When the news broke about the sexual abuse allegations against the famed conductor James Levine—first in the New York Post, and then in a more detailed follow up by The New York Times, with three men now on record alleging abuse—I let out an exasperated sigh.
It was a sigh of pain and disappointment in a classical music legend, but also a sigh of relief. As with other victims in 2017’s deluge of harassment and abuse, I was relieved that the cultural moment finally has given alleged victims a space safe enough to tell their stories.
Given the national conversation around sexual abuse by men, I couldn’t stop thinking about eerie similarities between Levine’s story and the accusations against disgraced Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein.
Both Levine and Weinstein had rumors swirling around them, along with fuzzy yet persistent warnings about their improprieties. Both men seemingly were untouchable titans in their fields, with nearly unmatched influence. Notably, accusations against both men came on the downside of their respective careers, when their weakened influence held less sway over a musician’s or actor’s career.
It was only a matter of time before classical music found itself mired in the sexual harassment and abuse reckoning now sweeping through American industries, from Hollywood to news media, politics, and beyond.
However, while the disease plaguing these fields is singular—degenerate men in power—the treatments applied by each industry has differed significantly. Which remedy classical music chooses to emulate will be crucial to its success moving forward.
Even when no illegal offenses are alleged, misogynistic attitudes prevail. Prominent conductor Mariss Jansons remarked recently that women conductors were “not his cup of tea.” Boston Symphony Orchestra music director Andris Nelsons (a Jansons protégé), when asked by a Boston public radio station whether sexual harassment and abuse existed in classical music, replied with a firm “no.” (Both men have since apologized for their remarks and expressed support for women in music.)
And somehow, in 2017—and at this particular moment for women—some prominent figures in the musical world still feel the nauseating need to sneer at the way the excellent young pianist Yuja Wang dresses on stage.
The response from the Metropolitan Opera could certainly be worse. As this post is published, the company has suspended Levine “based on these news reports,” according to The New York Times, and has hired an external law firm to look into Levine’s behavior.
Regardless of the result of the investigations, this is the beginning of a long conversation in classical music, not the end. According to a recent U.K. study conducted by the Guardian, as many as six in ten musicians have experienced harassment. (There, the sexual-abuse convictions of prominent musicians and pedagogues Robert King and Philip Pickett still linger.) Not only is this unacceptable, but it speaks to a pervasive rot in the industry so many of us call home and fight tooth and nail to keep relevant and alive.
This is going to get worse before it gets better.
In Hollywood, Harvey Weinstein was just the first domino to fall in a long row of serial abusers of power and privilege. Given Levine’s lofty perch, and the swirl of rumors around others still in the industry, the influential conductor will almost certainly not be the last. The question is, how will institutions affected by these accusations choose to respond. Will the classical music business follow the example of entertainment, expunging its ranks quickly in an aggressive effort at reform? Or will it play politics—dragging its feet, equivocating, and making excuses, in fear of rocking the boat?
The future of classical music may lie in the balance.
Brin Solomon: Genders, Voices, and Salt
Brin Solomon, a composer, performer, and writer, talks to Zoë Madonna about 'Defiant, Majestic, and Beautiful,' a new song cycle about life under transmisogyny they will present at Dixon Place July 10.