Last Year’s Words, and Next Year’s Voices: Essays and Speeches from a Decade as Chairman of the International Conference of Symphony and Opera Musicians

By Bruce Ridge

Author Bruce Ridge served as chair of the International Conference of Symphony and Opera Musicians from 2006 to 2016. In this time of economic upheaval and social change, when orchestras were besieged with lockouts and bankruptcies, many questioned the value of the symphony orchestra to society. Into this environment, Ridge brought an eloquent, positive message, embracing connection through social media, highlighting the value of musicians to their community, and promoting the healing orchestral music can provide. The essays and speeches Ridge shares recount ICSOM’s expanding role as a true advocacy organization under his leadership. He addresses topics both global and personal, ranging from arts education’s role in a vibrant civil society to the challenges of maintaining mental health in a stressful profession. This collection of writings serves as a remarkable journal of advocacy on behalf of one of the world’s greatest cultural treasures: our symphony orchestras.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781483488356

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RIDGE

Copyright © 2018 Bruce Ridge.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This book is a work of non-fiction. Unless otherwise noted, the author and the publisher make no explicit guarantees as to the accuracy of the information contained in this book and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8836-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8835-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018908208

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 7/20/2018

Foreword

BY MEREDITH SNOW

ICSOM CHAIRPERSON (2016-)

The ten years that Bruce Ridge served as Chairman of ICSOM, from 2006 to 2016, were probably the most economically challenging that our orchestras had faced since ICSOM was formed in 1962. The dot-com recession of 2001 and the ‘Great Recession’ in 2008 left behind a wake of devastation in the American economy. Our orchestras were hit particularly hard. Endowments were laid waste by the stock market crash, economic instability shook the confidence of donors, and ill-advised real estate ventures became a financial albatross for several orchestras. The already existing presentiment of the unsustainability and irrelevance of classical orchestras became a deluge of negative messaging, not just from the press, but from the very managers and boards charged with preserving these institutions.

Bruce was a beacon of light in these troubled times. Not only was his leadership an inspiration to our musicians, reminding us of the invaluable contribution we make to our communities, but he also mitigated the defeatist dialogue surrounding our industry. By unceasingly drawing attention to the economic and educational benefits of sustaining an orchestra—with facts not rhetoric— he turned the tide of pessimism that threatened to marginalize our profession.

Wherever an orchestra was in trouble, Bruce was there to advise and support the musicians, often speaking with management and the board as well. He began the Call to Action donations to support orchestras during work stoppages. Over the course of his ten-year chairmanship, he spoke at numerous conferences, schools, and conservatories, and spread his positive message to thousands of people. Herein are many of his published essays and speeches, as relevant today as when they were written.

Bruce has been a great leader for ICSOM and for our industry. He is a tireless advocate of the arts, of orchestras and of the need to support music education. His dedication to our ICSOM orchestras is unparalleled. It has been a privilege to have served with him on the Governing Board for so many years, and I am honored to call him my friend.

Introduction

BRUCE RIDGE

JUNE 2018

Very early in his career, Bob Dylan wrote Do not create anything. It will be misinterpreted. It will not change. It will follow you the rest of your life.

In the nearly two years since I stepped down as ICSOM Chair, the question people ask most often is, What are you doing now? Primarily, I have been reading. It has been a great luxury. If it is true that we like to buy books because we think we are buying the time to read them, it has been a great gift that, after so many years of activism, I have actually had such time.

About a year into this phase of relative retirement, I began reading the essays and speeches I wrote from my time with ICSOM, some of which are now over a decade old, and some of which seemed new to my memory. Yes, they have not changed, and yes, some were misinterpreted at the time, but each one took on a new role for me as I revisited the writing, and the time in which the pieces were written. Some were like snapshots; Polaroids of memories that reminded me more of the people I met in a decade of travel than the difficulties we were facing as classical musicians. I was fortunate to work with incredible artists who demonstrated bravery and resiliency at a time when the economy melded with years of negative rhetoric to endanger these musical institutions to which we have dedicated our lives.

But these memories did not seem to live entirely in the past for me. These pages report on difficulties and triumphs, and serve as cautionary tales in a field that tends to emphasize the study of failure above the replication of success. Many of the orchestras that faced the greatest crises have emerged stronger, eager to embrace the tremendous successes they have achieved in the ensuing years.

In working on these issues that faced our field, we wanted to elevate the tone of the debate. We wanted to emphasize hope, and beauty, and we wanted to unite together to believe it was possible to realize our dreams, and perhaps more importantly, to recognize that no hardship could diminish those dreams for true artists.

Even in a mere two years, the world has changed. While orchestral musicians emerged from the recession more unified and more supportive of each other in times of need, it is difficult to avoid being affected by the destructive level of discourse that has descended upon the world in all areas of political and social life.

In this moment of civilization, where the incessant drone of news seems to embrace a rhetoric of hatred, dishonesty, and distrust among the citizens of the world, our music remains more relevant than ever.

Despite the challenges that now face the world, what emerges for me in reflecting upon these essays is the successes that were achieved by the musicians who unified to save their orchestras, and enrich their presence in their cities. Entirely new forms of media emerged over the decade, and musicians learned to utilize these new tools for a new era of positive advocacy. And while many destructive tactics were used against musicians in a time of economic difficulties for orchestras (perhaps most notably an unprecedented spate of lockouts) we did not merely survive; we grew.

It should be said that there is some repetition in these pages, which is inevitable as we sought to emphasize so many themes to stay on message. The speeches I delivered especially tended to harvest from essays I was writing at the time. But there are many memories for me here as well.

I remember pacing the campus of the University of Michigan in 2012, the night before delivering the keynote address at the American Orchestra Summit, in what would serve as both my most controversial and perhaps my proudest moment as ICSOM Chair. I remember a similar evening walking the streets of Washington, DC in 2009, the night before my testimony before Congress. But it is the visits with musicians that I remember most vividly and there were moments of hope offered by the strength of our membership that will sustain me always.

There remain many causes before us that require our participation, both for our orchestras and our place in the world. In my final essay as ICSOM Chair I quoted from an opinion piece in The Etude from 1947: The time has long since passed when musicians were expected to stand submissively, as ‘souls apart’ outside the gates of world progress, and not participate in the tremendous movements of the age…the participation of musically trained minds cannot fail to be of priceless value to the body politic at this startling moment in world history.

We will never be fearful; we will never be isolated; we will never be apathetic. A decade of travel and a decade of evenings spent with the artists of the world convinced me that musicians accomplish amazing and beautiful things on a nightly basis. With every day that passes I am even more convinced that the world needs to hear our music and our voices as never before.

Prelude:

LAST YEAR’S WORDS, AND NEXT YEAR’S VOICES

Last Year’s Words, and Next Year’s Voices

SENZA SORDINO

DECEMBER, 2013

In February of 1979, I joined my first professional orchestra at the age of fifteen. I remember everything about the night of my first concert, and I still have the program as if to prove it really happened. I remember how my 100% polyester tuxedo didn’t fit all that well, and how my giant bow tie was probably more appropriate for those awkward senior prom photographs than for the orchestra’s attire. I remember the feel of backstage, and the names of everyone on stage with me that night. I was joining a great orchestra, one that was composed of my teachers and mentors. I idolized them, and now they were graciously indulging and tolerating me by allowing me to join them. Walking on stage was so exciting that I kept going back off stage, just so I could experience walking on stage again.

I remember that after the concert, there was a temporary bar in the lobby, selling small glasses of wine. I ordered a glass, and of course they questioned my age. But I replied with a huff and an indignation that only a 15-year-old can muster, saying I’m in the orchestra. So, with some pretty apparent reluctance, they went ahead and served me. (I am assuming the statute of limitations has expired.)

I stood there that night thinking that absolutely anything was possible, and decades later I remain haunted by that potential.

Do you know what I mean by the mirage in the road? It’s that shimmering illusion of water that taunts you on the highway about 25 yards in front of your car on hot humid days. On the coast of North Carolina, the salt air and humidity combine to make the mirage appear especially intense and enticing. I used to get frustrated with my father for not driving fast enough to catch up to the shimmering pool of water. I swore that, when I was older, I would catch the mirage. I could even imagine the splash as I caught up to it, drove through it, and left it behind.

With the arrival of the new year, literally on January 1, I will be fifty years old. I feel as if a threshold has been crossed, and I’m not certain of what lies ahead of me, or for that matter, what lingers behind.

On that first night back in 1979, there was meaning in everything I saw, heard, and touched. Every note of music seemed to mean more than the last. I sensed that a new age of enlightenment was about to ease the world’s burdens. Music, art, poetry, compassion, love, empathy—these seemed to be the most important things. I was surrounding myself with people who all felt the same way and who were eager to live in ways that would allow them to approach expressing the inexpressible.

One of the Flying Wallendas once said: Life is on the wire. The rest is just waiting.

I want it back. I want to feel again the excitement I felt when I was hearing music for the first time; I want to be a part of an idealistic community that only musicians can truly create as we live and work together, and I want to believe again, with apologies to Keats, that the truth and beauty to which we aspire is still within reach.

As musicians we invest our lives in the pursuit of beauty, spending our days (and especially our nights) reaching for something we all know is greater than ourselves. It is all the more remarkable that we still believe at all, despite working in a field that is so ugly at times.

In a field that offers the world beauty, peace, solace, inspiration, and communion, the sounds of our instruments and the voices of Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms must work to be heard over a din of destructive negativity, where self-promoting and self-fulfilling advocates of the demise of music engage in meaningless personal attacks, and a handful of divisive and polarizing figures attempt to dictate the future based on the tenets of their failed pasts. But one thing I have learned in life is that what you allow to continue is what will continue, so we must never allow the negative voices to silence us, either as musicians or as citizens of the world.

I have also learned another truth: people always overplay their hands. Those who deal a negative hand will not be heard, will not be remembered, and through the passing of time will be proven to have been on the wrong side of history.

That is not to say though that change is not required; change must be welcomed in all endeavors. And while I am indulgently reflective for the moment, I think we sometimes approach the future while still facing the past. All of our organizations must change, and every facet of our lives must be ready and eager to adapt. Constant change is here to stay, and I’ve recently heard it said that only a fool trips on what is behind him.

Answers may be found in the past, but solutions are found in the future.

Life can be a process of learning how to live with disappointment while still allowing yourself to hope. I find my hope in the next generation of musicians, many not yet born when I repeatedly walked on and off stage that first night in 1979. I see and hear in these musicians the same belief that I had then, and there is no part of me that wants to teach them to doubt. I am not at all eager to tell them how things really are.

Actually, I’m kind of hoping that they will remind me of how things could be. Some of the leaders and musicians I am working with had not even touched a musical instrument when I joined my current orchestra. Yet I do not doubt that they will achieve far greater things, through music and through ICSOM, than I could have dreamt even all those years ago.

In every orchestra I have joined, I was the youngest member for a while. In 2006 I was the youngest person to become ICSOM chair. Such accolades are past me now. As George Carlin said You can’t tell time; time tells you. Still, I want to chase the mirage in the road again, and imagine my wheels splashing through the water as I leave all illusions behind—even if my fifty years have tried to convince me that the goals I once set for myself will always remain ahead of me.

For last year’s words belong to last year’s language, and next year’s words await another voice. – T.S. Eliot

I wish you all a brave New Year.

With love and admiration,

Bruce

Essays

2006-2016

Lessons from Nashville

SENZA SORDINO

OCTOBER, 2006

In the few moments during the 2006 ICSOM Conference that did not find me in meetings, I was able to sneak away from the hotel and venture into the streets of Nashville. This was my first visit to this city, and I was eager to hear as much music as I could in the clubs that line Nashville’s Broadway. I had learned and played a lot of this music when I was growing up, especially in Southside Virginia. I knew that Bob Dylan had come here to record three classic albums and to work with Johnny Cash. I knew that I was walking past bars where Willie Nelson had bought drinks for Patsy Cline. These streets veritably drip with music, with a band in every bar. Those who weren’t booked were playing on the street. There were well-groomed boys in suits and toothless blues guitar players who seemed as though they could have been sent by central casting. And all of these people could play! It was exhilarating to see and hear a city so alive with music.

Making my way back to the downtown Hilton where the conference was being held, I was stunned for a moment when I looked through an alleyway to see the Schermerhorn Symphony Center—a gleaming building against the night sky, just weeks from opening. The delegates to the Conference had already received a tour, and many of us were convinced that it is one of the most impressive halls we have ever visited. Beautifully appointed in every way, it has delicate features and just about every amenity imaginable to enhance the performance environment for the musicians.

As I stood there looking through that alley at the grand building, at first it seemed to clash with the music from the bars of Broadway. But then, I realized that the City of Music was only further investing in its heritage. These blocks of downtown Nashville have been revitalized with music. Reveling in the history of the Ryman Auditorium (the original Grand Ole Opry) and the street of dreams for songwriters of all styles, it makes perfect sense that Music City USA would build such a beautiful monument to its symphony orchestra. This downtown revitalization is fantastic. The arena where the Nashville Predators play is right next to the Country Music Hall of Fame, which is across from the beautiful downtown Hilton, and now the block is completed by the $120 million home for the Nashville Symphony.

We must remember the history of this organization. Just 18 years ago the Nashville Symphony was in bankruptcy, facing dissolution. Then the citizens of Nashville came to the assistance of this city’s own orchestra. There are too many heroes in this story to mention them all. But among them were the symphony’s great benefactor, Martha Ingram, Local 257’s legendary President Harold Bradley (the newest member of the Country Music Hall of Fame) and other country legends, and, most importantly, the musicians of the Nashville Symphony themselves. These musicians believed in their orchestra and their community. They worked to bring together a management that could share in the dreams of Nashville, and they have all delivered.

It is perfectly clear, however, that they have not built a museum. They have erected a building in which symphonic music will live, flourish, and be celebrated—just as so many other styles of music are celebrated a block or two away. Imagine what this will mean for their city. The area of downtown that the city leaders had so desired to revitalize is now thriving with restaurants and hotels, all of which will benefit from those attending concerts at the Schermerhorn Symphony Center. The businesses that surround the Center will profit as a result of the popularity of the orchestra, and the city will benefit from tax revenues of those spending their time, and money, downtown.

Those patrons will not just be spending money; they will be making an investment with the expectations of dividends. And they will be richly rewarded. They will prosper as their city prospers, their spirits will be uplifted by the great music so beautifully performed by the Nashville Symphony, and they will take pride that the name of their great community has been spread worldwide through countless articles about how this great city of music has made such a bold statement. Their statement is clear, that symphonic music can and must succeed alongside every kind of music, every kind of business, and every kind of cultural hyacinth for the soul.

All of this grew from the dark time of bankruptcy, not that long ago. This story should serve as an inspiration to other cities