In September 2013, Marin Alsop became the first woman to conduct the Last Night of the Proms in its 118-year history. Only days before, Russian conductor Vasily Petrenko told an interviewer that female conductors risked distracting musicians and that the demands of families meant they weren’t able to dedicate themselves to a demanding role.
The furore that ensued brought much-needed attention to classical music’s gender problem. In her podium speech, Alsop acknowledged wryly that a lot was made of this first – “I’m shocked that [in] 2013 there still can be firsts for women” – and dedicated the night to “progress towards more inclusivity in classical music … I want to say to all the young women out there ... believe in yourselves … because you will create a future filled with possibility.”
Spurred into action, Morley College in London set up a women-only course for aspiring conductors. The Southbank Centre began regular breakfast meetings to enable women across the industry to network, support each other and ensure that the issues remained visible. In 2014, Elim Chan became the first woman to win the Donatella Flick conducting competition, the following year BBC National Orchestra of Wales appointed Xian Zhang its principal guest conductor, and, in February 2016, the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra announced that their new musical director would be Mirga Gražinytė-Tyla, a 29-year-old Lithuanian woman.
So, four years after Alsop’s famous first, is the future filled with possibility?
Last year, Southbank Sinfonia’s managing director, James Murphy, got a letter from a conductor looking for work. “She said, ‘I’m writing to you because I understand your orchestra takes on female conductors.’ I thought, ‘Don’t we all?’” he says. Murphy began looking at some statistics, which he presented in a “10-minute provocation” at last month’s Association of British Orchestras conference. There is a sense among the industry, he says, of ‘Didn’t we sort this out in 2013?’. Progress is being made, but it’s moving shockingly slowly.
There are 61 full member orchestras in the ABO, offering more than 100 titled roles for conductors. Only four of these positions are currently held by women. Murphy surveyed the British artist managers with five or more conductors on their books. Almost 95% of these conductors are male. A recent screengrab from a leading British orchestra’s website of their page of “conductors coming soon” features photographs of 27 conductors, all of whom are male. Far from building on the inspiration of its first female winner, 2016’s Donatella Flick conducting competition – for musicians under 35 – featured no women among the 20 contestants at the final stage.
So, what is the problem? Outright sexism? Unconscious bias? A lack of suitable candidates for orchestras to work with? Certainly not the latter, says Murphy. “Last year, the Southbank Sinfonia invited an equal number of male and female conductors to conduct – five of each sex. We were the only professional orchestra in the UK to achieve that, and I didn’t put anyone there because she was a woman. They were all brilliant.”
He admits that the flexibility of his smaller, younger orchestra allows him to take risks that others can’t. “All the grassroots projects are great, and Marin Alsop is also doing amazing work in the US, but if there are no role models then how are women going to come into the profession?” asks Murphy.
So what is the solution? For a start, keeping the discussion going. “For me, this is not a ‘woman’s issue’. Everyone can – and should – play a part in this,” says Murphy. Alsop agrees. In previous interviews, she has wondered why she is always being asked about conducting’s gender problem. “Why aren’t they asking the men?”
Like Murphy, Alsop doesn’t want to see quotas, but she stresses that until the idea of a woman on the podium is completely unremarkable – whether to the orchestral musicians, the audience or the managers making the appointments – there is work to be done. “I hope that today’s generation of young girls will never consider not doing something because they’re a woman. Maybe it won’t even be on their agenda. I hope so.” Meanwhile, she can help create opportunities for young female conductors and continue to inspire the next generation.
At the Southbank Centre one bitterly cold January morning, Alsop is putting her money where her mouth is, leading a conducting workshop for five young women. The doors are open to the public and a large audience of all ages – including several primary-school groups – are watching. The conductors (from Australia, Brazil, Taiwan and eastern Europe) are each given 15 minutes, first on Beethoven’s 5th symphony, then on Barber’s Adagio for Strings. The class act that is the BBC Concert Orchestra is in the pit – occasionally chastised for playing too well. “You’re not showing the intensity they’re playing with,” Alsop tells one conductor.
Alsop studies each woman intently. It is fascinating to hear the notes she gives, to see the difference tiny gestures can make, to realise the importance of eye contact, of posture and, above all, of inner pulse.
“Carry the sound like it’s something physical, something heavy,” Alsop says. “Lead the music, don’t wait for them to play. Watch the timpani at this point … Your gestures and motions need to be decisive … It’s hard? Yes, I know! But you wanted to be a conductor!”
Natalia Raspopova, 34, is assistant conductor with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra and has travelled from Australia to participate. “Prior to considering taking up conducting, I had my reservations that it was a very difficult field to get into. I did think for a moment, just to myself, perhaps it’s a little bit absurd – there is that stereotype of a conductor as a European man with an accent, 60-plus – but then I thought: ‘What the heck, I’ll give it a try.’
“There is certainly a huge gender gap in the industry itself,” she adds. “Marin is one of the rare examples of women working at the top of the profession,” she says. “We need role models – the more, the better.”
Alba Bonfim, 42, is Brazil-born but lives and works in Portugal. She, too, was able to think: “What the heck.” “When I decided I wanted to be a conductor, there were women who conducted choirs, but none I knew who conducted professional orchestras.”
What has she learned today? “You need to be big with your gestures, not be ashamed.” Alsop encourages all five women to communicate with total conviction. Does Bonfim think this is something that women in particular need to work on? “Yes, I do think that can be more difficult for women.” Raspopova agrees: “Generally speaking, women need to think much more about projecting power – perhaps that’s more natural to men.”
I ask Alsop if the young women she works with are particularly beset by confidence issues. “Confidence is an issue for all young people today,” she says. “But I do find that the challenges for women seem to be projecting strength unapologetically. Society interprets women’s gestures very differently, so that if women are exuding an aura of extreme confidence that can be deemed off-putting, whereas it’s desirous for men.”
It’s more about power, she concludes. “Taking it and feeling entitled to take it. Those are the things I’m trying to address.”
Back to Beethoven and Barber: a line of children sit cross-legged at the front of the audience, watching Alsop put the women through their paces. As the room fills with the glories of the 5th symphony, a handful draw the scene, and a boy plays football with his pencil until his teacher confiscates it. The small girl next to him, perhaps seven years old, ignores him; focused on the figure on the podium, she copies her gestures and conducts the orchestra, too.
In a Q&A afterwards, Alsop addresses her young audience. “I didn’t really get a chance to conduct until I was in my 20s. When I was growing up, in the old days, they didn’t like women to conduct too much.
“But, as you see now, all conductors are women,” she says, with a huge smile.
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