BY KANE MORONEY
I remember the catalyst well – the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra at the Melbourne Town Hall. I would have been about 14 or 15 years old at the time and, having grown up on a dairy farm in rural Victoria, had never experienced classical music let alone been to an orchestral concert.
I had taken up the flute about two years prior to this (and honestly thought I was the best player in the world…oh, how naive I was!) and as part of our local secondary college’s fledgling outreach program, we were offered a trip to Melbourne to see the football, or to attend a concert by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. Not being a football fan, I opted for the latter. I honestly had no idea what I was about to experience, and how it would alter the course of my life.
I remember taking my seat – I was only one of about five children who chose to go to the concert instead of the football. The vast cavity of Melbourne Town Hall opened up around me: its beautiful wooden floors beneath, and elaborate decoration arching loftily above. People gradually filled the empty space as one by one the seats became occupied.
The musicians came trickling on stage. Puzzled, I looked on at half of the implements (instruments) the musicians came on stage with. At the time, I had never seen a french horn, oboe, bassoon or even a piccolo! Why were there only two flutes? I scoured the pages of the program to find out what each of the instruments could be. It was at this point too that I realised I wasn’t about to experience a concert of 007 arrangements, or the theme from Pink Panther, to which I was so accustomed in school band. What was Don Juan, and who was Respighi?
The sheer size of the orchestra puzzled me. How did so many people play the same instrument, and how did they all fit on stage? The stage was full – there were harps, flutes, violins and cellos amongst all these other instruments I didn’t know the names of or what they even sounded like. But, for everything my eyes were taking in, nothing had prepared me for what my ears and mind were about to experience.
A lady stood with her violin and the orchestra went quiet. One of these funny instruments that I hadn’t seen before played a note, and the orchestra began making noise (also known as tuning…). The note was played a number of times as all of the musicians joined in with the noise-making. The lady who had stood, sat, and shortly after a man walked on to a round of rapturous applause. He stood at the front of the orchestra (I had guessed he was the conductor, as he was holding his baton) and gave a bow. He turned to the orchestra, and as his arms raised, so too did the musicians raise their instruments to the ready.
The thunderous opening of Strauss’ Don Juan flooded through the hall, washing over the audience and myself like a tsunami wave of sublime. The orchestra had come alive. The violins were frantically bowing the opening runs before bursting into lush melody, as the flutes glittered above the orchestra in fast pulsating rhythm, and the bold and mighty sounds of the brass came crashing through like a tumultuous shot to the senses.
I sat there in awe.
I had never heard anything like this. The pace of the music slowed, and the harp glistened like a feathering of magic before giving way to a beautiful melody played by the same lady on violin who had stood before the beginning of the concert. Every corner of the hall was bathed in this beautiful sound that I had never before heard.
Something had been awakened. My veins were filled with the pulse to the opening of Don Juan and I left that concert fascinated and inspired. From that point on, nothing had me hooked like the desire and passion to be making beautiful music like I had heard the MSO play that evening.
I scoured the reject shop for all of the cheap classical music I could get my hands on – recordings of Dvorak symphonies, Mozart symphonies and concertos, Schumann quartets and Beethoven piano sonatas. I wanted to know more of this music, and I wanted to share it with other people in the hope that they too would be inspired by it like I had been. I would share my CD player with the other kids on the 45-minute bus ride to and from school, and talk them through my newfound knowledge of classical music. ‘That sound is the oboe,’ I would say, as we sat sharing headphones and I would tell them about the music we were listening to; the composers and the instruments that were playing. I would then unpack my flute as I got off of the bus, and walk the four kilometres home along the dirt of Little Snowy Creek Road playing melodies and practising scales. One of our neighbouring farmers would come out as I walked past, and say how she loved to hear me as I walked past playing melodies.
Orchestral music was born out of a need for human expression
I love telling this story, because it is so important to the chronology of my life. I had found something that I was unashamedly passionate about, and wanted to share it with other people. I wasn’t ever bullied or teased for playing the flute (especially as a boy in a rural community) or for sharing classical music with a bunch of small-town country kids. Funnily enough, I think that they got it, and that they respected me for my passion and enthusiasm.
That fateful concert has lead me to where I am today, and why I am sharing this with you. After completing my university studies across both the Sydney Conservatorium and the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts, I travelled to Europe in pursuit of opportunity – to meet teachers and expand my professional network. What I came back with, though, was the realisation that I didn’t want my life to be confined to the four walls of a practice room. I wanted to make a difference to the lives of people that worked in this industry. I want to be able to facilitate a platform for them as musicians to share their passion and talents in the hope that new audiences will be inspired and engaged.
After returning from Europe I began working in coffee, for two reasons. One – to make ends meet and be able to sustain a lifestyle, and two – to develop a skill that would allow me to work anywhere in the world. Never underestimate the value of a barista trained in Australia (those of you who have travelled will understand what I mean)! I became intrigued by the intricacies of working with coffee, and fell deep into the finer art of the perfect espresso extraction. As a result, my own specialty coffee business – Dapper Jack, was born.
I operated my business out of a shared space in the trendy Perth suburb of Leederville. My focus was the simple things – great coffee and a small selection of quality treats to accompany. I had a strong focus on creating a space that was welcoming and yet educational for the customer. I wanted people to understand where their coffee had come from, and what factors influenced the taste of a certain bean. A majority of people are unaware of the hard work that goes on in the countries where coffee is grown before it ends up in your cup. I wanted customers to be curious and inquisitive toward what they were drinking and why it tasted a certain way, and not to take good coffee for granted because the majority of the time it is the good coffee that is providing sustainable futures for coffee farmers.
Unfortunately, due to lease complications at my operating premises, I had to close Dapper Jack at the beginning of April last year. This was a difficult time for me, having put so much into my little business and to see it growing without being able to reach its full potential. But alas, in hindsight I now see this event as a silver lining in the timeline of my life. I took some time off and got out of town immediately after I closed the business, and had a chance to take space and figure out what it was I wanted in the next chapter of my life. Heralding over the hill and marching fast toward me came again the call of classical music.
That’s how I ended up where I am now – as Audience Development Coordinator with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra after eight months of traversing the country to build my experience – working with amazing organisations such as Symphony Services International, Musica Viva and the West Australian Symphony Orchestra. I held strong to the desire to help change the way people engage with artistic organisations. I want to be able to help break barriers and perceptions of what we offer audiences in the arts.
I believe the biggest challenge is to understand the modern audience, the audience of tomorrow
I don’t like to think of what I’m doing as falling into the category of ‘administration’ – I think the term ‘administration’ denotes a disconnect from the fact that what I want to achieve is about creating a vibrant and sustainable future for classical music in this country, and perhaps even beyond. I want to connect audiences with performances that engage them outside of the traditional concepts of what it is to experience classical music. I think that time and time again, orchestras see audiences unable to relate to what we are presenting, and therefore aren’t able to engage them on a deeper level. There is an image problem around orchestral music, which needs to be addressed. We live in a world where technology has changed the way we experience, or the way we ‘consume’ experience. The world is in vastly different context to years ago. Orchestras the world over are facing issues in engaging new audiences, which largely has to do with the looming question of relevance and the role an orchestra plays in society. Nothing can take away from the magic of being present at a live performance – I believe the biggest challenge is to understand the modern audience, the audience of tomorrow, and to invest in making what we do relevant to how they want to ingest it. It has to be an experience they want to have and are drawn to, and has to be treated always with this in mind. It’s about presenting it in a way that to them, is approachable.
The concert hall will always play an important part in the presentation of classical music, but it is time that it moves beyond that. The flow on of engaging and broadening an orchestra’s product portfolio has such potential impact on sustainability and profitability, and that’s what I want to help these organisations realise. There are many ways of looking at these problems, but I think that creativity is the key. It’s time that alignment with new audiences was tackled, and that the perceived restraints on the artform be seriously reconsidered. Orchestral music was born out of a need for human expression, a notion that has changed so dramatically over the last century – all it takes is for its relevance to be rediscovered and realised for a new audience. One of my favourite quotations around this topic is from Uffe Savery, CEO of the Copenhagen Philharmonic: ‘How can the orchestra, an organisation rooted in the past, find an authentic voice in the modern world?’. It’s the biggest challenge facing these institutions, but with a change of perspective then it certainly is possible. I want to foster new foundations, and work with orchestras to realise the potential and scope of how thinking differently about how you present what you’re best at, and the experience around it, can impact significantly on the future of the organisation from the ground up.
Connect with Kane Moroney on Linkedin or keep up to date with his work at the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra.
Image supplied. Credit: Sam Dickinson.
