bisstm
The other day, in a conversation with a friend, I mentioned the various countries I’d be visiting on my upcoming (now current) European trip. Her response, apparently free of irony, was “you are becoming a global brand.”
(Through a series of free-associative gymnastics, my thoughts quickly turned to a summer evening, perhaps fifteen years ago. I was in a small Dutch town, walking with a few friends, when we came upon a field filled with cattle. Separated from the herd was a sweet and slightly forlorn looking calf, sporting an enormous tag with a number, on its ear — a sort of postmodern dollar-store earing. It was the first time it had occurred to me that a living being could be a marketable item, and it led to a brief flirtation on my part with vegetarianism.)
In fact, not only was the remark irony-free, it seemed not to have occurred to her that reducing a person to an item for sale might be deeply insulting. I stared at her dumbly for a moment (I was free-associating in my head, see) and then, rather than start an argument, changed the subject.
Upon further reflection, though, I realize that this was not the first indication I’ve received that the demeaning aspect of the person-as-brand concept might not actually be self-evident. About a year ago, shortly after this site went live, I had a meeting with one of my managers. She was uneasy with the site — the blog in particular — because it was “at odds with the image that we have tried to create for you.”
(She went on to say that any professional person — no matter how public, or not, the profession — inevitably had a public and a private persona, and that my blog had crossed the line from one into the other. This definitely struck a chord with me. I completely agree with the concept in principle - it would be difficult not to - and my primary purpose in starting this blog has been to flesh out aspects of my musical life that might be of interest to a reader who has some familiarity with my playing, but not with me. I never would want to introduce my personal life into the blog. [This is not simply a question of being a private person: I am a musician, and I fail to see why my extra-musical life should be of any interest to anyone. This is an area where I am steadfastly old-fashioned. When a musician seeks attention for non-musical activities, it seems to me, it will inevitably lead to focus being taken away from his or her music-making. Worse still, the implicit message is that music, on its own, is not sufficient to hold the listener’s interest.] However - and this is where the question becomes difficult - the line between the musical and the personal in my life is extremely blurry. My relationship to music is not merely, or even primarily, professional — it is tactile, psychic, visceral, and social. Because of this, I’m constantly re-evaluating what is legitimate blog fodder, and what is best left private, and the manager’s remark troubled me.)
And shortly after that, I received stronger evidence still that my antipathy to being trademarked might be far from universal. While a guest on a radio program, I was asked how I “construct my image.” My response (probably at least somewhat less coherently put than it is here) was that I don’t consciously do any such thing: I simply do the things that I find interesting and rewarding, and hope that there is an appreciative audience for them. This was met with a slightly smirking incredulity: so certain was the host of the show that what I was suggesting was impossible, that I left wondering if I was in fact naively kidding myself. Every time I step on stage, I am, it is true, making a statement through what I’ve chosen to play and how I choose to play it. (Not to mention what I’m wearing, how I walk on stage, how much of my hair is standing on end, etc.) Have these decisions been more pragmatic - not to say mercenary - than I was willing to admit?
The thought is very, very troubling to me. I’m not naive enough to think that the concept of imaging is new (even though the grotesque word itself probably is). Think back to the great artists of the past century –Heifetz, Horowitz, Schnabel, Rubinstein, Menuhin, Toscanini — and you will probably find that you are easily able to attach a distinct set of adjectives to each. This surely is not an accident. The business of music has always found it useful to create personas for artists, and it strikes me as possible that when we refer to an artist as “larger than life,” it may not simply be a question of personality, but a reflection of the feeling that the artist represents, in an archetypal way, certain qualities. It probably goes without saying that any great artist — any ordinary person, really — is more complex than a set of adjectives can suggest, which means that these brandings were, in part, the creation of marketers - long before the term, or perhaps even the profession, existed.
Still, in recent years, the profession of music — and, let’s be honest, our society at large — has taken a distressing turn in the direction of everything being about branding. There are some very concrete reasons for this: modern media has made it possible for information to travel the world instantaneously, and modern travel has made it possible to play one hundred and fifty concerts on six continents in one year. I’m not entirely sure if the cart or the horse leads here, but surely if a musician is to be famous world-over, it’s useful for them to be identifiable in a way that is neither complex nor culturally specific.
One big problem with this, it seems to me, is that it does nothing to encourage artistic experimentation or growth - in fact, it is anti-growth. By this model, the artist has a product, which the audience comes to the concert (or buys the record) expecting, in a fairly specific sort of way. Moving away from this product, in the interest of challenging oneself, might then be professionally risky.
But there is another aspect to this, which is more troubling still: if everything is branded, then everything is also for sale. Again, I am perfectly aware that art has been sold for as long as it has existed. However, there is a very important distinction to be drawn here: while it is perfectly OK for art to be for sale, it is emphatically not OK for the artist to be for sale. I know that I am hardly unique, or even unusual, in that I became a musician because I have very, very strong feelings about music — feelings that I cannot entirely explain, and which are as much a part of me as are my ears or my nose. Put another way, one very important reason that I play the way that I do, as opposed to some other way, is that I feel compelled to do so.
This is why I find it very hard to imagine that the way I play has been driven by commercial considerations. There have been moments when I have sensed that altering my repertoire or certain elements of my playing in City X or Y might be professionally beneficial, and I did not do so. Artistic courage did not come into play: I simply could not see an alternative, just as I could not see cutting off my nose. But in a musical model in which one “creates an image,” would it not simply be expedient to make artistic decisions based on public tastes? After all, for what other reason does one create an image?
These are big questions (and, not incidentally, I would be thrilled if this post started a dialogue around them), and I’m well aware that the modern values that I am decrying here are closely related to other modern ones — equality, access to information, respect for other cultures — that I could and would not live without.
But I am equally aware that I’m not a brand: I’m Jonathan. For the foreseeable future, I will continue to be Jonathan, and hope, for better or worse (or, most likely, for better and worse) that it works out OK.
October 26th, 2008 at 12:51 am
Jonathan: Of course you are a “brand.” You don’t have to manufacture it; that’s the business of your managers, handlers, agents, PR people, whoever. Every artist today who moves out of the back waters into the mainstream has commercially marketable imagery. What’s that got to do with “you”? I have recently read Eileen Farrell’s autobiography. When I was a young man, Farrell, in my view, moved in an elite, rarefied atmosphere among the grandes dames of sopranodom: Kirsten Flagstad, Helen Traubel, Dorothy Kirsten, et al. In her autobiography she comes across as a vulgarian with middle-brow tastes, and a relish for the sharp elbow and bawdy humor. So what? She certainly didn’t care and seemed perfectly comfortable in her own skin. She left the marketing to the marketers. The blog is a recent phenomenon; I don’t know how it’s going to fit into the scheme of things, but as things stand people reading your blog are a small band of faithful, interested probably in “you as human being and artist” more than in the brand. If you are interested in the diary aspects of this process and in some sort of dialogue with your readers, what’s the problem? We’re not the mass market. They’ll buy the brand. Ah well, the ramblings of an elderly man here, who can barely cope with the technology as it is. But, may I suggest? Lighten up.
October 27th, 2008 at 9:15 pm
Thank you for your comment, Rex. You’re certainly not the first person to suggest I lighten up, and it’s probably good advice!
At the risk of rapidly diminishing returns, though, I do want to make a couple of points:
* I think you are probably right about the blog, and while it raised many of these issues, it was never really the subject of my concern.
* If Eileen Farrell felt that she was marketed in a way that had nothing to do with her actual personality, and that this was a non-issue for her in her life, that is fine, of course. My issue is that marketing and PR have become so pervasive, I often feel that they threaten to become the driving forces behind artistic decisions. I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve been told that sometimes musical considerations have to take a back seat to commercial ones.
* My other major concern is about how the audience relates to the performer. When a person comes to the concert for the “brand,” he is coming with manufactured expectations which impede his ability to have a genuine response to what he hears. In this way, I worry that branding is a real interference in the relationship between a performer and an audience. Since this relationship is at the heart of the concert-going (and -giving) experience, it is a huge issue.
Not getting any lighter, I’m afraid. Better quit while I’m behind…
October 28th, 2008 at 10:36 am
I agree with you completely. The marketing, branding and PR side has become excessive. Young female violin players in particular are being presented as sex objects.
Even from the purely financial point of view, sacrificing musical considerations for short term sales will be counter-productive in the longer term, unless you want a career as a Liberace. Better to accept a smaller income and stay honest. Serious listeners will stay with you.
The problem lies in persuading agents, record companies and PR people to accept smaller incomes (and all their incomes are extracted from yours).
October 30th, 2008 at 5:53 pm
Jonathan: I’ve been mulling over your points. Yes, I understand and sympathize. I don’t think that your management/PR team is trying to turn you into Liberace. Certainly you have to stand up to anyone telling you that your musical considerations have to take a back seat to commercialism. Still. . . and I know the word “compromise” is a red flag to young people . . . .you have chosen a very public career, so far an astoundingly successful one. The challenge is to find the balance. Your judgment here is crucial to how you mature.
As for how the audience relates to the performer: each member of the audience makes his own personal contract as to how he is reacting or not reacting. One is perhaps recalling the pleasure of the lamb shank he had for dinner; another wishing the artist were performing Chopin and not this Bartok thing; and still another transfixed with pleasure at this modulation into G minor. You cannot control the terms of that contract; you cast your musical seed as best you can and let it fall how it may. Your business is casting as rich a seed as possible.
I was a high school teacher for many years. It amazes me when former students inform me that he or she has majored at university in my subject because I so “inspired” them, when my memory is that when in my class, he or she was off on a distant planet. You just never know.
Incidentally, I want to add that I value your artistry very highly. In Japan (where I lived and taught for a number of years) contemporary artists of high accomplishment are sometimes designated as “National Living Treasure” by the government. If such a title were bestowed by the American government, you would be well on your way as a candidate. Thank you for your ideals and dedication.
Rex
November 9th, 2008 at 6:51 am
“National Living Treasure” is a nice idea, but it is usually awarded only to veterans such as Earl Wild. What is needed is a range of lower grades, such as “National Living Ornament”, “National Living Christmas Decoration”, or “National Living Mathom”.
November 16th, 2008 at 2:59 pm
First, let me say I recently heard your playing for the first time as a guest on Jim Svejda’s “The Record Shelf”, and I’m already a fan.
This discussion about branding is very much along the lines of what Naomi Klein discusses in her book “No Logo”. She explains how in the last few decades corporations began shifting their innovation from making a better product to doing better marketing and branding. I think this pervades all aspects of our culture, including music. I’m heartened to see that a major label such as EMI is still hiring real musicians to record real music. I had written off all the major labels as it seemed like all they did was just repackage old stuff (”Shostakovich for Morning Meditation” anyone?) or promoting artists who really are nothing more than brands to an unsuspecting public (Bocelli comes to mind).
December 7th, 2008 at 9:40 pm
Interesting, if masturbatory, thoughts. And I have to say I’m somewhat surprised that you’re busy having them. Are we all closet sociologists now? I don’t mean to demean your concerns, but I have to agree with the “lighten up” remark.
I’m sorry to hear that you feel a bit controlled by your managers. It would seem to me then that that is an issue between you and them and not you and “us”. And if you feel so strongly against any sort of branding either fire the managers, or as someone else implied, ignore them as best you can.
All while I was reading your thoughts, I couldn’t help but think about Matt Haimovitz and his attempts to break out of certain traditional “classical” boundaries by playing in bars, or for that matter playing a rendition of “Purple Haze”. I don’t know if all that he is doing is a managerial attempt at branding in itself, but his “image” is now that of a maverick classical artist who plays in bars. Really in the end no matter what you do, you will be branded in some way by individuals, whether it be in the way your managers wish or simply because categories happen. Just the same I personally like to see how artists themselves handle it whether it be Haimovitz in a bar, or Helene Grimaud playing in some sort of nightclub (a performance that I came across on Youtube - glasses clinking in the background of Beethoven). Unless you decide to take it all to the streets, there’s only so much boundary or brand hopping you can do, especially with a big clunky piano on your back. :o) If I were you I’d be more worried about the future of the very music you play rather than how your managers wish to present you.
Slightly tangential thought…. I was just earlier today looking up a new (to me) pop artist whose song I had recently heard on the radio. (Michael Franti & Spearhead: “Say Hey (I Love You)” ). A bopping rather delightful little tune. On Amazon they had a video interview of Franti, and he expressed all sorts of grand social ideas and ideals. All certainly well intentioned and well meaning. But I’m not too sure what all he said had to do with the music.
December 11th, 2008 at 8:46 am
Thank you for the comment, Andy. A couple of things:
First of all, I need to say that I’m very lucky in the people that I work with. They are all reasonably understanding of me, and of what I’m unwilling or unable to do, even when it makes their jobs more difficult — which, I daresay, is often. And I certainly have no intention whatsoever of firing them!
So, my ranting on this subject is not based on any complaint I have about my career, or the people I work with. Nor is it sociology, closet or otherwise. It is based on my feeling - valid or not - that this is very much a question of the connection between performer and audience. I don’t much care if music is being played in Carnegie Hall or a downtown bar, or if the performer is wearing a tuxedo or blue jeans. (In fact, I think it’s a good thing for music to be played under as many different sets of circumstances as possible.) What I care about is the emotional experience of the listener. And I believe that the greatest experiences listening to classical music happen when the performer, as a physical entity, seems to disappear, and you feel a pure, unfettered connection to the sound you are hearing. And the more one is aware of the performer as a category, to use your word - be it Mr. Serious, Mr. Loopy, or Mr. Yellow - the more unlikely he is to disappear.
Probably lots more to be said here, but since the comments section isn’t really for me, anyway, I’m going to sign off here. Thanks for reading and responding.
December 13th, 2008 at 7:28 pm
Yes fair enough, but really in the end you can’t control that connection or disappearance, can you? That’s the stuff of magic, serendipity or happenstance. Some people might allow you to “disappear” if you are Mr. Serious or whomever, while another would be turned off. Some people might have a problem with the eccentricities of a Glenn Gould, while others overlook it. While someone sitting next to me might be having the emotional experience of her life, I might be thinking, “well he’s good but when I heard Marta Argerich play this…. oy”. Someone might have a religious experience, while another is annoyed that you didn’t shave very well that evening.
When I look at a perfomer playing, it seems to me that the audience is the furthest thing from their thoughts. (Although, Artur Rubinstein did say that he like to find someone in the audience to play to, usually a pretty woman. But you never saw that he was really doing it, at least histrionically.)
What more can you do? Smile? The fact that you are fortunate to have an audience is more than half the battle…. the mountain comes to Mohammed, at least half way. And like you say it doesnt matter in the end how you look or are presented or whether anyone has read your blog in order to connect emotionally with the music.
But I will contradict myself too. Just this afternoon I was watching a video of a young Spanish performer. It was a very profesional video and you could watch her facial expressions very closely. Her excitement to her music was palpable. And I must say watching her react to the music she was playing was, for me, a very good way to connect with the music. But in this case she certainly didn’t disappear in the least. Just the opposite. So maybe giant video screens at the concert hall showing your face?
December 22nd, 2008 at 6:26 pm
Oh Andy, nice try. but no.
Sometimes when I think about music in real-world terms it is positively distressing. You can argue that the chasm between human beings are great, and that communication works only on a everyday, superficial level. A musician may have this vision of beauty trapped in his world of the imagined. And in his music, he sets it free. But what happens from there? It often gets lost in the rustle of concert programs.
It all seems like a very sad way to share one’s art. Perhaps this is why Glenn Gould retired from the concert stage as soon as he was able.
In my opinion, musical integrity is of foremost importance. Given the conditions of having a very public musical career–the jetlag, the logistics of concertizing, audiences who may care more the performer’s facial expressions than the music itself–what drives a musician to perform may be musical integrity itself. This is why I think Mr. Biss’ concern with “brands” in the classical music world is very real and legitimate–hardly “masturbatory” as you put it.
Though it may not always be understood or even appreciated by the audience, the music that the performer presents to the world is never out of his control. So long as he is completely consumed by his art, his music will find its way to his listeners. All art, in a sense, is quite useless. Music can’t be anything but itself. It is the job of the performer to present music as it is, untainted by the technicalities of practical life. And it is our job as listeners to receive the music as it is–or as Mr. Biss put it, “a pure, unfettered connection to the sound you are hearing”. It is there that a emotional connection is formed.
December 28th, 2008 at 4:57 pm
Oh Yvian I agree with you more than you think, although admitedly I had to read your posting twice to get there. But I guess all I’m trying to say is that talking about it in the end doesn’t work for me. Just the same, if I could re-edit my original post I would probably remove the M-word, it was unnecessary, but not my sentiment. I hardly see Jonathan Biss in danger of becoming a brand any time soon. I mean no disrespect to him to say that this sort of thing only fits particular personalties: an Artur Rubinstein (altho was he managerially branded or only in people’s own minds?), Lang Lang and Yo Yo. (Hey, I got an idea….do you think “Bis Bis” has any legs in it?)
I might take issue with your word of concertizing as “a sad way to share one’s art. Certainly demanding, maybe agonizing, frustrating and the like. But there are rewards, there must be, otherwise why are so many people doing it? I believe GG retired to the recording studio not so much as against concertizing as *FOR* the recording studio, simply seeing it as a more highly evolved way of presenting music. (Methinks he simply took introversion to an extreme degree.)
I also did not mean in any way to suggest a lack of control of the music by the performer. I did mean to suggest a lack of control once it finally left the instrument. And I raised that point only to try to suggest that Mr. Bis’ worries are less worrisome than the survival of the audience itself for his music, or classical music in general. While I have grown to
detest the theatrics of Lang Lang and the ubiquitousness of Yo Yo, just the same I can understand that they do build an audience, for better or worse. In some ways it could be argued that they are counter-productive in building expectations of theatrics and a circus-like atmosphere, but their pull cannot be completely dismissed either.
I also didn’t mean to suggest that people (or I) care more about facial expressions than the music. (In fact to judge the usual balance of seating arrangements at concerts where it is general admission, people seem to care about fingers more than faces.) No, I only suggested that because it can be another way of bringing a person into the music. I dont wish to suggest, nor do I hope for, a conscious inflection or practising of facial grimaces or grand arm gestures, but in a natural sense I find it just another means to connect, and that’s not a bad thing.