On July 16, 2021, live music was permitted to return to indoor stages in Ontario, for the first time since fall 2020. Gigging musicians were suddenly able to resume work that has largely been impossible for the past year; clubs, long empty, have resumed presenting shows, albeit in a more limited capacity than before the pandemic. For musicians and venues, however, the transition to a “new normal” has involved as much caution as catharsis, as the forced sabbatical of the pandemic has allowed for a drastic rethinking of the relationship between space, labour, and compensation in the performing arts. In Toronto, the first glimpses of post-pandemic music-making have arrived amidst unique, and rapidly shifting, financial circumstances in the local live music industry: ballooning insurance costs for venues, shifts in financial models for presenters, and a change in expectations for musicians returning to gigging life.

There is a tendency, in any gig-based industry, to say yes to every opportunity for which one is available, even when the conditions – remuneration, time commitment, atmosphere – may not be ideal. For gigging musicians, this tendency is further exacerbated by a professional expectation that one must maintain a certain amount of visibility in order to remain relevant; a need to stay on the scene. (In the age of social media, performing this visibility has become easier than ever before: even the most artistically, financially, and personally unsatisfying gig can yield a compelling Instagram post, helping to maintain the narrative that a musician is a vital part of the community.)

To say “no” to even the most unappealing gig is much harder than it seems. Sure, the show you were just offered only pays $50, and is in a tiny, poorly-ventilated bar on the other side of town, and you have to bring your own amp, and the manager refuses to turn off the hockey game on the giant TV right above the stage as you’re playing, and a patron once started drunkenly playing your guitar when you went to the washroom on a set break. But the bandleader who hired you has a tour coming up next summer, and just got a Canada Council grant to fund it, and you weren’t available for their last gig, and what if the sub they hire to replace you this time has a better vibe with the band and takes your spot permanently? Also, that $50 can pay for that brunch you’re going to tomorrow (even if you do end up spending $30 on an Uber home at 1:30am). So: you take the gig.

After being cancelled in 2020 due to the pandemic, the Kitchener-Waterloo based Open Ears Festival of Music and Sound returned June 3-6 this year with a full online program of both free and ticketed events, featuring performances, artist interviews, and radio broadcasts.

I attended the Soundscape Workshop that took place for one hour each day, run by Andrew O’Connor, an independent radio producer and sound artist. There were around ten participants, and on Sunday, June 6, the pieces made during the workshop were shared as part of a live festival broadcast. (The piece I made can be found here.) O’Connor provided some of his own field recordings of different bird calls, church bells, rain and footsteps in gravel, among others, for participants to work with. He also gave an overview of Audacity, a free open-source audio editing software, as well as the basics of microphones and recording techniques.

I had the chance to speak with O’Connor a week after the festival, and he elaborated on the Soundscape Workshop and his own relationship with sound art and listening. A soundscape – a term attributed to urban planning academic Michael Southworth and later popularized by composer R. Murray Schafer – is a sonic environment, similar to how a landscape is a visual environment. Each day the workshop ended with an example – works by Hildegard Westerkamp and R. Murray Schafer, as well as one of O’Connor’s own pieces. Pauline Oliveros’ Ted Talk was also shared with the participants. 

O’Connor stressed that these are not new ideas. “Listening and being in tune with your surroundings has always been crucial to existence, and it still is,” he says. We live our lives surrounded by specific collections of sounds, many of which we might tune out. The sonic profile of a place gives it a sense of acoustic identity, so working with the concept of soundscape by using field recordings and creative sound design can yield very striking artistic results.

“The really specific sounds that we know [...] immediately evoke something,” says O’Connor. “It’s a very personal thing what they evoke – it could be banal, it could be incredibly significant. It all depends on the ears that are receiving it. But when you really get into the specific and the personal, you tell a much larger and broader story that I think resonates with a lot more people.”

“I use the word story in a very broad sense,” he adds. “Not necessarily the traditional idea of a story [with] a beginning, middle, and end where everything comes to a resolution, but more just movement and emotion is really what I mean by story. Having that present in your work is critical.”

He first got introduced to soundscapes and sound art through CKMS FM, University of Waterloo’s campus radio station, where he began volunteering as a programmer in high school. “Community radio was still analog, so I learned how to edit on reel to reel tape machines cutting and splicing” he explains. For O’Connor, learning how to make a tape loop was “one of those lightbulb moments” that has led to a lifetime of sound exploration.

The participants who attend O’Connor’s workshops come from all sorts of artistic backgrounds: students, visual artists, sculptors, musicians, composers, and sound artists. He tailors the content to best match whoever shows up. “The workshop is really trying to connect those dots and lead you (...) to explore these ideas yourself in your own work, whatever that work may be in the end.”

Often there can be some hesitation from music institutions about how to approach sound art, since it isn’t easily categorizable and its artistic applications are so varied. “Something that I love about Open Ears is that since inception it’s really been about ignoring those lines and just presenting music and sound – not worrying about genre and idiom and what this is called,” O’Connor says. The Open Ears Festival started in 1998 and “innovation and disruption” are listed as core values on their website.

When I ask how someone might start exploring soundscape and field recording, O’Connor acknowledges that it’s something that takes time, practice, and focus – but that many resources and tools for working with recordings, like Audacity, are relatively accessible. “Just start doing it – you’re not going to be a master at first, but the tools are out there,” he says. “Get your phone, make some recordings and start playing around!” O’Connor also teaches workshops on pirate radio, either separately or as a component of his soundscape workshops. He runs DISCO 3000 and Parkdale Pirate Radio, both broadcast live and streamable online.

As part of Open Ears, O’Connor’s workshop offered a hands-on way for participants to explore the creative possibilities offered by field recording and soundscape composition. With an expansive approach to music programming and an emphasis on community, the festival’s inclusion of an event that brought attendees to the table as music creators themselves was a very meaningful addition. The festival alternates yearly between a full lineup and a scaled back version – the 2022 season is already scheduled for June 2-5 next year, so be sure to stay tuned for more details.

And for those looking to expand how they listen to the spaces they’re in, O’Connor says that being aware of the sounds that make up your surroundings is the best way to start. “Really tuning in your world...being aware of how you respond to that and how it affects you and taking that awareness further into really engaging with sound art and soundscape. I don’t really like to pinpoint it and say ‘listen to this or listen to that.’ Just listen! Just listen and follow where that leads.”

Open Ears Festival of Music and Sound ran online from June 3 to 6, 2021. Readers are welcome to reach out to O’Connor over email (aoconnor88@hotmail.com) or on Twitter @parkdalepirateradio for any inquiries about soundscape/radio broadcasting workshops or questions about either practice.

Camille Kiku Belair is a Toronto based classical guitarist, composer and writer. They are currently pursuing an MFA in Composition and Experimental Sound Practices at California Institute of the Arts.

There’s a palpable sense of enthusiasm in Kendra Fry’s voice and there’s a good reason why. On April 1, she made her debut as general manager of Stratford Summer Music (SSM). For seven years, she had been in the same role at Trinity-St. Paul’s United Church and Centre for Faith, Justice and the Arts in Toronto (TSP), where she played an instrumental role transforming it into a vibrant and multi-faceted community hub.

Working closely with the artistic director, violinist Mark Fewer—who himself took on the role in 2018, as the second artistic director in Stratford Summer Music’s two-decade history—and espousing a shared vision to raise the bar, Fry is setting the stage for a successful season that embraces the spirit of collaboration and innovation, including digital content delivery. “This is an exciting time to be in Stratford,” she explained on a recent phone call. “The city is thinking about the relationship of art to commerce and the lives of its citizens.”

In a city brimming with creativity, and as the second largest arts organization after the Stratford Festival, SSM will continue to showcase a range of musical performances by Canadian and possibly international artists representing a wide range of music, including classical, jazz, folk, performances from Indigenous musicians, and an eclectic blend of genres geared toward children. Programming will take place from August 5 to 29 at seven or eight indoor and outdoor venues, including three new ones: Stratford Perth Museum and Gallery Stratford, as well as Tom Patterson Island (previously used for outdoor programming at SSM, but never for full concerts). “We’re directing our energy toward optimizing outdoor opportunities based on events that really spark joy for people,” says Fry.

The other week, I went to a lovely symphony performance with friends in Montreal. We all enjoyed the lively rendition of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, and when it concluded we stood and energetically applauded. We chatted about the concert for a few minutes, then bid each other goodnight and left the concert hall. It was a fun evening – just like before the pandemic!

Except that leaving the concert hall was as simple as closing my web browser and turning off my laptop. Our applause consisted of lines of the clapping hands emoji on Facebook Messenger. And, while my friends were in Montreal, I was in Halifax, Nova Scotia. 

Instead of an outing to attend a concert in person, this was an “inning”. Just like going out to hear a musical performance or view an art exhibit with friends, but, rather than meeting at the venue in person, you stay inside, meet virtually and “go out” by staying in.

It’s not quite the same as an actual outing, but, in these unusual times, it’s a wonderful alternative. It’s certainly been working for me and my culture-loving friends – we’ve now been holding cultural innings for a whole year!

Opening Act

Sometime in March of 2020, just after my employer had informed us that, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, our entire office would be working from home for the foreseeable future – and the same thing was happening at workplaces all around the world – my friend Peter proposed that we meet online to watch a concert or dance performance “together.”

He had watched a movie the previous weekend “with” friends – each in their own homes – while they discussed the film over Slack. He had the idea to apply the concept to other events, such as classical, jazz or folk concerts and dance performances. He was already missing being able to see live performances during the pandemic and thought it might be a way for him and his girlfriend (in Montreal) and me (in Ottawa at the time) to keep getting our cultural fix and stay in touch at the same time. Ever the culture junkie, I was immediately on board. 

Surprisingly, the format we started out with has remained unchanged. We meet on Skype for about an hour to catch up before we start our cultural program (usually on a weekend evening, so it feels more like a special event). We then take a short break while getting the optimal set-up for viewing – for me it’s connecting my laptop to the TV so I can lie on the couch while watching – and meet on Facebook Messenger. Someone does a countdown and we hit “play” at the same time, and then we text each other sporadically during the performance to comment on what we’re seeing.

The Program

One year after our first inning, I’m still amazed at the quality and quantity of cultural programming that’s out there for the viewing, all either free or affordably priced. My cultural compatriots and I have, for the big sum of zero dollars, travelled by train through stunning scenery in Japan, Switzerland and Norway; visited Pompeii; wandered through CERN; toured art exhibits at famous museums in Canada, the UK and Europe; and watched dance performances in France, Korea and Germany. We have also paid for several performances provided by organizations closer to home, including the Orchestre Symphonique de Montréal (OSM) and Danse Danse, a Montreal-based dance organization. We enjoy supporting these organizations during these lean pandemic times through the purchase of virtual “seats”.

Since my fellow innings insiders (there are now four) live in Montreal, a city I once called home, we often source our cultural activities from Montreal’s many offerings. But there is a treasure trove of excellent online performances available from across Canada, and the cool thing is that you can just as easily go to one that’s 5000 km away as one that’s 50 km away!

The WholeNote has become an excellent resource for our group. One recent inning was sourced entirely from WholeNote’s listings which are updated weekly from whatever appeared in the previous print magazine. First, we watched a program of “Concert Miniatures” by the Rezonance Baroque Ensemble. The “intimate salon-style mini-concert” featuring violinist Rezan Onen-Lapointe and harpsichordist David Podgorski included French chamber music by François Couperin and others. The event opened with an introductory chat and then we were shown a prerecorded home concert. It did feel quite intimate, almost as if I was sitting right in the room with them. There was a short Q&A session afterwards, with questions from the audience via comments in the chat. All this for only $10 – not bad if you ask me.

It would be hard to find a cultural event more reflective of our times than the second event that evening. Escape Room, the University of Toronto Opera School’s newest Opera Student Composer Collective production, was written especially for an online audience, and is available for free on YouTube. A comedy with an existential bent that pokes fun at topics as diverse as Imelda Marcos’ shoe collection, academia and Doug Ford’s, well, Doug Ford-ness, Escape Room proves how effective the online and distanced performance model can be. The singers seemed to interact with each other just as well as they would have on stage, and the choreography was managed by the size and placement of each singer’s Zoom window.

Encore

Truth be told, my cultural comrades and I have discovered many positives to attending cultural events online over the past year, such as not having to go out in bad weather to get to a venue, not having to dress up unless inspired to, and being able to share impressions (and eat crunchy snacks) during the performances without annoying others. 

To be honest, I don’t really miss having to bring my mini-binoculars to ballet performances, just so I can see what’s going on from my top-balcony, back-row seat. I now get the best seat in the house for a great price, seeing the action up close through professionally filmed performances. There’s no craning my neck to see over the heads blocking my view and no one coughing or rustling the pages of their programs throughout the performance. 

I’m not saying I don’t ever want to go back to a real concert hall; there is something very special about sharing the experience of being at a live performance with other people, but our innings have allowed my friends and I to do something that isn’t possible in any other way right now – meet to share a cultural experience – and to do it in a fun, unique, and affordable way.

Catherine Muir started her career as an editorial intern at WholeNote many moons ago, and went on to cut her teeth as an editor and a writer in the private, academic, and government sectors. She is enjoying frequent online innings with friends during the pandemic.