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.

“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."

We all have our oddities. As I was saying, though, we all deal with the time pre-concert in very different ways. Beth likes to keep really busy right up to the time we go onstage, Amanda usually needs some quiet focused time, and as I will have responsibly missed my 5 o'clock daily beer, I get a little hyper and then sleepy. All this, though, seems to disappear when we get on stage-both our stage presence and professionalism have come a long way in the last few years, and the idea of leaving the ego at the stage door and playing like a trio is central to that.

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...

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.

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.

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

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)