!!!! ROCK!!!***

In it, I clearly say that classical music is in the best shape ever here in the US, although many administrators have done everything they can to kill it with overspending in the wrong places, poor policy, and other bad business practices that wouldn't last long in the private sector. (Classical music is almost 100 percent a nonprofit-organization field.) I used my life, which paralleled the whole story of nonprofit arts funding in America, as a way to bring the story to life. I love music and had, and continue to have, a wonderful career -- and said so often in the book.

Clearly the original poster did not convey this interpretation. Thank you for posting to clarify. I might go buy your book to get a better sense of your position on the matter.

I also think your stressing of "planning" your education is right on the mark, if not a dramatic understatement. But I also have to say that we should be open to change in the business of these organizations, now more than ever. The American economy is ever-inflating and more dynamic today than it has ever been before. Mistakes are going to happen in trying to keep up with the devaluation of currency, changes to legislation, and other aspects of the business that probably seemed to necessitate such moves at those instances.

I assume you provide a good business model for these organizations to follow as well as account for how the model compensates for fluctuations of the American economy. I assume this from reading into your business education background on your website.

Hi Friends:

Thanks for the continuing discussion, I think it's a really important one. I can't stress enough how the book was originally *only* the history of policy and funding. During journalism school in 1999 I devoured everything I could find on the subject, and a lot of what I'd experienced suddenly made sense. But when I tried writing it as a timeline of history -- well, I could see that few people would read it. It's important, no more so than at a time like this when only a few weeks into our economic slump, several groups have already disappeared or been ravaged in some way (Pasadena Symph, Milwaukee Shakespeare, Pacific Opera, NYC Opera). It's 1987 all over again.

I added the memoir as a way of bringing this all to life. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that people would interpret that as the main event...but since that was the overarching theme of the reviews, I must not have done a good job of minimizing that. I wrote the book by making extensive lists of every issue facing the arts, as well as the "tent poles" of the history of funding and policy, and tried to find stories in my life that illustrated them. What has really surprised me is the assumption that if someone's name appears, I'm dissing them. That very much disappointed me, as I tried to represent the vast majority of people as talented and underappreciated. Ah well, I learned a lot about communication in the aftermath.

Yes, I have a business certificate, but not an MBA. I returned to college in my 30s to learn about things not offered at my arts high school -- chemistry, polisci, calculus, economics. Together with some computer courses and seminars, it did satisfy requirements for the BCI course at Columbia U. And it gave me some tools to understand and research all of this. There's no simple equation in the arts, but what we're seeing now -- with the dissolution of some groups -- is a big lesson. Nonprofit arts orgs need to plan for a rainy day, and also diversify funding sources. With Opera Pacific and Milwaukee Shakes, reliance on 1-3 donors for up to 75 percent of funding is a fragile house of cards., no matter how golden the intent. Running deficits of 50 percent of the annual budget doesn't seem wise, either -- I made some recommendations in the last chapter.

What else I said in the book is that arts funding and attendance is up...WAY up, according to the NEA. It's never been better, but the classical music business is cloaked in mythology that it was once, long ago, some halcyon world free of debt. Music *has* always been a beautiful, halcyon world, in fact, and will continue to be such. But until my lifetime, few people in the US would have considered it a viable career option, because it was impossible to make a living doing only music performance. Things are very different now, and we've forgotten that a full-time music career is a relatively new and wonderful thing. But there's not enough to go around!

I had a great career as a musician. And now I'm having an even better one. I'm not a musician. I'm not a journalist. I'm both, and combining them in new ways. I just returned from Bali, and I'm creating a television travel show where music -- the universal language -- is the vehicle for entering a place and culture. Where I can think of people (I'm remembering the happy percussionists with all their cool instruments in Miss Saigon) who love doing what I was in NYC, and rightfully so, I'm glad I took a left turn that still includes music. I hope all of you find your unique path too. I just ask that you question and explore, and do not waste time being judgmental but instead bask in the wonders of your individual talents.