The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Thursday, January 25, 2018 — 5
Opera, ballet and classical
music
are
frequently
shrouded in auras of elitism.
During the Classical period,
famous composers would be
commissioned by rich aristocrats
to compose for private events.
Opera was quite expensive —
the average person could barely
afford to attend more than one
opera performance every year.
Ballet was also associated with
wealth,
royalty
and
elitism
— it was initially an art form
commissioned by the royal court
to display the wealth and cultural
magnificence of the court.
Over time, however, these
genres of performance art have
become increasingly accessible to
the masses. The divide between
upper class performance art
and popular performance art
has faded. The elitist appeal of
these previously upper class art
forms has faded as they become
increasingly accessible to all, and
audiences are becoming defined
not by class, but by interest and
aesthetic taste.
Though these art forms are
beginning to react to this change
in consumption, this reaction
seems to not be occuring fast
enough.
Modern
orchestras,
dance
companies
and
opera
companies are facing diminishing
financial returns and diminishing
attendances.
Many
smaller
companies are being forced to
close due to lack of attendance,
and many others are decreasing
the number of performances that
they give per year.
Overall, it seems as though
these traditional art forms face a
bleak future. This is a narrative
pervasive throughout the cultural
lexicon — the slow and painful
demise of these “higher” art
forms. The loss of many of the
smaller, local performance arts
institutions seems to foreshadow
the loss of all performance arts
institutions.
The
solution
to
these
diminishing
performance
attendances, however, may be
the very step that many are
hesitant to take. While many
are tentative to embrace the loss
of elitism, this may be the only
means for these great art forms
to support themselves. This loss
of elitism need not be accepted
begrudgingly — artists, genres
and concepts of great artistic
merit are already forming around
this new intersection between the
popular and the elitist.
Orchestras are increasingly
turning to popular music and
movie music as a means of
drawing previously uninterested
audiences
into
the
concert
hall. The advent of the “film in
concert,” for example, seems to
be providing the financial returns
that
many
orchestras
need,
though they go against the elitist
connotation
many
orchestras
would like to preserve.
Modern dance, in addition,
is
similarly
changing
its
programmatic habits as a means
of maintaining their financial
well-being.
Performances
of
modern dance forms or with
modern music are slowly entering
even the most conservatively
programmed company seasons.
These
performances
draw
the younger and more diverse
audiences that these companies
know they need to sustain
themselves though they challenge
the sophistication traditionally
associated with formal dance
companies.
Opera has also seen changes
geared towards attracting and
engaging new audiences. Modern
operas depicting contemporary
events are quietly changing the
subject matter of traditional
opera. John Adam’s “Nixon in
China” challenged a generation
of
composers
to
compose
operas about current events and
non-traditional
stories
from
the Western canon. This has
challenged the refined taste of
many die-hard opera enthusiasts,
though it has restored opera’s
relevance to the larger lexicon of
mass culture.
This
loss
of
elitism
is
an
inevitable
result
of
the
increasingly
interconnected
world that we live in and the
gradual
loss
of
boundaries
between art forms and genres.
Whether we like it or not, this
process will only accelerate as
time and technology progress.
Not all of these changes,
furthermore, are regrettable. The
growth of niche art communities
has helped develop increasingly
specific ensembles and companies
dedicated to the performance of
specific artists, time periods and
other definable artistic traits.
Early music has become a staple
of some communities, as has
specific types of opera and ballet.
Increasingly specific marketing,
furthermore,
has
allowed
audiences and performers to be
more specific and selective in
their programming and ticket
consumption. It is not uncommon
to see opera companies plan
whole seasons around common
themes or common historical
eras.
The loss of elitism in classical
music, modern dance and opera
seems to threaten the prevalence
and dominance of specific time
periods and creators within these
art forms. Though these classical
performance arts remain more
resistant to change than most
popular art forms are, all art
forms must select specific creators
and eras from the past to value
more than others. The constant
redefinition and reorganization
of previous artistic periods based
on current artistic trends is as
inherent to performance art as
is the creation of new work. The
loss of elitism is most threatening
in that it will upend the general
aesthetic consensus that has
developed around these art forms
over generations.
In
this
new,
non-elitist
understanding of classical music,
for example, Romantic composers
could be ignored while early
Baroque and Medieval composers
became popular. German and
Italian opera could be shunned in
favor of the early British operettas.
Ballet could be rejected in favor of
hip hop or other modern trends.
The
ever-changing
Western
canon of performance art will by
defined by audience interest and
not by academic expertise.
This loss of centralized and
standardized repertoires may be
frightening, but it is also thrilling.
It represents one of the biggest
changes that these performance
art forms have seen in hundreds of
years — tremendous opportunities
for audiences, performers and
creators to pluralize and diversify
these art forms.
This
past
weekend,
for
example, Pulitzer-Prize-winning
composer Julia Wolfe spoke to
students in the School of Music,
Theatre & Dance about her music
and her creative process. Her
recent composition “Anthracite
Fields,” for example, explores
the lives of early 20th-century
miners. It is a composition
geared towards both classical
and popular audiences. Wolfe
claims that this composition
has garnered more mail than
any other composition that she
has ever written — drawing
many previously uninterested
music listeners into the realm of
contemporary classical music.
Artists such as Julia Wolfe
are
redefining
the
divisions
between classical and popular art
forms. Audiences are redefining
the consumption patterns and
programmatic tendencies of these
classical and popular art forms.
Performers, in turn, are learning
to execute increasingly diverse
swathes of performance arts. This
is nothing if not a time of change;
a time of radical redefinition
and drastic reevaluation. It is
a loss of elitism, and a time of
empowerment for the masses.
The average person has more say
in performance art then was ever
possible before, carrying a voice
that matches or even triumphs
over the elitism of traditional
performance arts.
The Fading Role
of Elitism in
Performance Art
DAILY COMMUNITY CULTURE COLUMN
Stephen Kellogg has been
one of my favorite artists for
a long time. I first heard the
Americana
singer-songwriter
almost seven years ago, and
I’m still listening to what
he — in all of his graceful,
heartbreaking simplicity — has
to say. In anticipation of his
upcoming performance at The
Ark’s Folk Festival this Friday,
Kellogg spoke with The Daily
on the heartbeats that keep him
running, and the storytelling
that has kept fans like me
around for the long-haul.
There’s a certain fearlessness
required in writing the way
Kellogg writes. In “The Open
Heart (South),” he sings, “And
I still shudder at the memory of
my failures and mistakes / Hey
so what, it opened up my heart.”
He tells us exactly what he
means, every time, and it’s not
because he’s disingenuous, or
he doesn’t care. It’s because he
is, genuinely, unafraid to share
himself with us. We get to hear
his highest highs and his lowest
lows because “Hey so what …
(he’s) got an open heart.” What
he does fear only makes him
that much more human.
“I fear what I think many
of us fear,” he said. “That
somehow, the bottom’s going
to drop, and you’re not going
to be able to keep making art
and expressing yourself. You’re
afraid you’re going to run out
of money, or nobody’s going to
care.”
Allowing himself to ruminate
in
his
own
vulnerabilities,
he progresses with a level of
effortlessness that, as far as I
can tell, only means one thing:
This is what he’s supposed to be
doing.
“The thing about me, and
what keeps me going, and
whatever drives me, is that I
need to do it. It has never been
an option,” he said. “When
an opportunity comes up, I’m
inclined to say yes: always.
And I don’t think that that’s
because I’m so driven. I think
it’s just because — it’s just
because I need to do this. I
need to write, I need to play, I
need to go out into the world
and share it, and connect with
others, and say, ‘Here’s what I
think about things’ and have
a dialogue — as much as that’s
possible when you’re up there
with a microphone, performing
a show.”
Kellogg’s work is vocational
for him, and, lucky for us, he’s
good at it. Really good. He’s
been in the game for a minute
now,
having
led
Stephen
Kellogg and the Sixers for nine
gorgeous years. The group went
on hiatus in 2012, after playing
over 1200 shows together.
“It was a little bit like a
divorce where the couple still
loves each other and, you know,
hugs and cries and then moves
out of the house,” he said. “As
time has gone on, I think we’ve
all done things that we might
not have done had we been
playing together, and you sort
of look at it and go, ‘Well, this is
exactly how it had to be,’ … and
eventually, as happens when
you go through some kind of
breakup, it became not painful
to talk about them, and it didn’t
hurt.”
So, he kept on. As Kellogg
grew — learning to do so both
with and without The Sixers —
his lyrics evolved in tandem.
“At some point, I decided
that I wanted my songs to be
vignettes of everything I need
to say before I die,” he said.
He places so much weight
on every word he articulates,
and that’s why his music hits
as hard as it does. It’s sincere,
and it’s him. When I asked what
inspires him, he responded in
the most Stephen Kellogg way
that he could have:
“This is going to sound hoity-
toity,
but
Charles
Dickens.
When I read Charles Dickens,
I want to go write lyrics. That
brings out the rock ‘n’ roll in
me.”
It’s hard not to like him
— whether that be for his
unabashed
honesty,
his
never-ending love for his four
daughters or the fact that
he married his high school
sweetheart (or all of the above).
“I think so many of us,” he
said, “are trying to balance our
lives in a way that feels healthy
and right, and sometimes you
get it more right than others.
The biggest thing that I end
up doing is … I love. I love my
family so much, and when I’m
home, I really try to be there.
To really go for it.”
“But whenever there’s an
opportunity
professionally
that I feel like I have and I
should do, I really force myself
to say yes. Even though it’s
hard,” he continued. “I’m still
a wimp though, when it comes
to leaving the house. I’ll be
blubbering as we pull down the
road, you know, driving away.
But you do what you’ve got to
do.”
And, that’s exactly what he’s
doing. Stephen Kellogg will
play at The Ark’s 41st Annual
Folk Festival this Friday.
“I am so honored to do that
gig and to do that show,” Kellogg
said. “The people who are
playing it (and) running it — it’s
just people I have tremendous
respect for. It always, always
feels amazing to be in company
that you’re proud to keep.”
Go for the music and stay
for his stories. I’ll be there
(crying, probably), and singer-
songwriter Joe Pug is set
to emcee. Tickets are still
available for both Friday and
Saturday online and at the
Michigan Union Ticket Office.
Singer-songwriter Stephen Kellogg
on fear, family, upcoming Folk Fest
ARYA NAIDU
Senior Arts Editor
SINGLE REVIEW: ‘THE GOOD SIDE’
Troye Sivan’s newest single, “The
Good Side,” is his most mature release
yet. Its attraction lies in the fact that
it invites the listener to mature along
with him.
“The Good Side” deals with a
breakup. The beginning of the song
is soft and acoustic, a combination
that always feels like it lends itself —
whether this is true or not — to authen-
ticity. Sivan’s polished lyrics reinforce
this, as he acknowledges, “I got the
good side of things / Left you with both
of the rings.” He’s refreshingly self-
aware, not only professing what he’s
learned from the relationship, but he
also admits that his job as a musician
might have made things harder for his
ex (“The people danced to the sound
of your heart / The world sang along
to it falling apart”). This is a position
of sympathy that is surprisingly rare
in breakup songs. One gets the sense
that Sivan is trying to treat the other
person justly and compassionately, at
one point claiming: “So many thoughts
I wanted to share / But I didn’t call
because it wouldn’t be fair.”
The soft feeling never really leaves
the song, but around halfway through,
it blooms into a much more expansive
wall of sound. The suddenly synthy
atmosphere doesn’t seem like it would
blend so well with the acoustics of the
rest of the song, but it actually does. By
the four-minute mark, the song itself
has matured into a self-conscious act
of poetry dressed up in dazzling elec-
tronica. It’s starry but not flashy, deep
but not at all empty.
“I’m sure we’ll meet in the spring
/ And catch up on everything,” Sivan
sings in the final verse. And you can’t
help but hope that they do.
- Laura Dzubay, Daily Arts Writer
UNIVERSAL MUSIC AUSTRALIA
COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW
41st Ann
Arbor Folk
Festival
(Night 1)
Friday, Jan. 26 @
6:30 p.m.
Hill Auditorium
$42-$200 (single
night); $75-$360
(two-night series)
He places so
much weight on
every word he
articulates, and
that’s why his
music hits as hard
as it does
SAMMY SUSSMAN
Daily Arts Writer