Opinion: Why "art song" might be the thing you're missing out on

In the late Spring of 2014, my (then) girlfriend and I packed up her collision-damaged, maroon Ford Taurus sedan and hit the road. We were on a life-altering journey to move our lives from the blistering desert of Phoenix, AZ to the brick-laden, historic streets of Boston, MA.

No jobs. No place to live. Just the hope of something new - New cultural opportunities back on the East coast in a city that just seemed right.

Kind of stupid, in retrospect. But that’s the blind optimism you fly around with when you’re 25 years old. It will all work out the way it’s supposed to.

And you know what? It kind of did. That’s not to say it wasn’t a challenge. Finding a landlord who would accept our savings sight unseen wasn’t easy. Finding work that didn’t drain my spirit at every turn wasn’t either. I went from being a community college Voice professor to a “Cluemaster” at an escape room seemingly overnight.

An entire year spent ingratiating myself to two of the worst “bosses” I’ve ever met. If you ever think about working at an escape room, just, I don’t know. Think again.

But I knew it would all be worth it. I was in a city surrounded by history and culture. I was being paid to sing with orchestras.

The orchestras play on cool, old instruments!

Look over there, that’s Paul Revere’s grave!

Damn, it felt good to be a gangster. And it felt great to be a Bostonian.

This city places value on art and history and culture. We have amazing museums with paintings by Monet and Van Gogh down the hall from Egyptian mummies. Some days, the lines for the museums spill out the door and go down the street. On any given night, I can see a professional production of a play or musical, sometimes even a Broadway bound play or musical. Hell, we even have an Aquarium with a famous 90 year old sea turtle!

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So, in a city where art and culture is at the top of the list, why is "“art song” such a hard sell?

Well, for starters, it’s difficult for the average person to comprehend. The average American in 2024 doesn’t seek out classical music. The average American in 2024 seeks out Taylor Swift. That’s why Taylor Swift is the one at the Superbowl chugging beers instead of Fanny Mendelssohn.

Once the average American understands that “art song” is a form of sung classical music (but not opera!), you’ve already lost them. They don’t know why they should come. We missed the point.

Maybe “art song” needs a rebrand. Maybe “classical music” needs a serious rebrand. But that’s another blog…

I’ll start with a few pitches:

Beautiful music and poetry that will make you weep simultaneous joy and sorrow deep inside of your soul, but you won’t really understand why.

Damn, dude. If you could bottle that feeling and sell it on the street, you would get rich.

Locally-grown artistry so tremendous that it will leave you questioning how you look at your neighbors.

Your commute to work will be forever changed.

Piano, voice, and poetry converging into a healing medicine, taken aurally.

GIMME GIMME GIMMEEEEEEEEEEEE NOW NOW NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

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I sometimes wonder if it’s a mistake to make our young singers study and perform art song at the college level. As maturing artists, we get confused.

Recitals are something I did to earn my degree. They’re not a viable stream of income for me, so they’re not important.

Oof. What about your artistic soul - Is that important? How about your legacy? At the end of the day, no one is going to look back on your life and think, “Of all the people that made a modest living as a professional performing artist, he made the most money. And he never even gave a recital.”

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On March 30th, I’m producing a concert of art song. It will make you feel deep feelings. Dana Whiteside will break your heart into pieces when he sings Songs of Travel. It’s going to be better than therapy, and for a small fraction of the price.

‘Nuff said.

Best Not to Tie Your Identity Too Closely to Anything You Do For a Living

The following is an inspiring thought-spiral, obviously.

Many of the Americans I know over the age of 50 think like this:

“What do you do?”

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“What do you do for a living?”

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“Who are you? Because I can ascertain that from whatever your answer was to the previous questions.”

Damn. So if I stock shelves at the grocery store, that’s all I am? Am I a can of Chef Boyardee?

You’re way hotter than this can.

No, faithful reader. No, you’re not a can of Chef Boyardee. You are so much more than aluminum, sticky paper, and beef ravioli.

You are feelings. You are skills. You are experiences. That’s what makes up who you are.

You are love, and preference, and motivation, and empathy, and…

Not what you do, but who you are. There is a difference, and it can get confusing sometimes.

It’s especially confusing if you like what you do and are good at it. Because sometimes there are factors outside of your control that determine how your work plays out.

Someone doesn’t like you. Someone isn’t organized enough. Someone new comes in and messes with your sweet, long-established work-flow.

“Work sucks, I know.”

— Blink 182

But at the end of the day you, faithful reader… You are in control of who you are. And I think, to the chagrin of previous generations, it has to remain somewhat separate from what you do.

What you do can end at any time. Who you are can outlive you.

Stay classy, folks. And stay mentally separate from your job whenever possible.

The Voice Teacher's Second Job: Staying Current

The following blog is an inspiring thought spiral, obviously.

You’re a professional voice teacher.

Your specialty is teaching your students to melt their 1950’s microphone into music notes.

You’re also out of touch.

Your moment of realization after finishing this 60 second read.

Yes. Yes, you are. I mean professionally. You don’t think you are, but you are.

Eek.

You’ve been telling university students how to be professional performers, but you haven’t performed with a high-level performing arts organization in five years.

Out of touch.

You’ve been telling university students how to audition, but you haven’t performed an audition in ten years.

Out of touch.

You haven’t received a rejection from a performing arts organization in twenty years.

Out of touch. They ghost now.

Even this ghost is not what ghosts look like in 2023.

I know this because I, too, was out of touch. I have been comfortable in my lifestyle and not pushing myself as a performer for several years. I have been giving students information which was current in 2017, when I last peaked as a performer.

Eek.

2017 was six years ago. Some of today’s current musical theater performers were 15 years old (and younger) in 2017.

So much has changed in the American culture in the past three years alone. So much will continue to change, and rapidly, in the coming years.

Footage of me, age 35, from this morning.

And guess what? Much of the change is for the better. Rehearsal rooms have intimacy coordinators, COVID safety officers, and DEI directors at their disposal to make the experience better for everyone involved.

How will you stay current? Not staying current is detrimental to your student’s experience, and potentially detrimental to the profession.

You should go out and fail at an audition. I honestly think that this would make you more qualified to teach a graduating senior Vocal Performance major than any of your past successes.

Let’s strengthen that empathy into sympathy.

You (left) with your student (right), after your have asked them for and received consent to touch them.

Stay classy, folks. And stay current, too.

The Art of Self-Advocacy

(The following blog is an inspiring thought spiral, obviously.)

Being a life-long professional artist is hard.

Sure, your uncle was right when he told you that as a teenager, but he meant it in a different sense than what I’m about to describe. What he meant is that you would have a hard time making ends meet financially, which can definitely be true sometimes.

Damn, it’s hard to admit when your drunk uncle is right.

Your uncle, pictured here under the influence.

But what I’m about to describe is a more long-term hard. It’s the fact that you spend your entire career not only explaining to everyone in your non-professional life why your career matters, but also explaining to the people in your professional life that your time and energy and experience matters and is either worth more money or less of your time.

That’s right. Your time is your most valuable resource because it’s limited. You don’t get it back. And the older you become, the more valuable your time becomes.

So, young artists, take note. When you sign up for your first professional job in the field, you’re not just signing up for an exchange of money for talent. And skill. And time. You’re signing up to:

1. Advocate for your artform for as long as you do it.

and

2. Advocate for yourself.

Rinse and repeat. Over and over and over again until you either quit or retire. Or worse.

Pictured: John Eliot Gardiner’s inner ego.

So let’s talk about #1. How can you advocate for your artform? Well, there are a lot of ways to do that, but the most common that you will come by is finding a concise way to explain what you do and why it matters to a person who will probably never encounter your work.

Yes, they need to know. Why do they need to know? Because 100 pennies equal a dollar, and until you have a larger platform you need the practice. You need to know why what you do is important to your culture and your society if you want to do it long term.

You need to know this so that you understand why you’re doing this to yourself in the difficult moments.

Once you understand your why, it will be available for you to use in a broader long-term context. It will be available when you are pitching to a potential donor. It will be available if and when you are going after that closely-related-to-your-artform day job. And it will be available to you when you have to help someone less experienced find their why.

#2 is a little more nuanced, but equally important. In my opinion, professional artistry is a little bit like Squid Game. The longer you successfully last, the more your survival is worth.

An archival photo of your Music School’s graduating class.

This will mean having difficult conversations with people you like, people you respect, and people you want to impress. That is why you are going to be reasonable when you ask for that extra money, or less time, or accommodation.

(Side note: Some people have managers to do this for them. This blog assumes that you’re going it alone without one.)

Reasonable can often meet reasonable halfway. If you’re not working with reasonable people, you should reconsider how sustainable that will be in the long-term. You deserve to work with reasonable people.

If you are having trouble accomplishing step #2, think about your student loan payment for 45 seconds and try again. That usually does it for me.

Me, after thinking about my student loans for fifteen seconds.

The people in your life should respect who you are and what you do, but that starts with you respecting who you are and what you do. Now get out there and make some money!

Bach is Not a Pre-Wedding Celebration

Bach is Not a Pre-Wedding Celebration

(The following blog is an inspiring thought spiral, obviously.)

I like to think of myself as a fairly open person. I invite humor into most situations, even when it’s not necessarily the most appropriate timing. I like to listen. I care a little too much most of the time.

That said, there is one thing that I would like to address before we go any further on the Inspiring Thought Spirals blog, and I understand that it may be a divisive topic. So, if you’re overly-sensitive (like I am) and can’t handle the heat, now would be the time to stop reading and GTFO of the kitchen.

There is an alarming trend that I have seen popping up recently in my circle of non-musician friends and family (That’s right, I mingle with non-musicians sometimes. Bet you didn’t see that coming).

My non-musician friends and family have begun using the abbreviation “Bach” to describe a pre-wedding celebration previously known as a “bachelorette party.”

A recent social media image posted by my sister-in-law. She is not a Classical musician, but she does like listening to it.

Friends - This behavior simply cannot stand. It makes me shudder. It makes me relapse into my most intense moments of anxiety. It causes me existential dread.

You understand why. Yes, you really do. For the last (nearly) 300 years, the word “Bach” has referred to one thing and one thing only: The Daddy’s Daddy of all music. Johann. Sebastian. Bach.

Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750). Not pictured: A bachelorette party.

Now, you might say to me, “Ethan. Bach loved drinking coffee and beer and smoking and he had twenty children. He knew what was up.” Okay. Fine.

You might also say, “Ethan. ‘Bach’ is the German word for ‘brook.’ It’s how I describe tiny rivers and small streams.” Okay. Fine. But stop lying to yourself. You don’t describe tiny rivers or small streams most of the time. You’re playing Devil’s Advocate.

Your client, The Devil.

What this really boils down to is clarity. When you say “I’m picking up drinks and male strippers and dr*gs for the BACH,” we in the Classical community think that you are referring to a straight-up RAGER of a performance. We wonder why we weren’t hired. We wonder if it’s because we’re not fun.

“Maybe I’m not as cool as I assumed.”

As a sober, married, self-proclaimed “Bach specialist,” I can’t watch this unfold and say nothing.

I will be mentioning it as a reply on Instagram.

I will be texting you remarks such as, “Have fun at the BACH. I hope everyone knows BWV 1067!”

This is what we think you are doing at your bachelorette party. Playing the Baroque flute.

I will. Never. Stop.

Ethan DePuy is a self-proclaimed Bach specialist. His thought spirals are enjoyed by people far and wide from Boston, MA all the way to Concord, MA.

The Artist's Guide to Breaking Down the Box

The Artist's Guide to Breaking Down the Box

(The following blog contains no real guidance. It’s an inspiring thought spiral, obviously.)

I think that organizational systems are great. A little bit of structure goes a long way for my brain, and being an organized person in the often messy field of THE ARTS has helped to set me apart in a positive way.

Cardboard boxes are a fine way to temporarily organize items. If you’re ordering a new toilet brush and a Swiss Army Knife™ from Amazon, the items will often arrive together in a cardboard box. But after you tear it open, you don’t keep it in your home and use it to display your favorite items. You break that bad boy down and recycle it.

It’s convenient to put people in boxes sometimes.

“Oh, wow,” they say. “So-and-so fits perfectly inside this box! Now I understand what they are.”

A creative person next to a box, for scale.

Artists are multifaceted people. We can fit into a box, sure, but we aren’t meant to exist there permanently. Let’s look at this objectively, using the author as an example.

I went to Arizona State University for a Master’s Degree in Opera and Musical Theater Performance. I attended on a choral scholarship, but my passion was stage performance. While I was there, I learned skills in solo singing, acting, improvisation, stage directing, character analysis and interpretation, choral singing, sightreading, and more. To make a little bit of extra money, I sang in local choirs, taught voice lessons, and made recordings for singers. They should have called it a Master’s in Creative Living!

This is too much shit to fit inside of one box. You will need a lot of tape for it to close, and if you try to carry it the bottom will fall out.

A box of pears, spilling everywhere.

Let’s loop it back around now. A singer is not just a singer. A singer is a person who has learned, over time, how to be a fully creative person. You, Singer, are capable of becoming a multifaceted artist who does more than one thing well, and it’s probably time for the greater world of THE ARTS to embrace that.

So the next time you get a package from Amazon, put your new toilet brush in the bathroom where it belongs, take your new Swiss Army Knife™ out, and break that box down. Recycling day is Friday!

Ethan DePuy is a singer, actor, photographer, educator, and occasional documentary filmmaker. His thought spirals are enjoyed by people far and wide from Boston, MA all the way to Concord, MA.