Partly because it gets me out of writing a real blog entry, but also because it was a significant moment in our life as a trio, I'm re-posting two entries from this week last year. We've come a long way since then...
'Important Dreck'
October 6, 2008
"n: As per usual, all things are convergent this fall on one week in October in which I will be commuting from Pittsburgh every other day. I think it's worth it, we sound good, and I love playing this stuff with these girls, but the logistics, man, they're killer. As this seems to be what I'm obsessing about right now, let me share a tidbit of it with you.
October 12th
b flies from west coast
n flies from Pittsburgh
a drives, after a concert, from Connecticut
Convene in Brooklyn @ 7 pm
rehearsal 7-9
October 13th
Van pickup @ 9 am
Harp load @ 10 am
Percussion load @ 11 am
Arrival @ 1
Rehearsal 2-6
Concert 8 pm
Load out in Brooklyn @ 12
Van return @ 1 am
October 14th
Rehearsal 9-12
a to Connecticut
n to Pittsburgh
October 15th
a to Brooklyn
n rehearsal in Pittsburgh 7-10
n etd from Pittsburgh @ 10.30 pm
October 16th
n eta in Manhattan @ 7 am
?shower?
a and b move harp @ 8.30
Convene in Manhattan @ 9.30
Concert 11 am
n to Pittsburgh @ 2.55
a and b move harp to Brooklyn
a to Connecticut
n rehearsal in Pittsburgh 7-10
I am not an old person, but when I look at this on paper, it makes me very, very tired. This is the reality, though, of being a musician and making ends meet while still receiving an extraordinary amount of job satisfaction. I'm sure it says something about the perversity of my personality that I am willing to make my life of schedules like this one."
and the addendum:
"One for the books"
October 31, 2008
n: janus has had an active autumn. I think it's safe to say that we made it through with panache and touch of grace, but it's been a long road. September was spent in intense preparation for the Concert Artist Guild annual competition. The thing about competitions is that they make you stronger as group (if you prepare with dedication), but there's inevitably a let down after the event itself. I'm proud of us, in that when we actually got on stage, we presented ourselves with professionalism and played a great round. Ultimately, I think that's the best you can do in competitions, as the rest is out of your control. It didn't turn out any results, but I'm glad, and I think the group is glad, that we did it. It's much different than preparing for a concert, and the psychological dogs that have to be kept at bay are numerous, so not only was it a new perspective in approaching music we've played for a while now, but also an exercise in exploring the psyche of janus.
That particular week (the details of which are in the last post) we also performed the premiere of Gather, Shed and Lift, three films by Alison Crocetta, assistant professor of film at Ohio State, with live soundtrack written for janus ( + percussion, the infallible J Treuting) by Barbara White, professor of composition at Princeton. It was a great show, the films and the music being well suited to each other, and an interesting opportunity to get out of the headspace of preparing competition music. It was made slightly more complicated, though, by a messy car accident on our way to the hall in Princeton. (Required first sentence) We're all ok. We are, and the harp, flute, viola, and bass drum all emerged similarly unscathed. All four of us had a first in our respective rides to the emergency room, Beth and myself in ambulance and J and Amanda in a cop car. Despite a lot of glass, and the inevitable whiplash, the worst any of us can claim is a lot of soreness and some truly spectacular bruising. (Amanda likes to think that it's like having dead right there on your body.) We played the concert, though, after showers and pep talks, and felt all the more like rock-stars, as most of the audience was unaware of our traumatic day. It was a pretty singular experience; normal adrenaline fueled performance concentration and mind-set with the image of a cargo van barreling forward inserting itself randomly. Not exactly an experience I'd like to repeat…"
What's not being said in both of these posts, though, is the extraordinary measures a number of auxiliary people took to help make both of these events happen. To get to New York on time, my parents arrived in Pittsburgh on Wednesday night and drove me, camped out in the backseat and over-drugged on pain killers, to Manhattan with an arrival time of 3 am. Beth and J heroically lugged the harp back to Brooklyn after the Princeton concert and then hefted it up three flights of rather steep stairs, as the elevator was down that night, and then did a repeat performance down two days later. It is hard to believe, with the grace period of a year, that we were crazy enough to go forward.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Because I am getting old
At the beginning of November, janus redescends on our Connecticut retreat to rehearse and learn pieces for our debut album. We've affectionately named this process CRAMBT + Transitions, that being the first letter of all the pieces we need to record in a whirlwind four day period at the end of January. It's exciting, to finally get a physical, professionally produced product, but I have to admit a bit of intimidation. There's a ton of music to learn, both individually and as a group, before getting into the studio, and I think, stylistically, these pieces have a language that we have yet to get a handle on.
There are a few personal challenges in this process as well. When we started contacting composers for this project we sent out a list of guidelines that we felt might both give a reasonable idea of what we're looking for and capable of and maybe provide a little 'outside the box' thinking. On it, there are a number of things that, in theory, we're totally comfortable and cool with doing. These include: playing the banjo, singing, bowing the harp (it sounds like a psychotic cello), speaking, etc etc.
I am fine with most of these. Today, though, I was working on Angelica Negron's piece (www.angelicanegron.com) "Drawings for Meyoko" and I came to a section that involves a vocal line while playing. I have been avoiding these twelve measures since receiving the piece. In theory, this should not really be a problem, given that I've had six years of anguishing sight singing, and Angelica has been quite kind in providing the pitch I should sing in the chord I'm simultaneously playing. Unfortunately, as those close to me can validate, my singing voice contains a distinct absence of pitch and control. It sounds like something between low alto drowning rat and occasional attempt at small howling dog. I think this might require some amount of practice, to both be comfortable in front of a microphone, but even more so, on a stage.
In addition to this, today I had a sense of mortality. I couldn't figure out why I kept screwing up one particular section, and finally came to the conclusion that the notes are too small. This is what happens as one approaches the third decade, I suppose...
There are a few personal challenges in this process as well. When we started contacting composers for this project we sent out a list of guidelines that we felt might both give a reasonable idea of what we're looking for and capable of and maybe provide a little 'outside the box' thinking. On it, there are a number of things that, in theory, we're totally comfortable and cool with doing. These include: playing the banjo, singing, bowing the harp (it sounds like a psychotic cello), speaking, etc etc.
I am fine with most of these. Today, though, I was working on Angelica Negron's piece (www.angelicanegron.com) "Drawings for Meyoko" and I came to a section that involves a vocal line while playing. I have been avoiding these twelve measures since receiving the piece. In theory, this should not really be a problem, given that I've had six years of anguishing sight singing, and Angelica has been quite kind in providing the pitch I should sing in the chord I'm simultaneously playing. Unfortunately, as those close to me can validate, my singing voice contains a distinct absence of pitch and control. It sounds like something between low alto drowning rat and occasional attempt at small howling dog. I think this might require some amount of practice, to both be comfortable in front of a microphone, but even more so, on a stage.
In addition to this, today I had a sense of mortality. I couldn't figure out why I kept screwing up one particular section, and finally came to the conclusion that the notes are too small. This is what happens as one approaches the third decade, I suppose...
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Steel City turning color
So I got my harp regulated today. If you stand really close to the instrument, on the one side there are lots of little moving parts, that engage with each of the 47 strings and allow me to change pitch, each string allowing for a flat, natural and sharp position (which means I have 137 pitches to play with). To actually move these little discs and arms, there is metal all through the neck and column that attach to pedals at the base, which I move with my feet, while playing with my hands. It's really a totally ridiculous instrument. A regulation involves checking each string, and making adjustments to the mechanics to make sure it's in tune in each of those three positions. Today, I was told that my rods (which hang out in the column) need greasing and that my rod housing needs to be replaced. This is not really a big deal, as the harp's about 15 now-but (as I've thought often and written much about) it made me think about the number of moving parts involved and how mind boggling it must be to encounter the instrument for the first time as a composer. My best advice? Jump in. Find a harpist to hang with. Sit down and play around. There's nothing like actually getting a physical understanding of the instrument to give you a clear idea of what it can and can't do.
Other than that, janus is on hiatus while I play the beginning of the season in Pittsburgh. While it's hard to keep momentum when we're not in the same physical place, we've established a phone meeting system that keeps us moving forward. There's lots on the table, grants to write, composers to commission, gigs to procure, tours to plan...This time, too, gives me the time I need to actually learn the three or four programs we've got on the list for the next time we rehearse. Woo! I'm really looking forward to the next time we meet, as not only will we be learning a ton of new music together, but it will be fall and that means pumpkin and fall beers. I've been looking forward to fall since it happened last year. It's the best time for drinking dark beers, which are my favorite.
Other than that, janus is on hiatus while I play the beginning of the season in Pittsburgh. While it's hard to keep momentum when we're not in the same physical place, we've established a phone meeting system that keeps us moving forward. There's lots on the table, grants to write, composers to commission, gigs to procure, tours to plan...This time, too, gives me the time I need to actually learn the three or four programs we've got on the list for the next time we rehearse. Woo! I'm really looking forward to the next time we meet, as not only will we be learning a ton of new music together, but it will be fall and that means pumpkin and fall beers. I've been looking forward to fall since it happened last year. It's the best time for drinking dark beers, which are my favorite.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Pre-Concert
You find out bizarre things about people in moments of stress. This is particularly true of pre-concert jitters, as most musicians are fighting with the 'flight' response of adrenaline. Last night, I discovered that one of Amanda's favorite flicks is the awesomely over-dramatic, ultimate band-nerd "Drumline". I've added this small item to her previously exposed peep fascination.
Last night, janus gave a kick-ass performance of new works for trio by Princeton composers. We received six unique and equally engaging works from the graduate composers and faculty at the beginning of August and have been working through them both with and without the composers ever since. I think it may have been the most painless and delightful composer/trio workshopping I've ever been a part of; we were well prepared and the composers each had very clear ideas of what they wanted from their pieces. I think we may have just added a couple of hours to our permanent repertoire list...
“Sunday, March 23, 2008
PEEP MUTILATION
A: Today is the blessed day for my favorite holiday pastime: peep mutilation. My family has been exchanging peeps ever since I can remember and for whatever psychotic reason, some of us have difficulties in parting with our peeps. Seriously, it is a bit psychotic - I used to have a freezer full of peeps. Probably 7 or so years worth of peeps - they’ve made all the moves - thawed/froze/thawed/froze - until they barely resembled what they used to be. I finally had to throw them out a couple of months ago - I was freaking myself out with my absurd attachment to the sugared friends. But there is a dichotomy: when I am with my cousins during Easter, we engage in the perverse pleasure of inventing new ways to destroy peeps: peeps in the microwave - the explosion is akin to the demise of the StayPuft marshmallow man on Ghostbusters. Other peep deaths have included melting in coffee, shooting them out of a potato gun, frying them and roasting them over a campfire. - Tis the season."
Last night, janus gave a kick-ass performance of new works for trio by Princeton composers. We received six unique and equally engaging works from the graduate composers and faculty at the beginning of August and have been working through them both with and without the composers ever since. I think it may have been the most painless and delightful composer/trio workshopping I've ever been a part of; we were well prepared and the composers each had very clear ideas of what they wanted from their pieces. I think we may have just added a couple of hours to our permanent repertoire list...
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Football and economics
Two things have been on my mind. One: the G-20 summit, which descends on Pittsburgh next week, and two: the sad state of the Chicago Bears, brought on by the recent beginning of the football season.
I am not a football fan. I do, though, shamefully, root for the Bears, I think mostly out of nostalgia. There's a faint hope at the beginning of every season that they might do something awesome. I remember clearly the Bears Super bowl win in '85 and the ensuing mania that evoked, which included the really amazing production of the 'Superbowl Shuffle'. It hasn't quite held up...For your viewing pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ev6AAgZGaPs. I love how these huge guys look so uncomfortable and anti-rhythmic on stage.
Interestingly, this has created a small amount of conflict in the trio, as Amanda is a Packers fan and Beth follows the Eagles. ahh Fall.
As for the G-20: It descends on Pittsburgh next week, and it is a nightmare. So many important people in one place makes for real difficulty in getting the city to function as normal.
I am not a football fan. I do, though, shamefully, root for the Bears, I think mostly out of nostalgia. There's a faint hope at the beginning of every season that they might do something awesome. I remember clearly the Bears Super bowl win in '85 and the ensuing mania that evoked, which included the really amazing production of the 'Superbowl Shuffle'. It hasn't quite held up...For your viewing pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ev6AAgZGaPs. I love how these huge guys look so uncomfortable and anti-rhythmic on stage.
Interestingly, this has created a small amount of conflict in the trio, as Amanda is a Packers fan and Beth follows the Eagles. ahh Fall.
As for the G-20: It descends on Pittsburgh next week, and it is a nightmare. So many important people in one place makes for real difficulty in getting the city to function as normal.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
next...
Road trips always make me think. Tomorrow morning I'm on my way back to Pittsburgh, for the beginning of my second season with the opera there. In thinking about the movement of harp and bags a couple of hundred miles and four tolls out of Brooklyn, it also makes me contemplate what's on the horizon, what new repertoire to learn, what gigs to go after, and what's happened in the last three weeks in the relative stability of the same bed in New York. Recently, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to play 'new' music, and the various pros and cons that come along with it.
Our most recent show, at the Tank in midtown, (thanks to all who came out on a rainy, nasty night! Playing is much more fun when there are bodies and minds to play to!) had three new works on it, which is a lot of music to premier at the same time. On the other half of the program were pieces that we've played before, including a solo harp piece entitled "Polvere et Ombra" by Suzanne Farrin. It's been an enlightening experience to work on this piece, as I've had a lot of direct access to Suzanne herself.
As a performer, access to a composer is invaluable. If the composer is still alive, I feel like it's our duty as musicians to replicate the intent of the composer as closely as possible. This doesn't eradicate the idea of expression or musicality, but serves as a way to break through a score with clarity. Imagine, the composer, dedicated, by whatever process, to imperfectly, inevitably, transfer sound onto paper. From paper to the brain of the performer, to the fingers of the performer, a piece must make leaps away from the original intent of the composer. To have both a verbal and auditory aid in learning a piece, in the form of composer, hopefully makes this loss much smaller.
I've been around Suzanne twice, now, when she has given talks about this particular piece. Each time, something new about the discussion of her compositional process has made my reading of the piece much deeper. It's up for debate whether this makes any difference in my performance, but I would hope that some of it came through.
I was reminded about the idea of process and compositional intent this morning, in reading the Sunday paper (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/13/movies/13kehr.html?ref=arts). What most struck me about this article was the idea of Von Trier's improvisatory process even at the point when he is ready to interact with actors. Because of the way I work, it's much more comforting to have a composer who has thought through the piece on the paper fully before the process with the performer begins.
Our most recent show, at the Tank in midtown, (thanks to all who came out on a rainy, nasty night! Playing is much more fun when there are bodies and minds to play to!) had three new works on it, which is a lot of music to premier at the same time. On the other half of the program were pieces that we've played before, including a solo harp piece entitled "Polvere et Ombra" by Suzanne Farrin. It's been an enlightening experience to work on this piece, as I've had a lot of direct access to Suzanne herself.
As a performer, access to a composer is invaluable. If the composer is still alive, I feel like it's our duty as musicians to replicate the intent of the composer as closely as possible. This doesn't eradicate the idea of expression or musicality, but serves as a way to break through a score with clarity. Imagine, the composer, dedicated, by whatever process, to imperfectly, inevitably, transfer sound onto paper. From paper to the brain of the performer, to the fingers of the performer, a piece must make leaps away from the original intent of the composer. To have both a verbal and auditory aid in learning a piece, in the form of composer, hopefully makes this loss much smaller.
I've been around Suzanne twice, now, when she has given talks about this particular piece. Each time, something new about the discussion of her compositional process has made my reading of the piece much deeper. It's up for debate whether this makes any difference in my performance, but I would hope that some of it came through.
I was reminded about the idea of process and compositional intent this morning, in reading the Sunday paper (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/13/movies/13kehr.html?ref=arts). What most struck me about this article was the idea of Von Trier's improvisatory process even at the point when he is ready to interact with actors. Because of the way I work, it's much more comforting to have a composer who has thought through the piece on the paper fully before the process with the performer begins.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Lengths
I'm always amazed at the dedication and sacrifice that's involved in being a part of a chamber music group. I'll take it a step further and say that to be a member of a contemporary music ensemble takes extra courage and conviction. You have to believe in what you're doing to go to the lengths we sometimes go through. I believe that musicians such as we three wear these lengths as a badge of honor - as we should!
I'm on an Amtrak train right now with my new smart phone that allows me to do janus business while underground (Yes! Productivity!). Today's travel experience has me reflecting on some of the sacrifices we make to further the success of this trio we call our own. So instead of catch up on the "after-hours" janus emails and work, I'm drawn to contribute a blog entry about the lengths we each go through to accomplish the obvious, simple and expected job we've taken on and are dedicated to: playing in a trio.
To sum up my day, it started at 6am (coffee ready to be turned "on") with my bags already packed the night before ready to arrive at my destination of Marlboro, VT later this evening. Before heading to the second of this week's janus rehearsals I went to my other job as a pilates instructor (my alter-ego - and not a bad way to stay in shape for those long recording sessions ahead!) for 4 hours. Of course between work and rehearsal, I had to stop by the "Bakeri" in Williamsburg to pick up the day's finest pastries for our rehearsal break later that day (a self-elected job I deemed necessary to add to my janus tasks long ago as I tend to be the 1/3 of the group who travels BY FAR the least out of the 3 of us! And so the least I can do is provide for the sweet tooth!)
I digress...
An hour subway ride from north Brooklyn to south Brooklyn takes me the 4 full miles to Nuiko's brother's apartment where we hold our NYC rehearsals. After 4 hours of working through all new works for this Princeton show on 9/22 (thanks for coming out to Parkside Cameron and Konrad!), I'm ready to jump back on the subway and head up to Grand Central to catch one of two more trains that will eventually (soon I hope!) leave me off in Springfield, Mass. where I'll be picked up by a volunteer driver (thanks in advance, Jesse!) who will bring me finally to Marlboro College where I'll spend some days working on a project with a few French choreographers and an "NYC-based" composer.
there I went digressing... but it's so blogging easy!
I'm stuck on all the details of the day, however, today's adventures are by no means exceptional when considering the lives of the fine young women of the janus trio. As the more NYC-central 3rd of this group, I'm always inspired by the distances and hurdles my two colleagues will sometimes overcome just to make it to a 5 hour rehearsal, only to turn right back around and do it all over again in reverse! I know this sounds like an exaggeration to some of you, but I can not tell a lie (really, try me).
It's always funny when we're asked about where we live or, when we're touring, "where does your trio comes from?" It's the same for most musicians of course. You grew up here, then you moved away to school, then you transferred to a music conservatory, then another school for your masters, and again for your doctorate... and eventually you're not really sure how to answer this question! Of course it's fun to have so many possibilities. When it comes to janus, we have a few options as well. We are a "Brooklyn-based trio" or depending on the venue "NYC-based". However here's how it really goes...
Amanda and Beth met when Amanda was at Yale (CT). Amanda moved to NYC and Beth to Brooklyn (NY). Amanda won her position at the Coast Guard Band and moved to Mystic (CT). Beth met Nuiko in Aspen (CO) - side note: Nuiko was living in Houston (TX). Nuiko, still living near Rice, came up to play with janus while she was also living part-time in Chicago (IL). Nuiko won her job at the Pittsburgh Opera (PA) and also moved part-time to Brooklyn (NY).
For the record, I didn't digress.
These are the three states that we live in: CT, PA and NY. And that's being conservative, really, considering summer music festivals, etc. So, you can imagine the lengths that are taken to create a rehearsal schedule, plan a tour or recording session, or even just get together and talk over a few beers! We've never tried to rehearse over the phone but I imagine groups like ours might take it into consideration in dire straights! So far, we've managed just fine and with grace. Considering any of these simple questions like "where is your trio from?", "how was rehearsal today?" or "what does it take to survive in these financial times?" :) I can't help but ponder the lengths.
So, as I await the piercingly-loud announcement for Springfield, I feel like I'm joining my colleagues in a normal day's work. I'll keep bringing the baked goods, ladies.
-B
I'm on an Amtrak train right now with my new smart phone that allows me to do janus business while underground (Yes! Productivity!). Today's travel experience has me reflecting on some of the sacrifices we make to further the success of this trio we call our own. So instead of catch up on the "after-hours" janus emails and work, I'm drawn to contribute a blog entry about the lengths we each go through to accomplish the obvious, simple and expected job we've taken on and are dedicated to: playing in a trio.
To sum up my day, it started at 6am (coffee ready to be turned "on") with my bags already packed the night before ready to arrive at my destination of Marlboro, VT later this evening. Before heading to the second of this week's janus rehearsals I went to my other job as a pilates instructor (my alter-ego - and not a bad way to stay in shape for those long recording sessions ahead!) for 4 hours. Of course between work and rehearsal, I had to stop by the "Bakeri" in Williamsburg to pick up the day's finest pastries for our rehearsal break later that day (a self-elected job I deemed necessary to add to my janus tasks long ago as I tend to be the 1/3 of the group who travels BY FAR the least out of the 3 of us! And so the least I can do is provide for the sweet tooth!)
I digress...
An hour subway ride from north Brooklyn to south Brooklyn takes me the 4 full miles to Nuiko's brother's apartment where we hold our NYC rehearsals. After 4 hours of working through all new works for this Princeton show on 9/22 (thanks for coming out to Parkside Cameron and Konrad!), I'm ready to jump back on the subway and head up to Grand Central to catch one of two more trains that will eventually (soon I hope!) leave me off in Springfield, Mass. where I'll be picked up by a volunteer driver (thanks in advance, Jesse!) who will bring me finally to Marlboro College where I'll spend some days working on a project with a few French choreographers and an "NYC-based" composer.
there I went digressing... but it's so blogging easy!
I'm stuck on all the details of the day, however, today's adventures are by no means exceptional when considering the lives of the fine young women of the janus trio. As the more NYC-central 3rd of this group, I'm always inspired by the distances and hurdles my two colleagues will sometimes overcome just to make it to a 5 hour rehearsal, only to turn right back around and do it all over again in reverse! I know this sounds like an exaggeration to some of you, but I can not tell a lie (really, try me).
It's always funny when we're asked about where we live or, when we're touring, "where does your trio comes from?" It's the same for most musicians of course. You grew up here, then you moved away to school, then you transferred to a music conservatory, then another school for your masters, and again for your doctorate... and eventually you're not really sure how to answer this question! Of course it's fun to have so many possibilities. When it comes to janus, we have a few options as well. We are a "Brooklyn-based trio" or depending on the venue "NYC-based". However here's how it really goes...
Amanda and Beth met when Amanda was at Yale (CT). Amanda moved to NYC and Beth to Brooklyn (NY). Amanda won her position at the Coast Guard Band and moved to Mystic (CT). Beth met Nuiko in Aspen (CO) - side note: Nuiko was living in Houston (TX). Nuiko, still living near Rice, came up to play with janus while she was also living part-time in Chicago (IL). Nuiko won her job at the Pittsburgh Opera (PA) and also moved part-time to Brooklyn (NY).
For the record, I didn't digress.
These are the three states that we live in: CT, PA and NY. And that's being conservative, really, considering summer music festivals, etc. So, you can imagine the lengths that are taken to create a rehearsal schedule, plan a tour or recording session, or even just get together and talk over a few beers! We've never tried to rehearse over the phone but I imagine groups like ours might take it into consideration in dire straights! So far, we've managed just fine and with grace. Considering any of these simple questions like "where is your trio from?", "how was rehearsal today?" or "what does it take to survive in these financial times?" :) I can't help but ponder the lengths.
So, as I await the piercingly-loud announcement for Springfield, I feel like I'm joining my colleagues in a normal day's work. I'll keep bringing the baked goods, ladies.
-B
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Duck, duck, duck...goose
On paper, I've been playing the harp for 22 years. I'm continually amazed, though, by the process that I go through to learn a new piece, which seems to have changed very little since the beginning. The last couple of weeks (really since the middle of July) have had a rapid turnover for me in terms of learning new pieces quickly, so I've had a lot of time to reflect on my own cognitive limitations. There seems to be a rather long initial period with a new piece when I anticipate feeling comfortable, but haven't quite gotten there. It feels a little like playing duck duck goose.
Day one: Idiocy (duck). After making the physical part (which is an art in and of itself, allowing for the possibility of page turns while still attempting to play) I sit down tenuously at the harp. The act of transferring rhythm from page to brain to finger is a little like reading a language that one is not quite fluent in. Inevitably, this is the most frustrating period of time. One would think that it would get easier after a couple of years practicing everyday for at least a couple of hours, but for me, no.
Day two: Idiocy (duck) and a slice of self-deprecation. At this point, instead of banging away fruitlessly, I try not to look at what the finished product needs to be, but rather take it down to the smallest package possible. This means measure by measure, slowly, possibly beat by beat, trying to both engender muscle memory, and ensure that the brain will not freak out while looking at embedded poly-rhythms or other such boggling items. While this is frustrating, there is some small measure of pride in the idea of 'getting it right'. This is what we mean by practice.
Day Three: Idiocy (duck) a little faster. Still in the throes of muscle memory, I try, I often fail to speed things up. As a rather elderly teacher once told me, though, "You have to put the wheels on the car before you can drive it. Take it slow." (She then took it upon herself to change a pedal felt, a process which involved her 4'2", 86 year-old frame tipping the 6'+, 85 lb. harp on its column and getting down on her knees to manually re-sew the felt...Needless to say, it was a memorable lesson.)
Day four, day five, day six: Continued idiocy (duck, duck, duck), but with a hint of stubbornness. I have to keep believing, having done this before, that there will be some payoff after hitting against a brick wall for days. To get there, though, requires something that most people would recognize as pig-headedness. Maybe we, as musicians, are just too slow to that insight.
Day Seven: Enlightenment. (Goose!).
I sit down, I begin to read rhythms-They feel natural, like a sentence, like many sentences, I feel less like a dolt, more like a musician. At this point, things come quickly and I'm finally ready to start rehearsal with the group...(duck, duck, duck, collectively)
Day one: Idiocy (duck). After making the physical part (which is an art in and of itself, allowing for the possibility of page turns while still attempting to play) I sit down tenuously at the harp. The act of transferring rhythm from page to brain to finger is a little like reading a language that one is not quite fluent in. Inevitably, this is the most frustrating period of time. One would think that it would get easier after a couple of years practicing everyday for at least a couple of hours, but for me, no.
Day two: Idiocy (duck) and a slice of self-deprecation. At this point, instead of banging away fruitlessly, I try not to look at what the finished product needs to be, but rather take it down to the smallest package possible. This means measure by measure, slowly, possibly beat by beat, trying to both engender muscle memory, and ensure that the brain will not freak out while looking at embedded poly-rhythms or other such boggling items. While this is frustrating, there is some small measure of pride in the idea of 'getting it right'. This is what we mean by practice.
Day Three: Idiocy (duck) a little faster. Still in the throes of muscle memory, I try, I often fail to speed things up. As a rather elderly teacher once told me, though, "You have to put the wheels on the car before you can drive it. Take it slow." (She then took it upon herself to change a pedal felt, a process which involved her 4'2", 86 year-old frame tipping the 6'+, 85 lb. harp on its column and getting down on her knees to manually re-sew the felt...Needless to say, it was a memorable lesson.)
Day four, day five, day six: Continued idiocy (duck, duck, duck), but with a hint of stubbornness. I have to keep believing, having done this before, that there will be some payoff after hitting against a brick wall for days. To get there, though, requires something that most people would recognize as pig-headedness. Maybe we, as musicians, are just too slow to that insight.
Day Seven: Enlightenment. (Goose!).
I sit down, I begin to read rhythms-They feel natural, like a sentence, like many sentences, I feel less like a dolt, more like a musician. At this point, things come quickly and I'm finally ready to start rehearsal with the group...(duck, duck, duck, collectively)
Friday, August 28, 2009
The New Season
We've just begun the new season. For me, it's finally beginning to feel comfortable, as in the last two years most of what I've been doing is playing catchup and learning repertoire that the group collectively has already learned. The end of the season and the beginning of the season are both times that seem to inspire reflection. I can say with impunity that we have grown immeasurably as a group, both in our playing and our understanding of what it takes to make three (often very different) personalities and attitudes work harmoniously.
Our largest project this year is the completion (finally finally!) of our debut cd, which will have been three and a half years in the making. It has changed form more than a few times in the past 12 months, morphing in rep from a program we would actually play now (standards interspersed with commissions) to one completely of commissions. It's difficult to believe that we will see a physical product in the next year, but as we now have all the music in our hot little hands, it is actually happening.
This adventure has been uncharted territory for all three of us, beginning with funding and moving through to rep, a real label (New Amsterdam Records!), more funding, the recording process (much more difficult with three perfectionists), the editing process, and packaging, promoting and release. (whew.) With so many cds on the market, one thinks that the process would be easier, and maybe it will be with every successive cd we put out, but it has been a pretty steep learning curve for all three of us.
In the next three months we have lots of music to learn, most notably an entire program of composers attending Princeton. After that, there's a hibernation period to lock down this cd rep, and then a number of out-of-town programs in the spring.
Our largest project this year is the completion (finally finally!) of our debut cd, which will have been three and a half years in the making. It has changed form more than a few times in the past 12 months, morphing in rep from a program we would actually play now (standards interspersed with commissions) to one completely of commissions. It's difficult to believe that we will see a physical product in the next year, but as we now have all the music in our hot little hands, it is actually happening.
This adventure has been uncharted territory for all three of us, beginning with funding and moving through to rep, a real label (New Amsterdam Records!), more funding, the recording process (much more difficult with three perfectionists), the editing process, and packaging, promoting and release. (whew.) With so many cds on the market, one thinks that the process would be easier, and maybe it will be with every successive cd we put out, but it has been a pretty steep learning curve for all three of us.
In the next three months we have lots of music to learn, most notably an entire program of composers attending Princeton. After that, there's a hibernation period to lock down this cd rep, and then a number of out-of-town programs in the spring.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)