Conducting Change

A Difficult Beginning

It is 7:01 p.m. on a Thursday evening, and members of the Harvard-Radcliffe Orchestra are still straggling into Sanders Theatre. A violin rests against a wooden row of seats as its player finishes up a last-minute phone call before taking her place onstage. The mass of cellos, harps, and other instruments form an outer wall of the semicircle of half-filled chairs. Federico Cortese, now in his sixth year as the orchestra’s director and as a senior lecturer in the Department of Music, paces on the stage and sings fragments from the HRO’s repertoire in his silky tenor. With each passing second, his walk becomes faster, and his body language becomes more tense. By the time that most of the members present are seated, tuned, and ready to play—around 7:07 p.m.—Cortese is visibly distressed.

“This is so disrespectful,” he says. His tone, while possessing the volume and authority of a strict leader, also has a high-pitched, mournful strain. This early April rehearsal is not the first time that Cortese has been frustrated by the tardiness and lack of attendance in his ranks. The next few minutes are hard to watch. Cortese, not willing to start the rehearsal until more members of the orchestra have assembled, sits in silence. The violinists fidget with their bows, and the woodwind players fiddle with their mouthpieces. After a few more sharp-edged words on the importance of taking HRO seriously, Cortese sighs and picks up his baton. As soon as the first, drawn-out strings of the iconic fourth-movement adagietto (symphony-speak for a slow piece more upbeat than the morose adagio) of Mahler’s Symphony No. 5 ring out, the potent anxiety in the room lifts. The orchestra, despite Cortese’s complaints, sounds remarkably in sync. “Strings—you need to ‘sing’ the line more,” he says, keeping them in check. The strings respond, crafting a subtly smoother tone. The rehearsal proceeds in a more mellow fashion, the turbulent beginning seemingly forgotten in the passion of music-making.

The bizarre juxtaposition of the group’s frustration and music is representative of the tug-of-war plaguing both Cortese and his players: the disparity between HRO’s staggering talent and the seeming necessity of many of its members—and the larger Harvard establishment—to treat the orchestra as secondary to other responsibilities. This is not to suggest that Cortese is a cheerleader trying to rile up an unenergized bunch; to the contrary, musicians in the group talk at length about their attempts to prioritize HRO amidst the chaos of Harvard life. While some find Cortese’s expectations daunting, they, like their conductor, fault macrocosmic cultural and administrative limitations rather than any lack of enthusiasm—the difficulties in grading of the course, the challenges of collaboration with other musical groups on campus, and the more universal logistical puzzles of running a successful orchestra. The passion with which Cortese and much of HRO continue to identify and to confront the factors holding them back, however, shows a rabid determination to figure out how best to harness the talent of group and make it a preeminent college ensemble.

‘A European Tradition’

It is the morning of the rehearsal, and Cortese is sniffing around his office in the basement of the Music building. “It smells like mold in here,” he says. The maestro, a graduate of Rome’s prestigious Conservatorio di Santa Cecilia and the conductor of the Boston Youth Symphony Orchestras in addition to his duties at Harvard, is perplexed. “It doesn’t usually smell like this,” he says. The room perhaps does smell a bit musty, but Cortese’s emphatic, highly physical response indicates his attention to detail.

As soon as Cortese begins discussing his vision for the future of the HRO, he starts sketching out a longue durée view of the interrelation between the the academy and the orchestra. Cortese, who grew up in Rome, was first exposed to music as a member of a choir at the Vatican and credits the institution with influencing his propensity for injecting music history into his work. “That’s how I became familiar with the liturgy and all the beautiful things,” he says. He blames HRO’s difficulties in securing additional attention and resources from both the Harvard administration and student body on a long-standing cultural reality: “These old, wonderful Ivy League schools have imported an old European tradition where music was not an intellectual achievement….You can go back to Plato and Aristotle for that one....How do you change hundreds of years of history—models of teaching that are built on certain subjects excluding music.”

Cortese’s explanation for what he perceives as Harvard’s lackadaisical approach to its orchestra, which includes references to the quadrivium and the rise of the American West, is full of obscure and unexpected references. In other words, he makes it clear that he understands the gravity of attempting to make HRO more formalized in the academic structure of the school. “The point is to recognize—for very good reasons historically—art-making and music have not been part of what is valued as intellectually worthy, not just at Harvard, but at most universities,” he says.

‘A Nice Recreational Activity'

While Cortese highlights grandiose forces of history in his explanation of HRO’s woes, he also focuses on the group’s own origins. Originally called the Pierian Sodality, the group was founded in 1808 as a relatively loose confederation of interested players. “Instead of going out and having drinks, these wonderful students played Brahms—Brahms instead of bridge,” Cortese says. “A model from 1810 is not going to work….You can’t say, ‘If you guys are in the mood, there’s a rehearsal on Monday!’”

Stella F. Chen ’15, a violinist who has played in HRO since her freshman year and plans on pursuing the instrument as her career, sees a certain amount of value in the recreational aspects of the orchestra. “People are drawn to HRO because of the music, of course, but also because its a welcoming social space,” she says. Chen, who works extensively with Cortese in both formal classes and the orchestra, applauds his efforts. At the same time, however, Chen acknowledges that, if HRO becomes too stratified in its audition process and participation, a cut-throat culture may emerge.

Both Chen and Cortese also cite James Yannatos, the late music professor who oversaw the group for 45 years, as both a legendary force and a leader whose ideology towards the group differed from their own. “People tell me that the level of HRO shot up when Fed [Cortese] arrived,” Chen says. “Everyone loved [Yannatos] but he wasn’t as invested in making it as good of a musical experience…Cortese wants it to be the best that it can be.”

‘Stringent and Rigorous’

“If we decide that the faculty/conductor model is what we want to have, we have to push it all the way and make these groups rigorous, selective, and evaluated on stringent and strict criteria,” Cortese says. “Hence, grades.”  Cortese officially broke from the extracurricular model when he introduced grades for the 2013-2014 academic year. During this time, Cortese desperately attempted to evaluate 85 orchestra members individually through letter grades. Exhausted, the maestro compromised this year with a Pass/Fail system. In the present arrangement, Cortese tries to have a one-on-one audition for each student each semester and tracks attendance carefully. If the players do poorly at the audition, they are called back for another try. If results are still unsatisfactory failing the students, particularly if they have missed substantial rehearsal time, isn’t out of the question. Despite the more regulated evaluation method, Cortese claims to be running out of steam. As a result, he reached out for help to the Parker Quartet, the Blodgett Artists-in-Residence in the Music Department, who oversaw a number of the evaluations. Even with the assistance, however, assessing the sheer number of auditions is a staggering task.

The particulars of Cortese’s overall plan for the orchestra are slightly more nebulous than his hopes for grading. In broad terms, he explains that his plan centers around securing teaching fellows, more funding, and safeguards to ensure that those who submitted classical music supplements—recordings and essays that college applicants can submit to Harvard’s music department—are encouraged, or perhaps even required, to play in the orchestra for a year. To that end, Cortese says that he hopes the group will flourish under his direction. “We want Harvard to have the best liberal arts orchestra in the country,” he says.

Upping the intensity has garnered mixed results, according to some musicians. Chen argued that making the orchestra more rigorous could scare away talented musicians who are looking for a more casual musical experience. In practice, however, Chen said that she saw mostly positive results of increased rigor for the graded orchestra. “There were several people who dropped out...but from my perspective overall attendance improved, which made the orchestra sound better.” Chen, however, sounds cautious in her endorsement of letter grades. “It’s hard to look at something as both your main extracurricular, ‘friend group’ thing and also something that you’re receiving a grade for.”

Alex R. Orlov ’16, a bassoonist in HRO, echoed the sentiments of the other four current and former HRO members who were interviewed in his mixed feelings about Cortese’s hope to eventually reinstate the letter grades. “I hope that it doesn’t push people to see the orchestra as an onerous commitment, because overall, at least for me, it still has the same feel of being...a welcome break from the other stuff that I’m doing.” Orlov, who studies applied mathematics, says that he was very thankful that the good grade he received in HRO last year went on his transcript. He does echo some of Chen’s concerns, however, that his exceptional level of experience with his instrument helps him succeed grade-wise in ways that don’t have to do with his inherent effort. “I barely ever practice anymore, but I get by,” he says. Further, while Orlov is on board with Cortese’s vision of improving the group, he also thinks that both the maestro and his players don’t always recognize how talented they are already. “Hearing the quality of HRO actually heavily influenced me towards going to Harvard,” he says, before going on to compare the group favorably to those at other Ivy League institutions. In Orlov’s view, while grades may be helpful, they aren’t crucial.

‘The Groups Multiply’

Cortese believes increasing the competitive quality of the orchestra may draw more talented students to the group, but this same selectivity is already one of the reasons that musicians look to perform elsewhere. Jiha Min ’18, for example, is a member of the Harvard Pops Orchestra, a multidisciplinary group conducted by Allen G. Feinstein ’86 that combines a classical repertoire with student-written pieces, contemporary popular music, and theatrical elements. Once accepted to Harvard, Min, a violinist, says that she narrowed down her musical choices to HRO, the Bach Society Orchestra, and the Pops Orchestra. While Min credits a desire to play unfamiliar genres as a factor in her decision to join the Pops, she also acknowledges the difficulty and time commitment of playing in HRO. “Pops is two and half hours a week and HRO is five,” she says. “I’ve played violin for 13 years, but I want to keep it up in the fun, more relaxed environment Pops offers me rather than trying out for HRO.”

In addition to smaller groups like the Pops, the joint degree program between Harvard and the New England Conservatory of Music also offer paths for Harvard’s musicians who do not want to join HRO. The Harvard-NEC program, in which students take private lessons and music classes at the Conservatory, including an intensive fifth year post-Harvard in which they fulfill many of their more academic requirements, attracts mostly musicians who hope to play professionally. Chen, who is in the joint program in addition to her work in the orchestra, has had a hard time balancing the two commitments. “The first year I hardly practiced before 2 a.m.,” she says.

Chen does not believe that her vigorous schedule is inherently unmanageable, however. “It seems like a lot of the kids are doing much better than I [do] now,” she says. “There are more of them, and they lean on each other.”

‘A New Stage’

Orlov offers several character sketches of maestro Cortese. “We lovingly call him a diva,” Orlov says, reminiscing about some of Cortese’s memorable frustrations. Based on all of Cortese’s criticisms of departmental resource allocation, it wouldn’t be surprising if Music Department chair Carol J. Oja was less than thrilled by Cortese’s demands. Instead, however, Oja says that she is extremely grateful for Cortese’s presence, genuineness, and ability to work well with young people.

Oja also says that she recognizes the importance of making the HRO accessible to those with fewer skills or without intentions for a career in music.  “I don’t think we have the perfect solution, but we are trying, with all the good will in the world, to find a solution that will yield the kind of artistic responsibility that Fed is aiming for from the students...that will still maintain the spirit of the HRO and leave room for students of all sorts to be in there,” she says. “There’s a lot of collaboration figuring out what the next step will be.”

The transition of the HRO from an extracurricular activity to an orchestral class is one cliffhanger in the intensifying relationship between Harvard and the arts. “Harvard has been an institution that has a lot of performance but hasn’t honored it in a curricular way,” Oja says. “We are trying to move to a new stage.” Six days ago, in a huge move towards making art curricular, faculty representatives officially approved the long-planned Theater, Dance, and Media concentration. Cortese and the HRO are in the process of jumping into this new platform of academic art-making, but their passion in this moment of change suggests that they, and those looking to integrate art and academics at large, won’t stop until they get there.

—Crimson staff writer David J. Kurlander can be reached at david.kurlander@thecrimson.com.