It Helps if the Maestro Chews Tobacco
Culture is in a bad way during these interesting times, and it is not hard to discern exactly why.
In today’s crowded entertainment space the competition for the paying customer’s attention is fierce.
The latest TV shows jostle against the rock music festival; the wacky videos on the internet try to shoulder aside the sites devoted to cute kittens. Various devices throughout the modern home bring us everything ever recorded anywhere, all at the command of our voice.
There are only so many hours in the day, only so many dollars in the pocketbook.
While many a citizen, given the choice, is perfectly in favor of the fine arts, when it comes right down to it there is always something more entertaining to do. Some of the great minds of our generation have been stewing over this for some time, but they’re missing the obvious.
What your average orchestra or opera company is missing is league play.
They need Big Twelves and AL Wests and Midwest Conferences.
They need spring training, draft picks, and mid-season trades.
And that is just the start.
The poet societies and the ballet companies suffer seriously from a lack of playoff seasons, an Elite Eight and a Final Four, ancient and bitter intercity rivalries.
There is still time to change before the last dime exits the last cash register at the last off-off-off-off-off-off-off-Broadway musical theater.
All it takes is keen observation of the practices within the major sports leagues to lead the way.
At the pre-season press conference held on stage at the Music Hall, the reporters pepper the musical director with pointed questions.
Reporter: Skipper, is this year really going to be any better? A lot of fans had high hopes at the beginning of last season but after a promising start the team fell into the cellar in the west league.
Musical Director: (spitting tobacco juice thoughtfully) Last season is last season, Rusty. These guys are pros, and pros don’t like to lose. You should have seen the locker room after we were failed to make the playoffs. Even our cymbalist wasn’t making any noise. The violinists just stood their striking their strings with their bows like they were performing some piece of advanced modern composition. Pathetic.
Reporter: What are your impressions coming out of pre-season play?
Musical Director: I’m seeing a lot of things to like in spring training, Dusty. The French horns are quicker off the mark. We’ve got an exciting young bullpen in the strings section, and we’ve got a seasoned veteran – Boom Boom Bananski – holding down the percussion section. I think you’re gonna see a different team take the stage when they trot out and take their places behind their music stands.
Reporter: What do you have to say when you hear that the musical director of The Crosshatch Falls Philharmonic says your boys are washed up? Your oboes are weak and your clarinets squeak. He says your strings are shrill and your brass is ill.
Musical Director: (spitting in the way a man will do who wants to take time to reflect and perhaps to let his temper cool) I never respond to that kind of trash talk, Busty, you know that. That’s for little people with little souls. Let ‘em know we’ll see ‘em on the playing field. We’ll show the whole world who’s the better orchestra. Oh, and Busty…tell ‘em to bring their best game. They’re gonna need it.
Reporter: Skipper, over here, What do you think of the rookie bassoonist that the Clairmont Elites Boondoggles picked up over the winter?
Musical Director: We took a look at him, Musty, nice kid, shows a lot of promise. I’m just not sure he’s ready for the big leagues yet. Give him a couple more years in the minors and we’ll take another look. He’s going to be playing in an entirely different league than he’s used to now though. We blow through our opponent’s bassoonists like tornadoes through a wheat silo.
Reporter: What do you say to those who say the real problem with the Bay City Orchestral Beagles is the coaching?
Musical Director: (spitting an artistic stream of tobacco juice off to one side.) You’re always gonna have naysayers, Gusty. Let ‘em try coaching at this level for a couple of days. You learn to take the rough with the smooth.
Reporter: One last question, are you predicting that you’ll break .500 this year?
Musical Director: Well, now, I’m not much of one for prediction, Wusty, I’m just a country boy who found himself at the head of the finest orchestral grouping in this whole United States of America. Don’t forget now, we’re still in a rebuilding state of mind. But taking all and all into account, I’ll say that we’ll give all the other teams in the league a run for their money this year. And you can quote me on that.
And so on.
Well, you see, by the simple introduction of a pre-season, a press conference, some juicy rivalries, and a good deal of tobacco juice ripe for the spitting, all of a sudden you’ve got some consumer interest. You’ve got butts in the seats, you’ve got the ticket booth buzzing and the concession stand filling plastic glasses of beer like there’s no tomorrow.
The possibilities are endless.
Mascots cavorting on the sidelines? Shirtless young men painting themselves entirely in the orchestra’s colors? Could be! Could be! Remember, this is the brainstorming part of the session…at this stage there are no bad ideas! Keep ‘em coming!
The simple introduction of cheerleading squads into abstract art competitions, where the one fellow applies paint to the canvas with a kitchen mop and the other rolls his own self in first a wading pool full of orange paint, then a wading pool full of blue plaint, then a wading pool full of black paint, and then has himself shot out of a cannon towards the blank canvas…well, put a couple of high end cheerleading squads on the sidelines of an event like that and, my friend, you will have aroused the viewer’s interest.
So I urge the members of the arts community to take heart. Though it seems right now that they are on the ropes, sometimes all it takes is a little innovative thinking to really bring the house down.
