The last time Inna Perkis and Boris Zarankin were on the cover of The WholeNote was in October 2004. Their Off Centre salon series had just turned ten, and so had The WholeNote. A tenth anniversary felt like a big deal back then, so we chatted about it, at quite some length. And right at the end of the chat, one of them, probably Inna, but I am not sure, brought the conversation to a triumphant close (like the final flourish in a Perkis-Zarankin piano four-hander) by saying “and … we have a notebook with program ideas for the next twenty years.” And the other nodded and smiled.

BROADLY SPEAKING, Western classical music has been dominated by the human voice, strings winds and keyboards. The many faces of percussion music however, so central to many other cultures, have been marginalised for most of its thousand-year history.

It was only in the 20th century that percussion instruments began to be featured as (almost) equals alongside the violin and piano. In the auteur hands of European composers such as Igor Stravinsky and Béla Bartók, Americans Henry Cowell and George Antheil, and the Franco-American Edgar Varese, both tuned and un-tuned percussion instruments began to take their place on the classical concert stage alongside more established instruments. Then in the late 1930s, west coast American composers John Cage and Lou Harrison, both students of Henry Cowell, started to write for multi- percussion ensembles.

Here, almost verbatim, is a Facebook post (not by me) from 2021 I stumbled across while researching this issue’s cover story. I have saved space by combining bunches of single sentence paragraphs. But I have kept the ANNOYING CAPITALIZATION because in Facespeak it’s a way of thumping on a metaphysical lectern, to make sure your “friends” get the point. 

In over 20 years I’ve played over 1600 professional string quartet concerts for over 425 organizations in my career to date. Of those, only 30% had me back for a second time. Wait for it … only 9% had me back more than 5 times (40 organizations) AND. If I look really closely, there are 20 organizations that have made my career, my life, what it is. A full life. 20 years, 20 organizations. 9%.

And then I look at what music education is prepping us for. What stories is it telling us or NOT telling us? What fantasies is it selling and WHAT ARE THE REALITIES? How antiquated IS our music education? We’re stuck in old patterns of soloist, orchestra, chamber musician, teacher AND we’re still educating the way it was fundamentally set up between 1960 and 1980.  

I’m turning 45 in 3 days. So. This was the education that was happening when I was BORN. And EVEN THEN the education wasn’t completely relevant to what musicians went out and did to thrive.

Here’s a secret not-so-secret. I HATE DOUBLE STOPS AND still SUCK AT THEM. Tenths, forget it.Your’re never hearing a Paganini out of me ever again. I don’t even like Paganini. And let’s not even get started talking about trills. HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I ACTUALLY PLAYED A CONCERTO OR PAGANINI IN MY CAREER? Concerti – 2 (Beethoven and Vivaldi – loved them both) PAGANINI - 0. And yet some institutions (my own included) REQUIRE Paganini to gain entrance into them to educate for a music degree. And all institutions are  REQUIRING concerti. 

Here’s what I see: We live in an entrepreneurial society. Musicians always have portfolio careers – all of us. Musicians all do some or all of: Teaching, Performing (Orchestra, Chamber Music, Solo), Building a business, Marketing and Sales, Negotiation, Interpersonal Skills, Fundraising, Connecting. The list goes on …

Is our EDUCATION SYSTEM educating ONLY to play the instrument better OR ARE WE EDUCATING TO BUILD A CAREER AND A LIFE? Is it educating us to FORM CONNECTIONS? Be RELEVANT? Fulfilled? Balanced? Financially SECURE?

Now that I’m 20 years in, I believe it should be the whole ball game. I want a life and a career AND I want to play the instrument better. And I want it to connect with my inspiration, my why, my voice. I want THAT from my education, or the institution I am paying to educate me. AND I WANT THIS FOR ALL MY CLIENTS AND STUDENTS.

It’s time to change up the contract and pivot. Innovate or die.

The post was violinist/fiddler Will Fedkenheuer’s, now heading into his first Toronto Summer Music Festival and Academy as their fourth Artistic Director. 

The post’s “innovate or die” is a stark message. It got me thinking that if he feels so strongly about it, the “and Academy” part of the TSM title was probably what had lured him back across the border. 

For WholeNote, “Innovate or die” means questions like where does  print fit in? We’ve been harvesting live music listings for a generation and publishing them in time to be useful. But print, the way we are doing it now, is no longer timely. So what will it be best for next?

Enjoy this overloaded lifeboat of an issue for what it is – a snapshot of a moment in time. And sign up for our weekly listings updates and e-bulletins. Please.

We will see you again in print in September.  

David Perlman can be reached at publisher@thewholenote.com

Up until 1751, the thing we now call New Year’s Day (in the Britannic tradition, which still ordains when we are entitled to get plastered and when we pay our taxes) wasn’t. Instead, the new year was celebrated right around this time of year. It made sense in lots of ways with spring busting out all over. A more convincing marker of renewal than a few more minutes of daily daylight, usually accompanied by an intensification of winter cold.

And speaking of “busting out all over,” this is also the toughest time of year to set editorial priorities. There’s a significant uptick in the number of regular-season performances. There’s a steady buildup of information about upcoming summer musical activity (educational and festival-wise). And the same presenters and venues that are flooding us with press releases and newsletters about March/April events are also clamouring for coverage of their newly announced 2026/27 seasons.

So instead, I am just going to mention a couple of things that particularly caught my eye, while wading knee-deep through the springtime data floodwaters. I chose them because they both, one way or another, speak to a very hopeful trend: for artists, presenters and venues to see what they do not just as a showcase for excellence, but as conduits to music as a vital, participatory community art.
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The first is an announcement from the Music Gallery’s latest newsletter (which is, by the way, chock-a-block with other participatory opportunities). With support from the Ontario Trillium Fund, they are embarking on a one-year project “to purchase special adaptive equipment, conduct training and consultations, and deliver programming in partnership with Deaf and Hard of Hearing artists, in partnership with VibraFusionLab, and Phoenix the Fire, among others.

Phoenix the Fire, a Deaf-led company, “will help design and facilitate a workshop process for Deaf artists, to “integrate and test haptic devices including vibrotactile belts, pillows, and floors” into the process, allowing the Deaf artist to experience sonic information converted into vibrations. “The ability to collaborate in real time, to develop works, and also play in an improvisatory manner is central to our process,” the announcement says.
First up will be an open call “inviting Deaf artists in any creative discipline to participate in a special residency program in September 2026. Five participants will be selected and paired into a collaboration with a music/sound artist to experiment with haptic technologies and workshop their creative ideas through a multi-day residency.”
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For my second example, also arising from a newsletter that caught my eye, you’ll have to make your way, eventually, to the back story in this issue (if you are reading this in print or at kiosk.thewholenote.com). If you have to search for it digitally, it’s titled Watching the excitement unfold: A conversation with Carol Olympus.

A happy old-style new year to you all.

David Perlman can be reached at publisher@thewholenote.com.

Most of our memorable live musical moments are things we plan for, but they are not necessarily the most memorable. Because there are other kinds of musical moments that tend to stand out even more – the ones where we stumble across some music unexpectedly and find ourselves enchanted – sharing the moment with complete strangers similarly bewitched. (Provided that, in such situations, we are prepared to take a chance on sticking around, because you never know, these days, when an accidental encounter with strangers might become too personal.)