In a story linked from ArtsJournal, we read that Andrew Litton is leaving the Dallas Symphony. Two things were immediately notable. First, Litton has nowhere to go. He holds relatively minor jobs in Norway and in Minneapolis, but he’s not leaving Dallas because of them. Above all, he’s not moving up from Dallas, as his career path would have led us to expect. From Dallas, he might have gone to Pittsburgh, let’s say, if not to some larger American orchestra, or to an important post in Europe. instead, he’s leaving — or so he says — so he can spend more time conducting opera (what engagements does he have?) and developing children’s television shows. One gathers, therefore, that his Dallas tenure was in many ways a failure.
Second notable thing, which of course supports what I’ve just said: Nobody quoted in the story said anything about Litton’s conducting. Note these quotes:
He brought the orchestra more exposure through the tours and a lot of recordings.[Recordings, by the way, are no proof of artistic stature. They’re very often subsidized, which is to say paid for by the orchestra, by private donors the orchestra recruits, or by the artists themselves.]
That will be one of his lasting effects, the many fine players he brought into the orchestra.
He pushed the board to raise enough money and give the Dallas Symphony the tools it needs to become one of the world’s great orchestras.
Not a word about how good he was.
So here’s the truth. Litton’s not thought of as a good conductor. He can make a splashy effect; that’s about it. Musicians who’ve played for him are damning. Administrators at orchestras where he’s guest-conducted are equally damning. When Litton conducted the New York Philharmonic, his New York Times review was one of the worst I’ve ever seen.
And there were additional problems, which I’m going to be discreet and not describe here in any detail, though they were legendary in the orchestra world. Let me put it this way: People close to Litton would descend on any orchestra that he conducted, causing trouble and making demands. This hardly endeared Litton to these orchestras; it posed a problem for his career.
I’ll stop here. No point beating up the guy who very possibly could read the writing on the wall, and might have left before the orchestra decided not to renew his contract. He did some things expertly, and in some ways was good for Dallas. But let me raise a question. Why didn’t we read any of what I’ve said here, in the Dallas news story? None of it is secret. And Scott Cantrell, who wrote the story, is a really good critic and reporter.
Well, obviously we could glean a lot of it from what we read. But why didn’t we read it more explicity? The answer, I think, is that there’s in effect an agreement inside the classical music business, that news won’t be reported fully. Things are santized. If Litton were a pop musician, everything I’ve written here would have been in the press long ago. Everybody would have known it. Dallas would have been abuzz. “What’s this guy doing?” “Why is he our music director?”
Which leads me back to something I’ve said here before. In classical music, there’s very little accountability. People in every city in the country know how good or bad their sports teams are. But they don’t know where their orchestra (or opera company) might rank. They don’t get comparative reviews, or reports from inside the field.
Granted, it’s hard to pretend your baseball team is good if it has a losing season. To judge an orchestra is more subjective. Still, some standards can be objectively applied — and then there are prevailing opinions from people whose judgment really matters. If your music director goes down in flames when he conducts in other cities, isn’t that news you ought to read? If he’s not welcome back as guest conductor, shouldn’t you know that? We have to stop treating classical music as if it were something sacred — or something that needs to be protected — and start describing things the way they really are.