What kind of ensemble member are you going to be?

Hey all--putting this out into the ether and wondering how we might make the world a better place, as always! 

I had a very interesting week earlier this fall, in which I performed in two orchestral settings, each preparing a world premiere, within the span of eight days. There were some unavoidable institutional differences between the two groups, but what struck me most was how much external factors affected my personal experience, namely my sense of responsibility to the group and to the music. 

I began the week playing in an ad-hoc chamber orchestra comprised of some surprisingly good musicians from the region, all by invitation from the conductor, who is a performing (instrumental) member of several local orchestras. Said conductor was also responsible for producing the entire show, which included some solo works by a couple of us in the orchestra, and commissioning the new work we premiered. The composer was present for every rehearsal. 

I ended the week subbing in one of the regional, full-size orchestras in the area, conducted by the veteran gentleman conductor who normally occupies the post, alongside an impressive number of other subs (we were performing directly against another regional that weekend), all of whom were quite familiar with each other, if not necessarily with the organization. The premiere in question was composed by the orchestra's resident composer, who was present for every rehearsal. 

My experience at the beginning of the week was truly refreshing and inspiring, and one I hadn't had since I was at the helm of my own trio about a decade earlier. The small(ish) group was thoughtfully curated by the conductor, herself a working instrumentalist, and between her, the composer, and the performers, there was a real sense of egalitarianism, an overt invitation to collaborate. The composer would ask us if what she had written worked, the conductor would ask us our opinions on balancing parts, and as rehearsals wore on, performers seemed to contribute more and more suggestions to the overall piece. The performance felt comfortable, celebratory, and I think I can safely say we all walked off stage feeling pleased with our accomplishments. Those of us who stuck around to drink and socialize afterwards (many people were staying in a local hotel with a bar) engaged in high-minded philosophical discussions about aesthetics and the state of the world today. It was a great start to the week. 

After two nights off, rehearsals in the local orchestra began, culminating in a concert on a Saturday night. In each rehearsal, we would run through each movement, only stopping to correct the irredeemable "train wrecks", the conductor would ask the composer if he was happy (he always reported that he was, sometimes delaying our precious mandated break to tell us a personal story of how he came to write a certain section), and then we'd pack up that music until the next rehearsal. At the dress rehearsal, the composer came around while we were warming up before the tuning note to tell us little things he wanted improved; during breaks I saw people standing in line to speak to the conductor or composer with the music in their hands, but I don't know the nature of those interactions. It was a strictly top-down affair, and we were basically the hired circus animals paid to perform the tricks on command. It was...fine. There is always a certain satisfaction in getting some of the little things right, with people you rarely see, on limited rehearsal time.  But I felt no investment in the orchestra, the composer, or the piece, and those sitting around me seemed to feel similarly. At the end of the night, everyone said some version of "nice to see you" and drove off into the sunset.

To be fair, a large orchestra is an unwieldy thing, and a set group, interloper subs or not, runs on a routine established generations ago. My experience in that setting wasn't against the norm in any way.  But after such a thoughtful, considered, and frankly anomalous experience at the beginning of the week, the usual struck me as abrupt and unfeeling, an awareness that I think I'd probably just buried years ago in my quest to be "one of them". 

There are a lot of personal aspects to this story--how I felt about the people involved, the purpose of each performance, not to mention my own age and distance from regular orchestral gigging these days--but I keep wondering how the former experience could infiltrate the latter? What would it take, in a standard ensemble setting, to inspire the musicians to want to be responsible citizens, supportive colleagues, and good stewards of the music? How do we get switched back on after years of checking our brains at the door and collecting a paycheck? And what could each of us contribute, in our own personal ways, to making the rehearsal space a place where music making feels important and joyful again? 

PS--I heard the audio from both performances afterwards, and they were both similarly OK. I clearly overestimated how well we'd done in our happy little chamber family; conversely, I was pleasantly surprised by how well certain sections came off in the established orchestra concert. Both concerts got the usual standing ovation, which is given freely and frequently for all sorts of mundane tasks in these parts. So what I'm really talking about is a quality of life issue. We spend far more hours rehearsing than we do performing, and those the hours that really make or break a week.