The Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra makes beautiful music. But one musician, who fled the Soviet Union, has been forced out on flimsy grounds, while others question the APO's management style.
Igor Arefyev fights back emotion. "Sorry," he says, embarrassed at his loss of composure. He's recalling moving into a flat in Balmoral with his wife and two sons. It was a new life, a fresh start. "The first time we have dinner, it's on the floor on newspaper."
That was in 1997. Now, that new life is shattered because, after 13 years as a viola player with the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra, he was forced to resign earlier this year.
It's a convoluted story, but the last straw was an alleged complaint about his aftershave. A complaint that epitomises what Arefyev sees as management out of control. It's astonishing, he says, because for 13 years he has always worn "expensive cologne" and no one complained. Neither have they about his wife, Liliya - a cello player in the orchestra - who wears perfume. Ridiculously, Arefyev found he had to defend himself by pointing out that he had for years put up with the rather punishing personal hygiene and wind-passing habits of the odd fellow musician at rehearsals and performances.
Hazard of the job. Farcical as all this sounds, it's become a Kafkaesque nightmare for Arefyev, turning 50 this year. In 2008 it got so bad he had a heart attack at a concert. "I had high blood pressure because of this situation - you can imagine."
Devastated, he's talking to the Herald, not because he has any hope - there's not a lot of call for orchestral viola players at his age - but because he wants people to know what's going on in Auckland's orchestra.
When the Herald first listened to his story, it sounded like just another employment dispute. One that, after mediation, has been resolved with Arefyev's resignation and the standard confidentiality agreement between the parties. But talking to other musicians, we have discovered disquiet - an all too familiar story of how easy it is to be "managed" out of a job. And how honesty and principles don't seem to count much any more.
"The orchestra has lost a really fine and very dedicated musician in Igor - he just sort of disappeared," said an APO player who spoke on condition of anonymity.
Said another: "It was a very flimsy excuse the management had to try and fire him. There were totally conflicting statements and unsubstantiated complaints. They didn't follow the procedure properly."
The musicians all said they were afraid to speak on the record. APO players are hired as independent contractors and many are concerned they don't have the same rights as employees. Rank and file - tutti - players get about $40,000 a year, a hard road for someone who has spent an entire life in the pursuit of playing beautiful music. By way of comparison, tutti players in the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, arguably of a higher standard, start at about $65,000, with allowances, travel and other benefits.
Auckland Philharmonia musicians talked about needing to "stay invisible", a climate of "divide and rule" and low morale. "It's a cynical don't-show-your-face, don't-say-anything atmosphere," said one. Said another: "Some musicians are petrified - they don't want to lose their $40,000."
Others pointed to a lack of unity and no collective bargaining power: "We don't support one another. We are quite quick at getting the axe into one another's backs. There wasn't a group of us, for example, who went to management and said, 'Where is our colleague'?"
Other concerns about APO management include claims that chief executive Barbara Glaser avoids talking to some tutti players and favours principal players. "She just cannot do people," said one musician. Another said: "Favouring the principals makes sense in some ways, but she won't even speak to the rank and file members, even to say hello." Others talked about a lack of respect and "hopeless people skills" - not just with the chief executive, but also the concertmaster and music director.
Eckehard Stier, originally from East Germany, is the music director. Musicians acknowledge he has done four fantastic concerts recently and rehearsed the orchestra well. "It's the way he does it. He shrieks and picks people out. He says, 'Follow your section principal. Your vibrato is the wrong width.' People resent it. People hate going in there. It affects nerves."
Although when someone says vibrator instead of vibrato, it does tend to undermine one's authority. Arefyev wasn't bothered - such dictatorial style is standard fare if you've played for Soviet or Eastern block orchestras.
The Herald wanted to discuss these and other matters with Glaser. She asked: "Who are the current orchestra members you have talked to?" When told they had done so under condition of anonymity for fear of losing their jobs, she said: "Oh, it's ridiculous." Later Glaser rang to say the APO had nothing to hide. She would be happy to talk some more and would include some elected musicians in the discussion. As well as the morale, communication and respect issues already mentioned, the points we wished to discuss included:
A lack of democratic process in electing board members by the APO Society (comprising the orchestra's permanent musicians).
Society views not being heard by management and not represented at board level.
Management not following proper procedure with regard to complaints.
Lack of progress on remuneration increases for rank and file musicians and towards them becoming employees rather than independent contractors.
Problems in getting/retaining principals in some sections.
The next day Glaser changed her mind: "I do not think there is much to be gained from addressing these points in detail by way of interview." She responded instead by email copied to society secretary Simon Williams and APO board member Jonathan Baker (elected by the musicians) - to indicate the response was "agreed upon by all levels of the organisation".
It's worth pointing out that last year the Auckland Philharmonia was a $7.5 million turnover organisation, sustained by just over $2 million central-government and $1.14 million local government funding. In other words, 43 per cent of its funding comes from taxpayers and Auckland ratepayers, which should make it, in part, accountable to the public for the way it's run.
It's worth noting, too, that the APO is no stranger to internal conflict. In 2004, director of BoardWorks International Graeme Nahkies was bought in to sort out a crisis in the orchestra. He wrote: "There is a low level of trust and respect - between different players; between (some) players and management; between (some) players and the board." Today, if the players the Herald spoke to are to be believed, not a lot has changed.
In response to the issue of low morale, Glaser argues the orchestra's performance standard being at an all-time high provides "an excellent barometer of morale". The players disagree, saying the high standard happens despite the problems and because of the musicians' professionalism and love of music.
"We don't want to play in a bad performance. All of us give our heart to the performance as much as we can in spite of the morale problems," said one player. Many employees in other areas of the workforce climate will feel their pain. "Whether you have humble or really stunning technique everyone has the vocation of music and you can't stop yourself, you're doing what you love doing," said another.
Glaser says the desire to raise artistic standards - driven by the
Viola player's exit leads to rumblings of orchestral disharmony
APO Chief executive Barbara Glaser (above) and music director Eckehard Stier (left).
That's what bugs me. They have kicked out a really serious musician.Philharmonia playerconcertmaster, music director and section leaders - inevitably results in some players feeling the pressure more than others. She says: "The players with whom I speak on a regular basis, across all categories of the orchestra from tutti to principals, are full of enthusiasm for what the orchestra is achieving, and there is respect throughout the organisation for every person, whether player, manager or board member, who does their best for the APO."
Glaser's view is at odds with what musicians told us. They talk of section principals unfairly blaming members of the section for their own mistakes and, in Arefyev's case, unfairly labelling him uncooperative when on one occasion he pointed out to his section leader that he was not in time with the conductor.
In May last year Herald reviewer William Dart noted of an APO concert: "Concertmaster Dimitri Atanassov and principal violist Robert Ashworth, in particular, were distinctly subpar. The first cadenza was an affront, and the whole first movement was burdened with the sort of playing one might expect from a mediocre student, not professional soloists."
As the musicians say, principals make mistakes too, but the chief executive is too quick to accept their voice over members of a section.
Musicians say management has worked constructively with some, got them to take lessons that improved them. "I just wish they would do that more often for other artistically challenged players," said one.
"It pains me to tell you this, but there are musicians in that orchestra who scarcely practise and are not always working on their technical and musical development," said another. That's what bugs me. They have kicked out a really serious musician."
Born and trained in the former Soviet Union, Arefyev has played with several orchestras, including the State Symphony and State Chamber orchestras in Azerbaijan. In 1990, when his second son was born, he was caught up in the Soviet Army's invasion of Baku. It was an awful, dangerous time.
"We were Russians in Azerbaijan. I witnessed how they threw Armenian people from fifth-floor apartment blocks to the ground and burnt them. I saw that." He fled to Turkey where he played for the Bilkent Symphony Orchestra in Ankara. Unable to get citizenship there, he decided to risk all and move to Auckland. He and Liliya had little money, few possessions and struggled to improve their English, but loved New Zealand, especially in what it provided for their sons, who have good jobs.
Both have a deep love of music. When we meet, Arefyev, dressed up for the photo, plays a sarabande by Bach. He looks enveloped in pure bliss.
Today they are disillusioned. Both are highly educated, brought up on the literature of Pushkin, Lermontov, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky - "to be honest and stand for our principles". They struggle to take on board what has happened. Informed he had complaints against him, Arefyev was never provided with written details, nor allowed to face his accusers.
One of the complaints was because he asked a conductor during a rehearsal break about a method of playing a particular piece. He also feels discriminated against. For two years he was always put on the last desk of the viola section - despite the orchestra having a rotation policy for players to move closer to the conductor.
Management raised the aftershave complaint (sent to him earlier by email) during a rehearsal break. When he and Liliya, in disbelief, tried to discuss it, Arefyev said: "Why are you doing this? You are playing with fire." The next day he had a complaint against him of threatening behaviour. What he had meant was that complaints like this were a breach of human rights. As he points out, it's the sort thing one might expect from the secret police in the former Soviet Union, but surely not in New Zealand.
The question for the APO is whether its zealous embrace of managerialism has gone too far. "We seem to get talked down to from the management. Rules are rewritten without our knowledge. Everything is at management's discretion. You get fed up after a while," said one musician. The Herald would have liked to put these specific issues to Glaser.
"Equally important is people wanting to be proud of their organisation," said another musician. "A sense of belonging, a sense of a future and of respect. Quite a lot of respect is missing."
