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.
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