Hello suckers...I mean loyal Wavelength subscribers and bloggie guests. The Houston Symphony is back in season. We the musicians have as usual been escaping the heat/ gallivanting around the world since you saw us last, from the grassy plains of Iowa to the volcanic crags of Mount Kilimanjaro.
A good number of Houston Symphony musicians go for 2-3 weeks to the Grand Teton Music Festival. It's a pretty light schedule there, only 4 rehearsals and 2 concerts a week, so come afternoons you can see most of the musicians on a mountain, hopping over streams, sliding down scree, running from grizzlies...One year I remember walking down a very heavily traveled, paved trail to find a group of tourists taking pictures 3 feet away from a baby grizzly. "It's OK," one Hawaiian shirt-clad woman told my rapidly retreating back, "it would've attacked by now, if it was going to." "I don't think its mama cares much about that," I muttered back, reflecting on clueless cityfolk and theories of Darwinism in general.
This year was a VERY good wildlife encounter year for me; by which I mean plenty of viewings not involving scrambling up a tree or crouching to protect my soft tasty underbelly. My dog Stella and I managed to flush out moose (meese? mooses?), foxes, snakes, and most exciting of all, a Great Grey Owl. Fellow Houston Symphony member/violinist Marina and I were hiking up to a mountain called Oliver's Peak when I saw a huge movement to the left of the trail. It was daytime, perfectly sunny and warm, and the owl with her six foot wingspan flew across the trail, paused on a branch not 2 feet from me, assessed my dog for snack potential, (found her wanting) and flew off.
"Can you believe that?" I said excitedly to Marina.
"Believe what? I had a rock in my shoe" she answered.
"...you...you didn't see it?"
"See what?"
Apparently staring at shoes has caused Marina to miss many a sighting. She told me she's missed Rod Stewart standing right next to her in Jackson, Wyoming, because she was fixated on a pair of shoes in the Jackson Bootlegger (dubbed "Bootlicker" by festival musicians).
The Rod Stewart near-sighting was confirmed by the newspaper. It's not unusual to see celebs in Jackson. Many a violist (not naming names) has spent a rehearsal conniving how to get "rescued" by Harrison Ford in his helicopter. Actually, part of the fun of concerts in the Tetons is the "spot the celeb" game. This is usually delivered in a series of urgent whispers in between movements of pieces.
"psst! Robert Wagner, 3rd row center!!"
"You mean the guy sitting next to William Shatner?"
"That's not William Shatner, that's Jon Voight!"
"Really? Maybe....hey look! Edie Falco!! Next to Bob Hope!! Hey, isn't Bob Hope dead?"
I feel sorry for the non-celeb victims of all these unconfirmed sightings. Do they wonder why everyone on stage is staring at them? Do they check their teeth for spinach? The sudden growth of a third eye?
Even better, in my opinion, are guest artists, or conductors that look like famous personalities (though maybe not any more famous than they are in their own minds). Then what you hear, sotto voce in between movements, are things like:
"Hey, I didn't know Colonel Sanders/Bob's Big Boy/Skeletor/David Hasselhoff conducts/plays the piano/violin.."
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
You know you're not in Houston when...
Greetings from the Big Apple!
It's the time of year for my yearly three week stint at New York University, where I teach and play at a String Quartet seminar. This year, a whole gaggle of Wavelength members/readers/blog contributors have come to see what all the fuss is about. Tonight, as they are attending a New York Philharmonic concert (oh right, that OTHER orchestra), I am putting together their thoughts about the city into electrons for all of you NOT here with us to enjoy.
You know you're not in Houston when...
10. "WALK" means walk, and "DON'T WALK" means haul ass.
9. The weather actually follows the meteorologists' predictions from hour to hour.
8. Aloha! You give your change to a homeless person's Hawaii fund.
7. The public transportation is efficient and you can't make an illegal left turn into it.
6. You plan your outfit according to how many blocks you have to walk.
5. The roaches have roaches.
4. Jaywalking is not a crime, its a way of life.
3. Enchiladas, bad; bagels, good.
2. You can buy a knock-off copy of the fabulous purse that the transvestite hobo is carrying from the street vendor down the block.
1. You call someone a "Symphomaniac" and they deck you.
Hope to see y'all/youse guys next week in Houston at Jones Hall for the Led Zeppelin or Disney concert!
It's the time of year for my yearly three week stint at New York University, where I teach and play at a String Quartet seminar. This year, a whole gaggle of Wavelength members/readers/blog contributors have come to see what all the fuss is about. Tonight, as they are attending a New York Philharmonic concert (oh right, that OTHER orchestra), I am putting together their thoughts about the city into electrons for all of you NOT here with us to enjoy.
You know you're not in Houston when...
10. "WALK" means walk, and "DON'T WALK" means haul ass.
9. The weather actually follows the meteorologists' predictions from hour to hour.
8. Aloha! You give your change to a homeless person's Hawaii fund.
7. The public transportation is efficient and you can't make an illegal left turn into it.
6. You plan your outfit according to how many blocks you have to walk.
5. The roaches have roaches.
4. Jaywalking is not a crime, its a way of life.
3. Enchiladas, bad; bagels, good.
2. You can buy a knock-off copy of the fabulous purse that the transvestite hobo is carrying from the street vendor down the block.
1. You call someone a "Symphomaniac" and they deck you.
Hope to see y'all/youse guys next week in Houston at Jones Hall for the Led Zeppelin or Disney concert!
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Idol, Part 3: Ima Hogg Competition
Well kids, it's a few hours before the finals of the Houston Symphony Ima Hogg competition. This is the second year we have done it "American-Idol" style, holding the finals in public and letting the audience participate in the voting. Also for the second year, the finalists (four of them) are accompanied by the Houston Symphony during the final round. This was a big hit last year and seems like it will be even bigger this year.
The prizes are not as monetarily big as AI, but are prestigious enough in our small classical world: the first prize winner is given a concert with the Houston Symphony in Jones Hall and a small cash award of $5000. The second prize is given $2,500 and a summer outdoor performance with the Houston Symphony. The third prize is $1,000, no concert, ditto the fourth prize, with a check for $500.
Really, having made it to the finals is a win in itself. Especially now that all finalists get to play the "Finalist" concert with the orchestra, and a good conductor, in an acoustically very nice hall like Rice's Stude Hall. Way better than the underwater muffled sounds of Jones Hall, and way, way better than playing an amplified concert outside at Miller Theatre in the dead heat of a Houston summer.
I can't give my picks out for the winners- I don't want to jinx it. Suffice to say that last year, the orchestra favorite did not win first. We think it was because her piece was not as technically demanding as the person that won first. Which really opens up a can of worms: do you give more points to someone who plays an "easy" piece with great beauty and artistry, or someone who plays a "hard" piece, maybe not as perfectly or beautifully, but give them points for having the cojones to do it in the first place?
This is the big problem with all competitions, any competition. It happens in the Olympics, on American Idol, on Dancing With the Stars.
This year the repertoire played by the four finalists are not as disparate in terms of technicality, it should be interesting to see what happens. I think the big question will be one of instrument popularity. Tune in on KUHF to the live radio broadcast and vote for your favorite on the KUHF website or the HS website!
The prizes are not as monetarily big as AI, but are prestigious enough in our small classical world: the first prize winner is given a concert with the Houston Symphony in Jones Hall and a small cash award of $5000. The second prize is given $2,500 and a summer outdoor performance with the Houston Symphony. The third prize is $1,000, no concert, ditto the fourth prize, with a check for $500.
Really, having made it to the finals is a win in itself. Especially now that all finalists get to play the "Finalist" concert with the orchestra, and a good conductor, in an acoustically very nice hall like Rice's Stude Hall. Way better than the underwater muffled sounds of Jones Hall, and way, way better than playing an amplified concert outside at Miller Theatre in the dead heat of a Houston summer.
I can't give my picks out for the winners- I don't want to jinx it. Suffice to say that last year, the orchestra favorite did not win first. We think it was because her piece was not as technically demanding as the person that won first. Which really opens up a can of worms: do you give more points to someone who plays an "easy" piece with great beauty and artistry, or someone who plays a "hard" piece, maybe not as perfectly or beautifully, but give them points for having the cojones to do it in the first place?
This is the big problem with all competitions, any competition. It happens in the Olympics, on American Idol, on Dancing With the Stars.
This year the repertoire played by the four finalists are not as disparate in terms of technicality, it should be interesting to see what happens. I think the big question will be one of instrument popularity. Tune in on KUHF to the live radio broadcast and vote for your favorite on the KUHF website or the HS website!
Friday, May 04, 2007
Legends
The classical music world lost a beloved figure on April 27 with the death of Russian cellist and conductor Mstislav Rostropovich.
Many of us string player types grew up listening to his many recordings. For me, it was his Tchaikovsky "Variations on a Roccoco Theme." Later on, I not only had the pleasure of playing in an orchestra where he was the soloist, but working with him as a conductor (he was the conductor, I was the violist).
In 1990, I was the only American representing Germany in the "Deutsches-Sowietisches Jungendorchester (German-Soviet Youth Orchestra)," in a residency in Portugal collaborating with the Kirov Ballet. Slava was the conductor and part-producer of this production of Prokoviev's Romeo and Juliet. The shows took place in an ancient Roman amphitheater just over the Spanish border in Badajoz. The orchestra was seated on stage behind the action. Because of that (or because of some sadistic/manic Russian costumer), we had to wear these really hot and heavy monk's robes. Another crazy thing about the production was that the dress rehearsals had to take place at 2:30 a.m. "Because of the heat..the dancers...your robes..." was the reason we were given. It seemed strange at the time, but not necessarily much stranger than many things seem when you are in your early 20's. I remember on the day (night?) before the dress rehearsal we were advised to go to bed early so we could be rested in time to get up and meet the bus at 1 a.m. Apparently no one told Slava this, because he started wandering around at 9 PM looking for musicians to have a rehearsal with. Or go drinking with, I can't remember..it's all a vodka soaked blur at this point.
There were a few things that stick in my mind about the first performance. The last note of the piece is one chord that is held for a few minutes. Us monks were astonished though when our beloved Slava stopped conducting right at the beginning of the note, walked downstage to the inert bodies of Romeo and Juliet (who had died within inches of each other, arms outstretched towards each other but not touching), grabbed their hands and clasped them together on his knee, his head bowed over it, to tumultuous applause. This way, way, over-the-top melodramatic moment was diminished a few moments later when a section of the super-duper VIP (read: countesses and such) seating collapsed into the ancient subterranean Roman gladiator waiting rooms over which it had been shoddily constructed. For a moment the Maestro was confused, thinking the screams were ones of approval and adoration, but sadly, they were screams of panic and trampling.
Luckily, no one was seriously hurt and the production continued its run to huge, un-collapsing crowds and greater adulations.
Many of us string player types grew up listening to his many recordings. For me, it was his Tchaikovsky "Variations on a Roccoco Theme." Later on, I not only had the pleasure of playing in an orchestra where he was the soloist, but working with him as a conductor (he was the conductor, I was the violist).
In 1990, I was the only American representing Germany in the "Deutsches-Sowietisches Jungendorchester (German-Soviet Youth Orchestra)," in a residency in Portugal collaborating with the Kirov Ballet. Slava was the conductor and part-producer of this production of Prokoviev's Romeo and Juliet. The shows took place in an ancient Roman amphitheater just over the Spanish border in Badajoz. The orchestra was seated on stage behind the action. Because of that (or because of some sadistic/manic Russian costumer), we had to wear these really hot and heavy monk's robes. Another crazy thing about the production was that the dress rehearsals had to take place at 2:30 a.m. "Because of the heat..the dancers...your robes..." was the reason we were given. It seemed strange at the time, but not necessarily much stranger than many things seem when you are in your early 20's. I remember on the day (night?) before the dress rehearsal we were advised to go to bed early so we could be rested in time to get up and meet the bus at 1 a.m. Apparently no one told Slava this, because he started wandering around at 9 PM looking for musicians to have a rehearsal with. Or go drinking with, I can't remember..it's all a vodka soaked blur at this point.
There were a few things that stick in my mind about the first performance. The last note of the piece is one chord that is held for a few minutes. Us monks were astonished though when our beloved Slava stopped conducting right at the beginning of the note, walked downstage to the inert bodies of Romeo and Juliet (who had died within inches of each other, arms outstretched towards each other but not touching), grabbed their hands and clasped them together on his knee, his head bowed over it, to tumultuous applause. This way, way, over-the-top melodramatic moment was diminished a few moments later when a section of the super-duper VIP (read: countesses and such) seating collapsed into the ancient subterranean Roman gladiator waiting rooms over which it had been shoddily constructed. For a moment the Maestro was confused, thinking the screams were ones of approval and adoration, but sadly, they were screams of panic and trampling.
Luckily, no one was seriously hurt and the production continued its run to huge, un-collapsing crowds and greater adulations.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Toot our own Glayvin!!
At the end of a concert, unless things have gone horribly, horribly wrong, there are usually three curtain calls. The first (technically a bow and not a curtain call), happens at the conclusion of the last note of the evening. Ideally, as the reverberations die away, there is an expectant silence because you, the audience are so entranced by the mood that we, the performers, have created, that it takes a while for you to come back to the real world. Inevitably though, there is someone that is either so bursting with enthusiasm, or has ants in the pants /“Jimmy legs,” or just wants a solo of his own (I say “his” not in the standard sense of saying “his” for “anyone’s”, but because it really always is a man)..and breaks the silence early by screaming “BRAVO!!”
The conductor, flinging the sweat from his brow, wearily but with an air of immense satisfaction, will turn to the audience to acknowledge his rightful due, and then motions for the entire orchestra to stand.
That is the first.
The second occurs after the conductor has walked off stage and then on stage again. This is usually where sections or individual players are given special recognition. The first horn, the first flute, trombone, concertmaster…all people who individually contributed solos in some form or another that were an integral part of the performance.
The third can happen in a variety of ways. Sometimes, the conductor comes out, and motions the whole orchestra to stand again. This is a very delicate point, because it is at this moment that what most conductors REALLY expect is the orchestra to do is stay seated and motion to him; in effect saying “no, really, it’s all due to your genius that you we sounded good...please, take a solo bow…you deserve it.” And sometimes we DO mean that very sentence, and sometimes we don’t. Not the least bit. But in any case, after the fake-polite “no, you’re great” “no, STOP, it’s YOU that are great” back-and-forth, the conductor usually does get sections of the orchestra to stand again.
This time around, it is often the wind or brass sections that elicit hoots and hollers from the audience. By the time the string section stands up (last), there are no more special hoots, bravos, yays, or anything. And therein lies the problem.
You see, we are usually the only section that has been playing THE WHOLE TIME. We have more notes. WE are the bulk of the orchestra. We may not have had that beautiful mournful death tune in the second movement, or the brave hero hunting theme in the last, but we have sat there during the last two and a half hours gamely sawing away while our non string colleagues counted rests and waited for their scant moments of glory. And when we don’t hear a rise in the cheering when we-- the guts, the heart, of the orchestra stands—well, it just plain hurts.
Some string players in other orchestras actually shout “BRAVO” as they stand up, just to give the audience a little hint. We in the viola section tried that for a week, then realized that really, it’s all about the noise you make, so now in the words of Professor Frink on the Simpsons, we stand, smile, and shout “GLAYVIN!!”
The conductor, flinging the sweat from his brow, wearily but with an air of immense satisfaction, will turn to the audience to acknowledge his rightful due, and then motions for the entire orchestra to stand.
That is the first.
The second occurs after the conductor has walked off stage and then on stage again. This is usually where sections or individual players are given special recognition. The first horn, the first flute, trombone, concertmaster…all people who individually contributed solos in some form or another that were an integral part of the performance.
The third can happen in a variety of ways. Sometimes, the conductor comes out, and motions the whole orchestra to stand again. This is a very delicate point, because it is at this moment that what most conductors REALLY expect is the orchestra to do is stay seated and motion to him; in effect saying “no, really, it’s all due to your genius that you we sounded good...please, take a solo bow…you deserve it.” And sometimes we DO mean that very sentence, and sometimes we don’t. Not the least bit. But in any case, after the fake-polite “no, you’re great” “no, STOP, it’s YOU that are great” back-and-forth, the conductor usually does get sections of the orchestra to stand again.
This time around, it is often the wind or brass sections that elicit hoots and hollers from the audience. By the time the string section stands up (last), there are no more special hoots, bravos, yays, or anything. And therein lies the problem.
You see, we are usually the only section that has been playing THE WHOLE TIME. We have more notes. WE are the bulk of the orchestra. We may not have had that beautiful mournful death tune in the second movement, or the brave hero hunting theme in the last, but we have sat there during the last two and a half hours gamely sawing away while our non string colleagues counted rests and waited for their scant moments of glory. And when we don’t hear a rise in the cheering when we-- the guts, the heart, of the orchestra stands—well, it just plain hurts.
Some string players in other orchestras actually shout “BRAVO” as they stand up, just to give the audience a little hint. We in the viola section tried that for a week, then realized that really, it’s all about the noise you make, so now in the words of Professor Frink on the Simpsons, we stand, smile, and shout “GLAYVIN!!”
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Idol, Part 2: Kiju, the Violin Playing Girl
As promised, think American Idol, only nerdier, and with a happy ending......here is her take on her audition to win the job at the Houston Symphony...written by our newest violinist, Kiju Joh, who comes to us from Chicago.
Check out the comments from the last blog- we may have (though you never know on line, do you) attracted commentary from the subject of the last blog, one of the hosts of "America's Hot Musician." You be the judge!!
Also, speaking of my cat being able to play the piano, here is a great video of Nora, the Piano Playing Cat.
From Kiju:
I must start off by admitting that I never thought I would actually get this job, much less any job! Even though I had gained a sense of routine and familiarity of the audition process through taking many auditions, the audition experience still never got easier.
Generally in auditions, I have to deal with the stress that I bring upon myself, which in itself is enough. It could be triggered by a simple case of nerves or anxiety over the audition repertoire. i.e. “I hope they don’t ask for that excerpt” or “I hope that I nail that really fast and high run in Don Juan!” If on top of that, an audition is poorly run, it only adds to the stress level. It makes it more difficult to focus on the task at hand, which is simply just to perform my very best.
(The basic rundown of the audition is this: you see the ad for the position in a trade paper. you write away for the list of music (excerpts) the orchestra wants to hear, and then the next month or so of your life, and those living with you, is a living hell. When you arrive at the audition, there are usually 3 rounds that eliminate people as they go higher. During the first round, you may play as little as 3 minutes before being permanently dismissed, which can be very disappointing after spending all that time and money on airfare and hotel!! By the time/if you get to the final round, the committee (comprised of 7 musicians and the conductor) is asking for more music and may have you play with other members of the orchestra, or sightread some unfamiliar music. My feeling has always been that by the time you get to the finals, it is just a question of if your style fits the orchestra for which you are auditioning.--Rita)
In Houston, the staff running the audition was very helpful and friendly, which automatically put me at ease. I really appreciated the amount of time that I had in my own private warm-up room (or in some cases, practice room!), which was an extremely generous amount of 25-30 minutes as opposed to the 5-10 minutes which I was given in other auditions. This allowed me ample time to decompress and refocus in a less hectic setting. On top of that, everything was running pretty much on schedule, which meant that I didn’t have to wait a long time and get tired or cold before stepping on stage to play. These small details, in total, made a huge difference.
I spoke to some of the staff running the audition afterwards, and they informed me that they also had been through the grind of taking many auditions. Having their own audition experiences allowed them to offer us the comforts, considerations and conveniences that they would have hoped for or expected themselves.
Besides the actual audition experience itself, I was especially impressed with events that happened afterwards. After finding out that I was offered the position, I was immediately introduced to some of the audition committee, the general manager, and even the music director. It was very late at night, and I was aware that they had to sit through almost six hours of auditions in addition to having attended two long rehearsals earlier that day. Despite a very long and arduous day, they still stuck around and took the time to welcome and congratulate me.
Everyone in the symphony whom I have met so far has been so friendly and warm. I was taken out on very nice welcome lunches, invited to attend a symphony concert, and I’ve even been offered help in finding places to live when I move down in the spring. Rita has especially been one of my biggest supporters of getting this position. I was so happy that she was there to share this exciting experience with me! I am very much looking forward to becoming a part of this amazing group!
Check out the comments from the last blog- we may have (though you never know on line, do you) attracted commentary from the subject of the last blog, one of the hosts of "America's Hot Musician." You be the judge!!
Also, speaking of my cat being able to play the piano, here is a great video of Nora, the Piano Playing Cat.
From Kiju:
I must start off by admitting that I never thought I would actually get this job, much less any job! Even though I had gained a sense of routine and familiarity of the audition process through taking many auditions, the audition experience still never got easier.
Generally in auditions, I have to deal with the stress that I bring upon myself, which in itself is enough. It could be triggered by a simple case of nerves or anxiety over the audition repertoire. i.e. “I hope they don’t ask for that excerpt” or “I hope that I nail that really fast and high run in Don Juan!” If on top of that, an audition is poorly run, it only adds to the stress level. It makes it more difficult to focus on the task at hand, which is simply just to perform my very best.
(The basic rundown of the audition is this: you see the ad for the position in a trade paper. you write away for the list of music (excerpts) the orchestra wants to hear, and then the next month or so of your life, and those living with you, is a living hell. When you arrive at the audition, there are usually 3 rounds that eliminate people as they go higher. During the first round, you may play as little as 3 minutes before being permanently dismissed, which can be very disappointing after spending all that time and money on airfare and hotel!! By the time/if you get to the final round, the committee (comprised of 7 musicians and the conductor) is asking for more music and may have you play with other members of the orchestra, or sightread some unfamiliar music. My feeling has always been that by the time you get to the finals, it is just a question of if your style fits the orchestra for which you are auditioning.--Rita)
In Houston, the staff running the audition was very helpful and friendly, which automatically put me at ease. I really appreciated the amount of time that I had in my own private warm-up room (or in some cases, practice room!), which was an extremely generous amount of 25-30 minutes as opposed to the 5-10 minutes which I was given in other auditions. This allowed me ample time to decompress and refocus in a less hectic setting. On top of that, everything was running pretty much on schedule, which meant that I didn’t have to wait a long time and get tired or cold before stepping on stage to play. These small details, in total, made a huge difference.
I spoke to some of the staff running the audition afterwards, and they informed me that they also had been through the grind of taking many auditions. Having their own audition experiences allowed them to offer us the comforts, considerations and conveniences that they would have hoped for or expected themselves.
Besides the actual audition experience itself, I was especially impressed with events that happened afterwards. After finding out that I was offered the position, I was immediately introduced to some of the audition committee, the general manager, and even the music director. It was very late at night, and I was aware that they had to sit through almost six hours of auditions in addition to having attended two long rehearsals earlier that day. Despite a very long and arduous day, they still stuck around and took the time to welcome and congratulate me.
Everyone in the symphony whom I have met so far has been so friendly and warm. I was taken out on very nice welcome lunches, invited to attend a symphony concert, and I’ve even been offered help in finding places to live when I move down in the spring. Rita has especially been one of my biggest supporters of getting this position. I was so happy that she was there to share this exciting experience with me! I am very much looking forward to becoming a part of this amazing group!
Friday, March 02, 2007
Idol, part 1
Are you an American Idol junkie? I have days when I can watch it and days when I can't. Sometimes it is just a little TOO painful. Like the prelims, when the show's producers decide that bad talent makes for good TV. Especially painful this season were those two guys from Seattle. (Speaking of painful, what happened to that Hung guy? ) Is it just plain old human nature rearing its ugly head when the most popular entertainment is showcasing the misfortunate/pathetically untalented/embarassing/misfits of society? Ah, for the good old days of gladiators and court jesters. Eh? Lion's den anyone?
I just found out about a new "Idol"-like show that started on Youtube but is now going to be aired on Comcast channels like O!xygen across the country. It is called "America's Hot Musician." Like American Idol, but for instrumentalists. I heard that a colleaugue from the National Symphony in D.C. has just signed on as the third judge. Thank God for that-after viewing just the first episode (with mounting horror) on Youtube, I came to at least two conclusions: 1) with only two judges, the voting process is severely flawed; and 2)sounding like Randy Jackson does not make you a Randy Jackson. The producer/judge/Randy Jackson counterpart, Gregory Charles Royal on the show SEEMS to have decent credentials but lost all credibility with me when he passed on to the next round a tone-deaf guitarist with the words "you just need to be relaxed, I want you to come back." My cat could tune the guitar better than that guy. And the first season Judge no.2, a mid-west high school music teacher(!?!?!?!), former Miss Minnesota Kari Heisler, is certainly no Paula Abdul, though at least she voted no on the tone deaf guy (it only takes one vote to get passed to the next round-see above conclusions). But it doesn't matter, because if you come on time, are breathing and can sit upright for at least 30 seconds on this show, you get passed on by Charles "I got my limits, I got my limits" Royal who must be desperate, really, really really really desperate for material.
Simon Cowell, where are you?
The winners get a recording contract- which in this day of Garage Band and cheap digital home studios, doesn't seem like such a prize. But hey, everyone's gotta have their Warhol 15 minutes, and given the wealth of reality programming, I mean EVERYONE.
Tune in next week for a segment of real competition in the Classical music world, where the prize is a job in a major symphony orchestra. No- not some kind of nerdy "Apprentice," but a real account of the audition to win the latest violin opening at the Houston Symphony, written by the winner.
I just found out about a new "Idol"-like show that started on Youtube but is now going to be aired on Comcast channels like O!xygen across the country. It is called "America's Hot Musician." Like American Idol, but for instrumentalists. I heard that a colleaugue from the National Symphony in D.C. has just signed on as the third judge. Thank God for that-after viewing just the first episode (with mounting horror) on Youtube, I came to at least two conclusions: 1) with only two judges, the voting process is severely flawed; and 2)sounding like Randy Jackson does not make you a Randy Jackson. The producer/judge/Randy Jackson counterpart, Gregory Charles Royal on the show SEEMS to have decent credentials but lost all credibility with me when he passed on to the next round a tone-deaf guitarist with the words "you just need to be relaxed, I want you to come back." My cat could tune the guitar better than that guy. And the first season Judge no.2, a mid-west high school music teacher(!?!?!?!), former Miss Minnesota Kari Heisler, is certainly no Paula Abdul, though at least she voted no on the tone deaf guy (it only takes one vote to get passed to the next round-see above conclusions). But it doesn't matter, because if you come on time, are breathing and can sit upright for at least 30 seconds on this show, you get passed on by Charles "I got my limits, I got my limits" Royal who must be desperate, really, really really really desperate for material.
Simon Cowell, where are you?
The winners get a recording contract- which in this day of Garage Band and cheap digital home studios, doesn't seem like such a prize. But hey, everyone's gotta have their Warhol 15 minutes, and given the wealth of reality programming, I mean EVERYONE.
Tune in next week for a segment of real competition in the Classical music world, where the prize is a job in a major symphony orchestra. No- not some kind of nerdy "Apprentice," but a real account of the audition to win the latest violin opening at the Houston Symphony, written by the winner.
Friday, January 26, 2007
The story is...
Ever notice when you go to the movies, theater, opera, or even symphony, that certain themes get repeated? For example: boy meets girl, boy gets girl, girl decides she wants nothing to do with boy and becomes a pro wrestler... Someone said (besides me) that there really are only four stories that get told , with variations, over and over.
I'm a believer in this theory, which also works for most chord progressions. Especially in pop music. Basically you only need to know three chords on the guitar to play 75% of what's out there. The challenge for the performer/interpreter is to make the variations interesting, and for the listener to figure out which songs have exactly the same chords so you can segue from one song to another and back. It's a fun game!! We do it all the time in rehearsal. It's bad if you're one of those people that get tunes stuck in your head for days though, like me. After the last Bruckner concert, I had "Try to Remember" from "The Fantasticks" running around in my head for a week. Crap, it's there now.
Here's a great story by Mandy, a wavelength blog reader and a new student of mine!! It goes with the Concerto for Viola by JC Bach/Casadesus
Her first assigment with me actually was to write a story of what she thought the first movement said to her, and then to try and communicate that on her viola. I found the story totally genius!!
I'm a believer in this theory, which also works for most chord progressions. Especially in pop music. Basically you only need to know three chords on the guitar to play 75% of what's out there. The challenge for the performer/interpreter is to make the variations interesting, and for the listener to figure out which songs have exactly the same chords so you can segue from one song to another and back. It's a fun game!! We do it all the time in rehearsal. It's bad if you're one of those people that get tunes stuck in your head for days though, like me. After the last Bruckner concert, I had "Try to Remember" from "The Fantasticks" running around in my head for a week. Crap, it's there now.
Here's a great story by Mandy, a wavelength blog reader and a new student of mine!! It goes with the Concerto for Viola by JC Bach/Casadesus
Her first assigment with me actually was to write a story of what she thought the first movement said to her, and then to try and communicate that on her viola. I found the story totally genius!!
Once upon a time, a woman loved a man. John, the typical hero, stood tall with muscles bulging from his shirt and a girl always on his side. There was one girl who followed him more than most girls, and her beauty outshone her weird-stalkerish personality. The beautiful girl, Cassidy, also had numerous men on her side, but like most girls, Cassidy enjoyed the chase and went for the only boy in town who didn’t like her: John.
Their conversations took place as follows: “Oh, I am the man and I can do it all!”
“I love you! I love you! Oh, I love you!”
“I don’t care because you are a stalker!”
“I love you! I love you! Oh, I love you! I just want to know one thing!”
“Let me hear it. Just let me hear it!”
“Why don’t you love me?”
“You’re a weird stalkerish freak”
“But I am beautiful and would do anything for you for the rest of time!”
“I don’t know, don’t know, don’t know, don’t know.
“ I love you, I love you!!! I just love you, I love you!”
“I will marry you with one condition: that you don’t stalk me anymore!”
“Ok, I can do that! It won’t be too hard! I’m John’s wife!”
They were soon married, but their egocentric personalities clashed which caused discord and atonal melodic lines.
One day, Cassidy, while on her weekly grocery run, had a terrible daydream when returning from the store. She dreamed of John and having kids but then strife! John was cheating on her with her sister! She ran back to the house, yelled, screamed and hit John with all her might, but he assured that he, in fact, did not love her sister but loved her more than anything, even his muscles. Cassidy kept her promise and did not stalk John anymore. Her sister was ugly anyway. They had ten kids and grew old together. By the time they were eighty, they often reminisced about their younger years, but because they were old and forgot, they often argued about what actually took place. Their one final argument ended both of their lives, but their love still lives on (in crazy young lovers).
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
The little match orchestra
Preface: I'm no Scrooge during the holidays. My house is promptly decked with boughs of holly, blinky fiber optic lights, and tons of friggin' cheer immediately in the days after Thanksgiving. But being in the "biz" does expose one to an inordinate amount of repetition as we kick off the holidays for thousands of you out there. So we may play jazz instead of Jingle Bells on our stereos, and have a fondness for hot buttered rum. But hey- Happy Friggin' Holidays, and all the best in the New Year!!
Grinchy Holiday Musings:
Shopping in a store playing holiday music: Has anyone done a study of professional musicians' spending habits during the holidays? I bet catalog/internet sales are disproportionally WAY WAY up compared to other employees in other fields, with the possible exception of retail employees. Ah, the bliss of shopping in merciful holiday jingle-free silence with only the accompaniment of your fingers click,click, clicking away.
Dining in a restaurant playing holiday music: One time a bunch of us went out to eat at the end of a weekend of 6 Christmas Pops concerts. Not surprisingly, the soundtrack playing at the restaurant contained about 90% of the program we had done. Luckily, the manager was sympathetic to our request to change the music to something else. "What," he asked, "you girls in retail?"
Conductors with big heads and no arms: No, this is not some snide figurative conductor joke. I HAVE been conducted many a time by Santa (big head and belly) and Frosty the Snowman (big head, no arms). Frosty's the stuff of nightmares...those soulless licorice eyes staring at you...and as to the beat, are you supposed to follow the claw-like tree branch arm, or the carrot nose? And all that wet, wet snow being flung everywhere, landing on your instrument, eating away the varnish... Actually, I have a fond memory of the last time we were conducted by Frosty because the very next person to conduct us was Former President, Nobel Peace Prize winner Jimmy Carter. And he's not scary at all. Smiley and full of peanutty goodness.
The little match orchestra: Remember that really sad story of The Little Match Girl? If only the Houston Symphony had matches to burn on stage last Thursday when we were playing outside at the Woodlands Pavilion as the cold front was coming in. We had heaters blowing through duct pipes at our feet, but remember in science class? Hot air rises, cold air sinks? With cold air coming onto the stage from a huge open space- the outdoors- and hot air being blown onto the stage at floor level, a circular air/wind motion was created, in effect warm and cold fronts. The hot air circulating upward and forcing the cold air to circulate downward made for extreme weather conditions on stage. Instruments were cracking, cold, stiff muscles were cramping, and viruses were taking hold. To make matters worse, the backdrop was of giant snowflakes. For this Little Match Orchestra, perhaps chestnuts roasting on an open fire would have been a warmer choice.
Grinchy Holiday Musings:
Shopping in a store playing holiday music: Has anyone done a study of professional musicians' spending habits during the holidays? I bet catalog/internet sales are disproportionally WAY WAY up compared to other employees in other fields, with the possible exception of retail employees. Ah, the bliss of shopping in merciful holiday jingle-free silence with only the accompaniment of your fingers click,click, clicking away.
Dining in a restaurant playing holiday music: One time a bunch of us went out to eat at the end of a weekend of 6 Christmas Pops concerts. Not surprisingly, the soundtrack playing at the restaurant contained about 90% of the program we had done. Luckily, the manager was sympathetic to our request to change the music to something else. "What," he asked, "you girls in retail?"
Conductors with big heads and no arms: No, this is not some snide figurative conductor joke. I HAVE been conducted many a time by Santa (big head and belly) and Frosty the Snowman (big head, no arms). Frosty's the stuff of nightmares...those soulless licorice eyes staring at you...and as to the beat, are you supposed to follow the claw-like tree branch arm, or the carrot nose? And all that wet, wet snow being flung everywhere, landing on your instrument, eating away the varnish... Actually, I have a fond memory of the last time we were conducted by Frosty because the very next person to conduct us was Former President, Nobel Peace Prize winner Jimmy Carter. And he's not scary at all. Smiley and full of peanutty goodness.
The little match orchestra: Remember that really sad story of The Little Match Girl? If only the Houston Symphony had matches to burn on stage last Thursday when we were playing outside at the Woodlands Pavilion as the cold front was coming in. We had heaters blowing through duct pipes at our feet, but remember in science class? Hot air rises, cold air sinks? With cold air coming onto the stage from a huge open space- the outdoors- and hot air being blown onto the stage at floor level, a circular air/wind motion was created, in effect warm and cold fronts. The hot air circulating upward and forcing the cold air to circulate downward made for extreme weather conditions on stage. Instruments were cracking, cold, stiff muscles were cramping, and viruses were taking hold. To make matters worse, the backdrop was of giant snowflakes. For this Little Match Orchestra, perhaps chestnuts roasting on an open fire would have been a warmer choice.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Pass the yams
Since this is the week of Thanksgiving and the start of all the traditional holiday festivities, I thought I'd demystify some of the common traditions that exist in a symphony orchestra; and more specifically, the string section.
Besides being divided into first violins, second violins, violas, cellos, and basses, we are also divided between INSIDE and OUTSIDE. This means we sometimes have to play different "divisi" parts in the music. In addition, the "inside" players are the ones that usually have to turn the pages while the "outside" players are still playing. The inside players also traditionally write things in the parts at the request of the conductor or section leader (doodling in the part, while frowned upon by the Orchestra Librarian, is done by either player as well as hopefully erased by either player). Said requests (i.e. "slower" "faster" "softer" "louder" etc) are written either in Italian (most common), English, German or French, depending on the composer of the piece, or the spoken language of the orchestra. There are also certain non verbal markings, untaught in music school, that have become traditional over time. These range from arrows pointing forward or backward for "speed up" or "slow down", eyeglasses for "look up at the conductor, you @#&*!!," slashes for figuring out rhythms, and my favorite, the all-purpose squiggle, which can usually mean either "slow down" or "look up." Other common doodles I've seen in music over the years are usually conductor-related and violent, involving guns, knives, skull-and-crossbones, and dead smiley faces/hangmen.
Other interesting string player traditions you may see in a concert: the old switcheroo, the quick change/sneak off, the bow tapping, and the spin. The "old switcheroo" occurs when either the concertmaster (or any other principal string player) or the violin soloist has broken something, most commonly a string. If it is a string broken by the concertmaster, he/she will switch his/her violin with his/her stand partner's violin (the guy on the "inside"). Then, depending on what kind of a piece is being played and how close to the end of the concert it is, the stand partner can either elect to heroically play the fiddle with 3 strings, or pass it back to the rear of the section. In the rear of the section usually sits the musician that carries the spare strings for such an emergency. This musician/pit crew guy will pass his/her instrument up to the 2nd chair player, and then quickly replace the string. The switcheroo gets even more complicated when it is the soloist, for then the change is with the Concertmaster/principal string player, setting the whole above routine in motion but adding an extra player to the mix. Also, the pit crew guy in the back doing the change then has the added anxiety of having to change Mr. Bigshot Soloist's Million Dollar Stradivarius, quickly and without scratching or dropping it, knowing the soloist desperately wants nothing more than their own instrument back as soon as possible, basically having the FATE OF THE ENTIRE CONCERT IN HIS HANDS....
The "quick change/sneak off" is what happens when the pit crew guy forgets to/doesn't bring extra strings on stage and so then has to sneak off unobtrusively with 3000 people watching to make the change backstage.
"Bow tapping" is how we applaud soloists or anyone needing validation but can't use our hands because they are full of instruments. It looks weird at first and makes absolutely no noise, since we are just waving our bows in the air.
The "spin" happens usually in the lower strings (cellos/basses) but also in the violas but hardly ever in the violins. In the cellos/basses, it involves twirling the instrument at the endpin while holding it lightly at the neck. In the violins/violas, its slightly more difficult and scary because we don't have that endpin and so must form a closed circuit with the thumb and 1st or 2nd finger of our left hand and then use another finger and a wrist flick for the impetus to twirl it mid air and not drop it. This could explain why most high-strung (ha-ha-- get it? High -STRUNG… their strings are higher so...ah, forget it) violinists WON'T do it and laid back, thrill-seeking violists, will. WHEN do we do it? Well, you just know in your bones when the right moment comes along and a little spin is needed for emphasis. One spot where it always happens traditionally, throughout the world, is rehearsal letter J in Leroy Anderson's "Sleigh Ride."
Any questions about other mystifying traditions you see on stage? Let me know- and have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Besides being divided into first violins, second violins, violas, cellos, and basses, we are also divided between INSIDE and OUTSIDE. This means we sometimes have to play different "divisi" parts in the music. In addition, the "inside" players are the ones that usually have to turn the pages while the "outside" players are still playing. The inside players also traditionally write things in the parts at the request of the conductor or section leader (doodling in the part, while frowned upon by the Orchestra Librarian, is done by either player as well as hopefully erased by either player). Said requests (i.e. "slower" "faster" "softer" "louder" etc) are written either in Italian (most common), English, German or French, depending on the composer of the piece, or the spoken language of the orchestra. There are also certain non verbal markings, untaught in music school, that have become traditional over time. These range from arrows pointing forward or backward for "speed up" or "slow down", eyeglasses for "look up at the conductor, you @#&*!!," slashes for figuring out rhythms, and my favorite, the all-purpose squiggle, which can usually mean either "slow down" or "look up." Other common doodles I've seen in music over the years are usually conductor-related and violent, involving guns, knives, skull-and-crossbones, and dead smiley faces/hangmen.
Other interesting string player traditions you may see in a concert: the old switcheroo, the quick change/sneak off, the bow tapping, and the spin. The "old switcheroo" occurs when either the concertmaster (or any other principal string player) or the violin soloist has broken something, most commonly a string. If it is a string broken by the concertmaster, he/she will switch his/her violin with his/her stand partner's violin (the guy on the "inside"). Then, depending on what kind of a piece is being played and how close to the end of the concert it is, the stand partner can either elect to heroically play the fiddle with 3 strings, or pass it back to the rear of the section. In the rear of the section usually sits the musician that carries the spare strings for such an emergency. This musician/pit crew guy will pass his/her instrument up to the 2nd chair player, and then quickly replace the string. The switcheroo gets even more complicated when it is the soloist, for then the change is with the Concertmaster/principal string player, setting the whole above routine in motion but adding an extra player to the mix. Also, the pit crew guy in the back doing the change then has the added anxiety of having to change Mr. Bigshot Soloist's Million Dollar Stradivarius, quickly and without scratching or dropping it, knowing the soloist desperately wants nothing more than their own instrument back as soon as possible, basically having the FATE OF THE ENTIRE CONCERT IN HIS HANDS....
The "quick change/sneak off" is what happens when the pit crew guy forgets to/doesn't bring extra strings on stage and so then has to sneak off unobtrusively with 3000 people watching to make the change backstage.
"Bow tapping" is how we applaud soloists or anyone needing validation but can't use our hands because they are full of instruments. It looks weird at first and makes absolutely no noise, since we are just waving our bows in the air.
The "spin" happens usually in the lower strings (cellos/basses) but also in the violas but hardly ever in the violins. In the cellos/basses, it involves twirling the instrument at the endpin while holding it lightly at the neck. In the violins/violas, its slightly more difficult and scary because we don't have that endpin and so must form a closed circuit with the thumb and 1st or 2nd finger of our left hand and then use another finger and a wrist flick for the impetus to twirl it mid air and not drop it. This could explain why most high-strung (ha-ha-- get it? High -STRUNG… their strings are higher so...ah, forget it) violinists WON'T do it and laid back, thrill-seeking violists, will. WHEN do we do it? Well, you just know in your bones when the right moment comes along and a little spin is needed for emphasis. One spot where it always happens traditionally, throughout the world, is rehearsal letter J in Leroy Anderson's "Sleigh Ride."
Any questions about other mystifying traditions you see on stage? Let me know- and have a Happy Thanksgiving!
Friday, October 20, 2006
Hold the oboe
Lots of things have been substituted lately. When this week's scheduled conductor, Jeffrey Kahane, had to cancel at the last minute due to illness, conductor Christoph Campestrini stepped in. This sort of substitution happens rarely in classical music, not as much as it seems to happen in the theater, where understudies are called on more frequently. Some notable examples of last minute substitutions that led to huge careers for the substitutes include that of a young Leonard Bernstein for an ailing Bruno Walter, and the more dishy story of one of the greatest conductors of the early 20th century, Arturo Toscanini.
Toscanini was born in Parma, Italy and studied cello. In 1886 he was touring South America as a cellist with the orchestra of an opera company. While presenting Aida in Rio de Janeiro, the orchestra's conductor was booed by the audience and forced to leave the podium. Although he had no orchestral conducting experience, the 19 year old Toscanini was persuaded to take up the baton, and led a magnificent performance completely from memory. The rest, as they say, is history.
Back to Campestrini, who is from Austria and used the word "spicy" a lot in rehearsal, which got me thinking about that other most recent substitution in the news; that is, of swiss chard for poisonous e. coli spinach. Which then led me to some musing about a hypothetical concert in which you could substitute whatever you wanted to create your own version of the piece. Sort of like that Burger King commercial that (ok, dating myself here) I grew up with- "hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us, all we ask is that you let us serve it your way..."
So there you'd be, a whole orchestra in front of you, to basically do your bidding like customizing your entree at a restaurant (substitutions $3 extra, sharing $9, no doggie bags). "Uh, yes, I'll take the Beethoven 5, low fat, so hold the oboe; substitute extra spicy alto sax. I'm watching carbs, so could you put in only half of the double basses and leave them on the side, and instead of violas I'll have a side order of bongos." "And no contrabassoon, thanks."
Toscanini was born in Parma, Italy and studied cello. In 1886 he was touring South America as a cellist with the orchestra of an opera company. While presenting Aida in Rio de Janeiro, the orchestra's conductor was booed by the audience and forced to leave the podium. Although he had no orchestral conducting experience, the 19 year old Toscanini was persuaded to take up the baton, and led a magnificent performance completely from memory. The rest, as they say, is history.
Back to Campestrini, who is from Austria and used the word "spicy" a lot in rehearsal, which got me thinking about that other most recent substitution in the news; that is, of swiss chard for poisonous e. coli spinach. Which then led me to some musing about a hypothetical concert in which you could substitute whatever you wanted to create your own version of the piece. Sort of like that Burger King commercial that (ok, dating myself here) I grew up with- "hold the pickle, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us, all we ask is that you let us serve it your way..."
So there you'd be, a whole orchestra in front of you, to basically do your bidding like customizing your entree at a restaurant (substitutions $3 extra, sharing $9, no doggie bags). "Uh, yes, I'll take the Beethoven 5, low fat, so hold the oboe; substitute extra spicy alto sax. I'm watching carbs, so could you put in only half of the double basses and leave them on the side, and instead of violas I'll have a side order of bongos." "And no contrabassoon, thanks."
Thursday, October 05, 2006
1001 nights
This week while sitting in rehearsal after a 2 hour long marathon training run, my over-oxygenated brain cooked up a fantasy that incorporated two weeks' repertoire, and my current favorite marketing campaign .
The scene: The palace of the Sultan
The time: once upon a Long Ago
The story: Scheherazade is the daughter of the Grand Vizier to Sultan Shahriyar. The sultan's first wife had betrayed him, and in anger and grief he not only executed her but vowed to marry a woman each night and kill her the next morning. The sultan's cruel order was obeyed for three years, until Scheherazade conceived a plan to stop him and convinced her father to offer her as the sultan's next wife. Her plan was to tell him such an enthralling, cliff-hangerful story, that every night instead of choppin' off her noggin, he would beg for another. This would hopefully continue night after night, until the sultan would finally be convinced of her loyalty and rescind his death sentence.
But Scheherazade was just an ordinary Grand Vizier's daughter, not a paid celebrity. So to help tell her story, she hired celebrity singer/songwriter Burt Bacharach.
Scheherazade speaks:
Sinbad the sailor tells how he grew restless of his life of leisure, and set to sea , "possessed with the thought of travelling about the world of men and seeing their cities and islands." Accidentally abandoned by his shipmates, he finds himself stranded in an inaccessible valley of giant snakes and even more gigantic birds, the rocs, which prey upon them.
Burt sings:
Why do birds suddenly appear
Everytime you are near?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you.
Scheherazade speaks:
The floor of the valley is carpeted with diamonds, and merchants harvest these by throwing huge chunks of meat into the valley which the birds then carry back to their nests, where the men drive them away and collect the diamonds stuck to the meat. The wily Sinbad straps one of the pieces of meat to his back and is carried back to the nest along with a large sack full of precious gems. Rescued from the nest by the merchants, he returns to Baghdad with a fortune in diamonds, seeing many marvels along the way.
Burt sings:
Knowing when to leave
Go while the going is good
Knowing when to leave may be the smartest thing anyone can learn.
Go!
Sultan cries: Ahhh! Wily vixen! I have "Close To You" running around and around and around in my head! You must get it out!
Burt: Sorry Sultan baby, but that's all for tonight. Catch our next show tomorrow night at 8 and 10. Thanks for coming, you've been a great audience, don't forget to tip the bartender on your way out.
And so the show played on the next night.
Scheherazade speaks:
A woman of the merchant class was married to a man who was a great traveler. Once he set out for a far country and was absent so long that his wife, out of sheer boredom, fell in love with a handsome young man, and they loved each other exceedingly. One day, the youth quarreled with another man, who lodged a complaint against him with the Chief of Police, and he cast him into prison. When the news came to the merchant's wife, she nearly lost her mind. Then she arose and--putting on her richest clothes--went to the house of the Chief of Police. She Greeted him and presented him with a petition which read, "The man you have imprisoned is my brother So-and-So, who had a fight with someone; but those who testified against him lied. He has been wrongfully imprisoned, and I have no one else to live with or to support me; therefore I beg you graciously to release him."
When the Chief had read the petition, he looked at her and immediately fell in love with her.....
Burt sings:
Magic moments, mem'ries we've been sharin''
Magic moments, when two hearts are carin
Time can't erase the memory of
These magic moments filled with love
And so on and so on, on and on and on and on and the King kept Scheherazade and Burt alive as he eagerly anticipated each new story and change of song, until, one thousand and one adventurous and supremely groovy nights, and three sons later, the King had not only been entertained by Burt but wisely educated in morality and kindness by Scheherazade who became his Queen.
(Burt sings to fadeout)
What's it all about, Sultan?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What's it all about when you sort it out, Sultan?
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Sultan,
Then I guess its wise to be cruel.....
The End.
The scene: The palace of the Sultan
The time: once upon a Long Ago
The story: Scheherazade is the daughter of the Grand Vizier to Sultan Shahriyar. The sultan's first wife had betrayed him, and in anger and grief he not only executed her but vowed to marry a woman each night and kill her the next morning. The sultan's cruel order was obeyed for three years, until Scheherazade conceived a plan to stop him and convinced her father to offer her as the sultan's next wife. Her plan was to tell him such an enthralling, cliff-hangerful story, that every night instead of choppin' off her noggin, he would beg for another. This would hopefully continue night after night, until the sultan would finally be convinced of her loyalty and rescind his death sentence.
But Scheherazade was just an ordinary Grand Vizier's daughter, not a paid celebrity. So to help tell her story, she hired celebrity singer/songwriter Burt Bacharach.
Scheherazade speaks:
Sinbad the sailor tells how he grew restless of his life of leisure, and set to sea , "possessed with the thought of travelling about the world of men and seeing their cities and islands." Accidentally abandoned by his shipmates, he finds himself stranded in an inaccessible valley of giant snakes and even more gigantic birds, the rocs, which prey upon them.
Burt sings:
Why do birds suddenly appear
Everytime you are near?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you.
Scheherazade speaks:
The floor of the valley is carpeted with diamonds, and merchants harvest these by throwing huge chunks of meat into the valley which the birds then carry back to their nests, where the men drive them away and collect the diamonds stuck to the meat. The wily Sinbad straps one of the pieces of meat to his back and is carried back to the nest along with a large sack full of precious gems. Rescued from the nest by the merchants, he returns to Baghdad with a fortune in diamonds, seeing many marvels along the way.
Burt sings:
Knowing when to leave
Go while the going is good
Knowing when to leave may be the smartest thing anyone can learn.
Go!
Sultan cries: Ahhh! Wily vixen! I have "Close To You" running around and around and around in my head! You must get it out!
Burt: Sorry Sultan baby, but that's all for tonight. Catch our next show tomorrow night at 8 and 10. Thanks for coming, you've been a great audience, don't forget to tip the bartender on your way out.
And so the show played on the next night.
Scheherazade speaks:
A woman of the merchant class was married to a man who was a great traveler. Once he set out for a far country and was absent so long that his wife, out of sheer boredom, fell in love with a handsome young man, and they loved each other exceedingly. One day, the youth quarreled with another man, who lodged a complaint against him with the Chief of Police, and he cast him into prison. When the news came to the merchant's wife, she nearly lost her mind. Then she arose and--putting on her richest clothes--went to the house of the Chief of Police. She Greeted him and presented him with a petition which read, "The man you have imprisoned is my brother So-and-So, who had a fight with someone; but those who testified against him lied. He has been wrongfully imprisoned, and I have no one else to live with or to support me; therefore I beg you graciously to release him."
When the Chief had read the petition, he looked at her and immediately fell in love with her.....
Burt sings:
Magic moments, mem'ries we've been sharin''
Magic moments, when two hearts are carin
Time can't erase the memory of
These magic moments filled with love
And so on and so on, on and on and on and on and the King kept Scheherazade and Burt alive as he eagerly anticipated each new story and change of song, until, one thousand and one adventurous and supremely groovy nights, and three sons later, the King had not only been entertained by Burt but wisely educated in morality and kindness by Scheherazade who became his Queen.
(Burt sings to fadeout)
What's it all about, Sultan?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What's it all about when you sort it out, Sultan?
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Sultan,
Then I guess its wise to be cruel.....
The End.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
If it's not Scottish, it's CR*P!!
From Groundskeeper Willie to Sean Connery, who doesn't like all things Scottish? They've got bagpipes, men wearing skirts without underwear, shortbread, haggis, golf, and the perhaps the finest beverage in the world. And I'm not talking about irn bru, lads and lassies!
The Scottish countryside being the ultimate in misty, fairy-tale romanticism, has inspired many musicians to write works evocative of the country. German composer Max Bruch, was enamored of the writings of Sir Walter Scott and though he never went to Scotland, composed the Scottish Fantasy for Violin and Orchestra, incorporating many Scottish folk themes into the piece. Sadly, we are not playing THIS work for violin this week, but rather his Second Violin Concerto. Also a good piece, but not particularly Scottish.
We are however, playing two works inspired by Felix Mendelssohn's trip to Scotland.
Fingal's Cave is on the Hebridean island of Staffa. Twenty meters wide, and over sixty meters deep, the cave is an impressive sight with huge hexagonal rock pillars stretching high out of the sea. On stormy days the sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoes across the island, and it is not surprising that Fingal's Cave was originally called ‘Uamh Binne' – ‘the cave where the sea makes music'.
In the summer of 1829, Mendelssohn traveled to Scotland with his friend Karl Klingemann and spend three weeks exploring the country by foot, pony, and steamer. Like Bruch, Mendelssohn was enamored by the writings of Sir Walter Scott, and he already had a vision of the country through his exposure to Scott and 18th century poet James Macpherson. The reality lived up to the literary portrait, prompting Mendelssohn to write in a letter back home, “....everything looks so stern and robust, half-enveloped in haze or smoke or fog.”
"Discovered" by 18th-century naturalist Sir Joseph Banks in 1772, the cave actually became known as Fingal's Cave AFTER Mendelssohn visited it and wrote Die Hebriden (in English, Fingal's Cave Opus 26). Fingal, Fionn mac Cumhail, was the eponymous hero of a poem by James Macpherson.
Mendelssohn's overture popularized the cave as a tourist destination. Other famous 19th-century visitors included author Jules Verne, poets William Wordsworth, John Keats and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and impressionist artist Joseph Turner, who painted "Staffa, Fingal's Cave" in 1832. The playwright August Strindberg also sets scenes from his play A Dream Play in a place called "Fingal's Grotto." Queen Victoria also made the trip.
The final work on this weekends' concerts, the Scottish Symphony, has Mendelssohn not quoting Scottish folk tunes but rather trying to recreate the feeling of Scotland that he held inside him. On a visit to Holyrood Palace and the ruined abbey on its grounds, he wrote his family:
"This evening at twilight we went to the palace where Queen
Mary lived and loved.... The chapel close to it is now roofless;
grass and ivy grow there and at the broken altar, Mary was
crowned Queen of Scotland. Everything around is ruined and
decayed, and the bright sky shines in. I believe I found today in
that old chapel the beginning of my Scottish symphony."
Mendelssohn made some initial sketches of the symphony while still in Scotland, and then tried to revisit the score on an 1831 trip to Italy. Although known as Symphony No. 3, it is actually the last of the five mature symphonies Mendelssohn completed. We hope you will join us this weekend for our trip to musical Scotland (mostly). Who knows, there may be some underwear-less men in skirts gadding about, and we promise- no haggis!!!
The Scottish countryside being the ultimate in misty, fairy-tale romanticism, has inspired many musicians to write works evocative of the country. German composer Max Bruch, was enamored of the writings of Sir Walter Scott and though he never went to Scotland, composed the Scottish Fantasy for Violin and Orchestra, incorporating many Scottish folk themes into the piece. Sadly, we are not playing THIS work for violin this week, but rather his Second Violin Concerto. Also a good piece, but not particularly Scottish.
We are however, playing two works inspired by Felix Mendelssohn's trip to Scotland.
Fingal's Cave is on the Hebridean island of Staffa. Twenty meters wide, and over sixty meters deep, the cave is an impressive sight with huge hexagonal rock pillars stretching high out of the sea. On stormy days the sound of waves crashing against the rocks echoes across the island, and it is not surprising that Fingal's Cave was originally called ‘Uamh Binne' – ‘the cave where the sea makes music'.
In the summer of 1829, Mendelssohn traveled to Scotland with his friend Karl Klingemann and spend three weeks exploring the country by foot, pony, and steamer. Like Bruch, Mendelssohn was enamored by the writings of Sir Walter Scott, and he already had a vision of the country through his exposure to Scott and 18th century poet James Macpherson. The reality lived up to the literary portrait, prompting Mendelssohn to write in a letter back home, “....everything looks so stern and robust, half-enveloped in haze or smoke or fog.”
"Discovered" by 18th-century naturalist Sir Joseph Banks in 1772, the cave actually became known as Fingal's Cave AFTER Mendelssohn visited it and wrote Die Hebriden (in English, Fingal's Cave Opus 26). Fingal, Fionn mac Cumhail, was the eponymous hero of a poem by James Macpherson.
Mendelssohn's overture popularized the cave as a tourist destination. Other famous 19th-century visitors included author Jules Verne, poets William Wordsworth, John Keats and Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and impressionist artist Joseph Turner, who painted "Staffa, Fingal's Cave" in 1832. The playwright August Strindberg also sets scenes from his play A Dream Play in a place called "Fingal's Grotto." Queen Victoria also made the trip.
The final work on this weekends' concerts, the Scottish Symphony, has Mendelssohn not quoting Scottish folk tunes but rather trying to recreate the feeling of Scotland that he held inside him. On a visit to Holyrood Palace and the ruined abbey on its grounds, he wrote his family:
"This evening at twilight we went to the palace where Queen
Mary lived and loved.... The chapel close to it is now roofless;
grass and ivy grow there and at the broken altar, Mary was
crowned Queen of Scotland. Everything around is ruined and
decayed, and the bright sky shines in. I believe I found today in
that old chapel the beginning of my Scottish symphony."
Mendelssohn made some initial sketches of the symphony while still in Scotland, and then tried to revisit the score on an 1831 trip to Italy. Although known as Symphony No. 3, it is actually the last of the five mature symphonies Mendelssohn completed. We hope you will join us this weekend for our trip to musical Scotland (mostly). Who knows, there may be some underwear-less men in skirts gadding about, and we promise- no haggis!!!
Monday, September 11, 2006
What I Did On my Summer Vacation
Well, here we are back at Jones Hall at the start of the 2006-2007 season. For many of us, the summer has been full of travel, meeting new friends and getting reacquainted with old ones, and making music for audiences worldwide. But nothing beats coming back to our home crowd; it sure was good to hear y'all s rousing cheer last night at the Opening Night concert! And it sure is great to be able to say “y'all” with impunity... without those puzzled Yankee looks!!
One of the things I do in the summer is to teach and perform at the Intensive String Quartet Seminar at New York University. This year I was pleased to have four students from Houston attend the seminar. With our “quartet-bonding” group sing-a-longs (with the guitar we bought at lunchtime one day), “mornin' y'all s,” and “fixin' tos” (as in “I'm fixin' to freak out the rest of my group by saying “y'all”) we were able to inject a little of the spirit of Texas into the festival. One of the students, a violist named Jonathan, I met through this blog. He is a regular commentator to the Wavelength blog, a student of our Principal Violist Wayne Brooks, and a huge fan of the Houston Symphony. Below is the interview in which he tells of his experience this summer, in his own, unprompted words. Really!
RP: Did you enjoy the festival?
JS: I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was a wonderful opportunity to focus solely on music for three weeks of my summer.
RP: So, how did you like being a music student in New York?
JS: It was thrilling just being in the city, and being there for music made it all the more thrilling. The city has so many opportunities for music students, it would be any student's dream to study or live there.
RP: This was a program where you stayed in one string quartet group the whole time. How did you find the experience of working so closely with the same 3 people for 3 weeks?
JS: It was wonderful. I play in a youth symphony, and we are fortunate to have distinguished musicians as our conductors. But there is little that is discussed amongst the musicians. In a quartet, there is no conductor. The majority of discussions and collaborating will be with the four members of the quartet. Luckily, there are coaches who help and guide each quartet; but most of time, the students have to discuss their ideas with each other and try them out. Of course there will be differences of opinion in which democracy will a valuable asset to avoid tensions in the group. Learning to communicate and collaborate with three other people is difficult sometimes, and unfortunately, sometimes a rare experience for students. This festival allows students the experience and knowledge of working with other students.
RP: What did you learn from them?
JS: I had a terrific group of people. My group's violinists lived in the city, so aside from learning about the city from them, I learned how to take four parts and work together with people to make something excellent out of it. I also learned what their ideas of the piece were and how they thought we should carry them out.
RP: What did they learn from you?
JS: Probably much the same of what I learned from them; and if nothing else, just how crazy violists can be.
RP: What did you get most out of the summer?
JS: The most valuable thing was a new outlook on chamber music. During this festival I learned how to efficiently rehearse in a quartet. I learned how to tackle different issues that arise in chamber music, and how important every single note and party is. The knowledge I gained about music over the three weeks is something I will hold onto and build on forever.
RP: You went to hear the New York Philharmonic one evening. As a
loyal Houston Symphony concert-goer, how would you compare the
experience? What would you tell Houston audiences?
JS: I feel I can accurately compare the experiences, because the New York Philharmonic's program consisted of three pieces, two of which I have heard the Houston Symphony play. I noticed the difference when they played Dvorak's 8th Symphony in G Major. When the Houston Symphony played this piece in Jones Hall, I was moved. It is one of my favorite symphonies. The emotion and energy the Houston Symphony generated when they played it was overwhelming and made for a terrific experience. However, when the New York Philharmonic played it, I was not as moved. They played the same notes, but something was missing. I did not get the energy and emotion that I got with the Houston Symphony. Now, being back in Houston, I would tell, and do tell fellow Houstonians how fortunate we are to have the Houston Symphony.
RP: What would you want to tell New Yorkers about the Houston Symphony?
JS: I would want to tell them all that if the Houston Symphony is performing in Carnegie Hall, they should mark that date on their calendars, because it will be a performance that will blow them away.
RP: How was your performing experience in New York?
JS: It was another fantastic experience. We performed our quartet very well and we were all very pleased with the way our performance went. We even received a standing ovation and went back on stage to take the applause!
RP: Any last words?
JS: Just a few more things: Firstly, if anyone ever needs to buy sheet music, I came across the best place to buy it: Frank Music Company, located in New York. Go to their site, www.frankmusiccompany.com and look at their catalog. Secondly, I encourage everyone to go to a music festival of some kind during the summer. It is a great time to strictly focus on your playing and working on various aspects of your instrument.
RP: And even if you don't play an instrument, its a great opportunity to hear the next generation of up-and-coming musicians and learn what shapes them! Thanks for writing, Jonathan!
Friday, June 23, 2006
Holdman's Index
Our Timpani player, Ron Holdman, has been with the orchestra over 20 years. Besides being a superb musician, he owns some pretty cool rides. Many a time I've been at a stoplight downtown coveting the classic car/bike in the lane next to me, only to realize that it's Ron in the drivers seat! Ron has also been what I like to think of as the unofficial orchestra statistician of the absurd, authoring his always eagerly-anticipated "Holdman's Index" at least once yearly. I thought I'd share some of his most recent stats with you, for a little intro into the hot summer months from his cool-headed perspective. Since the official Jones Hall season is over (though we play concerts at Miller Theatre, the Woodlands Pavlion, and even Jones Hall through mid-July) and many of us scatter to -well, more temperate music festivals around the world, check back with us here at the Wavelength blog for some insight on how we are spending our summer as worldwide ambassadors for not only the Houston Symphony but the city of Houston as well! Catch ya around the sandbox!
Holdman's Index 19
2. Difference in height between Yao Ming and Qi Ming*
3. Respective ages at which they were the same height
Yao 1 year 2 months
Qi 6 years 1 month
1. Number of Houston Rockets patrons who will now be trading in their Toyota Center season sky boxes for Jones Hall boxes as a result of our emotionally charged performance during the NBA All-Star game
zero
2. Difference in height between Yao Ming and Qi Ming*
2 Feet 5 inches
3. Respective ages at which they were the same height
Yao 1 year 2 months
Qi 6 years 1 month
4. Ranks of charming and endearing personalities among Mother Theresa, the late pope John Paul II, and Paul Anka
1,2, and 392,865,741
5. Which has a greater chance of occuring: A. Elvis Costello singing our next performance of a Mahler song cycle, or B. The Avian Flu affecting the world cockroach population (who are normally impervious to everything including nuclear radiation)
B
6. Number of HS musicians who have utilized the services of Methodist Hospital's new Center for Performing Arts Medicine for the following afflictions: cellulite, cotton-mouth, sweaty armpits, ennui, schizoid-detached from reality behavior towards outdoor concerts in the Houston summers, and cowbell phobia
73
* Qi Ming is a lovely member of the first violin section of the orchestra
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Fretless bass!!! And Uranus!!!
This week's subscription concert features Gustav Holst's The Planets, an orchestral suite dedicated to one man's astrological interpretation of the heavenly bodies that were foremost at the turn of the century: Mars, Venus, Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune.
RP: Who is Harbison and how did you come to play this piece?
TP:John Harbison is one of America's preminent composers who won the Pulitzer Prize in Composition. He is currently on the faculty of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T).A consortium of 15 North American orchestras commissioned the piece. The orchestra in my home city, Greenville, S.C., also joined.
RP:Would you say that the bass is a good solo instrument?
TP:For me, it's the best.
RP: How does a bass concerto compare to a violin concerto?
TP:There really isn't any difference in my opinion. The concerto is a kind of piece written for all instruments that allows the musician to show the wide technical and musical range of the instrument.
RP: What is the biggest shift in the concerto in terms of distance in inches that you have to execute?
TP:Early in the first movement, there is a shift that must cover at least 34 inches in a fraction of a second.
RP: What is your favorite part of the piece and why?
TP:My favorite part is actually the entire last movement. It's jazzy and virtuosic. But I think that the Harbison is, by far, the best concerto in the double bass repertoire.
RP: Why did you pick the bass to play instead of the piano, theremin, flute, violin, or cello?
TP:I started playing the bass at age 10 when most boys are interested in dump trucks and dinosaurs.The bass was equally fascinating to me.
Each movement is intended to convey ideas and emotions associated with the Roman deity in question. Holst used Alan Leo's book What is a Horoscope? as a jumping board for his own ideas, as well as for the subtitles (e.g., "Jupiter, The Bringer of Jollity") for the movements.
The Houston Symphony production will feature NASA film footage from the Voyager and Hubble expeditions that will play on the screens along with the music. A real live NASA astronaut will be doing a descriptive narration of the relevant planet in between the movements. A colleague from another city whose orchestra had also done the same show remarked to me that THEIR astronaut had seemed to relish saying the name of the second to last planet almost too much. Come on, people, we're not in kindergaten anymore....
If that isn't exciting enough, there is also American composer John Harbison's new Concerto for Bass Viol, which is getting its United States premiere. Now IMHO a bass concerto is almost an even sillier thing than a viola concerto. Both instruments are not designed to project soloistically. Conventional string methods have to be, well, altered. I cannot count how many times I have come across bass players testing out the volume of new instruments by seeing if a lit match positioned at the f-hole opening can be put out with the air whooshing from within. A bass "sectional" involves not bowings and fingerings as it would with other string instruments, but rather going down to the nearest bar and pulling up a stool. Nevertheless, bass players DO take themselves very seriously. Unlike violists, they often, and with enthusiasm, talk shop. I guess when you have to take your instrument with you when you're buying a car, you have to get pretty involved. So I ask Tim to answer the following questions about the concerto for me, while I go off to find a book of matches:
RP: Who is Harbison and how did you come to play this piece?
TP:John Harbison is one of America's preminent composers who won the Pulitzer Prize in Composition. He is currently on the faculty of Massachusetts Institute of Technology (M.I.T).A consortium of 15 North American orchestras commissioned the piece. The orchestra in my home city, Greenville, S.C., also joined.
RP:Would you say that the bass is a good solo instrument?
TP:For me, it's the best.
RP: How does a bass concerto compare to a violin concerto?
TP:There really isn't any difference in my opinion. The concerto is a kind of piece written for all instruments that allows the musician to show the wide technical and musical range of the instrument.
RP: What is the biggest shift in the concerto in terms of distance in inches that you have to execute?
TP:Early in the first movement, there is a shift that must cover at least 34 inches in a fraction of a second.
RP: What is your favorite part of the piece and why?
TP:My favorite part is actually the entire last movement. It's jazzy and virtuosic. But I think that the Harbison is, by far, the best concerto in the double bass repertoire.
RP: Why did you pick the bass to play instead of the piano, theremin, flute, violin, or cello?
TP:I started playing the bass at age 10 when most boys are interested in dump trucks and dinosaurs.The bass was equally fascinating to me.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
heroic pants
Music is a powerful memory stimulant. Just a few notes of a melody can transport you to the time and place when you first heard the tune, or trigger other special associations. You may share a special song with that special someone, or like our Pops conductor Mike Krajewski, have your own theme song.
Today on stage during a Discoverer concert (a series of concerts we give for fifth graders from local school districts), I became locked in a reverie that took me from Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony No.3, to a palace in Vienna, to a classic pantless anxiety dream that unfortunately was all too real.
About twelve years ago, my string quartet had the honor of winning a special Austrian award for chamber musicians, the "Prix Mercure." We were to play a special concert at Vienna's Lobkowitz Palace, and receive our award at a presentation following the concert. The trophy itself turned out to be a ceramic boot-signifying Mercury, I suppose -and from then on giving new meaning to the term "getting the boot." The concert was held in the very room where Beethoven's Eroica was first premiered. Though as a string quartet we weren't performing it, I did manage to play a few lines from the viola part of the symphony into the historic space, putting myself in the shoes of a violist long gone. The room itself is actually quite small, not much larger than the stage of Jones Hall. Orchestras back then were smaller, and instruments not nearly as powerful as they are today; but the marble walls and floors probably did much to fill the hall with the glorious sounds of this heroic work.
So there I am on stage, in Houston in 2006, recalling the peaceful greenish-bluish hue and sonorous resonances of the Eroicasaal not only in 1994, but also my 1994 imaginings of 1804...when my brain comes to a dead halt-on my pants. Our cellist had packed all of our concert clothes in the groups' garment trunk before setting out on the 2 hour drive from the small town where we had been staying. All, that is, but the bottom half of my outfit. Which left me, dressed in khakis and a t-shirt, in front of the concert hall an hour before the show was to start, armed with the phrase "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, konnen Sie mir bitte Ihre Hose/Rock leihen (Excuse me please, can you please lend me your pants/skirt)?" and "shopping" for prospective outfits from incoming concertgoers. The good news: I didn't get slapped, or arrested. Bad news: no one going to the concert was Rita-size. Ultimately I ended up wearing the dress pants from a visiting American professor. So to Professor Bob, wherever you are-I'll never play the Eroica without thinking of you... and sorry you had to spend the concert pantless in the dressing room, it really sounded great! All that marble, you know.
Today on stage during a Discoverer concert (a series of concerts we give for fifth graders from local school districts), I became locked in a reverie that took me from Beethoven's "Eroica" Symphony No.3, to a palace in Vienna, to a classic pantless anxiety dream that unfortunately was all too real.
About twelve years ago, my string quartet had the honor of winning a special Austrian award for chamber musicians, the "Prix Mercure." We were to play a special concert at Vienna's Lobkowitz Palace, and receive our award at a presentation following the concert. The trophy itself turned out to be a ceramic boot-signifying Mercury, I suppose -and from then on giving new meaning to the term "getting the boot." The concert was held in the very room where Beethoven's Eroica was first premiered. Though as a string quartet we weren't performing it, I did manage to play a few lines from the viola part of the symphony into the historic space, putting myself in the shoes of a violist long gone. The room itself is actually quite small, not much larger than the stage of Jones Hall. Orchestras back then were smaller, and instruments not nearly as powerful as they are today; but the marble walls and floors probably did much to fill the hall with the glorious sounds of this heroic work.
So there I am on stage, in Houston in 2006, recalling the peaceful greenish-bluish hue and sonorous resonances of the Eroicasaal not only in 1994, but also my 1994 imaginings of 1804...when my brain comes to a dead halt-on my pants. Our cellist had packed all of our concert clothes in the groups' garment trunk before setting out on the 2 hour drive from the small town where we had been staying. All, that is, but the bottom half of my outfit. Which left me, dressed in khakis and a t-shirt, in front of the concert hall an hour before the show was to start, armed with the phrase "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, konnen Sie mir bitte Ihre Hose/Rock leihen (Excuse me please, can you please lend me your pants/skirt)?" and "shopping" for prospective outfits from incoming concertgoers. The good news: I didn't get slapped, or arrested. Bad news: no one going to the concert was Rita-size. Ultimately I ended up wearing the dress pants from a visiting American professor. So to Professor Bob, wherever you are-I'll never play the Eroica without thinking of you... and sorry you had to spend the concert pantless in the dressing room, it really sounded great! All that marble, you know.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Knock On Wood
Just like in baseball, superstitions and pre-performance rituals run rampant in the music world. This goes way, way beyond not changing one’s socks or touching/not touching the plate. See if you can match up the following rituals with their practitioners:
1. Would never begin rehearsing new music on a Friday
2. Walked around with his pants off right up until the moment on stage
3. Requires backstage personnel to say “Don’t F**K it up” to him before going onstage
4. Traveled with a portable altar
5. Crosses himself, then trips himself on his way onstage
A. Conductor Robert Spano
B. Conductor John Barbirolli
C. Maestro Bob Cobb
D. Conductor Alexander Lazarev
E. John Denver
Composers are even worse. Symphonic composers since Beethoven have been loath to compose a ninth symphony because of the “curse of the ninth.” The number of composers that have died after completing, or even in the course of writing, nine symphonies, makes this curse almost as reliable as that of King Tut or the curse of “that Scottish play” by William Shakespeare.
Some of the victims of the “curse of the ninth” include: Beethoven, Dvorak, Vaughan-Williams, and Bruckner. Horribly superstitious, Mahler at first declared that all of his symphonies were "ninths", then referred to Das Lied von der Erde as a song cycle rather than number it as the ninth symphony it would have been. However, he still died after writing his ninth numbered symphony (leaving his tenth unfinished to be completed from his sketches). D’oh! Schubert went the creative numbering route as well and completed his Ninth Symphony, but left the eighth unfinished. Recently, Russian composer Alfred Schnittke died, leaving his ninth unfinished.
The curse, in addition to depression and self-doubt, may have led Sibelius to the destruction of his Eighth Symphony; though the full reason for the musical silence of his final twenty five years has remained a mystery.
A few have survived, such as Shostakovich (fifteen symphonies). Alexander Glazunov stopped work on his ninth due to fear of the curse and never wrote another symphony. He prolonged his life by another twenty six years. Current composer Malcolm Arnold has completed nine symphonies but will not do a tenth.
Now, skeptics can say that to write nine symphonies would logically take years and years of creative genius and that most of these men were old and would have died anyway. The varied ages of these men at the time of their passing would belie that statement, and to you skeptics I give the evil eye, and spit three times in your general direction.
1. Would never begin rehearsing new music on a Friday
2. Walked around with his pants off right up until the moment on stage
3. Requires backstage personnel to say “Don’t F**K it up” to him before going onstage
4. Traveled with a portable altar
5. Crosses himself, then trips himself on his way onstage
A. Conductor Robert Spano
B. Conductor John Barbirolli
C. Maestro Bob Cobb
D. Conductor Alexander Lazarev
E. John Denver
Composers are even worse. Symphonic composers since Beethoven have been loath to compose a ninth symphony because of the “curse of the ninth.” The number of composers that have died after completing, or even in the course of writing, nine symphonies, makes this curse almost as reliable as that of King Tut or the curse of “that Scottish play” by William Shakespeare.
Some of the victims of the “curse of the ninth” include: Beethoven, Dvorak, Vaughan-Williams, and Bruckner. Horribly superstitious, Mahler at first declared that all of his symphonies were "ninths", then referred to Das Lied von der Erde as a song cycle rather than number it as the ninth symphony it would have been. However, he still died after writing his ninth numbered symphony (leaving his tenth unfinished to be completed from his sketches). D’oh! Schubert went the creative numbering route as well and completed his Ninth Symphony, but left the eighth unfinished. Recently, Russian composer Alfred Schnittke died, leaving his ninth unfinished.
The curse, in addition to depression and self-doubt, may have led Sibelius to the destruction of his Eighth Symphony; though the full reason for the musical silence of his final twenty five years has remained a mystery.
A few have survived, such as Shostakovich (fifteen symphonies). Alexander Glazunov stopped work on his ninth due to fear of the curse and never wrote another symphony. He prolonged his life by another twenty six years. Current composer Malcolm Arnold has completed nine symphonies but will not do a tenth.
Now, skeptics can say that to write nine symphonies would logically take years and years of creative genius and that most of these men were old and would have died anyway. The varied ages of these men at the time of their passing would belie that statement, and to you skeptics I give the evil eye, and spit three times in your general direction.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
A contest
This mysterious instrument appeared on the stage of Jones Hall today at the rehearsal for the Elvis Costello concert. What is it?The first person to correctly identify it will win the opportunity for themselves and a guest to attend a selected rehearsal of the Houston Symphony, for a firsthand experience of the madness "behind the scenes."
Special extra credit: tell me in which recent film this instrument was used, and which character it represented. Not only will I meet with you before the rehearsal for coffee, you will be able to impress all your friends with your studly nerdiness at parties for years to come.
Good luck and no cheating!!! Hint: I myself had no idea what it was, though I have heard it, and bet that over 90% of Americans have heard one in the last 4 years. There are probably only 6-7 such instruments in the United States.
mooohahahahaha
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
My Hovercraft is Full of Eels
It is said that music is the universal language. Admittedly, it can take some rehearsing for us onstage to all be in the same universe. And orchestral musicians being the relentless animals that we are, small language-snafus of foreign-born conductors can provide some eagerly anticipated material. Recently:
“Tromboni, put yourselves out of the living room!”
“okay, clari-NYETS, (as opposed to clari-DAs?), thees part not about the springtime for the gots. Ees about the speereets. Speereets!! No GOTS. Now, rehearsal 45. GO!!!”
Though that particular speech prompted a “But Maestro, I don’t understand what WORD you are saying” from the back of the orchestra, translation is mostly near-spontaneous. Throw in accompanying hand gestures and relevant musical material, and we’re good to go. GO!
Often conductors for whom English is not a first language will seize upon a phrase and use it over and over. Sometimes, it’s just a word. (GO!) If you know these “catch words” you can often tell which orchestra under which conductor may have last written in the rental music part that is now on your stand. Once I got a part for a piece I know I had never performed before that had the word “smooooz” written at the juncture of every cadence. My educated guess: the last orchestra to play that piece worked with Christoph Eschenbach. I myself have written that very word over various Mahler parts (though I spell it with only 3 “o”s) throughout his tenure here. I bet that at least 50% of the musicians of the Houston Symphony can’t even say the word correctly in a normal conversation.
Sometimes it’s just one or two letters that make all the difference. As in “disturbulence.” Used in a sentence, “the disturbulence of the contrabassoon must be all-encompassing,” it actually becomes more than the sum of both the words it once was. It takes on a life and meaning of its own. Especially when written 97 times in the parts and sent on a trip around the world.
Me, I don’t even pretend to be the great communicator. I’m a first-generation American of Greek-Chinese descent, who worked for a time in Germany but had French as my first foreign language. My Chinese is limited to useful phrases like “I’m sleepy,” “Do you have any roast pork?“ and “Oh my gosh, she’s not wearing any underwear!” As for Greek, I can read it but have very little idea what I am saying, sailor-worthy curses aside. Of course, a little knowledge is dangerous. On one trip to Greece to visit relatives, I purposely got an old boyfriend to tell a (female) friend of my dad’s that she had a big gluteus maximus (he thought he was telling her she had a nice dress). I also got him to walk into a bakery and politely say “I would like to have a little turd, please.” Now there was a case where both adding a syllable and one’s intestine do the same job-turning a “cookie” into a “turd.” Can’t say that often, can ya? But karma has a way of catching up: this summer, on a bike trip in France, I unintentionally treated my hosts to this little gem after being complimented on my (lack of) an accent in French:
“My French pronunciation may be good because I learned it as a child, but since I’ve never gotten dressed in France, I don’t know much grammar.”
“Tromboni, put yourselves out of the living room!”
“okay, clari-NYETS, (as opposed to clari-DAs?), thees part not about the springtime for the gots. Ees about the speereets. Speereets!! No GOTS. Now, rehearsal 45. GO!!!”
Though that particular speech prompted a “But Maestro, I don’t understand what WORD you are saying” from the back of the orchestra, translation is mostly near-spontaneous. Throw in accompanying hand gestures and relevant musical material, and we’re good to go. GO!
Often conductors for whom English is not a first language will seize upon a phrase and use it over and over. Sometimes, it’s just a word. (GO!) If you know these “catch words” you can often tell which orchestra under which conductor may have last written in the rental music part that is now on your stand. Once I got a part for a piece I know I had never performed before that had the word “smooooz” written at the juncture of every cadence. My educated guess: the last orchestra to play that piece worked with Christoph Eschenbach. I myself have written that very word over various Mahler parts (though I spell it with only 3 “o”s) throughout his tenure here. I bet that at least 50% of the musicians of the Houston Symphony can’t even say the word correctly in a normal conversation.
Sometimes it’s just one or two letters that make all the difference. As in “disturbulence.” Used in a sentence, “the disturbulence of the contrabassoon must be all-encompassing,” it actually becomes more than the sum of both the words it once was. It takes on a life and meaning of its own. Especially when written 97 times in the parts and sent on a trip around the world.
Me, I don’t even pretend to be the great communicator. I’m a first-generation American of Greek-Chinese descent, who worked for a time in Germany but had French as my first foreign language. My Chinese is limited to useful phrases like “I’m sleepy,” “Do you have any roast pork?“ and “Oh my gosh, she’s not wearing any underwear!” As for Greek, I can read it but have very little idea what I am saying, sailor-worthy curses aside. Of course, a little knowledge is dangerous. On one trip to Greece to visit relatives, I purposely got an old boyfriend to tell a (female) friend of my dad’s that she had a big gluteus maximus (he thought he was telling her she had a nice dress). I also got him to walk into a bakery and politely say “I would like to have a little turd, please.” Now there was a case where both adding a syllable and one’s intestine do the same job-turning a “cookie” into a “turd.” Can’t say that often, can ya? But karma has a way of catching up: this summer, on a bike trip in France, I unintentionally treated my hosts to this little gem after being complimented on my (lack of) an accent in French:
“My French pronunciation may be good because I learned it as a child, but since I’ve never gotten dressed in France, I don’t know much grammar.”
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