PART 2: How Do We Select the Music?
This is where things really start to get interesting—and where the complexity of planning a season truly reveals itself.
When we begin a new planning cycle, we don’t start with a list of random favorite pieces. We start by asking a series of guiding questions. Each one shapes the season in a different way, and none of them exists in isolation.
What story do we want to tell this season?
I have always aimed to build each Symphonicity season around a central theme. That might be a celebration of American composers, an exploration of music from different cultures, or a more novel concept—like our Pianorama season, which featured a piano concerto on every program.
Themes can be challenging. Yes, they can feel limiting at times, and I’ve certainly experienced that. But overall, a theme gives the season a sense of cohesion—a large musical arc rather than a series of unrelated events.
From a practical standpoint, this also helps us focus our branding, marketing, and messaging. Instead of reinventing the wheel for every concert, we can tell one larger story over time. That saves money, builds recognition, and helps generate momentum across the entire season. For an orchestra with limited resources but ambitious goals, this kind of cohesion matters.
Where do we find the music?
Some of it is already on our shelves. Our music library contains roughly 400 works, most of them older, public-domain pieces that orchestras have relied on for generations.
Beyond that, there are reference tools—such as David Daniels’ Orchestral Music: A Handbook—which is essentially an encyclopedic guide to thousands of orchestral works, organized by composer, instrumentation, theme, and publisher.
Over the last decade, a growing number of resources have emerged to help showcase and catalog underrepresented composers. In the past, discovering such composers could be quite difficult, especially if their music was not already established within traditional publishing channels—sometimes due to bias, sometimes simply due to limited exposure. Today, those barriers are far lower. As a result, there is far greater access to the work of many thoughtful and compelling composers whose music deserves to be known and heard.
And then there is personal experience: pieces we’ve conducted or played, music we’ve heard live, recordings that spark curiosity, recommendations from colleagues, or the occasional discovery that happens almost by accident. Programming is part research, part memory, and part exploration.
What will challenge and inspire our musicians?
This question is central.
We want music that stretches our players, encourages growth, and feels rewarding to perform—but that is also realistically achievable. There’s nothing quite like seeing a musician light up when a difficult passage finally clicks, or hearing someone say during a break how meaningful a piece has become to them.
At the same time, I pay close attention when section leaders raise concerns about difficulty, rehearsal time, or sustainability. The goal is not to avoid risk, but to manage it wisely.
One of the most important tools here is conversation. I regularly share ideas with leaders within the orchestra to gauge confidence levels and identify potential concerns early. If there isn’t sufficient consensus, I have to be willing to pivot. That flexibility is essential to maintaining both morale and musical standards. It also strengthens the relationship between music director and player (worthy of another blog series in the future!).
What does our community want to hear?
We listen—carefully.
Audience surveys, post-concert conversations, emails, and even comment cards all provide valuable insight. When we hear repeated interest in something like film music or crossover programming, we take note.
We also hear criticism. Over the years, that has included reactions to an electric guitar concerto, an ultra-contemporary trombone concerto, a long choral work without a formal intermission break, and even a published letter to the editor criticizing our approach to an international theme.
In every case, we read everything, step back, and look at the broader picture. Was the feedback isolated or widespread? Were there opposing reactions that revealed strong positive impact for others? Often, there were.
Feedback informs our thinking—but it doesn’t dictate it. Our responsibility is to weigh perspectives, learn from them, and then move forward with intention.
What fits well together on a single concert?
Although I sometimes build a concert around one desired major work, programming isn’t just about choosing good pieces—it’s about how they relate to one another.
I pay close attention to musical relationships: key centers, contrasts between major and minor, pacing, length, and even harmonic progression across a program. I think carefully about how a concert begins and ends, and how energy flows before and after intermission.
Should we open with something bold, or invite listeners in more gently? Do we return from intermission with a burst of energy, or save the biggest impact for the very end?
These choices may not always be consciously noticed—but they are often felt. And those intuitive perceptions can shape the audience’s overall experience in powerful ways.
How do we choose composers?
Every composer and piece exists within a historical, cultural, or thematic context.
Sometimes programming highlights relationships—such as the connections between Brahms and Robert and Clara Schumann, or how Tchaikovsky was influenced by Mendelssohn. Other times, the question is whether music tells a story directly (programmatic music) or stands on its own as pure, abstract expression.
Different composers also resonate with different segments of our community. Some bring relevance to contemporary conversations; others anchor us in tradition. Finding the right balance helps us engage both the heart and the intellect of our audience.
How do we balance the familiar with the new?
Every season needs a thoughtful mix.
Beloved classics help draw audiences in. New or unfamiliar works create opportunities for discovery—those “I didn’t know I needed to hear this” moments. Usually I aim for thirds in either a concert and/or over the whole of a season: New(ish) Music, Old but New Discoveries, and Beloved Repertoire.
My programming at Symphonicity has often leaned toward including accessible contemporary music. I believe this is the music of our time, and that we have an artistic responsibility to engage with it. If orchestras only look backward, future generations may never discover today’s equivalent of a “modern Beethoven.”
That responsibility sometimes means taking calculated risks—not for novelty’s sake, but for long-term artistic relevance.
Can we afford it?
This is one of the most practical—and limiting—questions.
Most 20th- and 21st-century works, especially by living composers, must be rented rather than purchased. Producing orchestral materials is expensive, and rental models help publishers and composers recoup those costs.
For orchestras, however, this means significantly higher expenses. That is why sponsorships, donations, and grants are so critical. Programming the music we want—and believe we need to hear — requires substantial financial support.
Can we actually perform it?
Every piece must be studied in advance even when it is just a possibility.
Do we have the necessary players? If a work calls for six percussionists and we typically have four, can we secure the additional musicians at the required skill level? Is there enough rehearsal time to prepare the piece to a high standard alongside other works on the program?
We also consider non-musical factors: sensitivities related to a work’s theme, a composer’s history, or other contextual concerns. These details matter and must be weighed alongside artistic merit.
And finally… is it worth it?
After balancing all of these factors—artistic vision, resources, risk, reward, and impact—we still have to ask the hardest question: Is this piece worth doing?
Sometimes we don’t truly know the answer until the final note has faded and the audience responds.
That uncertainty is part of the job.
Programming is not for the faint of heart—but when it works, it is profoundly rewarding.
In part 3, I'll discuss how we consider and select our guest artists and new composers.
Thanks for reading and see you at the concert!
CRAFTING A SYMPHONY SEASON: The Art & Heart Behind Symphonicity's Programming
Part 1: Who's Actually Making These Programming Decisions?
Part 2: How Do We Actually Pick the Music? ←You Are Here!
Part 3: How Do We Choose Guest Artists and New Composers?
Part 4: How Do Community Interests Shape Our Programming?
Part 5: What Surprising Things Influence Our Process?
Part 6: Fun Facts About the 2025-26 Season Choices
Part 7: The Heart Behind Every Decision