We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Emily Isaacson a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Emily thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. What was the most important lesson/experience you had in a job that has helped you in your creative career?

I was hired for a position I was completely unqualified for: to start the music program at Cesar Chavez Public Charter School for Public Policy, an inner-city school in Anacostia, Washington, DC. It sounded glamorous and inspiring, but the reality was far more challenging. I had $400 to teach 800 kids, each of whom received just 12 weeks of music over the entirety of middle and high school—and on top of that, I was also expected to teach public policy skills in music class. A traditional music curriculum was out of the question. I wasn’t going to teach “Hot Cross Buns” on the recorder to students who were grappling with far greater challenges: reading English, food insecurity, and the daily reality of violence and drugs in their neighborhood. On paper, this job seemed like a detour from my dream of becoming a classical conductor, but in hindsight, it was the best training I could have received. So much of what drives my work today—and the ethos of my nonprofit organizations—comes from that experience. I learned leadership, management, and how to creatively problem-solve within extreme limitations. I came to understand that the goal wasn’t to teach a musical trade, but to empower students to build a lifelong relationship with music. I taught them how to listen deeply, explore many genres, and see art and music as powerful tools for communication. I knew it was working the day a student looked up and said, “Mozart’s my homeboy.”

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I’m a conductor, producer, former professor, and artistic director—but at my core, I’m a creative problem-solver working to reimagine the role of classical music in today’s world.

I founded Classical Uprising with a bold premise: classical music must rise up, challenge outdated norms, and re-envision where, how, and for whom we create. Post-pandemic, many of us know we need to do things differently—but we’re not always sure what that looks like. My mission is to help performing arts leaders rethink their organization’s purpose, reimagine its form, and adopt practical tools to meet this moment.

My relationship with classical music began early—our family’s summer ritual was attending classical concerts every Friday night. But even as a child, the rituals of concertgoing felt strange. If music moves us, why must we sit still and hold our applause? Shouldn’t we be dancing in our seats?

That early dissonance sparked a lifelong inquiry. I pursued advanced degrees in music, but it was my work launching a music program in an underfunded D.C. charter school that taught me how to lead. With $400 to serve 800 students, I learned how to work within extreme limitations—and how to make music matter.

Around the same time, I started attending Phish concerts with my now-husband. What I experienced was transformative: pre-show parking lot scenes, costumes, hula hoops, and contagious joy. It wasn’t just about the music—it was about community, escape, wonder. And it was thriving.

When I took my first artistic director position, I brought all that experience with me. In five years, we doubled the budget, tripled the season and audience, launched youth and adult education programs, and received a major state tourism grant. But more importantly, we made classical music feel alive again.

In 2017, I founded a music festival with a guiding principle: classical music isn’t the problem—the packaging is. Most concerts are still built on norms from 125 years ago, demanding long attention spans, etiquette fluency, and three-hour time blocks. That doesn’t serve most modern audiences—especially busy families like mine.

So we changed everything. We placed great music in unexpected spaces and paired it with surprising elements—beer, yoga, dancing. People didn’t always know how to react. But their hearts opened. The music spoke.

National trends confirm what I’ve seen on the ground. In 2022, only 4.6% of U.S. adults attended a classical concert. Compare that to 17.7% for art museums and 10.3% for musical theater. Worse, Americans increasingly prefer to stay home: since 2011, the desire to go out on weekends has plummeted, even among high-propensity audiences.

This shift began long before COVID. The rise of home technology—computers, smartphones, streaming—fundamentally changed how people spend their time. The pandemic accelerated the trend, but it didn’t start it.

We can’t compete with Netflix by being slightly better than the concert down the street. We have to completely reimagine the value proposition of live performance.

To do that, we must distinguish between purpose and form. Purpose is the “why”—the emotional, social, or spiritual reason we gather. Form is the structure we build around that purpose.

Too often, the form dominates. We plan concerts the way they’ve always been done, without interrogating what they’re meant to accomplish. But if we start from purpose—whether that’s to foster belonging, build bridges, or cultivate wonder—we can create truly meaningful experiences.

I pressure-test all my ideas using the Passover Principle: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” I want audiences to leave our concerts having felt something deep and true. I want them to remember that beauty still exists. I want them to feel uplifted—and inspired to seek more of that in their lives.

At Classical Uprising, the performing arts organization I founded, we call our events “Uprisings” – musical, emotional and physical engagements that inspire our patrons to think deeply, dance wildly, sit peacefully, embrace others, and sing unabashedly.

I believe in necessary exclusion. Not every performance is for every person—but every person should be able to find a performance that feels soul-centering and unforgettable. One-size-fits-all fits no one.

That’s the challenge—and the invitation. If we dare to rethink the why and how of what we do, classical music can be more than a tradition. It can be a transformative force. A communal ritual. A space for joy, expression, and belonging.

A true uprising.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

“You’re fooling yourself if you think you’re an artist. You’ll never amount to anything.”

That’s what a mentor—someone I’d known for twenty years and co-founded a business with—began telling me. At first, I blamed myself: poor judgment, naivety, misplaced trust. But in the end, that experience became the catalyst for everything I’ve built since.

I’ve wanted to be a conductor since I was 15. After earning two master’s degrees and a doctorate, I struggled to find my footing in a field where only 6% of conductors are women. So when a well-connected mentor invited me to start a music festival with him, it felt like my big break.

And it was—until it wasn’t. The business grew quickly, and I left my university job to focus on it full-time. Then the manipulation started. First he questioned my abilities, blamed my children for my supposed lack of focus, and told me I’d never be taken seriously. Then came the betrayals. I discovered he had embezzled money, funneled funds to his son, and even tried to sabotage my events by instructing musicians not to show up or threatening not to pay them. It was by far the worst professional experience of my life. It shook my faith in the people around me. It deepened my imposter syndrome and made me question whether I would ever be good enough.

As things unraveled, I stood at a crossroads. I could take a break and focus on other parts of my life—after all, my children were just one and four. Or I could pick up the pieces and try to build something new. With encouragement from my husband, I chose the latter.

But with my husband’s encouragement, I didn’t walk away—I started something new.

I founded *Classical Uprising*, built on the belief that classical music must rise up and reimagine how we connect with people. I embraced all of who I was: a mother, a conductor, an outsider, a builder. Today, we produce 50 events a year, serve over 6,000 people, and are recording our first album.

That failure was the beginning of my ascent. I now know that no one really has it all figured out—and that the old way isn’t the only way. Bad experiences are sometimes hidden blessings.

Have any books or other resources had a big impact on you?

Theodore Adorno – On Popular Music
Adorno argues that popular music is a standardized, manipulative product of the capitalist “culture industry,” designed to pacify listeners and reinforce the status quo, rather than fostering genuine individual expression or critical thought.

Priya Parker – The Art of Gathering
How to bring people together for meaningful/memorable/effective experiences

Ruth Hartt – Culture for Hire
How can jobs-to-be-done theory make us more effective arts marketers?
“Jobs-to-be-Done Theory is a theory of innovation that is based on the economic principle that people buy products and services to get “jobs” done, i.e., to help them accomplish tasks, achieve goals and objectives, resolve and avoid problems, and to make progress in their lives.”

Aubrey Bergauer
Known for her results-driven, customer-centric, data-obsessed pursuit of changing the narrative for the performing arts

Project Unlonely – Jeremy Nobel
Insight into our new world of loneliness and social disconnection that offers solace, hope, and solutions.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.eisaacson.com/ + https://www.classicaluprising.org/
• Instagram: @eisaacso + @classicaluprise
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/emily.isaacsontzuker
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/emily-isaacson-9359a614/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbWwcRWQa4Q&t=3s
• Other: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbWwcRWQa4Q&t=3s

  https://www.eisaacson.com/press

Image Credits

Christina Wnek
Alice & Chris Ross