Futures Entwined

The direct impact the new digital culture is having on music, in terms of access, dissemination and copyright, is well documented, but the indirect impact less so. If digital platforms will transform the status of public broadcasters in our society and the services they provide, what about the resulting impact on music?

In many countries, public-service broadcasters are more than providers of programming. They are pivotal generators of music itself. As employers they provide work and training to countless freelance musicians, singers, songwriters, orchestrators, producers, promoters, composers and arrangers, and in their role as guardians of state orchestras, choirs and ensembles, give fixed employment to hundreds more; as commissioners of new work they contribute to the development of musical aesthetics, providing opportunities to musicians and composers that may be unavailable elsewhere; as collectors and disseminators of folk music, broadcasters play a key role in the transmission of style and repertoire from one generation to the next; as reflectors of popular culture, they are archivists of our collective musical expression and culture; in their regional manifestations, they are essential to community reinforcement, contributing to the survival of linguistic and musical diversity; and of course they are disseminators of all of these musicians’ and composers’ work in a multitude of formats, and now even more to global audiences.

If the future role of public broadcasting were to be reduced the puncturing of musical culture could be devastating. The fear is that a more competitive digital environment will run it into the ground. But it also offers public broadcasters a chance to strengthen their argument, by giving the popular and the niche an equal platform, and reaching both broader and more specialised audiences. Rather than further lose their identity, they can emphasise their difference. There are signs that this is happening. France is phasing out advertising on its four state television stations by 2011, and RTVE, the largest state channel in Spain, did so in January of this year.

An essential advantage to public broadcasting is the energy and diversity of contemporary musical life – one of its core engines. The futures of both are entwined.

July 2010

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A Few Days in the Sun?

The Rise and Fall of the Irish New Music Scene

I was at the very heart of the city. The postal code of my office was ‘Dublin 1’. From my office window, I could eventually glimpse the Spire of Dublin, the 120-metre, shimmering, pin-like monument which I watched being erected in 2003. The site of the Spire was traditionally regarded as the exact centre of Dublin City.

This city was itself at the core of a country that had only recently overcome its historic poverty. Working by day as a book editor, I wandered the streets at lunchtime, usually from bookshop to bookshop, and witnessed the ramping up of the economy: bank queues, energetic shopping, ubiquitous takeaway coffees, new apartment blocks and shops, street sculptures and adventurous bridges, contemporary street lighting, large crowds at traffic lights, people out-of-it on heroin on the main thoroughfare, endless advertisements for musical and artistic events.

It was almost too much to take in. Not able to take full advantage of the endless cultural fare – we had two small children and lived in the suburbs – I comforted myself with my traditional pastime of lunchtime and early evening contemporary music concerts, saving myself up for big events.

My reaction to the new Irish music of the time was what I most remember about those early years of the 2000s – Roger Doyle’s Passades, Donnacha Dennehy’s To Herbert Brün, Jennifer Walshe’s dirty white fields, Raymond Deane’s slightly earlierSeachanges, and works by Benjamin Dwyer, Ian Wilson, Gerald Barry, Ronan Guilfoyle and Andrew Hamilton. I sensed my responses were tied into the times we were living in, its pressures and contradictions. These concerts could be combative, clarifying, abrasive or still – the music literally forcing something from the room. I sank into these adventures, clinging to their craft, breathing in their audacity and immoveability. As the last note of each concert was held and echoed, I felt that it was literally holding the door shut against the forces outside.

Outside, public debate was thin, a conversation of convenience which refused to connect the dots of our society, to balance growth with needs and fairness. The logic of economic growth at any cost was overwhelming us all. In the years since, I have resisted over-analysing the music of that time for fear of relinquishing its magic. Yet time cannot help but offer clarity.

Raymond Deane pointed to the tangential status of Irish contemporary music during the Celtic Tiger boom, when he wrote in The Journal of Music in Ireland in February 2002 that Irish composers ‘deliberately impede’ the state’s influence. What these new-music concerts offered were sites of resistance. It was a space one could occupy that was not persuaded by the economic logic.

As the new-music scene in Ireland grew during the 2000s, it began to move, surprisingly, given its uncompromising nature, from the periphery towards the centre. Permanent emigration had ceased, a new generation of ambitious musicians and composers were making their presence felt, and this was coupled with an unprecedented level of arts funding. As Roger Doyle noted at the time, for years his generation of composers (those born c. 1950, and who generated a blossoming of new music in the 1970s) had been looking over their shoulder waiting for the next generation to come along. Suddenly, in the 2000s, it was like being surrounded by ‘locusts’. In an article in The Journal of Music in Ireland in January 2004, the composer Benjamin Dwyer captured the new environment:

The last twenty years has seen the development of festivals and events such as the Sligo Contemporary Music Festival, the Ennis School of Composition, the RTÉ Living Music Festival, the Sonorities festival, the Composers’ Choice series at the National Concert Hall, the Mostly Modern series at the Bank of Ireland Arts Centre, Opera Theatre Company (for new Irish opera), the National Symphony Orchestra’s Horizons series, the Hugh Lane Gallery’s Sundays at Noon series, not to mention the emergence of the new music ensembles Concorde, Vox21, Crash, Whispering Gallery and Double Adaptor. And this is merely a swift perusal. The face of Irish art music has altered radically … and the social implications of this have been so extraordinary and far-reaching that it would not be an exaggeration to describe these developments as a new renaissance.

Between 1998 and 2008, the Arts Council budget grew from thirty-five to eighty-two million, which not only fed into music in the form of direct funding to artists, but also grew the constellation of resources and events that had been gradually building up. In 1985, the Contemporary Music Centre was established, followed in 1986 by Music Network (which organised concerts throughout the country), the Irish Traditional Music Archive arrived in 1987, the Improvised Music Company in 1991, the Sligo Contemporary Music Festival in 1997, the Crash Ensemble – a groundbreaking new-music ensemble – in 1998, Note Productions, Waterford New Music Week, Sonorities Festival, and the Forum for Music in Ireland – an umbrella group and campaigning body – in 1999, The Journal of Music in Ireland in 2000, the first RTÉ Living Music Festival – a major new state-sponsored contemporary music festival – and the Dublin Electronic Arts Festival (DEAF) in 2002, the i-and-e group organising improvised music events in 2003, the Young Composers’ Collective in 2004 (later the Irish Composers’ Collective), Ireland Promoting New Music set up by composer Siobhan Cleary in 2005, and the Louth Contemporary Music Society and the production company Ergodos in 2006.

When The Journal of Music in Ireland began in 2000 it could quite comfortably keep up with the number of new-music events in the country. By 2006, that had become almost impossible. New-music festivals, once annual events, now clashed regularly in the calendar. And they didn’t restrain themselves to traditional forms: pop, rock, multimedia, electronics and improvisation all become normal features of the output of Irish composers.

A high watermark arrived with the fourth RTÉ Living Music Festival in 2006. Featuring the music of Steve Reich, with the composer in attendance, it drew a large, young and diverse crowd. It was widely seen as the apex of growth up to that point, drawing on all the energy and vibrancy of the entire scene. In a sense, it signalled the full arrival of a new generation.

In order to get there, however, a generation had had to reconcile itself with the logic of the Celtic Tiger economy, to begin to see it not as something that should be resisted, but rather as a development that could yield great opportunities. That conclusion, of course, is precisely what the full implementation of this economic logic needed to achieve.

The final concert of that RTÉ Living Music Festival was a performance of Music for 18 Musicians, a masterpiece written in the mid-70s and which was about as old, or older than, many of the people in attendance. As written in The Journal of Music in Ireland shortly afterwards by the young composer Jürgen Simpson, ‘To hear it being played in the National Concert Hall with the composer present must surely rank as one of the finest musical moments that venue has ever seen.’ There is a sense now, however, that with a generation’s success within the terms of reference of the Celtic Tiger, came also a cessation of any resistance to the logic of economic growth at all costs. As this logic was embraced by more and more citizens, borrowing and spending reached unprecedented levels. In 2006 and 2007, the system was pushed to breaking point. In late 2008, it collapsed.

The results of our embrace are now clear to see. The RTÉ Living Music Festival was suspended in 2009, as was regional touring by the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra; Arts Council funding has been cut for the last two years and the music budget has been reduced by almost 20%; the first new-music ensemble Concorde (founded in 1976), as well as the Association of Irish Composers, and Music 21 (formerly Mostly Modern) were refused all funding this year; Crash Ensemble’s funding was reduced by 13.5%; Note Productions were cut by over 60%, and the Louth Contemporary Music Society by over 53%; the DEAF festival, unable to secure regular funding or sponsorship, finished up last year; the Improvised Music Company and the Contemporary Music Centre received decreases of over 22%; and the long-running Sundays at Noon/Gallery Music series was cut by over 43%. Progress built up over years has now been snuffed out or damaged by an overarching financial and cultural short-termism.

Is a few days in the sun what it was all about? Is the fate of the Irish music scene to simply accept the logic of economic growth and soon march up the hill again, only to fall back down a couple of years later? Or is it going to use the experience, self-reliance and determination that it learned from the Celtic Tiger to challenge its logic and agitate for a music scene – and an economic environment – that is truly sustainable? There are still new initiatives cropping up – the monthly Kaleidoscope events in Dublin, for example – but in the economic challenges that it now faces, we are about to find out what this generation is really made of.

April 2010

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Tell Us Another

‘I mbliana ní raibh aon urraíocht ar fáil faraor, leis an tseachtain ealaíne is oidhreachta a reachtáil mar a bhíonns againn go hiondúil.’ Or, in English: ‘Unfortunately, no sponsorship was available this year to organise the arts and heritage week as usual.’ The note came home from school, here in Conamara. Not an insurmountable problem. It’s a resourceful school and the staff are going to mix up the classes and deploy their own talents to keep the week going. In the past, the funding, mainly public, has been used to bring in artists, musicians and writers from outside.

Few parents, given the economic mess, would be surprised that money was short this year. Everyone is feeling it, and cutting back. But as a populace we need to acutely question a system in which a modest educational event for children in a small rural area on the west coast of Ireland can be so clearly affected by global economic decisions in which they have not the slightest say. There are surely thousands of examples of such disconnect throughout the world, and it begs us to ask how we could begin to localise our economies again.

The arts week – named ‘Ealaín Bheo’, literally, ‘art that is alive’ – is only in its fourth year. The funding came from the local arts office just down the road, which receives its funding from the regional authority and the national arts council, the funding of which, respectively, comes from government departments of the Irish language and the arts. They in turn receive their allocations from the Department of Finance, whose cash flow is deeply entwined with the fortunes of the globalised economy.

And who influences that? Corporations move capital freely and invest profitably around the world. The combination of their capital and a country’s resources allows them to develop economies, generating growth, wealth, opportunity and progress – and ultimately there is a dripping-down of wealth to all of society. Everyone wins. Why don’t we tell that to the kids at arts week? They love a good fiction.

April 2010

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Arts Council Statement on Utne Award

“The Arts Council has sent its congratulations to Toner Quinn, Editor of The Journal of Music on winning the Utne Independent Press Award for arts coverage.

This award is in recognition of the quality of the publication on an international stage. The magazine is distinctive in covering a wide range of music genres in its pages. By making a virtue of its ability to effortlessly and authoritatively transcend the conventional genre boundaries, The Journal of Music has engaged the interests of musicians and music lovers from a very broad range of backgrounds. In articles written by musicians but meant for all, this magazine skillfully takes the reader behind the music itself and introduces the people who make, perform and engage with that music.

Once again, the message which can be taken from this success, when it comes to Ireland’s international reputation is clear and simple: art matters.”

Website: http://bit.ly/9pGFhn

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Winner of the 2010 Utne Independent Press Award for Arts Coverage

At an awards ceremony in Washington D.C. on Sunday April 25th, The Journal of Music was announced as the winner of the 2010 Utne Independent Press Award for Arts Coverage. The Utne awards, now in their twenty-first year, survey over 1,300 independent magazines from all around the world.

In selecting The Journal of Music, the judges wrote: ‘The Journal of Music stands well apart from the pack in the music press, both because it’s published in Ireland and because it covers such a wide range of music in its pages, from classical and folk to pop and jazz. In articles written by musicians but meant for all, this magazine brings to life the craftsmanship, artistry and passion-stirring powers of music.’

This is a great honour for the magazine and we would like to thank all of our readers, writers and funders who have helped make the magazine a success.

Toner Quinn, Editor
Simon O’Connor, Art Director
Benedict Schlepper-Connolly, Deputy Editor
Simon Doyle, Website Developer

Utne statement: http://bit.ly/deLilJ

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A Model Business

The search for a sustainable business model for the producing and selling of music in the digital age persists, but it is crippled by a narrow view of the internet. Presenting this technology as either a threat to income, due to its ability to copy content easily, or an opportunity for generating income, due to its instant connectivity to so many, means other key aspects of its influence on the business of money are neglected.

For example, a characteristic of the internet is that traditionally time-consuming tasks – purchasing an album; finding information on an artist – now take an extremely short amount of time, if any at all. Tasks can also be carried out for less money than before, or regularly, no money, whether it be distributing content or communicating with others. If time is still equal to money, then the internet must save us an incalculable amount of both – daily, weekly and annually.

Where do all this these extra euros and hours go? We obviously invest in other purchases and activities, but, listening to the hum of the musical world, it seems that just keeping up with the new, high-speed music market actually demands that additional money and time. In other words, what the internet giveth with one hand, it taketh away with the other. This double-edged-sword view of the internet is at the heart of most discussions regarding a new business model for music.

But it is an illusion. What still hasn’t happened, in these most extraordinary of times, is a change in expectations. Those who traditionally made an enormous amount of money from music still expect to. Those who haven’t, still want to. This model of growth is unsustainable.

Money can be a good incentive to produce music, or a bonus for doing something you love, but beyond a certain level, extra zeros do not equate with better music or more motivation. For such a human, moral issue, it is ironic that it will probably be the internet – a machine – that will eventually teach us this lesson.

February 2010

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Midem 2010

Cannes – The teenagers employed to demonstrate the joys of Rockband – complete with full stage, bass and lead guitars, mics and kit – must have been wondering why the game was suddenly becoming such hard work. Situated by the café area at Midem – the annual music fair that has attracted artists, labels, music publishers and managers from all over the world since 1967 – surely some of them would take take time out from intense meetings to knock out ‘Message in a Bottle’ or ‘When I’m Sixty-Four’. The Journal of Music spotted the occasional enthusiastic participant, including French Minister of Culture and Communication Frédéric Mitterrand, but many when they tried it seemed slightly underwhelmed. We’re too exhausted selling the stuff to play it, betrayed their heavy eyes and thin grins.

‘From content to context – monetising the new music experience’ was the theme of MidemNet, the accompanying digital music conference. It’s not just the content that matters in the new digital world, so the story goes, but rather the context in which it is presented (if this doesn’t seem like a radical new marketing idea, it was certainly presented as one). The implications of this, however, can reach deep into the development of artists’ careers, involving digital communities, personalised mobile device applications (apps), closer digital access for listeners to their favourite artists, and reimagining the way music reaches audiences, beyond the traditional approaches of single, CD, tour. It was these depths that were being explored.

Media futurist Gerd Leonhard advocated the ‘freemium’ model: provide your music for as close to nothing as possible initially, and once people are hooked, sell ‘packages’ of mixed media and ‘virtual products’. At times convincing, in its confident assumptions about such a precarious future, it also required real faith. US producer, entrepreneur and member of the group N.E.R.D., Pharrell Williams, had both content and context. His philosophy for the digital age was simpler: attach your music to something larger, something that has momentum, something that will bring your music to the next level. Midem is so highly focused on business and money-making – sorry, monetising – rather than musical creativity, that viewing artists and their music as the hitchhiker rather than the driver is par for the course. But Williams’ commitment to music was clear. Inspired by the number of young musicians coming up to him at gigs with their ideas, music and creativity, he established the artst.com website, which is an online community presenting their work – as he explained, ‘there’s no “i” in “artst” because it’s not about me, it’s aboutyou.’

It was another marketeer, David Jones of the New York advertising agency Havas, who struck a provocative note, saying that pop-up advertising, as epitomised by Spotify and YouTube, would not succeed as a business model because the future of the music industry was ‘in engagement, not intrusion’. Daniel Ek, CEO of Spotify, and Patrick Walker, Director of Video Partnerships with YouTube, in a separate session, disagreed of course – what sales figures could be drawn from the speakers did appear to be impressive, and yet in the context of listening to all the MidemNet arguments, Jones’ argument seemed to make a palpable hit. Two years ago, Jones’ company purchased the record company THE:HOURS, and incorporated it into their ad agency. Where once they developed an ad concept and then went looking for music, he explained, now the music was considered very early on in the process, and incorporated into it. There can hardly be a stronger example of context.

Ralph Simon, CEO of the Mobilium Advisory Group, singled out Gracenote, TuneWiki and Mobile Roadie as the most exciting digital companies to watch. Coincidentally, the twenty-something CEO of Mobile Roadie, Michael Schneider, spoke next, talking passionately about the extraordinary potential of apps  – that they would be the new websites – and also his ambitions for democratisation of apps, making them affordable for new artists. Paul McGuinness, manager of U2, spoke from the floor, raising the question of sound quality in a streaming, MP3 world. Technology would solve this problem too, came the assurance. Technology certainly helped Peter Gelb of New York’s Metropolitan Opera in broadcasting performances to cinemas worldwide. He treats opera like a sports event – they’re similar he says, in that both audiences come anticipating their stars to produce the goods, whether it be a soprano’s high C or a touchdown.

Jeffrey Hazlitt, Chief Marketing Officer of Eastman Kodak related to listeners how Kodak reinvented itself after the decline of traditional camera film. At Kodak he insisted on implementing his brash marketing style. His job, he explained, was to push the company aggressively forward, ‘to go to the edge of the table’. And there were certainly plenty of tables at Midem. On the Midem floor, stands from every country from Macedonia to the Caribbean to Iran presented beautifully packaged CDs – yes, still CDs despite its death being announced by every speaker; a retired US dentist was busy promoting his discovery Christelle from the small African country of Gabon; Songkick – ‘the home for live music online’ – gave the most impressive presentation of the fifteen 2010 ‘hottest digital music start-ups’; a designer for Diesel had given up her career in Italy and moved to England to manage Z-Star, such was her belief in the artist; and, despite attendance being down 13% on 2009 and 25% on 2008, the impeccably organised Midem whirlwind of colour, music, big personalities and seasoned dealers wound on late into every sea-aired night. www.midem.com

February 2010

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Fidil

In a live broadcast from the Oireachtas festival in Co. Donegal last year, following a brief, jocular interview with the television host, fiddle-player Ciarán Ó Maonaigh seemed to step into a different personality. Standing four-square on front of the camera, eyes wide open and fixed on his fingers, bow pressing unconventionally hard against the strings, he presented a robust, almost aggressive treatment of a selection of reels. The performance stood out for its intensity, but it also drew attention to the journey travelled since his solo album Ceol a’Ghleanna in 2004. Apart from two fiddle duets with Dermot McLaughlin, which seemed to unlock a daring side to Ó Maonaigh, there is only slight suggestions of the gutsy musician that was still to come. Significantly, these duets were based directly on earlier recordings of mid-twentieth-century Donegal fiddle-players, John and Mickey Doherty and Frank Cassidy, and with his reimagining of these classic performances, Ó Maonaigh seemed to have found his niche.

His next project, an equal partnership with Donegal fiddle-player Aidan O’Donnell, and a 2008 CD titled Fidil, saw him clearly play to his strengths, with an album of pulling-at-the-leash duets that presented an imaginative vision of contemporary Irish fiddle playing: raw, primal and employing a brave disregard for stylistic convention.

Ó Maonaigh and O’Donnell have now been joined by another fine fiddle player in Damien McGeehan, and still working under the title Fidil, have released an album called 3. The challenge in multiplying fiddle-playing not just by two strong personalities but by three is clear. What is the ideal approach? Carefully worked out arrangements? Alternate soloing? Complete spontaneity? Fidil experiment with all three, but it’s difficult not to notice that the exhilarating freedom of expression that was so to the fore on the first Fidil album has been distilled slightly, creating an album with a more compositional, controlled approach. Bowed harmonic lines and strummed chords interlace with renditions of a mainly Donegal repertoire, and while the entirely unorthodox ‘Hunt of the Hound and the Hare’ suits the trio perfectly, giving them an abundance of material to work with, the overall sound of ‘Dinkies’, tunes of such character that it should have been the perfect opportunity for the trio to excel, struggles to represent the collective and individual brilliance of the three fiddle-players. Nonetheless, as live performances of the group have shown, Fidil is capable of great things, and ‘Francie Mooney’s’ barndance shows the trio at its best: striking an inspired balance between introspective solo fiddle and an intuitive, bowed and plucked accompaniment of real depth.

February 2010

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The Songs We Don’t Sing

I have been watching, in amazement, the cartoon Wonder Pets on the Nickelodeon children’s television channel.

Demonstrating the benefits of teamwork, Linny the guinea pig, Tuck the turtle, and Ming-Ming the duckling (Ming-Ming is everyone’s favorite, and mine, too) save an animal in trouble—sometimes a dolphin, sometimes a monkey, sometimes a bee—in every episode, and feats of great collaboration are always required.

But it’s not just the photo-puppetry animation, the message of teamwork, or the humor of the cartoon that’s engaging; it’s also the fact that the characters are always singing. It’s practically an opera for toddlers, but with a lot more recitative and not too many grand arias.

As the three creatures sing, answer distress calls by phone, and travel far away and sometimes through time, they are accompanied by a score written by current composers and played by an orchestra. The score climaxes every now and then in the Wonder Pets refrain: “What’s gonna work? Teamwork! What’s gonna work? Teamwork!” It’s an awesome achievement to set an entire cartoon series to music and to employ the voices of three young children. Deservedly, Wonder Pets won an Emmy award for music direction and composition in 2008.

Even in our wildest dreams as parents, however, we can’t imagine that Wonder Pets is going to grow an appreciation of singing, never mind opera, in our children. It’s just another passive experience that they sit through. Parents realize this, but we don’t need to worry about it in the toddler years because there is no lack of singing and play in children’s lives at that stage.

Singing is one of the first things that parents do with babies when they are born, and parents are constantly singing to toddlers: wordless ditties, choruses and refrains, made-up rhyming songs, anything to comfort them or engage with them. Parents sing, sing, sing in the early years of children’s lives—and then it stops.

What happens? Once children are at school age, after a toddlerhood of joy in singing, parents begin to consider their musical ability, they look into the future, ambition sets in, music lessons enter stage left, and suddenly, without anyone noticing it, singing has been dealt a critical blow. It is instrumental lessons that children are sent to. Piano, clarinet, fiddle, whatever. Parents suddenly emphasize playing an instrument, as if singing wasn’t substantial enough. Instruments are purchased, music stands are put up, practice is required, and slowly that natural instinct to sing out at the drop of a hat is left behind.

Will singing reappear in the family? Will the songs children learn at school be sung at home? Will their urge to sing, if it is strong enough, find an outlet in a band or a choir when they are teenagers? We don’t know, but by demoting singing when children are so young, we have suggested a trend for life. It is symbolic that the rise of the garage band has occurred as the practice of singing at home has waned. What does it say when the urge to sing or play music means that you end up in the coldest room in the house?

Perhaps singing has been taken for granted. It doesn’t require money, and, unlike instrumental ability, which we generally consider can be learned through practice, we often presume that you either have a voice or you don’t. Our language is full of phrases that inhibit our singing—“she’s tone deaf,” “he doesn’t have a note in his head,” “I never had a voice.” Very few people are actually tone deaf. Being able to sing in tune is little more than a matter of practice.

The lack of emphasis on singing in society means that, well, there is none. Nobody knows the lyrics to anything. Sing-alongs often require a laptop to Google the lyrics. The merry singing after the pub is an endless line of half choruses repeated and then abandoned. At the same time, sing-alongs have become such a rarity that those who have songs, who have learned them, are rarely asked to sing. Society—the bulk of it—has become shy about singing. The spontaneous song becomes the lesser-spotted vocal. Family occasions that cry out for a song—not just weddings and funerals, but also lunches and dinners—are bereft of the practice of calling for hush and asking the one or two in the family who are known to have a voice to release it. Do we know today if any of our nearest or dearest even have a voice?

There is no easy solution to this. Music clearly needs a champion in the home. The sheer variety of aural and visual entertainment available to us presents a formidable challenge. We spend a lot of our time singing and humming along to songs from a digital source. We need to show children that a song is not merely something you consume, but something that you can produce.

Published in Utne Reader, Jan-Feb 2010: http://www.utne.com/Arts/The-Songs-We-Dont-Sing.aspx

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Our Technological Land of Oz

For nine years, I have been poised as a magazine publisher, ready to leap into the virtual world entirely. From about 2006, I was expecting it every month. It has yet to happen. Earlier this year I witnessed another magazine, not unlike ours – one that I regularly flicked through – go online and I stopped reading it entirely. No one will find that surprising.

We may find it easy to revert to clichés and say that people will always want print, or that balance is everything, but, while that may be true, it also entirely underestimates the profound impact that technology has had on the magazine industry. Behind the scenes, technology has entirely transformed the way they are written, designed, edited, administered, illustrated and even discussed. Where just five years ago a dial-up internet connection meant approximately two hours of the day was spent waiting for internet pages to open, for files to download, or for emails to be received or sent, it is now practically instantaneous. We can now work in three separately located offices yet maintain communications almost on a par with being in one. High-speed technology has changed the way we read and write, and it follows that it has changed the way we think. But on the surface we are still surrounded by paper so we presume that our familiar ideas about culture are holding their own.

What this says to me about technology is that there really is no actual balance that we can strike. Balance is an illusion, but one we believe we have control over. Technology is rushing at us from all sides, somewhat like the tornado in The Wizard of Oz. We, like Dorothy holding on to Toto, cling on to what is most valuable to us, but meanwhile the house is gone. But as Dorothy discovered, you get a whole new world in return, and that can be just as interesting.

So what musically do we want to hold on to? For some, it may be the piano in the hall, or the pleasure of a live concert performance. For others, it is the LPs and CDs on the shelf. Whatever it is, even if they appear to be staying the same, their meaning in a society that is undergoing a technological revolution, has entirely changed.

December 2009

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