{"id":4148,"date":"2014-02-07T09:32:15","date_gmt":"2014-02-07T14:32:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/?p=4148"},"modified":"2014-02-07T11:14:30","modified_gmt":"2014-02-07T16:14:30","slug":"sit-on-the-floor","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nicomuhly.com\/news\/2014\/sit-on-the-floor\/","title":{"rendered":"Sit on the floor"},"content":{"rendered":"
I\u2019ve been ignoring this space, and I don\u2019t feel great about it. This past few months has been wildly busy, exciting, fun, everything, and I had initially thought I would feel the spirit to blog about the entire process of mounting Two Boys<\/em> at the Met, but in late August, after our first week of tech, I realized that I wasn\u2019t going to have the energy. The biggest difficulty of the process for me was actually figuring out what precisely it was that I was going to do with myself during all the rehearsals. The score was \u2014 for the most part \u2014 correct. I had absolute trust in the casting, and my theory is always that singers who learn something in a certain way \u201cown\u201d the piece much more than I can at my desk, and that their instincts are more correct sometimes than the score. Craig had created such a fool-proof libretto that the intentions were super clear, even when they were meant to be deliberately unclear, if that makes sense. Under Bart\u2019s direction, they opened up, over the rehearsal process, into being able to make decisions in character: it\u2019s a fabulous thing to watch. So, my role was avuncular rather than paternal. I sat there, but tried to look a little bit distracted so as not to feel like a vengeful harpy, obsessing over the score. I made encouraging grunts and muffled noises, and tried, as best I could, to promote a calm and productive team spirit. I\u2019d go and get coffee for anybody who wanted it. I performed tech support on Alice Coote\u2019s various iDevices. I gossiped with the cover singers, I sat on the floor and poked my head into rehearsals for The Nose<\/em>. I shewed our design team Miley Cyrus\u2019s VMA performance on YouTube.<\/p>\n People \u2014 younger composers, particularly \u2014\u00a0have asked me what it was Like\u2122. It\u2019s great, basically. There are four thousand external oppressive stressors that try to come and get in the way of progress, rather like a video game. One day it\u2019ll be a sick singer on Facebook. Another day it\u2019ll be a parent or my boyfriend making a silent point of not telling me how they\u2019d read some bad-faith article in the paper, or somebody writing me an email like “congrats on that review!” or “sorry about [the same] review.” Another day, a schedule change that requires four against-the-rush-hour commutes around town. Another day, after we opened, a European opera dude invited himself to my house to tell me how much he disliked the production! Before noon! And I bought bagels! Actually my boyfriend bought bagels. But in the midst of all of this, some extraordinary, ravishing music-making, and all in the presence of the machine (and I use this word as a compliment) of the Met\u2019s technical department. These people are wizards.<\/p>\n The secondary texts \u2014 the primary text being the score \u2014 of how to run the system of an opera are erotically fascinating: the codes that govern when the set moves, the codes that govern the fast costume change area in the back, the off-stage chorus, the electrician double-checking to make sure the video camera embedded in an onstage cumrag tissue box was still working. When things \u2014 as they do \u2014 go slightly wrong, there would be delicious, professional, investigations about how to not just get it wrong again, but indeed, how to make it better for the future of this production and other productions. There\u2019s a memory bank, as it were, between shows at the Met that is, for me, as inspiring as the on-stage music making, which is pretty extraordinary itself.<\/p>\n The other thing that I think was unique to this piece and situation is that because it was the first Gelb-era commission, there was a huge matrix of expectations about it and what it Meant. When I was writing the piece, I knew it was going to be a specific and crazy piece. Craig and I designed it to tell that<\/em> story well; the production is designed to be a delivery system for that<\/em>story. It was not designed to solve a made-up crisis in classical music, it was not designed to attract more young people into the opera house (as if young people are moths, drawn towards a patio light). It was not designed to make any statements about the future of the genre, about the way opera \u201cshould\u201d be commissioned or workshopped or not. It was not designed to be an argument for or against presenting work in large spaces or small spaces. It was just, I had hoped, a good show. And is it fair to ask a new piece to be anything other than good, on its own terms? Not to cause a revolution, not to solve the problems online crazypeople think need to be solved. One got the sense that many punters came to it with various other expectations in mind \u2014 particularly people In Or Near The Industry. I had to really control myself from asking the designers to project the huge, beautifully typeset phrase It\u2019s Not About You before each act. What is is, indeed, about is a flawed romance between a 16 year-old boy and a 13 year-old boy, forensically analyzed by a woman in her 50\u2019s. These three people circle around one another, opening up little hornets\u2019-nests of online and offline violence and beauty. If I\u2019ve told that<\/em> story well, I am happy.<\/p>\n Then, I had to do an unreal amount of press. It was fucking insane. It never stopped. I wrote about this before when we did the show in London, although I\u2019ve gotten more aggressive about it of late. My policy is twofold and strict: read nothing, say yes to everything. I will not read anything that\u2019s written about the piece after it\u2019s opened, which means no reviews, ever, at all \u2014 even the good ones, if not especially the good ones. The good ones sometimes seemed like people coming over your house for dinner and enthusiastically complimenting everything but the food. One finds, in good reviews, still the dangerous instinct to analyze trends rather than notes, imagined patterns rather than musical ones.<\/p>\n What used to be really difficult about my strategy was that I\u2019d still read reviews of other<\/strong> people\u2019s work, but not my own, which was hypocritical and also made avoiding just stuff about me into a slightly cartoon-like project. Now I just don\u2019t mess with it at all, and you know why? Because nobody knows how to write about music, really. It\u2019s, like, four people, maybe; certainly far fewer people know how to write about<\/em> music than there are people who know how to write it. It\u2019s a vile little human-centipede situation, reviews and previews, and you realize how silly it is when you listen to the questions people ask. I had a little running tally going, and of hundreds questions I\u2019d be asked in an interview, very very few would be about the notes or the rhythms or even the piece itself. A few would talk about plot points as if we had invented them \u2014 as opposed to Reality, which itself had a strong creative input into the plot of the piece. The main focus of a lot of questions was: the Met, the future of opera, the merits of workshops, Peter Gelb, the Met, the Met, the future of opera, the future of the genre, elitism, Young People, ageing audience, all this horseshit buzzword wordsoup; one could almost hear the \u201cthink\u201d piece writing itself, along with a subsequent review to reinforce whatever insightful conclusions might have been reached.<\/p>\n If you follow classical music at all, you know that the loudest noises are being made not by composers and musicians (as perhaps should be the case), but by a very special caste of people who like to go into the elevator the rest of us are working in, fart juicily, and then ask whahappen. When you hear their questions for advance press, you register that they\u2019ve already made up their mind about how this two hour thing I wrote relates to a Big Narrative about the future of what essentially amounts to their livelihood. Really, I can\u2019t blame them; if things are going well, if things are alright, if work exists on its own terms, who is going to pay the rent?<\/p>\n What I can do, though, is say yes to every request. I told the Met\u2019s press people to just lay it on, because I trust them and I like them. Obviously, there\u2019s a backlash \u2014\u00a0you start getting tweets screeching about how it\u2019s such a huge failure<\/strong> that there is so much being written about a new opera, etc., but you have to just ignore (or tease) those people. You also have to ignore\/tease the people who want to get all up in one\u2019s grill about ticket sales. It\u2019s like: do you want me to stand on the Lincoln Center Plaza with a sandwich board? I had one person who in one breath would celebrate an orchestra offering cheap seats for young people, and then in the next breath bemoan the fact that the Met had \u201cdeeply slashed ticket prices\u201d or whatever because I suck and Peter Gelb Ooga Booga. T\u00e9 in the wind. Chicop\u00e9e. Writing about music reads like some combination of the Protocols of the Elders of Zion<\/em> and a Sarah Palin interview transcript: that combination of conspiracy theories, Chicken Little concern-trolling, deep hypocrisy, false alarms, made-up statistics, and what one imagines to be a pervasive domestic fug of cat feces, tea-stained vocal scores and dandruff-dusted cardigans. Internet people are insane. Read the comments here<\/a>, just for fun.<\/p>\n (An aside: have we moved past that thing of articles about art appearing and then setting off an internet shitstorm and then the author being like, well, if it sparked conversation\u2026 then smugly smiling? I know I always bring it up but remember that completely vile Sasha Frere-Jones article about how indie rock wasn\u2019t black enough, and then that nice boy Will from the Arcade Fire took him to school like six times with an apple for teacher and SFJ was like, *NPR smile<\/a>* about \u201cThe conversation?\u201d If the last two sentences of that thing I just linked to don’t make you want to put down what you’re doing, find him, and take away his internet, I don’t know what will.)<\/p>\n After the opera closed, I did all my dry-cleaning and discovered that everything I wore during the shows was like, fight-or-flight sweat damaged. It was so insanely fun and great and I would do it again in One Minute. I lost a scarf and a hat in the process somehow, so if you see them somewhere, send it to me at the office?<\/p>\n Other things that had happened: I wrote this review<\/a> of the Beyonc\u00e9 album that dropped in the middle of the night.<\/p>\n