On the eve of my final season as Music Director of Symphony Nova Scotia, I reflect on balance, side hustles and what the future might look like.
Last week, the UK - yes, even Scotland - was granted a reprieve from the impending furl into Autumn. Three days of blazing sunshine, sparkling waters and spontaneous BBQs. It was glorious.
But the turning leaves don't lie, and October approaches, bringing with it not only my final season as Music Director at Symphony Nova Scotia, but more comprehensively, an open-ended sabbatical from performing. Exit, stage left. It's Lebrecht-official.
As with the past two seasons, I'm taking on a lighter workload, as I find the right balance between family, conducting, and side projects: A slightly reduced concert schedule in Halifax (not least, to make room for guests and potential-MD courtships), and just a single concert at home in the UK - the last of my Covid reschedules.
It's been interesting - sometimes confronting - to note the reactions of colleagues, friends and family on learning my decision to explore other things (more on those later) and step away from a high-status, aspirational profession into the risk of the unknown.
In truth, I'd always known I didn't want to be a performer forever. I've been on stage since I was 2 years old, but my bucket list is long and ambitious, and there are too many other delicious pulls on my energy, time and imagination right now, which all deserve their time. Not that that makes it sound any less rash.
But apart from the questions from others - which may or may not require responses - I do feel an obligation to pose some questions to myself. I'm recording the answers here for accountability, and as many of them overlap with the other set. And who knows, perhaps these reflections might be of use to a reader who occasionally sneaks a peek at their own bucket list...
I had genuinely hoped that I wouldn't. I could so easily give my scores and baton to one of my students and walk away without a backward glance. But Jon and I are already hatching plans for recordings and concerts that we might produce. It's compulsive. I also harbour not-so secret ambitions to learn the timpani and find a cheerful amateur orchestra that wouldn't mind me whacking away at the back of the room.
I haven't for a very long time. I've also lost the part of myself that loved indie rock and folk, which I grieve even more. I used to be so proud of my CD collection (I'm showing my age here), and took enormous pleasure in listening to my favourite albums.
But somewhere along the way, listening became work, and work became a barrier, and I gradually forgot how to listen for pleasure. It's compounded by the fact that I cohabit with a man who has an enormous music collection - LPs, tapes, minidiscs and CDs chronicling a broad array of singer-songwriters, bands, composers and squeaky gates - and listens to them ardently, and with strong opinions.
They are strewn around the house and car, higgledy-piggledy (yes, I'm a little bitter on that count), and are such a constant presence that they always become the default, rather idiosyncratic, soundtrack to our life.
But I'm working on it. With far fewer touring commitments in the past two years, I've gotten great pleasure out of being an audience member - for all art forms - for the first time in years.
I'm also starting to wade through the boundless ocean of music I've not heard yet, and return to albums and works that used to give me enormous pleasure. It is wonderful to listen to something now, separate from the pressures and politics of programming, and with no simmering anxiety about how on earth I will manage to learn it or navigate the rocky corners. I'm very happy for that to be someone else's concern for a while.
It's no secret that I've been studying software engineering on the side for the last couple of years. I have a steady stream of web design clients through Scordatura, which I plan to grow in the short-term, and plans for software and mobile apps which i'm really excited about. All of that work is focused on the music sector, building platforms and tools to enhance the work of musicians, and the enjoyment of their audiences. I'm keen to collaborate, learn as much as I can, and contribute to a vibrant, diversified, and fiscally sustainable music sector for the 21st Century and beyond.
I'm also building an online, on-demand suite of learning products for music leaders (also through Scordatura), from more substantive courses focusing on things like foundational conducting technique for youth orchestra tutors and rehearsal techniques for conductors working with amateur or youth musicians, to short courses on repertoire curation, unconscious bias in music leadership, and practical skills and advice for violinists stepping up to the front desk for the first time.
It will be affordable, accessible, and designed for grass-roots music-makers and students.
The first course - Foundations of Conducting Technique - will be opening for pre-enrolment soon, so sign up to the newsletter here, to receive updates about course launches. And please do forward it to anyone who might be interested. There are already conversations opening up with some of the UK's more forward-thinking music organisations, who want to incorporate the courses into their in-house professional development schemes.
I'm also exploring options for accreditation, to be incorporated at some point in the future.
No.
I've done my fair share of gigs for free, and subsidised countless worthy, and less-worthy, projects with my personal time and energy. Moreover, I believe that no-one owes their artistry or technique to anyone else. Ability is not - in and of itself - a reason to do something. If there's no intrinsic drive to make art, it very quickly drains one's batteries at a faster rate than it refills them, which serves no-one.
Repeat after me:
Just because you can, doesn't mean you must.
I've also learnt many times over that no matter how integral our pride makes us believe we are to the big arts machine, when we jump off, it continues turning without the slightest break in its speed. Which is absolutely as it should be.
Constantly. Daily. In every way, except for this: I have rigorous decision-making processes, I understand my physical and mental health (even if I'm not always in a position to attend to it straight away), and I trust my instincts above everything else.
Well, if I can't, it won't be the end of the world.
And if the door is barred to someone who has stepped away to grow their brain, invest in themselves, and who returns with cross-sector learnings and paradigms, then everything about the industry that has led me to need a break will be confirmed. But I think we're all starting to understand that the person making the music matters, and that we have much to learn from other sectors and perspectives.
The other news is that if you have signed up to receive this blog in your inbox, your subscription is upgrading to a newsletter. I'm grateful for your readership and interest, and promise more of the same. And I'd be even *more* grateful if you shared the link on social media or by email to your friends and colleagues. The next exciting phase for Scordatura (and by extension, me) requires an audience, ironically enough...
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