liberating personal identity through creative collaboration (with Abe Ross)
Dear friends,
Happy Sunday! I want to start this letter by expressing my deep gratitude for its featured interviewee, Abe Ross. As I get this newsletter up and running, I’ve been struggling to decide exactly which topics to write about first, and so decided to reach out to a few friends and record some short interviews. Abe was incredible generous and thoughtful during our conversation, and we ended up talking for about 40 minutes, diving deep into a few of the questions that have been pressing in my mind. The conversation, transcribed below, serves as a showcase of his primary passions and work, and a courageous exploration of some of the tough questions: How do young musicians learn to trust their capabilities? How do we use music and art to connect across wide stretches of identity? Whose voices are heard within academic institutional structures, and why?
I met Abe at the N.E.O. Voice Festival in Los Angeles this past summer, and I am also grateful for this program and environment for facilitating strong collaborative friendships among its participants. We give a shout-out to N.E.O. at this end of the interview, but I wanted to mention that attending this program was absolutely formative in my passion to have conversations like this, and to genuinely invest in the interests and perspectives of my peers. If you are interested in learning more about how a week of voice science, composition, and organ playing can be so deeply moving, head over to their website.
Who are you and what do you do?
I’m Abe Ross, and I would describe myself as a keyboardist and collaborator living in Montreal. I really enjoy multi-disciplinary projects and collaborating with artists, both in my corner of genre and specialty and also across art mediums and different interests. I find it really cool to see what I do in a new light through information that I can share with other people. I have an interest in historical repertories and also new music, through research, writing, and mainly performance.
Where are you in terms of education and career, and what does your day-to-day life look like?
I’ve been in a Doctoral program for the past four years, and so I had some coursework and some writing and exams, but mostly self-directed performance-centered practice and development to do. That was a D.Mus., or Doctor of Music, which is the equivalent of a DMA in the States. For me, the purpose was to develop my technique and have space to research the repertories that are really interesting to me, and to do things with the funding that were exactly aligned with the things I could envision. I reflected on that as I handed in my thesis last month, and I think I pulled it off! Even though I had a year delayed with Covid and lots of challenges and walls along the way.
Now, I’m entering this new stage where I want to be doing the same thing - but I have to find the resources to do it without the institution and grant money that I had before. I’m finding the new projects that I want to spend my daily life on that are artistically fulfilling and interesting to me. And so I’m leaving the church job that I’ve had for four years, and I’ve had something like that all through my studies to support them, but it’s never been what fulfills me as an organist. I don’t see the value for myself to keep doing it long-term. I decided to move more into performance, collaborating, and research, which is more interesting for me.
Right now, I’m on my friend’s grant project - we’re presenting four early music concerts across the academic year until the spring, and we’ve actually received grant funding for the next two years as well! Our ensemble is Les goûts réunis, and I’m the harpsichordist for that. We had our first concert, which was an outreach performance, which got some great responses.
I’m also concertizing as a soloist and with some ensembles, and have some appearances coming up with some early music ensembles here and the Symphony Orchestra in Montreal. I also have some exciting independent projects coming up next year for the 150th anniversary of the birth of Charles Ives, who is a big interest and passion of mine, specifically regarding his organ works.
Could you tell me about a challenge that you have faced so far, and how you’ve figured out a path through?
I think the first thing to come to mind would be believing in yourself as a performer, which has so many different aspects that we could talk about. The first would be not fitting into a mold in terms of the way that you view yourself, and the mold that classical music cultures supports and promulgates in a way. I think there is a big conversation about representation, which is just one little corner of the idea of conforming to a conservative view of what music looks like, and what the people doing it look like, and how that should act and behave. With my background in church music, this was even more relevant. I felt that, while I may look like the people doing it, it’s not a part of who I am, or what runs through me and motivates me. And so I feel that representation and diversification in classical music is a big objective for my own career, which informs the repertory I choose to focus on, the people I choose to work with, what I choose to support and amplify through my voice.
The other part would be trusting your own abilities and capacities as a young person. Classical music institutions and education, a lot of the time, support artists through criticism, and so I think a lot of people I know have a core belief that their ability is not enough, and that at some point they are going to fail. You can tell yourself the opposite, and act the opposite, but I think it’s always a little bit there on the inside. I think a lot about teaching someday, and how I want to give students that affirmation. For me, I found it through my work, and through positive relationships with my peers, and through lifting one another up and supporting one another.
I remember early on in my doctoral studies when I learned a really difficult piece. It was a piece for which I had to go to school and start practicing at 7:30 each morning, and I’d work until 10:30, and then I’d take a break, and then go back in the afternoon and learn more, and I learned it over the course of three or four months. At that point, when I finished it and performed, I thought, “okay, I think I can do pretty much any piece,” and that was the first time I’d felt that way at 25 years old. It was a good feeling: that I am capable, and that no matter the challenges ahead of me, I can structure my time, I can fall back on my current skill set, and I can achieve my goal.
So, there’s feeling confident in who you are as a person and also feeling confident in the skill set you possess and your capacities.
Editing note: I really appreciated Abe’s willingness to share this. We talked for a little here about our experiences teaching our own students, and found that we had a lot in common regarding the ways we want to give feedback to students. On the university level, progress in musical development is so often measured by criticism; I have personally felt the disappointment of performing and immediately being met with a list of things to improve upon by peers, adjudicators, or teachers. As I develop more as a teacher, and as I work with more teachers, I am looking for ways to build a foundation of positive reinforcement and curious exploration within my pedagogy.
Part of that, that I’ve found with teachers, if that it’s just a lack of self awareness. Nobody can go up in front of a group of people and instruct and be flawless in what they say, so I think the skill that you have to have as a teacher is to be able to go back and apologize and learn. I think that can be kind of a rare thing to find.
Could you tell me about your favorite musical experiences that you’ve had recently?
I grew up playing an amazing organ, which is weird to find in a tiny rural town four hours north of Boston in Maine. It’s a pre-Civil War instrument in its original condition, and it’s been beautifully restored to be really well-suited to the early American organ music that I specialize in. I went back there in late-August and did a recital to present some of the research that I’ve been doing. Everything sort of clicked together - place, and time, at the end of my doctorate, the repertory, and the instrument. I presented some of the works of Charles Ives on the sort of instrument that he would have grown up playing. It was great to connect with the community of my childhood and offer them the best of what I have now as an artist.
The other really cool experience was my friend Kyran’s debut concert for a new group. We had a program put together of French music by Francois Couperin and Scottish Baroque music by James Oswald, who was a botanist and a composer, and each of his movements are named after a different flower. We took that to a completely different environment than early music usually lives in in Montreal, which is the old Catholic churches. We took it to Union United Church, which is a Black church of enormous significance in the history of Montreal: Oscar Peterson grew up in this church, playing there; Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu spoke there when they came to Montreal. It’s this little congregation tucked away in one of the suburb areas; you could walk right by it and not even know it’s there. We did our first concert there, where there is a music education program for the students, and they were in the basement practicing as we were practicing. Afterwards for the concert, they all came up as part of their program, and it was a really cool experience to see kids who had maybe never heard French Baroque music so into it and so excited. The way we play is really emphasizing the rhetoric, the conversation between instruments, and people loved it. There was a little girl dancing in the aisles on the side, and a lot of our friends were there too. It was so cool to see an audience full of young people, to be honest. Sometimes it can be hard to look out at a sea of gray hair at early music concerts, so to have a response that was fresh and really genuine was very gratifying.
That’s been such a big question - how do we as young people who are interested in early music connect to people outside of our typical audience, to reveal that things don’t have to be the way they’ve always been?
That’s important - and also lifting up different voices, too. I know several groups have done a lot of crossover concerts with non-European music, and you see a lot of connections between early music and folk music.
What advice would you give to your 17 year old self regarding this career so far?
Hindsight is 20/20, so I’d probably throw a few warnings to my past self about some things that I’d have to confront that are unjust and not okay, the things that you don’t have to put up with and can say no to. I would also give that affirmation that you have it in you to do what you want, and that you can fall back on your vision of yourself to accomplish the realization of that. I also think I would want to talk practically, like how to focus and practice and build up skill, because I think I wasted a lot of time finding my way and allowing myself to sit with that was meaningful, and then trying to climb the mountain of the other obligatory stuff. I would want to give myself some advice on how to expedite the obligatory stuff in order to spend more time on the things I love. I would want to tell myself that the way forward isn’t always clear, but that it’ll present itself at the right time. I spent a lot of time worrying about what was to come, and worrying about the next step, and actually the fact was that whenever it was time to make a decision for a job or a school, I only had one choice that was financially feasible, and it ended up being the one that I wanted and that was best for me.
Would you be comfortable talking a little more about the experience of saying no, or stepping away from the unjust situations you mentioned?
Definitely - the first side of it is logistical. I think a lot is asked of young people. I felt like I sold my soul a little bit during some of my degrees in order to get the piece of paper that said that I was done, and I don’t think it needs to be that way. I think it’s fine to enter into a degree program knowing that you’re going to work hard, and that your days will be full with music and joy and progress, but if it becomes an onus or an imposition, I think that is counterproductive and can really hold people back. So, part of it is saying “no” to the capitalist urge to take as many gigs as possible, taking care of yourself, and not taking on the pressure to do all of the coursework and every extra project.
The other thing would be the toxic culture that we have in universities in general, but also classical music, where the instructors have a lot of power over students, and teachers who are seen as geniuses and mentors are people who can make or break you, and who get permission to do anything they want. I witnessed a lot of things that affected both myself and other students that I sat by and tolerated, and thought were passing remarks, when that wasn’t the case, and I could have used my voice to stand up. It’s so hard as a young person to speak up to professors, who are often world-famous musicians, but to whom it's necessary to speak directly and express that something is not okay. And if that’s not heard, it’s okay to go to the structures that are in place. There are administrative and HR professionals at schools for a reason, and I think it’s something that students aren’t encouraged enough to use when they’re not being heard by the first line. Although, they need to be allowed to feel safe in doing so, as well. I think that’s a problem a lot of the time, that it doesn’t feel like a step that you can even take. It takes so much mental energy, and there’s also an implicit threat of retaliation, even if it’s not real.
I think that is a conversation we need to be having more - where is the power really sitting in academic institutions, and whose voices get heard? Can we shift our environments to be more of a collaboration between teachers and students for our collective betterment?
It’s interesting being here, in Montreal, because at least here you aren’t paying $60-70k per semester, and also to be at a larger university where there is more student activism and leadership. But really the biggest defense I see against students speaking up is the characterization of the student as whiney, complaining, or over-reactive, which is so uncalled for and so unneeded. Even if it is exaggerated. I don’t think that should be the first reaction from the institution when someone speaks up to say that something isn’t okay with them. When looking forward to my own future teaching, I think there is a lot that I would do differently from my own teachers, even those whom I really liked.
How do you stay connected to peers to share this perspective with them?
I’m still friends with a lot of the people that I was in school with recently, so I think I hear a lot from them about the things that we would like to do more about. I have a few private students, but I think sometimes it’s just through talking to people and giving them an ear. I felt that in my realization of my confidence, as well, that it’s helpful to talk to each other about it. It’s easy for the mountain of pressure to pile up, but having friends to talk to can help so much with that.
I agree - I’ve been thinking a lot about the competitive negative mindset that shows up in academic institutions, and how that can spiral into an unhealthy community. How can we interact with each other in a way that actually respects the impact we have on each other, and the ways we can lift each other up? I feel like nobody actually teaches that to teenagers or young adults.
There’s also the other side to that, of needing to feel superior to each other, to feel accomplished in order to look down on everyone else. I’ve heard stories from back in the 80s, of when there was the system where someone would lose their spot at the end of the year, but it’s not like that anymore at the schools I’ve been to. I’ve been a part of departments that tear one another apart, but I’ve also been a part of groups that are so collaborative and supportive of one another. It can really make or break the ability of a program to succeed.
Is there anything else that you would like to share or promote?
I’ll take a moment to talk about the N.E.O. Voice Festival, as that’s where we met. It’s something that I love going back to every year, in terms of the people that I work with there and the new people that I get to meet and make connections with. I really love that everybody has input, whether you compose or whether you sing, everybody has a voice that is heard and realized in the final ExplOratorio project. You get to know people more when everybody is speaking and contributing in a more equal way as usual. I feel that I can step back in my role as the organist because I can hear what the composer has in mind, I can hear what the soloist needs in terms of support from my part, people can speak up. It’s a super productive and super fulfilling collaborative process that I always learn something from. We always get such a range of styles and compositional and vocal techniques that I feel like I play three concerts in one in a good way. It’s always the thing that I look forward to each year.
How long have you been a part of N.E.O.?
Since the first one! We had the first one, then went online for two years, and now we’ve been back in person for two. So it feels like we’re still gaining a lot of momentum, and we’re still developing the organ program, and some new aspects in general. It’s exciting to see how we evolve, but it’s also such a well oiled machine in terms of what we’re doing and the folks running it. It’s exciting to have an awareness that this type of space exists, and that there are these new ways to collaborate.
I would encourage anyone interested in new choral music, composition, or collaborative performance to apply by going to neovoicefestival.com, where applications (including those for full-tuition performance and composition fellowships) are live!
I want to extend one more huge expression of gratitude to Abe for his time, words, and perspective. I would highly recommend following along with his work and projects, and I hope this conversation demonstrates the level of thoughtfulness and passion that he brings as a collaborator and artist.
Feature: Charles Ives, 114 Songs, No. 60: Autumn (listen here)
Inspired by Abe’s interest in Charles Ives, I’ve been listening to some of his vocal works this week. This one is especially poignant as we land solidly in autumn in New York, even though you wouldn’t know it by the warm temperatures. I especially enjoyed Fischer-Dieskau’s recording.
Upcoming Performances:
November 5, 4pm; Cortland First Presbyterian: Dorothy Cotton Jubilee Singers
November 12, 4pm; Calvary Baptist of Ithaca: Selections from Handel’s Messiah with Cayuga Vocal Ensemble
December 16, 7:30pm; Ford Hall, Ithaca College: Handel’s Messiah with Cayuga Vocal Ensemble and Cayuga Chamber Orchestra
December 17, 4pm; Pebble Hill Church, Syracuse: Behold, the Handmaid of the Lord with Syracuse Schola Cantorum
Thank you for reading <3
Love,
Caitlin
Can’t commit to a paid subscription, but still want to support the creation of this newsletter? Leave a tip, or share this post!