Gary Schocker Interview

In classical music, youthful brilliance has always been celebrated. What becomes of those whose artistry reaches its fullest expression later in life, shaped by decades of experience, struggle, and resilience? As an older gay man working in classical music and as someone who premieres and commissions new works frequently, I’ve watched the field evolve over decades. Yet it is clear that my generation of gay men faces a unique form of marginalization. We have fought for visibility, access, and artistic integrity, yet our contributions are too often overlooked and undervalued.

Many progressive arts organizations prioritize youth, often creating opportunities primarily for younger musicians. These programs frequently emphasize women or artists of color, work that is vital for promoting diversity. Yet, they often overlook older gay male performers. Meanwhile, more conservative institutions favor heteronormative or traditionally familiar models of success. For those of us at the intersection of being older, white, and gay, this results in cultural invisibility: we are, in effect, squeezed out from both sides.

In today’s musical landscape, whether interpreting contemporary works or commissioning new ones, older gay musicians can bring an unmatched emotional vocabulary. Our perspective gives modern music its humanity, grounded in lived truth. 

It is widely recognized among professional musicians that, while there are not always formal age limits, most fellowships and residencies go to performers in their 20s or early 30s. The assumption is that creativity belongs to the young. But many older artists, especially gay men whose lives and careers were disrupted by systemic homophobia, are only now stepping fully into their creative power. Modern music, with its openness to individuality and experimentation, should be the natural home for us, but institutional structures don’t yet agree.

To be clear: I fully support the celebration of youth, the advancement of women, and the recognition of racial and ethnic diversity in music. This work is vital and long overdue. My point is not to oppose them, but to highlight that older gay men who fought for visibility and inclusion, whose artistry has matured through decades of resilience, are often left out of the picture entirely. True diversity must include the wisdom of those who have endured, and who continue to create.

Modern music can be our bridge. It can make space for those whose voices are both seasoned and daring - artists who embody where we have been, and who have the courage to imagine what music can still become. The art form will only reflect the full spectrum of human creativity when it embraces endurance, resilience, and the transformative power of experience - qualities that define not only maturity, but also modernity itself.

My own work as an artist is grounded in that belief. I am the creator of Hope Will Never Be Silent, a global recital series celebrating the voices of gay, lesbian, and trans composers, composers of color, and Jewish and women composers. Inspired by Harvey Milk’s call to action, each program is a tribute and an invitation to listen to stories too often silenced. In Hope Will Never Be Silent, the flute becomes more than an instrument—it becomes a storyteller. Its voice is uniquely suited to carry the music of composers whose own voices have been marginalized or suppressed. Just as breath gives the flute its expressive life, it also breathes truth into the music of these composers, reminding us that expression itself is an act of resilience, and that hope continues to speak even when silenced.

In 2025, I also founded The Next Movement, an initiative designed to empower gay male classical musicians whose professional paths have developed later in life by fostering community, creating performance opportunities, publishing relevant perspectives, and serving as an incubator for innovative ideas that reflect and advance our shared experience.

These projects share a vision: that visibility, authenticity, and artistry are inseparable, and that modern music must not only include our stories, it must be shaped by them. The mature artist brings to contemporary performance the very qualities new music most demands: courage, curiosity, vulnerability, and the willingness to confront silence and fill it with meaning.