by David Patrick Stearns

The artists are still here. But the artistic way of life in the classical music world—from chamber music societies to symphony orchestras to opera—is seriously endangered for the musicians, administrators and craftsmen who make it happen.

“Sadly, our world has been torn apart in less than a month,” said James Brown, managing director of the London artist management agency Hazard Chase that ceased operation this week amid spring-season cancellations among major venues around the world.

Many musicians—opera stars in particular—are only paid for performances, not rehearsals. And when they don’t get paid, their managers, who perhaps exist on thinner ice than their clients even at major concerns such as Hazard Chase, lose big.

That’s why TENET, the New York early music group, pointedly announced that musicians were paid for its cancelled March 22 concert. In recent days, Met star Jamie Barton (one of many losing income amid cancellations) helped draft an open letter to US opera companies “urging companies to… assist soloists in short-term relief efforts and work with us in good faith to ensure a better safety net going forward.”

Idealists will say that great art always wins out amid economic challenges. But many in the industry can’t help but be haunted by the case history of the New York City Opera. Due to renovations at its Lincoln Center headquarters starting in 2008, City Opera became only an intermittent presence in the community, and, with the country’s economic downturn at that time, lost its footing in the community and veered into bankruptcy. The quality of the work was often among the best in the company’s 70-year history. In 2013, the company made a far better case for the Mark Anthony Turnage opera Anna Nicole than London’s starrier Royal Opera—before last-minute donations fell through, forcing the company to cease operations. (It’s come back, but it’s what it was.)

Even when artistic successes do translate into greater stability and viability, they’re not possible without the proverbial “village” of managers and craftsmen around them. Even a routine revival of Madame Butterfly stands like a tree with a more intricate network of roots than even the most devoted culture consumers realize. And new productions?

The acclaimed William Kentridge–designed Wozzeck that opened at the Met in late December had technical rehearsals in late August, and not necessarily because of its dense computer animation. That’s simply how it’s done. Many companies have choral rehearsals for all productions at the beginning of the season so that choristers know the music closer to opening night when dealing with staging rehearsals.

With the machinery rolling so far in advance of opening night, England’s famous Glyndeboure festival delayed the opening of its May 22–Aug. 30 season until July 14—after being compelled by government advice to close its offices to all employees on Monday (March 23). 

With such complex machinery, it’s no surprise that Boston Lyric Opera went to heroic lengths to maintain some semblance of its production of Bellini’s Norma (not an opera any company takes on lightly). With its March 13 opening night facing a mandatory cancellation, the March 11 dress rehearsal was recorded—and audio will be streamed 3 pm, March 29, on ClassicalWCRB.org and BLO.org, with later availability. (I’ve heard excerpts and it’s hot, with Elena Stikhina bringing marvelous legato to the title role.)

Luckily, in this age of do-it-yourself recording and video, some artists and organizations have turned on a dime, maintaining a presence on YouTube, Twitter, and Instagram.

“We’re adjusting to a new reality,” announced members of the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra, “and we’ll have to find other solutions to support each other… to use innovation to keep our connection… because if we do it together, we’ll succeed.” Twelve of them collaborated on a remarkable four-minute video excerpting Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, the Ode to Joy of course, with each of them playing in their apartments, alone, but in coordination with each other using what looks like Zoom technology. 

Posted on March 20, the video has had more 1 million viewers so far, plus two other orchestras following their lead. 

A cynic might say, “Yeah, that and three bucks will get them on the subway.” The benefits are indeed intangible. And we won’t know what they are until the quarantine is over, and the extent of the economic damage can be assessed. The good part is that major institutions will return to the landscape without the kind of bitterness and disillusionment that comes with, say, an extended strike or lockout.

One thing is certain: We’re all getting to know each other a lot better. Artists that I have loved for years are streaming daily concerts from their homes, and it’s great to glimpse how they live. Boris Giltburg gives charming introduction to Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Op. 111. Then, from the second he starts to play, he seems possessed, body, and soul. (@BorisGiltburg) Close proximity, however, can be a mixed blessing. Itzhak Perlman re-tells a popular urban legend about the Carnegie Hall debut of Jascha Heifetz, in a sweet attempt to cheer us up. But is that what is needed right now?

For me, that only leads to emotional whiplash when returning to the increasing grim realities around me. I’m connecting more with pianist Igor Levit in his daily Twitter recitals (@igorpianist). Sometimes looking as depressed as I feel, he will introduce a Beethoven piano sonata while looking intently at the floor, and then play the music with his customary intensity. From that, I gain equilibrium — which is partly acceptance of the situation as it stands, and being reminded that the virus is still only one of many things on the landscape, some dire, some beautiful. I also need to see that Levit had recently gotten a haircut: It’s good to know that things like can happen in whatever part of the world he is in.

But I also need to be reminded what I’m grieving, which is, among other things, the loss of musical grandeur. I recently happened upon a Verdi Requiem video conducted by Edward Gardner conducting the Bergen Philharmonic with young, imposing soprano Lise Davidsen. Seeing the concert hall’s expanse with some 250 people, packed together onstage without the slightest sense social distancing, showed me what I’ve taken for granted over the years. But I never will again. I promise. 

Via