Out of the classical closet: More male soloists abandon ties and tails for more flair

By Melinda Bargreen
Seattle Times music critic

HEATHER MCKINNON / THE SEATTLE TIMES

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Consider the lilies of the concert stage.

Women classical soloists and conductors get to wear whatever they want. If they are Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg, they wear purple jumpsuits or well-tailored pants with bright, glittery tops. If they are glamour-pusses like violinist Anne-Sophie Mutter, they wear dresses that are strapless, backless, occasionally nearly frontless. The women of the Anonymous 4 quartet wear gorgeous flowing medieval-inspired dresses in dark jewel tones; the three jazzy sisters of the Ahn Trio wear edgy, glamorous, teeny-tiny outfits with stiletto heels and postmodern hairdos.

And how do the male soloists and conductors dress?

Like headwaiters. Or penguins.

Most of them have that same old white-tie-and-tails going on, a costume that evolved to its present state during the 18th century. Stuffy and reportedly uncomfortable, with fitted shoulders that restrict movement and cummerbunds that squeeze, this antique outfit has been de rigueur for all males in classical music.

While women are still playing catchup in many quarters of the concert world (only a handful are given serious consideration for a major music directorship, for instance), in the matter of concert dress, they're still considerably more liberated than the men. But for male soloists — those instrumentalists, singers and conductors who give recitals or star with symphony orchestras — the white-tie-and-tails dress standard appears to be slowly edging its way into the wings.

	TARZAAN Awadagin Pratt usually shows up in brilliantly hued Versace shirts.

One important caveat: We aren't talking about orchestra members, where a unified field of black (with occasional flashes of white) helps promote the audience's perception of a unanimous ensemble. It's the male soloists under discussion here: those guys who should be free to express themselves in the sartorial sphere, but generally do not.

But there are exceptions, a few more every year.

Violinist Joshua Bell and pianist/conductor Christian Zacharias still usually stick to variations on basic black — but they've loosened up considerably. Bell favors flowing black shirts that don't impede his bow arm, and Zacharias wore a well-cut, tone-on-tone black shirt during his last appearance here.

Keyboardists lead the way

The most daring dressers are the pianists. Jon Kimura Parker is often seen onstage wearing dress slacks and a white shirt, but with a natty vest instead of a tux jacket, leaving his arms and shoulders free for action. Most colorful of all is pianist Awadagin Pratt, who usually shows up in brilliantly hued Versace shirts, adding to the distinctive appearance of his dreadlocks.

	LINDSAY LOZON Jon Kimura Parker is often seen onstage sporting dress slacks and a white shirt, but with a natty vest instead of a tux jacket.

"As far as clothes, the outfit (a tuxedo) didn't make sense to me," Pratt told one interviewer. "It's not comfortable. So there didn't seem to be any reason for me to do it. Who put this on and said this is the way to go?"

On his Web site (www.awadagin.com), the pianist adds: "I think if the soloist or recitalist is coming out less dressed-up, then some people will feel more comfortable coming. I think it's an important thing that particularly helps bring in younger people."

Jean-Yves Thibaudet doesn't just wear Versace; he also usually wears bright-red dress socks, ever since an engagement about 10 years ago when he had to play at 11 a.m. and couldn't find any other clean socks to wear. Now they're his thing. Recently, he appeared in an English performance wearing Vivienne Westwood — ruffled voile shirt, tight black trousers and blue taffeta jacket. (The Daily Telegraph critic unkindly said he looked like "Coco the Clown.")

Chinese-born virtuoso Lang Lang likes to wear Chinese silk shirts with no jacket, giving this very active 21-year-old pianist a lot of freedom of movement.

Here in Seattle, Byron Schenkman — co-founder of Seattle Baroque and an expert harpsichordist as well as pianist, says a performer's dress should be just as distinctive as his music-making. An unusual shirt or tie can "add to your presentation," Schenkman says; "it's another way of expressing yourself."

The 2002 Silk Road Project at Benaroya Hall introduced music lovers to a wide variety of other dress traditions: splendid ethnic garb in many colors, all worn with evident pride by musicians from Middle Eastern and Far Eastern cultures. That blue-shirted tabla (drum) player sitting cross-legged on a rug would have looked pretty silly in white tie and tails.

How did we get here?

How did the white tie and tails become the classical dress standard for men in the first place?

	ANDREW ECCLES Virtuoso Lang Lang likes to wear Chinese silk shirts with no jacket.

Symphony orchestras gradually evolved through the 18th century to their present configuration during the 19th century, growing from small court orchestras performing in an aristocrat's music room to big 100-member ensembles with their own concert halls. This also was the era in which white tie and tails represented the highest sartorial standard for men, so that's what was worn on the concert stage. (Needless to say, there were no women in orchestras in those days. Some European orchestras still have only a token woman or two.)

The world of classical music is a deeply traditional world; it takes a long time for change to evolve. Still, there are signs that the ice is beginning to break a little — for orchestras, as well as for soloists.

On the other side of the Atlantic, arguments for and against the white-tie-and-tails uniform for orchestral players have waxed and waned. England's Hallé Orchestra is overhauling its image; its marketing director is said to have called it "bizarre" that dress standards for the concert attendees have changed over time, while the musicians' dress hasn't. The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra (the other orchestra of Seattle Symphony music director Gerard Schwarz) has commissioned a survey to find out what the audiences want the players to wear, maybe coming up with a new image for the musicians.

Others at the august London Symphony Orchestra feel the audience expects and wants white tie and tails on the concert stage, after paying high ticket prices and preparing for something special.

Anything but black

In the back of many British administrators' minds, no doubt, is the example of the BBC Philharmonic, which opted for powder-blue suits in the 1970s, and was deeply sorry afterward. Another attempt to spruce things up by offering women players green silk (to be made up in styles of the wearer's choosing) failed when the resulting dresses were not all as "tasteful" as the dress code stipulated. Extra players, frequently required by big repertoire (or as replacements for ailing regulars), found themselves stuck with what one player called "green sackcloths."

	TIMOTHY WHITE / AP Violinist Joshua Bell favors flowing black shirts.

One success story: the London Mozart Players, who chose red as a signature color. The men still wear tails (with red cummerbunds), but the women may adapt the offered red fabric to a number of designs. Audience approval ratings are reportedly high.

New-music groups, not surprisingly, are less tradition-bound when it comes to concert attire. Many of them wear variations on basic black, but the black might be T-shirts and jeans. The Birmingham Contemporary Music Group wears the same casual attire as its audiences.

Meanwhile, a few orchestras are moving in the other direction. Here on the West Coast, the Monterey (California) Symphony has been upgrading its image — by putting the men in white tie and tails (the women wear black dresses or tuxedos).

A 2002 exchange on the classical-music Web site Andante.com brought up an intriguing case for dumping white tie and tails: it's "a species of livery. Recall that, well into the 19th century, long after respectable gentlemen had adopted trousers and natural hair as standard, the servants of the upper classes continued to wear knee-breeches and powdered wigs. Isn't the formal attire of musicians an echo of an earlier time, when they were a kind of upper servant in the employ of aristocratic houses?" Musicians should abandon tails, because they "signify a long abandoned feudal status for the musicians who wear them."

Melinda Bargreen: mbargreen@seattletimes.com

Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company

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