Forty-Five-Plus Years of Choral Conducting:  Lessons Learned

By Dr. Milburn Price

A lecture presented at the 2005 Baptist Church Music Conference
Johnson Ferry Baptist Church, Marietta, GA
June 7, 2005

Can forty-five years really have passed so quickly?  Actually, it is now rapidly nearing 46.  It all began on a hot, muggy afternoon in early September of 1959 when I walked into the office of Richard Edwards, who had come to the University of Mississippi (or Ole Miss, as we Rebels more often call it) to be head of the voice department and director of choral activities.  I went to see him both to offer greetings, as a rising senior who would be one of his voice students, and to ask if he would like for me to serve as student conductor of the University Chorus, as the previous choral conductor had invited me to do before his departure.  I do not recall the exact details of the conversation that followed, but I remember Dick Edwards saying something like this:  "I have a better idea.  I consider myself to be more effective as a voice teacher and performer than as a choral conductor.  Why don't you be the principal conductor of both the University Chorus and Chamber Singers [our touring ensemble], and I will sing the tenor solos in the major works."  It took only a moment of stunned silence for me to recover and say, "I would love to"!

For the next nine months I had the incredible opportunity to conduct those two choral organizations in both rehearsals and performances.  Midway through the year I also accepted a call to my first part-time position as minister of music, where I conducted the adult choir and a youth choir.  Before these events I had aspired to work toward a career as a singer and voice teacher.  By the end of the year, I knew that conducting was to be my principal avenue of music-making.

So here we are now, almost forty-six years later.  Over that span of time I have conducted countless rehearsals and performances, and through studying conducting, reading about conducting, but most importantly, actually conducting, hopefully, I have learned some things about the conducting art.  Time does not allow me to enumerate all of those lessons, but for today's presentation I have developed my "top ten" list—not in the David Letterman style of parody, but ten principles that I consider to be both true and important for conductors in general, and particularly for choral conductors.  Unlike Letterman, who saves the best for last, I will begin with the most important, after which the remainder appear in random order.

Lesson #1:  People are more important than music.  This is true not only in church choral settings, but also in elementary and secondary schools, in colleges and universities, and in community choirs.  Have you ever seen or been conducted by one of those persons who thinks that "it's all about him (or her) and his (her) music"?  Singers, accompanists, and instrumentalists are there only to do the bidding of the maestro.  The conductor reigns!  His or her musical judgments are inerrant and not to be questioned.  Loss of temper, belligerence, sharp criticism of singers or instrumentalists, and sarcasm are all justified if they serve the musical ends.  How sad!  If this is unacceptable behavior for conductors of choirs in general, how much more so is it true for conductors of choirs in churches.  Conductors of church choirs, who often carry the title Minister of Music, should think of themselves as no less a musician than other musical professionals, but more of a minister.  Though striving toward high musical goals is a worthy undertaking, in church it must be balanced by a concern for ministry, and ministry is concerned with what happens in the lives of persons, including the times those persons are in choir rehearsal.  Choir members deserve graciousness of demeanor from the conductor. They don't have to be there.  Rather, they choose to do so, and having chosen, they should encounter the best attitude, as well as the best skills, the conductor has to offer.  In his book, The Musician's Soul, James Jordan suggests that "love, care, humbleness, and selflessness must be a constant during rehearsal."[1]  Those traits help to reflect a genuine concern on the part of the conductor for those persons who enable him or her to "make music" chorally, and for whom the conductor often serves also as minister.

Lesson #2:  Texts are as important as music.  Of course, here I am talking specifically about choral music.  My first version of this principle read:  "texts are more important than music."  However, I then remembered some of the well-crafted, persuasively truthful texts that I have occasionally heard reduced in meaning because of a banal musical setting, and I thought better of it.  It is, indeed, a partnership of equality—insightful, prophetic, expressive, persuasive texts paired with music that illumines textual meaning for the mind and carries the ethos of that meaning to the heart.  This is particularly important in church, where texts fulfill an integral functional role in facilitating the dialogue of worship.  Through carefully chosen texts worshipers encounter the word of  God, or express their response to God—either personally or vicariously through the efforts of soloists or choir—or speak to one another about their faith.

There is too much music imposed on the market in which the text seems to be an almost incidental excuse for a composer to put notes to paper.  In reading through the stacks of new choral releases that I receive from publishers each year, my first sifting takes place at my desk, where I read the texts and discard those octavos that I do not consider to be textually worthwhile.  Only then do I go to the piano to play through the remaining selections to decide which ones will be placed in my "keeper" file.

If it is true that the music that is sung helps to shape the content of faith as well as express believers' understandings of faith, the texts carried by that music are too important not to be given careful scrutiny.  The distinguished theologian, Karl Barth, once remarked that it was through the texts of hymns that he received his first theological instruction,[2] and hymn texts form only a small part of the body of textual material from which we can draw as conductors of choral music in church.  Biblical texts, devotional poetry, liturgical texts, and prose have also kindled the imagination of composers' minds.   There is too much "good stuff" out there to settle for textual pablum.

Lesson #3:  The music is important.  Lest my first two principles give you the mistaken impression that I consider the music to be of only minor importance, let me hasten to state otherwise.  I do not know the source of this brief poem, but Euell Porter, a conductor at Baylor University for whom I sang and with whom I worked and whom I greatly admire to this day, quoted it recurrently:

For the common things of every day, God gave us speech in the common way;

For the higher things we think and feel, God gave the poets words to reveal;

But for heights no tongue or pen can reach, God gave us music—the soul's own speech.

That's why music is important.  It is one of God's good gifts, launched at the beginning of creation when the morning stars sang together (Job 38:7), sustained through the centuries by craftsmen and craftswomen who nurtured the gift, and available to us still today as one of the reflections of the imago Dei that a gracious, creative, musical God invested in his human creatures.

The person who first uttered the adage that "the one who sings prays twice" understood the power of music to communicate a text so persuasively that it reaches both mind and heart.  Robert Mitchell, in Ministry and Music, wrote that, in music, the "devices of rhyme and meter and melody and repetition serve to lodge Christian truth deeply within a person's life."[3]  To that list we could add harmony, form, and differing timbres of voices and instruments.  The art that serves as a principal medium for our ministry is invested with extraordinary power.

Choral music is also invested with enormous energy.  Earlier I alluded to a brief poem learned from one of my choral mentors.  In another mentor, Dr. Charles Hirt of the University of Southern California, I observed an infectious enthusiasm for the choral art that was contagious.  The energy that propelled his music-making—whether soft or loud, fast or slow—was compelling.  Persuasiveness, power, energy—these characteristics embody only part of the reason music is important.  To explore all of its attributes would far exceed the time allotted today.

Lesson #4:  Thorough preparation is essential.  A corollary of this lesson is this:  the effectiveness of a choral rehearsal is in direct proportion to the conductor's level of preparedness for it.  I feel certain that no one in this room would follow the practice of "learning the music along with the choir" . . . but there are too many choral conductors, including those who direct church choirs, who at times do so.  What are some of the aspects of knowledge of the musical score that a conductor should have mastered before placing the music in the choir folder?  Here are a few things on my list:

a.   A thorough knowledge of notes and rhythms in each individual part. In the graduate course in choral conducting that I teach for our master's degree students in church music and music education at Samford, I require the students to be able to sing any excerpt from any part each time they conduct in front of the class.  That is basic preparation.  How else can we quickly identify and correct inaccurate pitches and rhythms before they become fixed in the singers' memory banks?

b.    Identification of potential melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic difficulties that choir members may experience.

c.    An understanding of formal structure.

d.    Phrasing and other interpretive nuances.

e.    Stylistic issues that effect vocal timbre and other aspects of choral presentation. For example, how should the singing of an anthem by a sixteenth century composer of British cathedral music differ from singing music by Brahms?

           
And what about the text?  Assuming that the composer has been appropriately sensitive in crafting a close correlation between text and its musical setting, how can we lead our singers to understand and internalize the relationship between words and music if we have not studied those words for theological content, poetic structure, symbolism of imagery, and biblical or historical allusions?  And how can our singers be effective worship leaders in persuasively communicating textual meaning unless they have first been led through such a process? 

Good preparation leads to efficient rehearsal and effective stewardship of the rehearsal time.  More will be said about stewardship later.

Lesson #5:  Gesture is for music-making, not showmanship.  You've seen them, haven't you . . . conductors whose arm and hand movements seem to have been carefully choreographed for maximum visual effect—but for the people who listen rather than for those who sing.  And because they look so good, it is a seductive temptation to do likewise and "play to the audience" (or congregation).  However, conducting gesture should never be an end in itself; it is a means to an end—the most effective recreation possible of the musical symbols on the page at the moment of performance.

Assuming that you have studied the score carefully, the purpose of conducting gesture should be, simply, to provide sufficient visual signals for the choir—in both rehearsal and performance—to enable the singers to translate those musical symbols into choral sounds, textual articulation, tempo fluctuation, and dynamic nuance that make for compelling music-making.  While acknowledging that differing schools of thought about conducting gesture exist, my personal motto is "less is better."  In that regard I recognize the influence of Euell Porter, to whom I referred earlier.  For this quiet, self-effacing epitome of a gentleman,  the great fear was that attention of the congregation (at church) or audience (in a concert setting) would be focused more upon his gestures than upon the music those gestures elicited from the choir.  Although size and expanse of gesture will inevitably vary according to both body structure and personality, there is merit in continual monitoring of gesture to guard against excessiveness.  Videotaping and reviewing an occasional rehearsal, worship service, or concert can be a helpful, and often revealing, exercise.

Lesson #6:  Accompanists should be valued collaborators in both rehearsal and performance.  Woe to the conductor who mistreats or fails to express appreciation for the accompanists!  They are our allies, our co-leaders, and our co-music makers.  The effectiveness of the conductor—in both rehearsal and performance—is significantly connected to and dependent upon the work of the accompanists.  Therefore, they should be treated with respect and consideration.  One aspect of that consideration is providing information about music to be rehearsed far enough in advance so that the accompanist can be prepared with both accompaniment and open score playing.  This factor includes letting the accompanist know not only which selections will be rehearsed, but also, even more specifically, which sections of each piece will be treated in a given rehearsal. 

A second factor involves the conductor being sensitive to the level of difficulty of the accompaniments and the task of open score playing.  The latter task becomes increasingly complicated for the accompanist when complex rhythmic patterns are present in individual voice parts within a contrapuntal texture.  Yet another factor leading to truly collaborative work between conductor and accompanist, when the accompanist is an organist, is for the conductor to become sufficiently familiar with organ registration to discuss preferences intelligently.

Recurring expressions of appreciation for the competent work of a good accompanist can go a long way toward enhancing conductor/accompanist relationships.  Say it often—to the choirs, to other staff members, and to the church (in appropriate settings and appropriate ways):  "You  [the accompanist] are vitally important to the effectiveness of choral work in this place"!

Lesson #7:  A choral conductor must understand basic vocal pedagogy and work with voices healthfully.  We work with a delicate instrument—the human voice.  In working with that instrument, our first guideline should be that of medical practice—"do no harm."  In order to follow that maxim, it is necessary for choral conductors to develop an understanding of the vocal instrument—its physiology, its basic functioning, and its healthful care.  If carefully planned, a choral rehearsal can, in part, be a group voice lesson.  In fact, it should be so.  Whether in using thoughtfully selected vocalises at the beginning of rehearsal or in working on choral literature, understanding of vocal pedagogy should enable the conductor to lead the choir, both individually and corporately, to a healthful use of the voice.

The keys to healthful treatment of the voice when rehearsing choral repertoire are, essentially, three:  (1) selecting repertoire carefully, with the capabilities and limitations of choral resources in mind; (2) studying the score analytically to determine those points where voices may tend to use unhealthy vocal techniques (such as throat tension, tight jaw, etc.); and (3) developing verbal instructions, imagery, or vocal exercises to encourage healthy tone production in those places. 

The role of choral conductor as voice teacher is important in all choirs, but nowhere more so than in the older children's and youth choirs, where young people are developing vocal habits that, in many cases, will be used for a lifetime.

One other comment should be added before leaving this lesson.  One of the most important aspects of the functioning of a choral ensemble is its composite sound, to which we refer as "choral tone."  It is through the application of his or her knowledge of basic principles of vocal pedagogy that the choral conductor works toward the realization of the sound carried in the imagination that serves as the ideal for the optimum choral sound desired from a particular ensemble.

Lesson #8:  Choral music-making is enhanced by a sense of community that embraces singers and conductor.  The importance of esprit de corps for the effective functioning of organizations has long been recognized.  It is no less true for musical organizations, including choirs.  Shared experiences that grow out of common purposes, shared goals, and group aspirations can form a powerful bond among persons, particularly when an understanding of the significance of those experiences is nurtured.

Over the years I have developed a strong conviction that the core of that sense of community for a choir is forged through the overall musical experience.  No artificial substitutes can take the place of the bond and sense of identity that are created when a group of singers, in partnership with the conductor, go through the hard work necessary to build a choral ensemble that is committed to good choral music-making, as well as effective ministry through the music produced.

Extra-musical events or practices can also contribute productively to the building of community.  Social occasions that allow choir members and conductor time to engage in relaxed conversation do so.  When I first became part-time minister of music at Vestavia Hills Baptist Church in Birmingham, an elderly member of the soprano section brought cookies to the first rehearsal I conducted.  The response from choir members was so positive that she did it again the next week . . . and the next . . . and the next.  Until she became too ill to do so, Myra Carson brought cookies to every weekly rehearsal, creating an excuse for choir members to linger for a few brief moments after the rehearsal to talk with one another . . . and build community.  She became known as "the cookie lady" throughout the church.  One of my fondest memories of experiences at that good church was the night when, on Miss Myra's birthday, the choir gave her a "pounding."  Midway through the rehearsal a choir member rolled in a wheelbarrow filled with all of the ingredients that were needed for the wide variety of cookies that Miss Myra provided.  She never let us forget that evening . . . and she kept on making cookies . . . and we kept nurturing community.

Our home has been a center for nurturing community through the years with both college and church choirs that I have conducted.  I would not attempt to estimate the number of cookies, pumpkin muffins, fudge brownies, or apple cakes that my wife, Barbara, has baked, or the number of gallons of punch and hot apple cider she has prepared.

Another helpful element in the building of choral community is the development of traditions—things that provide a connectedness from one choir generation to another.  In some settings the tradition is a favorite anthem sung on a particular occasion, often accompanied by an invitation to former choir members to join current members in singing that "special anthem."  In another setting it may be a unique ritual for inducting new choir officers or welcoming new members into the group.

Whatever methods are used, conscious attention to the nurturing of community within a choral ensemble should not be neglected.

Lesson #9:  There is always more to learn.  No matter how many degrees we attain, how many conferences we attend, how many books we read, or how many years we conduct, we never know it all.  There are always persons out there who can provide new insights and stimulate new ideas.  There are music educators who develop new and more effective methodologies for teaching music fundamentals.  There are scholars whose research leads to greater understanding of historical styles.  There are vocal pedagogues who discover more effective ways to develop the human voice.  And there are composers who add to the body of repertoire available for our use.  I recurrently tell students in my conducting and church music classes that if they take only one thing away from the class at its conclusion, it should be this:  be a lifetime learner.  I have seen too many ministers of music experience burnout, not because of the time demands of their ministry or the pressures of being in the "public eye" constantly, but because they became tired of doing the same thing month after month and year after year.  Continuing education is the best remedy that I know for this dilemma.

Lesson #10:  Conducting is an act of stewardship.  At the beginning of my list of ten lessons, I said that, other than the first, the remaining ones were in random order of priority.  After further reflection, I realize that is not quite true.  This final lesson should be placed alongside the first as being particularly significant.  Long ago I came to an understanding that Jesus' parable of the talents, recorded in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew's gospel, applies to far more than our financial resources.  It calls us to be faithful stewards of all that we are and all that we do.  For the church musician, this expansive understanding has profound implications.  Not only are we responsible for our own musical gifts, but we are also responsible for the development of the gifts of musical aptitude and appreciation in the congregations we serve. Earlier I talked briefly about the importance of developing the vocal abilities of our singers.  Throughout the structure of ensembles and music activity groups in our music ministries, we are responsible for developing musical abilities:  basic musicianship, keyboard aptitudes, instrumental inclinations, and, as mentioned before, vocal abilities.  With this high calling, no rehearsal can be "business as usual."  There is always an agenda that extends beyond the notes, rhythms, and texts of the repertoire being rehearsed.  That agenda is nurturing musical understanding and skills.  If the church choir, compositely, is not a better musical ensemble now than they were a year ago, I have not been a faithful steward of their musical gifts that have been placed in my hands—literally—for development.

That goal is not music for music's sake, but for God's sake.  The result of all of our music learning and music making is not so much for personal aesthetic pleasure as it is for the glory of God.  Johann Sebastian Bach understood this principle well as he penned at the end of his manuscripts, "S.D.J."—Soli Deo Gloria—"only for the glory of God."

The contemporary hymn poet Fred Pratt Green said it eloquently in the first stanza of one of my favorite hymns written in the twentieth century:

                        When in our music God is glorified,

                        And adoration leaves no room for pride,

                        It is as tho' the whole creation cried

                        Alleluia!

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