THE ART OF PROGRAM MAKING
[Sidenote: THE PROBLEM STATED]
In constructing a concert program for either a solo or an ensemble
performance, and in the case of both vocal and instrumental music, at
least five important points must be taken into consideration:
1. Variety.
2. Unity.
3. Effective arrangement.
4. Appropriate length.
5. Adaptability to audience.
[Sidenote: VARIETY]
We have given variety first place advisedly; for it is by changing the
style and particularly through varying the emotional quality of the
selections that the conductor or performer will find it most easy to
hold the attention and interest of the audience. In these days the
matter of keeping an audience interested presents far greater
difficulty than formerly, for our audiences are now much more
accustomed to hearing good music than they used to be, and a
performance that is moderately good and that would probably have held
the attention from beginning to end in the olden days will now often
be received with yawning, coughing, whispering, early leaving, and a
spirit of uneasiness permeating the entire audience, especially during
the latter part of the program. The change of etiquette brought about
by the phenomenal popularization of the moving picture theater has
doubtless had something to do with this change in the attitude of our
audiences; the spread of musical knowledge and the far greater
intelligence concerning musical performance manifested by the average
audience of today as compared with that of fifty years ago is also
partly responsible; but the brunt of the charge must be borne by our
habitual attitude of nervous hurry, our impatience with slow processes
of any kind, and the demand for constant change of sensation that is
coming to characterize Americans of all ages and classes. It is
doubtless unfortunate that conditions are as they are; but since the
attitude of our audiences has admittedly undergone a decided change,
it behooves the program maker to face conditions as they actually
exist, rather than to pretend that they are as he should like them to
be. Since our audiences are harder to hold now than formerly, and
since our first-class performers (except possibly in the case of
orchestral music) are probably not greatly above the level of the
first-class performers of a generation ago (although larger in
number), it will be necessary to keep the listener interested by
employing methods of program making, which, although they have always
been not only entirely legitimate but highly desirable, are now
absolutely necessary. As stated above, the obvious way to help our
audience to listen to an entire concert is to provide variety of
material--a heavy number followed by a light one; a slow, flowing
_adagio_ by a bright snappy _scherzo_; a tragic and emotionally taxing
song like the _Erl-King_ by a sunny and optimistic lyric; a song or a
group of songs in major possibly relieved by one in minor; a
coloratura aria by a song in cantabile style; a group of songs in
French by a group in English; a composition in severe classic style by
one of romantic tendency, _et cetera_. These contrasting elements are
not, of course, to be introduced exactly as they are here listed, and
this series of possible contrasts is cited rather to give the amateur
maker of programs an idea of what is meant by contrast rather than to
lay down rules to be followed in the actual construction of programs.
[Sidenote: UNITY]
But while contrast is necessary to keep the audience from becoming
bored or weary, there must not be so much variety that a lack of unity
is felt in the program as a whole. It must be constructed like a
symphony--out of material that has variety and yet that all belongs
together. In other words, the program, like a musical composition,
must achieve _unity in variety_; and this is the second main problem
confronting the conductor or performer who is planning a concert. It
is impossible to give specific directions as to how unity is to be
secured, for this is a matter to be determined almost wholly upon the
basis of taste, and taste is not subjectable to codification. The most
that we can do for the amateur at this point, as at so many others, is
to set before him the main problem involved, and in constructing a
program, this is undoubtedly to provide variety of material and yet to
select numbers that go well together and seem to cohere as a unified
group.
[Sidenote: LENGTH]
Our third question in making a program of musical works is, how long
shall it be? The answer is, "It depends upon the quality of the
audience." An audience composed largely of trained concert-goers, many
of whom are themselves musicians, can listen to a program composed of
interesting works and presented by a first-rate artist even though it
extends through a period of two and a half hours, although on general
principles a two-hour program is probably long enough. But one made up
mostly of people who have had very little musical training, who read
little except the daily newspaper and the lightest sort of fiction,
and whose chief amusement is probably attendance upon the picture
show,--such an audience must not be expected to listen to a program
that is either too heavy or too long; and our judgment is that for
such a group a program an hour and a half long is probably more
suitable than one of two or two and a half hours. Our feeling is,
furthermore, that the "tired business man" would not object so
strenuously to attending the serious musical performances to which his
wife urges him to go if some of these matters were considered more
carefully by the artist in planning the program! But here again, of
course, we have a matter which depends altogether upon the kind of
music presented, whether the entire program is given by one artist or
whether there are several performers, whether the whole program is of
one kind of music or whether there is variety of voice and instrument,
whether the performers are amateurs or professionals, and upon whether
the performer is an artist of the first rank and is able by his
perfection of technique, his beauty of tone, and his emotional verve,
to hold his audience spellbound for an indefinite length of time, or
whether he belongs to the second or third rank of performers and is
able to arouse only an average amount of interest. Our purpose in
including a discussion of the matter is principally in order that we
may have an opportunity of warning the amateur conductor not to cause
an audience which would probably give favorable consideration to a
short program, to become weary and critical by compelling them to sit
through too long a performance. This is particularly true in the case
of amateur performance; and since this book is written chiefly for the
amateur director, it may not be out of order to advise him at this
point to plan programs not more than an hour or an hour and a quarter
long, at first. It is far better to have the audience leaving the
auditorium wishing the program had been longer than to have them
grumbling because it is too long.
[Sidenote: ADAPTABILITY TO AUDIENCES]
Our fourth problem has already been presented in discussing the other
three, for it is because of the necessity of adapting the performance
to the audience that we have insisted upon variety, unity, and
reasonable length. Many a concert has turned out to be an utter fiasco
because of failure on the part of the program maker to consider the
type of people who were to listen to it; and although on such
occasions it is customary for the performer to ascribe his failure to
the stupidity of the audience, it must nevertheless be acknowledged
that the fault is more commonly to be laid at the door of the one who
planned the event. A program composed of two symphonies and an
overture or two, or of two or three Beethoven sonatas, is not a
suitable meal for the conglomerate crowd comprising the "average
audience"; indeed it is doubtful whether in general it is the best
kind of diet for any group of listeners. Here again we cannot give
specific directions, since conditions vary greatly, and we must
content ourselves once more with having opened up the problem for
thought and discussion.
[Sidenote: EFFECTIVE ARRANGEMENT]
Having selected musical material that is varied in content and yet
appropriate for performance upon the same program; having taken into
consideration what kind of music is adapted to our audience and how
much of it they will probably be able to listen to without becoming
weary; our final problem will now be so to arrange the numbers that
each one will be presented at the point in the program where it will
be likely to be most favorably received, and will make the most
lasting impression upon the auditors.
In general, of course, the heavier part of the program should usually
come in the first half and the lighter part in the second, for the
simple reason that it is at the beginning that our minds and bodies
are fresh and unwearied, and since we are able to give closer
attention at that time we should accordingly be supplied with the more
strenuous music when we are best able to digest it. But although this
is doubtless true in most cases, we have often noticed that audiences
are restless during the first part of the concert, and frequently do
not get "warmed up" to the point of giving close attention to the
performance until ten or fifteen minutes after the program begins, and
sometimes not until the second half has been reached. For this reason,
and also to cover the distraction arising from the entrance of the
ubiquitous late-comer, it seems best to us that some shorter and
lighter work be placed at the very beginning of the program--possibly
an overture, in the case of a symphony concert. The phenomenon here
alluded to has an exact parallel in the church service. When we enter
the church, we are thinking about all sorts of things connected with
our daily life, and it takes us some little time to forget these
extraneous matters and adjust ourselves to the spirit of a church
service, and particularly to get into the appropriate mood for
listening to a sermon. The organ prelude and other preliminary parts
of the service have as their partial function, at least, the
transference of our thoughts and attitudes from their former chaotic
and egoistic state to one more appropriate to the demands of the more
serious part of the service to follow. Somewhat the same sort of thing
is found in the case of the majority of people who go to a concert
hall for an evening's performance, and although the end to be attained
is of course altogether different, yet the method should probably be
somewhat the same. Our feeling is therefore that there ought usually
to be some comparatively light number at the beginning of the concert
program in order that we may be assisted in getting into the listening
mood before the heavier works are presented. On the other hand, an
artist often plunges into a difficult composition at the very
beginning of the concert, and by his marvelous technique or his
tremendous emotional vitality sweeps his audience immediately into an
attitude of rapt attention; all of which proves again that art is
intangible, subtle, and ever-varying--as we stated at the beginning.
[Sidenote: THE IMPORTANCE OF SMALL DETAILS]
In concluding our very brief statement of program-making, it may be
well to mention the fact that small details often have a good deal to
do with the failure of audiences to follow the program with as keen
attention as might be desired. These details are often overlooked or
disdained merely because they seem too trifling to make it worth the
artist's while to notice them; but by seeing to it that the concert
hall is well warmed (or well cooled), that it is well lighted and well
ventilated; that the doors are closed when the first number begins,
and that no one is allowed to enter during the performance of any
number; that there are no long waits either at the beginning or
between numbers; that unnecessary street and other outside noises are
stopped or shut out so far as practicable; and that the printed
program (if it has more than one sheet) is so arranged that the pages
do not have to be turned while compositions are being performed--by
providing in advance for someone who will see to all these little
matters, the artist may often be rewarded by a fine type of
concentrated attention which would not be possible if the minds of the
individuals comprising the audience were being distracted by these
other things.
The printer too bears no small responsibility in this matter of having
an audience follow a program with undiminished attention from
beginning to end, and there is no doubt that the tastefully printed
page (and particularly if there are explanatory remarks concerning the
composer, style, meaning of the composition, _et cetera_) will usually
be followed with much keener attention than one the parts of which
have merely been thrown together. The reason for this we shall leave
for some one else to discuss--possibly some writer of the future upon
"the psychology of the printed page."