Blair Tindall - Mozart in the Jungle: Sex, Drugs, and Classical Music

M ozart in the J ungle

Journalist and oboist Blair Tindall writes about classical music for the New York Times and has performed, toured and recorded with the New York Philharmonic and many other musical groups. She has taught journalism at Stanford University and oboe at the University of California, Berkeley.

Just because they dress up and play expensive instruments, classical musicians are assumed to behave with chaste propriety. Meet blonde chick in a black frock Blair Tindall, oboist and orchestra muso. Her life in the pits of Broadway, blowing for Miss Saigon and Les Mis, when not gigging at Carnegie Hall or recording for movies, was a dance macabre of performance and party, fuelled by coke, alcohol and promiscuity. Iain Finlayson, The Times

[An] intelligent analysis of the state of classical music, emanating from someone on the floor, actually making the noise. Rupert Christiansen, Daily Telegraph

Charlotte Church, eat your heart out. Professional oboe player Blair Tindall lifts the lid on the steamy world of the orchestra pit. Having spent years with the New York Philarmonic and numerous other musical outfits, she belatedly realises that she was being hired for most of her gigs in bed. Conductors certainly know where to put their batons. Henry Sutton, Daily Mirror

Excellent an unsparing portrait of what life is really like as a musician. The drink, drugs, and sex-for-favours shouldnt surprise anyone, human nature is human nature, no matter what the sub-group. Far more shocking is the minimal job satisfaction experienced by many orchestral players [Tindall] is clear-eyed, cool-hearted and unafraid to bite the hand that has fed her. Edward Smith, Sunday Telegraph

An hilarious expos of the American musical world. If you want to know the sexual techniques of different orchestral sections, this is the book for you an X-rated version of Brittens Young Persons Guide to the Orchestra Tindalls book is a serious attempt to take the lid off a world in which the genius in tails is underpaid, undervalued and exploited. Parents of musical children should read it carefully. Kate Saunders, Sunday Times

A courageous and often entertaining insight into an alien world riveting stuff Rest assured that Mozarts music will never sound the same to you again. Alexander Waugh, Mail on Sunday

A frank, moving and important work a poignant and fascinating memoir Many fundamental questions are raised here concerning the role of music and the arts in society. For anybody who cares about the answers, this is an indispensable book. Clemency Burton-Hill, New Statesman

Candid and intriguing. Observer Music Monthly

Tindalls book offers a devastating indictment of the sordid ethics of American orchestral life her engagingly written memoir offers a rare insight into an unpleasant, cloistered world. Jeremy Nicholas, Classic FM Magazine

First published in the United States of America in 2005 by Atlantic Monthly Press, an imprint of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

First published in trade paperback in Great Britain in 2005 by
Atlantic Books, an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.

This e-book edition published in Great Britain in 2015 by Atlantic Books.

Copyright Blair Tindall 2005

The moral right of Blair Tindall to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

All events in Mozart in the Jungle are true, and all characters are real. However, the following names have been changed: Sydney, Jayson, Percy, Betty, Mr. Geizhals, Maria, Jean, Frank, Donald, Jos, Peter Huffine, Jimmy and Basically Baroque.

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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

E-book ISBN: 9781782397519

Atlantic Books
An imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd
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2627 Boswell Street
London WC1N 3JZ

www.atlantic-books.co.uk

For my parents,

Carliss Blossom McGarrity Tindall and George Brown Tindall

You ask my opinion about taking the young Salzburg musician into your service. I do not know where you can place him, since I feel that you do not require a composer or other useless people.... It gives ones service a bad name when such types run around like beggars; besides, he has a large family.

CONTENTS

Prelude

JANET DIRECTED THE taxi driver to stop just past the Manhattan School of Music on 122nd Street, where I heard students practicing violin scales, trumpet tudes, and clarinet melodies in the inexpensive apartments nearby. The cab stopped halfway down Claremont Avenue, on a somewhat seedy block bordering Harlem, and I followed Janet inside the foyer of a narrow tenement. The front door buzzed open; we passed into a halls murky light, then out a fire escape exit to a barren airshaft. A bulb lit up an old paint-blistered door. Music was throbbing from behind it.

Its just me, Donald! Janet shouted, punching the mechanical doorbell. One, two, three deadbolts unlocked. The door creaked open and music blasted out.

A window shot open up above. Jesus fucking Christ, will you shut the fuck up? A Gristedes bag sailed out the window over our heads, just missing me but spraying coffee grounds everywhere else.

A scruffy man in a stained yellow T-shirt pulled us inside, barricading the door with a five-foot pole lock anchored to the floor. Two Virgin Mary candles from a local bodega flickered in the darkness to the beat of music pulsing from huge old Klipsch speakers. I could smell, faintly, gas leaking from somewhere and mildew creeping across the gray walls. Through the metal accordion grate on the windows, mountains of garbage accumulated in the shaft. My heart started beating faster.

How did classical music ever bring me to this place?

Three men I knew howled with laughter on the frayed brown sofa. Dude, Ill never get over him fucking his sister. Stan choked on his words. Its so out.

Donald just shrugged and pulled on the fat joint that was making its rounds.

Yeah, I know. Now their kids fucking his aunt, Milton chimed in, pushing his stringy blond bangs aside to see the knobs on a large vacuum-tube amplifier. Listen to this riff. Man, youre not gonna believe. The record blared, and they were silent for a moment.

Stan sighed during a lull in the music. Those cats could really play.

I watched Janet bend over the desk to snort cocaine through a straw. Id never done coke, but I was feeling pressured to try Donalds stash too. Donald drummed his fingers on the table, regarding me suspiciously. Suddenly, his attention shifted to Milton, who sprang back to the couch to roll a crisp 100 bill into a tube.

Milties chasing the dragon, man, Billy, the third one, sputtered. Hes totally chasing that shit. He doubled over with laughter, gasping for breath. Confused, Janet looked at Milton and cocked her head, the straw dangling between her fingers.