Concert programming is indeed a difficult craft, always trying to accomplish something for the audience and something for the musicians. So far as the audience is concerned, the process is like sandwich-making: the tasty filling must remain in the middle, surrounded by an envelope made of wholesome, not always exciting, but always graspable material. In another way, programming is a horse trade: a combination of what the audience wants and what the musical mind making the program thinks is good for them. In still another way, programming is like couture: the music played must be a suitable vehicle for the performers, making them sound—and even look—more glamorous than they otherwise might. Last, and often least, concert programs have an educational purpose: they must teach by balancing the familiar with the unfamiliar, the quickly perceived with that which takes repeated hearings to make its effect.

Styles in program-making change over time. The cry in concert administration today is “thematic” programming. On a musical level, this might mean no more than a concert made up entirely of works written in variation form. Getting further away from music itself, this approach can result in the grouping of works on the basis of similarity in the ideas that might be thought to have inspired the compositions; examples might be several works inspired by revolution, or by the legend of Don Juan. On a still higher level of ambition, a multi-year series of concerts might be devoted to playing all the works