Archipelago series post!

Below is my blog post for www.sequenza21.com for the 2/26 New Amsterdam Records "Archipelago" series at Galapagos:

It’s not often that I’m involved in both sets of an evening’s lineup. I’m Beth Meyers and I play viola in janus (also Amanda Baker, flutes and Nuiko Wadden, harp) as well as QQQ (“triple Q”) which is Monica Mugan, acoustic guitar; Jason Treuting, drums and percussion; Dan Trueman, hardanger fiddle. These two acts have shared the stage before about a year ago at Joe’s Pub for QQQ’s album release. But this Friday we’ll share the bill as part of a special New Amsterdam Records and Galapagos series called “Archipelago” at Galapagos Art Space 2/26, 8pm.

The series presents “cross-genre chamber music” and as a member of both janus and QQQ, I can’t think of many other ways to describe each group let alone tie the two together! One group was born from music by the likes of Claude Debussy and has been moving steadily away from classical notation and performance practice as we find the future sound for flute/viola/harp. The other ensemble (please refer to us as a “band”) draws it’s inspiration from folk music written for Norwegian dance and “picking” on the porch as much as it does from contemporary pop/groove and classical counterpoint. So, this “cross-genre chamber music” is a good place to start.

Okay, so there’s another thing that ties us together besides me. It goes without saying that we’re all friends, too. janus was formed in 2002 when Amanda and I were at a party that my then boyfriend, Jason, took me to. One of the first conversations Amanda and I had was about how much we loved the Debussy Sonata for trio and how we’d love to play it together. The story goes that the trio was formed in January (hence, janus) after playing the Debussy and anything else we could get our hands on. Turned out there wasn’t much music out there. But, lucky for us, we were both friends with lots of composers from our respective schools (Eastman and Yale) … and the rest is history.

As for the tale of QQQ… again born out of love for a sound (and in this case my absolute infatuation with all things fiddle - and of course drums) the band came to life on Thanksgiving, 2006. It wasn’t all my doing of course. I was first introduced to “Trolstilt” at the CMA conference a few years before where I also met Dan and Monica for the first time. I have to admit I was not only blown away by the interesting tunes this duo performed on guitar and fiddle, but completely in awe of this instrument I’d never seen or heard before. It’s hard to say which aspect of the hardanger fiddle is more striking, it’s delicate and ornately detailed body or it’s other-wordly sound. I think I bumbled a little while meeting them and definitely said “how can I get one of those?” A few years later while performing a show at Princeton with my now husband, Jason, the four of us got to talking. Apparently Dan had been dreaming of adding a low sound like viola to the duo and drums were the icing on the cake (or the cake itself?). Dan had a few tunes he wanted to play and Jason wrote a few tunes… and history.

But, as much as we’re all friends (in QQQ’s case, two married couples) and part of these two “genre-bending” ensembles, the sounds from these two groups couldn’t be more polar-opposite. At Friday’s show you’ll here QQQ, a band that writes it’s own music, premier two new works:

Dan’s “From Ort”, is a suite of songs featuring vocalist, Daisy Press, and animation by Judy Trueman. This piece is a tribute and memorial to Trueman’s great-uncle, Ort, from Wausau, Wisconsin, who died in 2008 at the age of 102. Ort, whose family was from the Enstad farm in Norway, was a huge fan of the hardinfele (hardanger fiddle). He was also a record keeper, and compiled a huge book of information about the family tree. Judy Trueman, Dan’s mother and Ort’s niece, used photographs from these records to create a beautiful “animated painting” that will accompany the tunes.

From the other side of QQQ’s sound comes a collection of pieces titled “11 words” by Jason, inspired by 11 of the new words added to the Webster Dictionary this past year. These short tunes also call for Daisy to join forces with the band. But like QQQ’s debut album title “Unpacking the Trailer…” hints, it’s hard to know what you’re going to find from words like agroterrorism, abdominoplasti, hoody and crunk. Personally, I’m really looking forward to “yogilates”. The set will be rounded out with a tune from “Unpacking” featuring just the band.

Following QQQ, janus, who collaborates with and commissions composers to write for the group, will take the stage and present music from it’s forthcoming debut album due to drop sometime in Fall 2010. The program features works by Anna Clyne, Cameron Britt, Ryan Brown, Angelica Negron and Jason Treuting as well as a few other surprises. One of the best things about working with so many different composers is that we continue to discover new sounds through their composition. This album is no exception as you’ll hear from these tunes that feature us playing our flutes/viola/harp, adding a little banjo and percussion here and there (literally in the harp), singing and performing with electronics and video… we’re a far cry from Debussy these days!

So, “cross-genre” covers many bases: from janus’s classical chamber music roots to Dan and Monica’s folk background and Jason’s 2 and 4 backbeats in QQQ. Maybe someday soon we’ll have a 12^th word to add to the dictionary that encapsulates this genre of new sounds into a few syllables. For now, “new” also works. Thanks to New Amsterdam Records and Galapagos for programming these two great groups on the same show! Looking forward to sharing a lot of new music with new ears.

-Beth Meyers

Let's reflect for a moment, shall we?

This was our original recording at the So Percussion Space in 2007.
A little makeshift, but we managed to get a demo cd out of it. (Many, many, many thanks to the So guys for allowing us to take over.) Below, however was my mental state when we finally wrapped that experience.









Observe, if you will, the luxurious conditions we just finished recording in.






A little less spastic, a little more sane. We've been lucky.

from in the recording studio

I really wanted to do this because it's just not the same post-recording. So, I'm sitting behind Lawson White at the console of Clinton Recording Studios on 46th and 10th Ave. We're in studio A, which, if you haven't ever been here before is a @$*^ing unbelievable room to make a record in. This room was the home for recording artists including Frank Sinatra, Bob Dylan, Paul Simon, Bruce Springsteen, REM, Chick Corea, Sonny Rollins, and Ringo Starr to name a few of the greats. Needless to say, we're humbled by the spirit of this room.

Right now I'm sitting in the sound booth instead of behind the mic because Amanda and Nuiko are laying down the harp percussion for Ryan Brown's "Under the Rug". It's a one-person part but Nuiko's harp is so resonant that she has to sit there and hold on to it so Amanda's knocking doesn't bring out all the vibrations these expensive mics easily pick up. It's a pretty special moment for me to be able to have this perspective which is completely polar opposite to the feeling of being in that big room. I have to relay to you the picture that's laid out in front of me, too. There are no less than 11 mics on tall stands that I'm sure all have impressive technical names and numbers I could only dream of. The visual of them all growing toward the ceiling is like a herd of giraffes reaching up for the birds ear to our sound. And if you squint your eyes it starts to look a bit like a war - the mic stands some sort of army of machinery that has us surrounded. I'm sure they're all necessary to capture the sounds from our 3 instruments (additionally 4: harp percussion, 5: banjo and 6: voices occasionally) - and to grab the "room sound" from a stereo sense. If you're following all of that, then you may have had a recording experience of your own. Or, you might geek out about how some of your favorite albums were recorded. The where, when, weather, and even time of day can be heard if you listen carefully enough. I just heard a stomach growl, so I guess you can even hear what's on the menu. If you believe me, then you'll hear it, too.

The girls are about done with the percussion sounds then it's off to re-record Caleb Burhans's "Keymaster" which was recorded back in the winter of 2007 at the So Percussion rehearsal space in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. A far cry from Clinton. Good thing there were a few other reasons to clean up that recording, which gives us a reason to lay it down in this heavenly setting. Not to say that the So Space wasn't an incredible experience in it's own right (complete with Lawson's make-shift console set up in the back corner of the space, gargantuan felt baffles surrounding us and taking turns turning the heat on in between takes as it was the middle of the winter). We're keeping one of the tunes we recorded there, which also happens to be the title track for the album - Jason Treuting's "I am not (blank)". It's pretty fitting to keep that recording from 233 Norman Ave in Brooklyn not only because Jason's So Percussion resides there but also because that recording of "I am not (blank)" captures exactly what I was referring to earlier. You can totally hear the temperature in the room, the feeling that we really wanted to be there regardless of the circumstances causing our fingers to numb. Jason's piece also asks us to put ourselves in it in a different way than the other tunes on the album. We're improvisers for much of the piece and when it comes to capturing these kind of moments, we already did.

So, it's 1pm and we're on schedule. Just finished Ryan's piece, Caleb up to bat. The rest of the day also includes recording "unintelligible" whispering and backing claps (which I'm MOST excited about from these 3 recording days) for Ryan's piece, crumpling paper for the end of Angelica Negron's "Drawings for Meyoko" which we otherwise finished up yesterday morning, and all of Caleb's piece. The last part of today is something I'm looking forward to so much. We're planning to lay down our version of a piece by David Lang called "Little Eye" which was originally written for "solo cello and 4 non-percussionists". We've thought a lot about how to record all of this music these past 3 days both from a purist standpoint as well as from the side of using modern technology to it's fullest. How do I put this? We want to make a great record that appeals to our ears while still performing relatively what's possible live. This can get hard when you start to use technology at all, right? For example, once you're performing with electronics or a "tape part" then you're already running into issues of balance (especially for the bass of the harp). In this case, we're adding some claps for Ryan's piece where we wouldn't all be able to clap live. But, why wouldn't I want to clap, too? 3 claps just sound better than 1. That's probably the most mild example from this album recording experience. On the other end of things, we're planning to cover 4 non-percussionists with just 2 members of the trio. No apologies. I'd forgotten that So Percussion recorded Steve Reich's Drumming at the Hit Factory a number of years ago (R.I.P. Hit Factory ... apparently Drumming was the last record that was made there). Anyway, Drumming is scored for 9 percussionists, 2 singers and 1 piccolo player. Done live, you absolutely need 12 people. So Percussion is 4 people and they did it themselves. Well, they invited singers and piccolo to record. Only so much magic is possible.

So, you can make magic happen in the studio. I'm witnessing this as I type and will join them in the room after the Indian food is ordered. We're about to record some whispers. Listen carefully...

Sticks and Stones

Having played together for several years now, we janus girls have learned a lot about each other’s tendencies and quirks. Being very fond of nicknames, I like to take these discoveries and turn them into suitable nicknames. Here are mine for Nuiko and Beth.

Last August, Nuiko and I were driving to a train station in CT to pick up Beth. Even though it was a summer weekend in New England, the traffic was minimal compared to the jammed highways and streets of New York. Nonetheless, with each cautious and careful lane change I attempted, Nuiko, sitting in my passenger seat, was “kind enough” to crane her head back and check my blind spot. She was very consistent with her supervising and it felt like I was in the rigors of driver’s ed rather than in the too familiar enclave of my own car. For such a chillaxed person, I thought it unusual that Nuiko be so vigilant in her self-assigned duty. Her nervous behavior prompted me to think back on other times I’ve been in the driver’s seat and I recalled her looking over her shoulder often making sure I wasn’t about to create a mess of metal. So then I had to ask myself, “Is it possible that I am a bad driver? Could she be looking over her shoulder in terror because she thinks it entirely possible that I’d run into another car?” Not being one to beat around the bush, I immediately asked the question of her. She denied any conscious involvement in being my official lane approver and stated that she in fact, thought I was a very good driver (yes, really). Having the spotlight shone on her for the rest of the ride, she realized herself that with each maneuver I attempted, she did indeed swivel her head and peer into the back seat. Even amongst our fits of laughter over her paranoia, Nuiko continued to verify our safety all the way home. Thus, Nuiko has been named Blindspot or BS for short. She takes pride in helping us all drive and making our American roadways that much safer. Thanks BS.

If any of you know Beth, you know that she possesses endless amounts of energy. She has a very small frame and flits about from one gig to the next usually while carrying at least one instrument and at the bare minimum, one heavy bag. There are two stories that come to mind that together, sealed Beth’s nickname. Last fall, we had a noontime rehearsal at Nuiko’s place and since Beth had come from teaching a Pilates session, she brought a lunch to eat before we began. She was in her usual high gear mode, eating pretty quickly all the while talking about her most recent social annoyance. I looked up from our muffins to discover that Beth had gathered some food to one of her cheeks and studying the protrusion I thought to myself, “Huh. Beth could be hoarding nuts like a squirrel.” Thinking about this a little more, I came to the realization that there was more truth behind my squirrel thought to be considered: she is prone to fits of sudden, unexplained movement, she chases other squirrels from one tree to the next (hypothetically speaking), she is always hyper-alert and she swishes her tail and emits a caw to warn her predators. Yup. Girl a squirrel. Around that same time, we were in rehearsal when we came to a particularly laborious section. Beth said something about being annoyed and in a freaky display of defense, made one of her eyes protrude from her head while her eyelid came about halfway down on the other. Classic squirrel face. Done deal.

I have a nickname too but I think it is based on a silly misconception. It’s best left to my bandmates to explain if they so desire. One hint: it involves a creature attracted to light – its kiss of death.

So last year...

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.

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...

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.