Categories: uncategorized
Date: 10 November 2008 11:47:58
Some people make their living from music, other people have music as a hobby. I do both. I make my living by playing the viola and teaching viola & violin, and I'm an amateur singer. I sing in a small, amateur choir which is stuffed full of good musicians, some professional, some not. I find it quite easy to see the line between my professional and my amateur music making. To make it even easier, I use my maiden name for my professional performances and my married name for my singing stuff.
One form of income for the jobbing viola player, is helping out local amateur orchestras, providing either leadership or just a bit more oomph in ailing sections. And yes, the viola section is often an ailing section.
I had been in denial about one forthcoming date in the choir diary. We were down to do a combined concert with the local orchestra that you might have read about in my 'Viva la diva' post a little while ago. I originally chose this choir because it hardly ever does accompanied concerts and I was pretty grumpy that we were about to work with one of my least favourite conductors. And then it got complicated...
One of the sopranos in the choir is also a cellist. She's also a lovely, generous person and thought it would be quite fun to join the orchestra for the numbers which didn't involve the choir. Of course, they were delighted about this, and e-mailed me:
"Hi - are you singing in our joint concert? If so, would you like to join the orchestra for the pieces where you're not singing? I think Judy's playing!"
After some discussion about the current strength of their viola section, and which pieces I might be available for, I found an 'extras confirmation letter' in my inbox, and some badly photocopied music with the key signatures and the last half bar of every line cut off, on my doormat. The last line of the extras confirmation letter read: "We haven't discussed expenses but I was sort of hoping you might help out as a favour this time as you are there with the choir anyway...?" Well, if all that it involved was 'being there anyway' that might be fine, but they wanted me for two extra rehearsals in a different city, as well as 'being there' for a much larger part of the concert day than I would otherwise have been. Since my husband is also in the choir, and we usually give a lift to another choir member (wheelchair-bound) and his carer, that would mean either several hours of sitting around for the rest of the car load, or taking two cars at separate times. Several more e-mails later, and I had politely declined their kind invitation to play for free, to the bemusement of the generous cellist and the cheers of my choir-neighbour, a professional actress who is equally fed up of being asked to lend her skills and talents for free.
Well then - What is music worth? What are you paying for if you pay a musician, when there are so many amateurs around who will perform for free, or even pay for the priviledge? Why have live musicians at all when you can stick a CD on. After all, the CD won't need to take a break, won't need a drink of water or, heaven forbid, a piece of cake - (yes indeed - our cellist was chastised for eating a piece of cake in a quartet break recently. She politely explained that she'd been working hard for the last two hours and there was nowhere else for her to go to eat her snack in private. "Working hard? Pah! That's not work" came the reply from the punter who went on to taunt her about how fat she'd get if all she did all day was eat cake. This is our marathon-running cellist by the way...)
So - if you book musicians for a private do, are you paying an hourly rate for us to turn up and sit around playing lovely tunes with our friends at your event? Well sort of. But you're also paying for the music consultations that you've had, either by phone or e-mail, the conversations about what mood you'd like to create, the sourcing of your peculiar special requests, and the years of lessons, practice, and that very unfashionable thing - talent, which makes it all look so easy. You're paying to help fund the upkeep of expensive pieces of craftsmanship (that's right - that's why we won't play outside in the rain), and the purchase of music and posh frocks. And you're paying for the guarantee that, unlike the keen amateurs, we promise to get it all right and make it sound vibrant and fun, whilst looking smart and smiley. You're paying for our experience to match the music to the mood of the event, or create a different mood, to deal with requests from the Irish Uncle who decides he'd like to have a good cry to Londonderry Air, or the cousin who wants 'that tune from Master & Commander'. What's that worth?
Tricky, isn't it?
(and yes - I still have more money rants to come - welcome back wibsite!)