Blair Tindall's 'Mozart in the Jungle'

I was particularly bothered by the statement that “Orchestra members pick up money however they can, whether it’s as musicians (playing in commercials, teaching) or not....” The orchestra in the series is supposed to be a major New York orchestra — the fictional equivalent of the New York Philharmonic. The salaries in the major East Coast orchestras, including the Philadelphia Orchestra, start just above $100,000. Players with titles (principal viola, associate principal trumpet) make two to four times that. I don’t think the musicians in those orchestras have to hustle the way the TV series seems to indicate.

Do the hustle

The hustling would make more sense if the musicians played in a small orchestra that hired freelancers. In Philadelphia, we have a hardworking corps of freelancers who are one of the city’s underappreciated assets. They make their livings by trotting between the ballet, the opera, the Philly Pops, the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, smaller orchestras like Orchestra 2001, solo and chamber music dates, and miscellaneous opportunities like weddings and church music programs. Most of them would probably be happy to provide music for a commercial.

Most musicians do some teaching, whether they’re freelancers or salaried orchestral players. Musicians have traditionally taken on students. Our great republic still harbors families in which children routinely take music lessons. The music audience still includes adults who study an instrument so they can play for their own pleasure.

Freelance musicians, in other words, operate just like freelancers in all the arts. Actors do commercials and voiceovers. Freelance writers bolster their incomes with wordsmith chores like press releases and catalog copy.

#lifeofafreelancer

As I suspected, Blair Tindall’s book chronicles her adventures as a freelancer. She auditioned for permanent positions with a number of orchestras but never made it to the final cut. When she auditioned for the second oboe chair in the New York Philharmonic — a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity — she was eliminated in the first round because she had practiced a short, tricky passage for a week without noticing she was playing one note wrong.

I won’t comment on the passages on sex and drugs promised in Ms. Tindall’s title (those being the subjects of most interest to readers). For me, the most interesting aspects of this book are her thoughts on the state of classical music and the unhappy personal dilemma that confronted her as the years went on.

Unlike many commentators, Tindall isn’t worried about the age of the classical music audience. As she points out, classical music has always attracted an older audience. She even notes that the audience has actually been growing. The real problem, in her analysis, is the supply, not the demand. The supply of concerts and music organizations has outstripped the growth in demand. We overinvested in classical music in the ’60s and ’70s, she argues, and it’s now going through a “market correction.”

That same reasoning obviously applies to the market for musicians. The training Tindall received at the North Carolina School of the Arts seems to have been rather skimpy, but she learned on the job after she arrived in New York in 1980. She became an accomplished oboist who enjoyed several years as a busy freelancer, playing with Baroque groups and subbing with the Philharmonic.

The pit is the pits

If the audience had been twice as big, she probably would have landed a first or second oboe position at an orchestra with a good salary scale. Instead, much of the work she had been doing slipped away, and she spent the last years of her career playing in long-running Broadway hits like Miss Saigon and Les Miz.

Broadway pit work is boring and repetitious. You play the same thing, night after night, for all the years that a hit may run. The work was so undemanding that Tindall placed magazines on her music stand and read as she played from memory.

Still, pit work might look like a good deal for many people. She made over $70,000 a year, and her contract let her bring in a sub when she got a chance to play other kinds of music. For her, it was a dreary dead end.

In all the arts, the supply of would-be artists will always exceed the demand. Most of the would-bes get weeded out fairly early. Blair Tindall’s story is an example of a sadder situation. What do capable people do when they discover they’re stuck right on the edge of a satisfying career?

What now?

Artists have two choices when they reach that point. They can find another career, or they can work out an arrangement that will give them a reasonably satisfying life. Some musicians, for example, find they can combine an academic post with the kind of freelance work they like.

Tindall loves music, but she had drifted into it, as a child, mostly because it provided her with a “magic dress” that gave her status and attention. Now she was approaching 40, the magic dress had lost its powers, and she seemed to be caught in a trap. She had neglected her nonmusical subjects during her school days, and she didn’t possess skills most people acquire in childhood. When she took an aptitude test for an MBA prep school, she discovered she didn’t know how to calculate percentages.

For me, the last section of this book was as suspenseful as a good thriller. I’m not sure I should reveal the ending. But I can’t resist. Every writer who reads this will appreciate the irony.

Blair Tindall abandoned her music career and became a freelance journalist.

She’s even become a successful freelance journalist, writing about music, environmental issues, and other subjects for publications like the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. And she’s now the author of a book that’s been adapted for TV.

Mozart in the Jungle is a compelling portrait of the traps that can waylay people who respond to the seductions of the arts and commit to a career too young, for the wrong reasons. It’s a perfect gift for any young person who thinks he or she should answer that dangerous call. Don’t be afraid it will discourage people. Those who can be discouraged, should be.

It’s also given me a personal morale booster. The next time I find myself staring at the computer screen, wondering why I ever thought I could be a writer, I will know there’s an alternative. I can always call a musician friend and see if he or she can recommend a good oboe teacher.

Above right: Photo of Blair Tindall by Christian Steiner.

For a 2008 review of Mozart in the Jungle by Beeri Moalem, click here.