It’s been extraordinarily edifying to observe CAIC’s audience growth over the years, and to see which program offerings have been successful, as well as those which have resonated with somewhat less effect. A decade ago, Shannon McGinnis, Nicholas Hutchinson and I started Collaborative Arts Institute of Chicago to (re)build an audience for vocal recitals - those very types of concerts that I am told “won’t sell”. I’ve learned from experience that audiences and organizations can both benefit from this kind of bravery. On the one hand, I am grateful for the numerous opportunities to sing Beethoven’s 9th Symphony - it’s one of the most important and most beautiful pieces of music ever written, and its message is timeless - but couldn’t there be more? Don’t some of these over-tilled pastures need a minute to lay fallow so that they can feed us even more richly when it’s time to come back to them? Isn’t it healthy to have a varied diet? To try new things? In this data-driven loop, we end up seeing the same music played over and over in concert halls and opera houses. The millions upon millions of hits these videos receive speak to the dangers of simply giving people more of what they want. YouTube’s algorithms, which are constructed to incessantly feed people more of what they seem to like, only seem to result in the success of cat videos, “ Charlie bit my finger”, and hate speech-filled vlogs that radicalize. Should the artists and arts organizations lead the audiences to new or less-familiar territory? Or should we follow the audience desires and keep grazing in tried and true pastures? Who is doing the shepherding? Even in larger organizations like symphony orchestras and opera companies, every decisionmaker seems cognizant of the fact that aging audiences may be hesitant to fill seats for risky, innovative work, and even one poorly attended opera or set of concerts can imperil their job. When asked why, the feedback is always along the lines of: “oh, they won’t sell”. It’s been one of the primary foci of my work since the beginning, but fewer and fewer presenters are willing to present vocal recitals. Throughout my entire career, I have advocated for the art of the vocal recital. With classical music organizations struggling to remain afloat even in the “normal” times before this pandemic lockdown, information like this has seemed increasingly crucial to mine for hints as to how we might increase ticket revenue and fill our halls’ empty seats. The question of who is leading whom is so frequently unclear, especially in this age in which data is king.Īs marketing technology improves, we collect more and more nuanced information about what sells successfully and what does not. This beautifully mirrors the reciprocal, symbiotic and sometimes murky relationship between performers and audience. Not only do the sheep belong to the shepherd – the shepherd belongs to the flock: They know when he who belongs to them is nearby. The notion of who belongs to whom is thrown on its head: the Shepherd is the one who is cast as follower, his sheep the leaders. There are so many complicated dynamics between the shepherd and his flock in Blake’s little poem. In these times of pandemic, as we are physically cut off from our audiences, the fleeting sweetness of pre-COVID musical life is brought into extra sharp relief. Thus, I relate deeply to the first line of Blake’s deceptively simple poem. And his tongue shall be filled with praise.įor they know when their Shepherd is nigh.Īt the risk of sounding saccharine, I really do relish my life in music.
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