On Sunday, Dennis Scholl, the Vice President for Arts for the Knight Foundation, called the Charlotte community to action. Those who love culture and this city have “taken a big step toward fostering a creative environment by making a significant investment in its arts infrastructure,” he wrote in The Charlotte Observer. The new Levine Center for the Arts, which includes the Knight Theater, the new Mint Museum, the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art, and the Harvey Gantt Center for African-American Arts + Culture, is an extraordinary addition to the city’s cultural facilities – a set of architectural jewels.

Scholl congratulated us for investing in the arts infrastructure, but he challenged us to “redouble” our efforts. “You have a plethora of world-class buildings that now need to be filled with world-class programming,” he wrote. (Read more: http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2010/08/29/1650780/now-charlotte-must-take-the-next.html#ixzz0y7f5xKTU)

The plea to fund programs as well as buildings is not new. In 1963, the then-new Music Director of the Charlotte Symphony, Richard Cormier, addressed the Charlotte Rotary Club, issuing the same challenge:

“If we are to maintain a vigorous, vital cultural life in our cities, we must think not only of buildings, but of people – artists, actors, musicians, writers, performers, teachers, students, philosophers, and administrators in every area of the cultural spectrum…. The big problem, as I scarcely need tell you, is money. Money not merely for theaters, concert halls, and museum buildings, but money to develop the public in its role as patrons and appreciators of the products of an artistic civilization….We must come to accept the arts as a new community responsibility.”

Nearly half a century later, we still need to hear those words. The Charlotte community must demand and support excellent culture: “fight for vibrant arts programming that engages the community and brings it inside these incredible structures to have an equally compelling cultural experience,” Scholl wrote.

The Charlotte Symphony is ready to do its part. New this season, the Symphony launches KnightSounds, a set of three concerts that aim to fill the new Knight Theater with “vibrant arts programming.” We challenge the community to be a part of this process. Come join us!

For more about KnightSounds, visit http://www.charlottesymphony.org/KnightSounds.asp

Outside the sun is scorching, in spite of the breeze that blows through the Converse College campus. Fortunately, though, Twichell Auditorium is air-conditioned, and the young brass players of the Charlotte Symphony Youth Orchestra are oblivious to the August heat as they work through a difficult passage of Grieg’s Norwegian Dance.

The musicians of the CSYO are attending the orchestra’s annual summer camp, sponsored by The Symphony Guild, gearing up for a new season of music-making. Mornings are dedicated to full orchestra rehearsals; after lunch, the students divide into sections, led by members of the Charlotte Symphony.

Last Thursday afternoon in the lobby of Twichell Auditorium, CSO Principal Tubist David Mills was warning the trumpets to make way for the horns: “There’s something that comes right after you, so hit that note and get out of the way.” Inside the auditorium, CSO Principal Timpanist Leo Soto was teaching a student about the power of pianissimo. With his ear down, his whole body alert to sound, Leo caused a magical shimmer to arise from the drums. The effervescent sound made the hairs on my arm stand up, and demonstrated to his young protégé that you can command as much attention with that hush as with a resounding thunder.

The appointment of Gustavo Dudamel as Music Director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic has brought spectacular national attention to Venezuela’s youth orchestra system and the philosophy of its founder José Antonio Abreu. Abreu’s system is building amazing orchestras, but he aspires to accomplish much more: He maintains that orchestras build community, create good citizens, because the varied members of an orchestra come together for the common good – to perform great music.

At youth orchestra camp, the members of the CSYO are experiencing this first-hand, all day, every day. “It’s great doing music all day,” said flutist Sarah Sullivan, a rising senior at North Meck High School, earlier that afternoon. “You’d think you’d get tired of it, but it’s really fun. It’s really a relaxed atmosphere – everyone is open and willing to get to know each other.”

And the students are doing more than music all day. They’re getting music lessons, but they’re also getting lessons in life. Like David Mills’s comment to the trumpets: Be respectful of others’ space and time. Or Leo Soto’s demonstration: Listen, focus, be precise, and remember that you do not need to yell to be heard.

“In sectionals and in the full orchestra, you realize that you have to listen,” oboist Michael Smith, a rising senior at Providence High School, told me during a break from sectionals. “It’s a great mantra for a community, because if you’re not listening to other people in a community, how can ideas be shared?”

“They say music is the universal language,” Elizabeth Honeyman agreed. Elizabeth is a junior at Peabody – a CSYO alum who has come back to lead the oboes. “But you have to learn how to work with others; you have to learn when to lead and when to follow. You connect to everyone else. What you do on your own is not nearly so important as what you do when you link into everyone else.”

Not bad.

And when these students “link into everyone else,” they look for unity among the differences, another CSYO alum, Loren Taylor, added.

“It’s like a family; if there is any conflict, it’s like sibling rivalry. Coming together like a family is what makes people in the youth orchestra better citizens – contribute to society. We’re building something together. Even if you’re in a lower chair, your part is still contributing to the whole.”

Meg Whalen is the Director of Public Relations and Community Engagement.

In the summer before seventh grade, I entered into a long and devoted alliance to a formidable but wonderfully giving master: the Charlotte Symphony Youth Orchestras. My orchestral career, at that point, was still in its developmental stages, and I could barely read music. Thanks to my Suzuki training, I memorized everything, and learned notes through finger numbers. This would be the method to my madness in the “Sizzling Strings,” small youth string orchestras in the Charlotte and Matthews community that would later expand to include the “Blazing Band.”

Led by CMS teacher Bruce Becker, these groups truly nurtured my desire to perform in any sort of ensemble and introduced me to fellow musicians that I still frequently gig with today. Through his encouragement, I auditioned for the CMS Middle School Honors Orchestra, and it was there that I first understood what it meant to compete for a chair; more importantly, it was where I heard about the Charlotte Symphony Youth Orchestras. From my stand partner and others, I came to the understanding that each of the principal players of the Honors Orchestras that year was in either the Charlotte Symphony Youth Orchestra (CSYO) or the Junior Youth Orchestra (JYO). I heard tales of how these kids, orchestral warriors of their time, had won auditions that were legendary in their intensity. My mother spoke to other parents at the final Honors Orchestra concert, and then worried about what would clearly become a near-obsession for me. As I picked up the glossy brochure, one particularly snotty kid, and my biggest competition at that time, muttered “I heard they make you cry in the auditions,” as he sauntered by. I was hooked.

Upon taking my JYO audition [in which I did not cry], I felt an excitement that I had not experienced up to that point in my “career.” My Suzuki training had served me well. The night before the first rehearsal, my mother spent nearly three hours straightening my long unruly hair, and I polished my violin until I could see my reflection in the varnish. When I arrived the next morning, I was met with a surprise: the JYO was a full symphony – with strings, woodwinds, brass, and percussion – something I had not anticipated.

From the back of the second violin section I barely hung on as the orchestra read down an arrangement of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite. Panicked, I realized that I would have to work harder than I ever had in order to keep up. More importantly, I was carnivorous in my desire for a better chair. Like most of the kids in Charlotte, placement trumped “musical experience,” “cultural enrichment,” or any other “reason for the season” the adults had thought up to justify the existence of these ensembles in the community. I had to know what it felt like to be first chair of THIS orchestra. Nothing else would suffice!

As I plotted my practicing moves from the back of the section, equally focused and distracted by flutes?! clarinets?! timpani?! I realized that this was the start of something very big. Though I spent the next six years trying to decide whether or not I would major in literature or fashion marketing, I now realize that thanks to the JYO, and later, the CSYO, my career path has been set since the seventh grade. And I don’t regret a minute of it.

Jessica McJunkins was a Charlotte Symphony Youth Orchestra violinist from 1998-2004. She served as principal second violin for the CSYO Carnegie Hall debut in 2002 and Assistant Concertmaster for the 2003-04 season. For more about the youth orchestras, visit www.csyo.net.

When rising 6^th-grader Maria stood proudly in front of an audience of some 25 people last Thursday (July 22) to perform “I’m a Little Teapot” on her bright pink violin, it signaled a triumph – a triumph not just for this quiet, thin, intelligent young girl, but for teacher Courtney Hollenbeck and the children of Winterfield Elementary School.

It has been more than three years since Courtney Hollenbeck, a young second grade teacher at Winterfield Elementary, first brought her violin to school to teach her class about sound. Winterfield is a high-poverty school – about 90% of the students are economically disadvantaged – and most of the 7 and 8-year olds in Ms. Hollenbeck’s class had never seen or heard a violin. They were all fascinated, but one little girl showed unusual interest. That little girl was Maria.

After class, Maria, who is shy and undemanding, walked boldly up to her teacher and asked for violin lessons. Courtney Hollenbeck is not a violinist; she played as a teenager, but did not study music seriously. But she recognized in that moment what the violin might do in the lives of her students. So, not only did she agree to teach Maria, but she founded a violin program at Winterfield – a program open to all interested students, free of charge. She began to scour Ebay in search of affordable violins, spending her own money to purchase instruments for the growing number of children in her Friday afternoon violin class.

Without even knowing it, Ms. Hollenbeck became part of a movement in the United States – an ever-expanding effort to help children become smarter students and better citizens through music. While the concept is not new, it has received a booster shot with the recent appointment of Gustavo Dudamel as Music Director of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Dudamel is a graduate of arguably the most successful youth music program in the world, Venezuela’s “El Sistema.” Since he began receiving widespread media attention two years ago, programs all over the country have taken root, serving children from Baltimore to Los Angeles to Juno, Alaska. Learn more at http://elsistemausa.org/.

This past December, Courtney Hollenbeck called the Charlotte Symphony looking for help. Her program now served 25 children, grades 2 through 5, and with so many kids at so many different levels, it had exceeded her ability to teach them. The Symphony’s Education Programs Manager, Chris Stonnell, and I met with Ms. Hollenbeck and began to brainstorm ways to support the program.

A three-week summer violin camp was one of the fruits of our efforts. Children in the Winterfield program were invited to attend the camp, where they received general music instruction, instrument demonstrations, and violin lessons with Sa-Idah Harley, a local violinist and violin teacher. The camp culminated in the performance last Thursday, July 22, in which Maria, her 8-year-old sister Julia, and their friend Leslie played for their families, Winterfield staff, and other campers.

The Charlotte Symphony has applied for grants from the N.C. Arts Council and the Foundation for the Carolinas to help strengthen and improve the program at Winterfield this academic year. Everywhere you look, funding for arts education is tight – if not downright obliterated. Arts organizations all over Charlotte, all over North Carolina, all over the United States, are struggling to find ways to bring music or drama or dance or painting into the lives of children. School systems, counties, states have cut arts education budgets. Brave and passionate individuals, like Courtney Hollenbeck, and organizations like the Charlotte Symphony are bridging the gap. But we need help.

The CSO is happy to announce that the NC Arts Council has granted the Symphony money in support of the Winterfield Strings Program for 2010-2011.

Meg Freeman Whalen is CSO Director of Public Relations and Community Engagement

My mother is a church organist, accompanist and piano teacher; my father a retired choir director and vocal soloist.  So I grew up in a home filled with music. Dad, raised in a home where singing was not smiled upon, except perhaps in church but certainly not during a meal, encouraged his children to sing early and often. And so we did. Especially at the dinner table. We would often sing the blessing. We would frequently launch into a tune if someone uttered a phrase that reminded us of a song or inadvertently spoke a few actual words from a song. And we would sometimes create impromptu operas based on the conversation or what happened to be sitting on the dinner table. (“The Seasonings,” based on a salad dressing bottle, had a particularly successful run.) It was often silly, and perhaps we didn’t sing particularly well, but we sang.

I joined the Oratorio Singers last year, and I am glad beyond words to be singing the great works of music with such a wonderful group of like-minded people who are dedicated to the pursuit of excellence. And to making great music. This November, for example, I am pretty sure that we won’t be singing about salad dressing. Alongside the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra, however, we will be singing Franz Joseph Haydn’s oratorio, Die Schöpfung (The Creation), considered by many to be Haydn’s (known as the “Father of the Symphony”) masterpiece.

Someone asked me the other day, “Why do you sing?” My response, of course, was that I sing because I cannot play an instrument. But the question got me thinking. Why do we sing? The human race has created music and sung songs for over 3,000 years. We know from archeological discoveries that music was a vital part of virtually all known ancient cultures, from Greece to Persia to Egypt to India to China to Africa and beyond. Australia’s indigenous Aborigines believe that the world was sung into creation, and they can still navigate vast distances across the land via ancient paths known as songlines. It’s a beautifully poetic notion that C.S. Lewis employed in his fictional work, The Magician’s Nephew, as Aslan the lion’s powerful singing calls the world of Narnia into existence.

I have come up with three reasons why we sing (well, four, if you count the inability to play an instrument). Alas, none of them include the possibility of appearing on American Idol.

We sing because making music is an intrinsic and essential part of the human spirit. It’s part of what we do, and of who and what we are. We sing not because we can, but because we must. Sure, let’s not get too carried away. After all, the ability to sing doesn’t separate us from the animals. (That’s what opposable thumbs, and instruments, are for.) But music is part of the human DNA. We aren’t human because we sing; we sing because we are human.

We also sing because there are songs that need to be sung. The Oratorio Singers have performed a remarkable repertoire of the great music of our time. If you cannot be moved by the musical genius and the soaring optimism of the final movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, or by the depth of emotion and rich tapestry of folk and liturgical harmonies in Rachmaninoff’s All Night Vigil, then you cannot be moved.

Finally, we sing because someone is listening. Sure, you can sing along with the radio in the car without an audience (and may even be glad for the lack of one!). Singing for an audience, though, is a rich and rewarding experience for both the singer and the listener. It’s a form of communication. I used to enjoy the applause at the end of a performance because I thought of it primarily as a reward for a collective job well done. Standing on the stage of the Blumenthal PAC at the conclusion of Beethoven’s Ninth this past April, I realized that I had got it somewhat wrong. The enthusiastic applause at the end of a performance is indeed thrilling to hear. But not so much for what it says about the performers or the performance. It’s thrilling to hear for what it says about you, the listener. And what it says is that the impact of the live performance of a great musical work has moved you to respond. In a way that no other art form (and no CD or radio or MP3 file) can, a live performance has elevated your spirit, and maybe even raised your body out of its seat. You have participated in a shared, uniquely human experience and absorbed the beauty and emotional power of live music into your very being. You have fed your soul.

Music affords us the opportunity to celebrate the most essential form of human expression and the highest reach of the human spirit.

That’s a good reason to sing.