Scene and (not) heard

Amanda,

You ask: [New Amsterdam Records is] looking for artists whose music isn't on any scene and then, by virtue of that and one assumes other factors, declaring these performers are on their own, never-to-be-named scene?

It sounds to me as if you are using the words “scene” and “style” to mean the same thing, which is something that I think happens a lot in these kinds of discussions. When we use the word “scene” in our mission statement, we are using it to mean “a sphere of activity.” The new-music “sphere of activity” located in New York and beyond is comprised of composers and performers working in many different genres of notated music. Within this larger new-music sphere of activity there exists a sub-sphere, if you will, of musicians who create music that falls between the cracks between those genres. Some labels already existed to serve these musicians; by forming New Amsterdam Records we sought to create another. Far from “sceneless,” every artist on our label was very much already on the “scene”--that is, working in the world of New York notated music in some capacity. So rather than New Amsterdam creating the scene, the scene created New Amsterdam, as it has many other collectives, organizations, and institutions, and has it will doubtless create many more.

Sarah

Can one create a scene by intending to start one? Can scenes be actively curated, or must they develop on their own, organically? What becomes of a scene if those at its inception are acutely aware of what they will become?

Amanda, yes I think you can form your own scene. Certainly there is an organic element to it (how like in college, no matter what you believed, there was always someone who believed something similar and you could always find some of them somehow). But, yes some come from conscious deliberation and effort, generally because they were shut out (or limited in some way or at least felt it) from "the larger mainstream (recognized & moneyed) scene", whatever that is. I think Bang on a Can fits here but definitely the artists of the Black Rock Coalition would. Each created a defined community of musicians which provided avenues of support, encouragement, and probably more importantly, respect and recognition all of which may have been lacking in the larger musical world. And like many communities, the growth of their developed scene beyond the initial coagulant doesn't follow a preordained path.

This is all very interesting. I have never really thought of any of this as being a "scene" but rather groups of people - some of whom know each other and some of whom don't, some of whom like each other and some of whom do not - who all happen to either be interested in or working in (or if one is working, hopefully both interested and working in) the classical/new/modern/experimental/indie music industry.

I go to some concerts as a working publicist if an artist I represent is performing, others because I hope to work with an artist performing, others because friends of mine are performing, others because I'm interested in a certain composer or love a certain piece of music or a certain musician, others because I'm checking out a new venue, and others because someone invited me to attend with them.

If someone assumes an artist I don't know is one that I do know, or that I attended a concert that was actually off my radar, rather than wondering why they would think I know artist X or why would I be at concert X, I usually think that I should check out the artist or that I should have tried to make it to concert X. Not out of obligation, but curiosity.

Is that a "scene"? I just thought it was life.

I think it's worth mentioning, as part of this discussion, that it's not all bad if, at a certain point, a scene comes to IN PART encompass a group of people who feel obligated to go to the same concerts....which I think has been true throughout the ages, and not just of musicians. The artists of the 1960s Soho loft scene in New York (visual artists, choreographers, composers), for instance, all felt obligated to see each others' work, even in cases of artists who weren't particularly fans of one another, as a show of support to the community and to create fodder for discussion and argument--which I think is intrinsic to the growth of any artistic group/scene/whatever.

Judd makes a good point that it's sad if a scene comes to be defined ONLY by this, b/c that's when it feels insular and exclusionary; when the same people, who all have some sort of "business" interest in the scene, are the primary audience members, and anyone new feels a bit out of the loop. And I think sometimes the new music scene--especially the new, younger incarnation in NYC--has elements of this. I work in "the industry" (though not in the publicity capacity Amanda does) and friendships with the scene's members matter to me both professionally (for future connections) and personally (many of them are super cool people), and sometimes I do feel like I'd be closer with certain people if only I went to more concerts they attended. That, of course, shouldn't really be my motivation in attending those concerts. Here's an example: forgive me if I sound like a Philistine, but it's hard for me to make myself go to the Bang on a Can Marathon. I love new music. I love the Bang on a Canners. But going that far downtown and a whole day of it always feels like too much to me, hence, I know, I know, I'm missing out on some great music. But I always feel guilty, too, because I feel like, "Oh, if only I went maybe I would run into so-and-so and have a pivotal conversation with them" or whatever.

Maybe in the end, the best is a bit of give and take. Perhaps New Amsterdam could stand to get a little more "sceney"--especially if it sees itself as representative of the kinds of people who are within the scene. The "scene" could stand, occasionally, to get a little more inclusive.

Some of my feelings on "the scene(s)" are over at Nico's blog, but I wanted to share a bit here.

Like Judd, I think people go to concerts because of how they hope the music/experience makes one feel and that the price of going (both financial and actual time) is worth spending to be apart of that experience. But one aspect of a scene is that it should be welcoming (maybe that's not a goal for some; being one of the few in the know or part of something most people aren't is attractive for some people). If a scene looks or feels like too much of the same kind of people, philosophy, and music then it is a long, slow march toward musical solipsism.

A few years ago when I started one of my own scenes, the composer federation Pulse, I purposely picked people whose music was not only different from mine, but whose thinking and background were as well. I think this produces a dynamic and ever-changing result. With each project and concert, I think each composer learns from the others and our own music is richer by being exposed to those different viewpoints.

One thing I loved the most when I was standing on the Mall on Jan. 20, 2009 was that when I looked around, I saw black, white, Asian, Hispanic, women, gay, young, old, well-to-do, and less-well off, all together and not just in a superficial proximity. Now let's look at a composer's circle of friends and I think this will be a good indicator of the type of audience one can expect in their scene. Yes, we are all in our own cultural and musical ghettos but how can we broaden that circle and get out of it? Amanda (and Judd) maybe this is where the marketing comes in. Making that target appeal to an audience outside your typical reach. There's no guarantee that it will reach (or even appeal) to people not usually thought of as your target, but by offering them the chance, you are sure to find people you didn't imagine were out there who liked it and will come to concerts (or at least by CDs/mp3s). Some of my favorite music are the things I didn't know I liked until I was exposed to them through chance, word of mouth, or repeated exposure.


I'm going to try and not post another entry-length comment to a comment here ((yikes!!)), but what fascinates me about what you've written is how you say "when I started one of my own scenes." Totally interesting choice of words. Can one create a scene by intending to start one? Can scenes be actively curated, or must they develop on their own, organically?  What becomes of a scene if those at its inception are acutely aware of what they will become?

In his post, Nico quotes New Amsterdam's mission statement:

New Amsterdam Records was formed as a haven for the young New York composers and performers whose music slips through the cracks between genres. The records we sell will paint a certain picture of that scene without a name, without trying to give it one.

The idea of releasing records that promise to "paint a certain picture of that scene without a name" is also delectable. They're looking for artists whose music isn't on any scene and then, by virtue of that and one assumes other factors, declaring these performers are on their own, never-to-be-named scene? If I sound confrontational here I'm not trying to be. I'm simply curious 1. if scenes can not only be labeled when you're at their core or on them at all (Chris over on Nico's blog astutely points out that history will name them for us anyway), and 2. what comes of setting out to create a scene comprised of artists who are scene-less. 

Amanda,

Maybe it's because I'm a composer and you're a PR person, but your seeming definition of what constitutes a "scene" - a group of people who are obligated to attend one another's shows - sounds pretty dreary to me. Is that why most people attend concerts? Out of obligation? I'd like to think that most people attend shows because they are interested in the work that's being presented, or because they think they will have a positive social experience as a result of attending. Or, ideally, both. If this isn't true, then what on earth is the point of cultivating a "scene" in the first place?

There's definitely a plague within the walls of a scene when it becomes too cannibalistic - when artists constitute too great a percentage of one another's shows, and the act of going out becomes a passing of loose change from one poor pocket to another. This is a slow death, indeed. So, for Undiscovered Islands, we focused on getting the word out to people who might attend because they found appealing what we had to offer. And we were quite successful in this regard, through previews and listings in a wide variety of publications, many of which had not previously covered our label's events before. The writers who covered us did, I think, an excellent job of making the events sound as vibrant and compelling as they wound up being. We gained the beginnings of a new audience and the potential cultivation of a healthy, robust, non-cannibalistic "scene" - the audience side of that scene.

I can't really argue with your point that it's important to reach within a scene as well as without, and it's quite possible that we did not do as good a job with this as we could have. If the only way you could be convinced to attend one of our shows was because of a perceived obligation, I'm not in a good position to say how or why this didn't happen. But then, I don't think that you're really representative of our target audience. In the end, I'm more concerned with catching the people who are out there looking for something like what we have to offer, rather than bending the arms of those who will come only because they think they have to.

Judd

Are we to believe you've personally never gone to a concert out of a sense of obligation to a co-practitioner? By "I'm a composer" do you actually mean "I'm a lawyer"? Did you not co-found a record label? I wonder, then, how you find new talent and musical inspiration without going to concerts loosely affiliated with work responsibilities now and again? I thought I made it fairly clear that I would be discussing one very specific slice of a larger scene when I wrote, "It should be noted that I'm talking about the new music scene as it applies to intra-industry audience building." If this subsection is, in fact, The Only Scene or if I had declared it so, I might agree that my experiences with it have been as grim as you describe.

I'm curious, too, at what point in the entry you thought I suggested anyone who presented a concert or released a record should necessarily reach out to the industry? I only very briefly touched on what could be a much larger discussion. That is, who is more or less valuable: a fresh new audience member paying real American dollars or someone from the industry, not paying a cent but possessing potentially valuable connections that may help an artist's career or spark greater success for a label down the road (consequently reaching even more audiences)? I've worked with presenters who hate giving out comped press tickets because those are seats that can be sold. "The concert is one-night-only," they argue. "What does a review really matter, anyway?" You mention the critics who covered the New Amsterdam concerts in your comment above. They're on the intra-industry scene, and going to concerts is certainly work; do you still want them there?

So perhaps for another post, should an audience member's value be weighted, or should each body be treated equally when it comes to marketing targets? I am curious how many people were comped for the Galapagos concerts, if you're willing to share. Surely the artists performing would have benefited from presenters and managers being in the audience in addition to all the newcomers?

Your last paragraph would be relevant if I had said such a thing or if one of your own artists - who I believe himself participated in most if not all of the concerts in question - hadn't directly questioned me as to why I didn't attend. You can't have it both ways: if I'm not the target audience because I sometimes view my concert-going outside of the utopia of only attending things that either interest me or are purely social excursions, then I can't be approached and grilled for not being there. -AA

I'm so glad you guys did this project (again). I really enjoy both your and Nico's writing & learn so much from it. xoxo

I went to Galapagos for three of the four nights that you refer to. I remember those shows stood out from the other classical concerts I've attended because there was a tangible feeling of excitement in the air. There was a line out the door each time, and a bunch of press writers, New Music pundits, and genuinely interested young people inside. It was refreshing, actually, to see such anticipation for a Classical concert. While I agree that the contemporary classical scene is splintered, these guys seem to be doing something right.

With regards to audience members joining the scene from a pure fan level, Dave Hickey's essay in "Air Guitar" on spectators/participants is illuminating.

I thought I should post here since I posted over at Nico's blog.

I really enjoy discovering musicians, concert events, and recordings that are totally off my radar. Following the activity of a handful of players simply because they are a part of a supposedly important "scene" doesn't interest me at all. But I understand how helpful it can be for musicians to perpetuate themselves as a "scene." It can be a wonderful way to support each other in hard times. Community is important.

However, as you point out (and I don't think I made this clear that you do so in my post on Nico's site) the reality is that in NYC there isn't just "one" "scene" that is producing and supporting newly composed music. There are many, many "hubs" of activity and therefore many opportunities for us to expand our horizons.

And isn't our job as artists (I'm not talking about PR people) to create new "scenes" by consistently stepping out of our own comfort zones? That may sound contradictory, but that Groucho Marx quote haunts me: "I would never belong to a club that would have me as a member."