tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-136114822009-08-02T14:31:08.258-04:00David H. ThomasJerry Bowlesnoreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-51338009480329420162009-08-02T14:31:00.001-04:002009-08-02T14:31:08.407-04:00#LegereReeds respond well to knife and sandpaper. I just improved response by sanding tip (away from heart) and depth by removing shoulder.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-5133800948032942016?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-88358572815579242152009-07-31T15:33:00.001-04:002009-07-31T15:33:29.775-04:00New post, "Beethoven 6 Tweets from NSO" - <a href="http://tr.im/uXPG">http://tr.im/uXPG</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-8835857281557924215?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-89156914773854089702009-07-30T00:45:00.002-04:002009-07-30T01:22:51.104-04:00Tweet you at the Symphony!"The National Symphony Orchestra is trying an experiment. It's tweeting Beethoven's "Pastoral" Symphony, Thursday night at Wolf Trap."<br /><br />More at the following link- <a href="http://ping.fm/yV4Fw">http://ping.fm/yV4Fw</a><br /><blockquote>The orchestra will use the micro-blogging site Twitter to send text messages of 140 characters or fewer from conductor Emil de Cou during the performance. (Example: "In my score Beethoven has printed Nightingale = flute Quail = oboe Cuckoo = clarinet -- a mini concerto for woodwind/birds.")</blockquote>Young users of multi-tasking devices such as Blackberry phones and other smart phones such as iPhone and PalmPre, will be able to follow the timed program notes as the music happens, an improvement over the traditional printed program notes which the reader may not be able to apply easily to the musical event live.<br /><br />Of course, the devices (and users faces) will glow, a possible distraction to others, so organizers have designated a separate lawn area for those users.<br /><br />The question of integrating technological innovations into the normally conseravative concert experience is addressed in the article, from using videos to laser light shows to maintain younger audiences interest.<br /><br />An earlier device to deliver live program notes, called the Concert Companion is mentioned, since it was the precursor to this Twitter experiment. Invented by Roland Valliere, Columbus Symphony's new President and CEO, it failed to gain universal success after its hopeful beginnings in 2003.<br /><blockquote>Many of the people who used the [Concert Companion] devices were enthusiastic. One longtime subscriber said he had heard "Petroushka" numerous times, but had never actually understood so much about what was going on. But others found it tiring because following a piece with the Concert Companion called for a greater level of concentration on the music than they were used to: It made them listen more, not less. Those who were up in arms against the thing generally didn't try it out at all because they were so certain that it represented egregious dumbing down. (One problem the project ran into is that the hand-held devices kept getting stolen; so much for the refinement of classical music audiences.)</blockquote>Whether the National Symphony's Twitter experiment is the next wave of personal concert guides for classical music venues, or just another passing fancy, remains to be seen.<br /><br />Personally I support the idea. But I have to admit I am biased. I just got a Palm Pre (which can receive Tweets live), and I love it!<br /><br />Though I cannot attend the concert live I'll be there in spirit. Apparently you can receive the National Symphony concert Tweets by following NSOatWolfTrap on Twitter.<br /><br />Tweet you at the Symphony tomorrow night!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-8915691477385408970?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-9068364233102311322009-07-09T01:18:00.001-04:002009-07-09T01:18:06.865-04:00Hello all. Dtclarinet chiming in from Ping.fm. Here's my latest Buzzing Reed post. <a href="http://ping.fm/HVbsR">http://ping.fm/HVbsR</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-906836423310231132?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-17769391003409828392008-12-21T00:24:00.000-05:002008-12-21T00:27:58.587-05:00My Teaching Philosophy<p>I first learned to play the clarinet in 1972, after hearing a demonstration of various instruments, whereby I chose the clarinet because it “went the highest and the lowest” of them all. </p> <p>The more I learn about playing music, the more I love teaching. At age 17 I was proficient enough in clarinet technique to instruct younger students. Through the experience of mentoring beginning players, I discovered that the process of deconstructing the mechanics of playing the instrument enables the teacher to better instruct himself. The enlightening experience of imparting knowledge to others has motivated me to continue teaching the skills of making music on the clarinet to this day.</p> <p>Each new student shows me what they need. Since 1989, after moving to Columbus, Ohio as the Principal Clarinetist with the Columbus Symphony, I have had numerous students graduate from my studio and go on to study clarinet at the university level, including notably, Indiana University, Northwestern University, University of Michigan and the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. I also coach university level students and adult professionals, helping them prepare for orchestral auditions or other performance events as needed.</p> <p>I have no preference for any particular age group when I teach. All ages are a joy to teach, each with their own unique breakthroughs in learning to learn and to express themselves from the core of their being.</p> <p>Better understanding of how we live inspires better teaching. Beginning in 2003, my teaching philosophy has included some critical concepts of physical awareness which I learned from the Alexander Technique, with great success for my students. The Alexander Technique emphasizes balance and poise in the use of the whole self, including proper body coordination, mental and physical attitude, and physical and mental focus. The Technique enables me to analyze the student’s use of his or her self, allowing me to craft a style of teaching tailored to each student’s needs. Rather than merely “getting to the goal” of playing all the exercises in a particular book, which often comes with many negative compensating habits, I teach the most efficient and natural way for a student to learn to play the instrument, and by extension, learn to live better day to day. </p> <p>The ultimate goal of any teaching method is to impart to each student a greater awareness of the complexity and beauty of playing music through their chosen instrument.</p> <p>I teach from my home in Columbus, Ohio. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-1776939100340982839?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-34614469091151832842008-11-13T12:36:00.000-05:002008-11-13T12:40:20.487-05:00My Teaching PhilosophyI first learned to play the clarinet in 1972, after hearing a demonstration of various instruments, whereby I chose the clarinet because it "went the highest and the lowest" of them all. <br /><br />The more I learn about playing music, the more I love teaching. By 1977, at age 17, I was proficient enough in clarinet technique to instruct younger students. Through the experience of mentoring beginning players, I discovered that the process of deconstructing the mechanics of playing the instrument enables the teacher to better instruct himself. The enlightening experience of imparting knowledge to others has motivated me to continue teaching the skills of making music on the clarinet to this day.<br /><br />Each new student shows me what they need. Since 1989, after moving to Columbus, Ohio as the Principal Clarinetist with the Columbus Symphony, I have had numerous students graduate from my studio and go on to study clarinet at the university level, including notably, Indiana University, Northwestern University, University of Michigan and the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music. I also coach university level students and adult professionals, helping them prepare for orchestral auditions or other performance events as needed.<br /><br />I have no preference for any particular age group when I teach. All ages are a joy to teach, each with their own unique breakthroughs in learning to learn and to express themselves from the core of their being.<br /><br />Better understanding of how we live inspires better teaching. Beginning in 2003, my teaching philosophy has included some critical concepts of physical awareness which I learned from the Alexander Technique, with great success for my students. The Alexander Technique emphasizes balance and poise in the use of the whole self, including proper body coordination, mental and physical attitude, and physical and mental focus. The Technique enables me to analyze the student's use of his or her self, allowing me to craft a style of teaching tailored to each student's needs. Rather than merely "getting to the goal" of playing all the exercises in a particular book, which often comes with many negative compensating habits, I teach the most efficient and natural way for a student to learn to play the instrument, and by extension, learn to live better day to day. <br /><br />The ultimate goal of any teaching method is to impart to each student a greater awareness of the complexity and beauty of playing music through their chosen instrument.<br /><br />I teach from my home in Clintonville.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-3461446909115183284?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-35820198592577223732008-08-30T23:16:00.000-04:002008-08-30T23:18:17.879-04:00Alive with MusicOK, so I go for the corny, million dollar phrases, but the title Alive with Music captures so much of what we strive for as musicians. Over the past half century, recordings have both stimulated and undermined the popularity of live classical music. On the one hand, recorded music allows ready access and exposure to music by those who might not have had the opportunity to hear much. I could ask myself, “Would I have become a clarinetist if I hadn’t fatefully heard that recording of Robert Marcellus playing the Mozart Clarinet Concerto?”<br /><br />However, recordings also create a false standard for live music performances. Current technology allows for recordings to be edited down to the level of single notes, so it is possible for all flaws to be removed from almost any recording before it is released. Granted, the music is still performed by live orchestras, but the drama of the moment, with close calls, near misses, and belly flops, has been removed to be replaced by the security of artificial perfection by correction. (I wrote an article about this subject saeveral years ago, called Music Recordings Byte Reality.)<br /><br />What I am trying to say is this. Though the music may be the same, the difference between a live performance and a recording is as apples are to oranges.<br /><br />Tonight, the musicians of the Columbus Symphony had a triumphant performance in Vets Memorial Auditorium. The crowd of at least 2000 swarmed in late, with many people caught in the snarled traffic jam involving the Jazz and Rib Fest., which shared parking lots with our event. Even our conductor’s arrival at the hall was delayed by the traffic. One supporter friend emailed me after the performance telling me they were turned away for parking and missed the concert.<br /><br />The conductor for tonight’s concert was Alessandro Siciliani, who was Music Director of the Columbus Symphony for 12 years. He certainly has an avid following, and the electricity of a live performance is most definitely enhanced by the audience in attendance. Tonight, the repeated standing ovations signaled their adoration for him, and for us through him. Maestro Alessandro had no trouble living up to his reputation in his performance, both with the orchestra and his adoring fans.<br /><br />His tempos were characteristically exciting and very, very flexible; something akin to riding fast on a rubber roller coaster, most assuredly an exhilarating ride. Yet, despite the musician’s occasional discomfort, something exudes from a performance with “Big Al” which could never happen again, ever. Each moment is unique, and something to be cherished as it passes forever into oblivion. And the audiences of Columbus tune into that energy, as if it’s something they have needed to feel for a long time, to be reminded of the preciousness (and excitement) of the moment.<br /><br />The musicians of the Symphony were proud to have members of the Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Cincinnati orchestra in our midst tonight, creating a new level of attention and freshness to our playing. Those orchestras in turn are showing their respect for us as a world class musical group by their willingness to play music with us. Again, the unique spirit of this performance will never be recreated.<br /><br />As an encore, Alessandro wanted to play the entire last movement of the Dvorak 8th symphony we had just played. We tried to start a murmuring revolt, repeating a rehearsal number near the end, which would allow us all to play just the last page. After all, we were tired! But Al persisted, and we played the whole last movement again. And, much as I hate to admit it, I ENJOYED doing it a second time. It gave me a chance to squeeze a little more emotion out of every note. The orchestra sounded fantastic both times, but even more free and spirited the second. That’s something a recording can’t do.<br /><br />One inside story needs to be shared. During Rossini’s Overture to the Italian Girl in Algiers, someone’s metronome (a clicking device to assist with rhythm practice) somehow clicked on in their case, during the middle of the performance. We were all very busy with lots of notes, and no one had time to search nearby bags and cases to locate the rogue metronome. The thing is, the beat of the clicking device was much, much slower than the piece we were playing. There was something comical about this lazy, summer-night-rhythm ticking away blandly in contrast with the flurry of hurried activity going on the woodwinds (where the metronome was centered). The little thing just happily clicked it’s laid back tempo until the end of the piece. I offer commendations to those woodwind players who had to play difficult, rhythmic solos to play while this lazy beat persisted in the background.<br /><br />Ah, there’s nothing quite like a live performance of music, or I should say a performance “alive with music”.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-3582019859257722373?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-39583820000650947872008-07-18T14:57:00.002-04:002008-07-18T15:01:54.383-04:00David Lundberg: Wisdom Urging Action in Columbus<div class="entry-content"> <p>David Lundberg was educated as a musician at the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago. In business in Dallas, he founded the Charter Group, a property and casualty insurance conglomerate whose customer friendly and principle-rather-than-policy driven practices were significant in changing the face of the industry for the better. </p> <p>Mr. Lundberg’s deep love for people and his passion for music punctuated another long career, volunteering in the support functions of music – as board member with the Dallas Symphony and Dallas Opera, as board chair for Lyric Opera of Dallas, Arkansas Opera Theater, Hot Springs Music Festival, and others too many to list. He has seen orchestras and other arts organizations dip near death, then rise to world renown. In his recent move to Columbus, David has brought a wealth of experience, perspective, and wisdom to share, as you will read in this letter.</p> <blockquote><p>Dear Fellow Community Members, </p> <p> It was my privilege as a student at the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago in the 50’s to watch Fritz Reiner bring discipline and inspiration to an orchestra that had become complacent and lethargic. At that same time Chicago had an arts critic who was convinced that nothing excellent could possibly happen outside of New York, Boston, or Philadelphia and her reviews of the Chicago Symphony (CSO) reflected this belief.</p> <p> During that period, the CSO also had an extended tour of Europe. The reviews came flooding back to the States and the reviewers were ecstatic. Chicago was filled with pride and excitement for their orchestra. That pride continues to this day as the CSO remains in the Top Five in the Country, with many in the know feeling that the CSO ranks Number One.</p> <p> In Dallas, as a singer in the Dallas Symphony (DSO) Chorus for 25 years and as a member of the DSO Board for several terms, I saw a very similar phenomenon happen. The DSO emerged from bankruptcy in 1974, at full strength, thanks to some farsighted people including Stanley Marcus (Neiman Marcus). During the 70’ s, the DSO had a series of short-term and guest conductors, who allowed the Orchestra to become uninspired and sloppy. Enter Maestro Eduardo Mata, a masterful technician like Reiner, who awakened the musicians’ desire to perform at a higher level. Same script - sour critic, European tour, great reviews, and wonderful community response. The whole situation in Dallas remains positive to this day – pride in and of the musicians, fiscal stability, great arts community, good endowment, a great new $130 Million venue and no debt.</p> <p> In the ensuing years, many Fortune 500 companies relocated their headquarters to the Dallas area. Ones that quickly come to mind are American Airlines, JC Penney, Exxon Mobil, Kimberly Clark, Co—America Bank, Fluor, and Ericsson Telecommunications (North America). Is there a connection here? You bet there is. When major companies decide to relocate, they establish a profile of the qualities that they are seeking at the new location. Common to these profiles is the absolute requirement of a superb, vigorous cultural community (led most naturally by the symphony and opera). While this is not the only criterion, the importance of a vital classical art landscape is undeniable. </p> <p> My wife Katherine and I moved to Columbus two years ago and, Eureka! what did we find but Junichi Hirokami and the Columbus Symphony, and a strong feeling of déjà vu from Dallas and Chicago. Hirokami, whom I had seen guest conduct several times in Dallas, has the same technical skills as Reiner and Mata. And the bonus is that he is highly respected and liked by the musicians. Junichi brings such infectious joy and love of the music to the podium that audiences and musicians alike are exhilarated and enchanted.</p> <p> Sadly, we began to hear from some in the community that, “the CSO and the Opera don’t pull their own weight financially.” Most are unaware that American symphonies and operas earn considerably less than half of their budgets from ticket sales. The critical mass of support must come from farsighted and benevolent corporations, foundations and individuals who have a keen understanding of the tax benefits, the good will, and public relations benefits they derive from their generosity. Also, we hear questions such as, “Can Columbus support a major symphony orchestra?” Columbus - 15th largest city – state capital – home to the largest university – home to six Fortune 500 companies and fifteen Fortune 1,000 companies? The question is absurd on the face of it. If we fail to save the symphony, Columbus will be the largest city in America without one. </p> <p> Traditionally, it has been the large corporations that the Symphony has turned to for regular, long-term support. Unfortunately, that is how a small group of corporate funders and board members have come to assume the power to speak for the entire community regarding the future of this rare community treasure. And amazingly, power that seems entirely disproportionate to their monetary contributions. </p> <p> If given the support, Hirokami will bring fame to Columbus and challenge the Cleveland Orchestra as the best symphony in the state. This vision certainly does not appear to be shared by the Board and the current corporate funders. They are looking to the bare minimum level of funding rather than the challenging, exciting “quest for the best.” Will the community settle for mediocrity or will they step forward and fight for the very best.</p> <p> Our symphony was on the cusp of a giant step forward in quality and professional respect, which would have brought incalculable rewards to Columbus, many in ways totally unrelated to the arts. Are we to let this treasure, which would take decades to rebuild, slip away because of several years of what appears to be gross mismanagement by the CSO Board and staff? (The musicians are not the problem; their wages — total artistic costs — have been at or below budget the last three years.)</p> <p> In the bigger picture, if Columbus is to grow and keep pace with other major cities by attracting new business and industry, supporting the symphony right now is absolutely mandatory. This is purely a matter of civic and corporate will. Let’s just determine to do it! And generously, in ways that will ensure its long term excellence and survival.</p> <p> An enormous outpouring of support is needed from community members and arts lovers from all walks of life. The emergency is real, and the consequences are enormous. Failure is not an option! I invite you to weigh in with your thoughts on this matter at <a href="http://www.symphonycolumbus.com/">www.symphonycolumbus.com</a>.</p> <p>David Lundberg </p></blockquote> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-3958382000065094787?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-11488961453645017862008-07-07T01:04:00.000-04:002008-07-07T01:05:35.071-04:00A Comedy of Musical Omens, and Odors<div class="entry-content"> <p>This past Saturday and Monday I spent 7 hours recording a CD of 10 orchestral excerpts to be used as a preliminary round for a major US orchestra, the NY Philharmonic. The hours between were spent mostly practicing those excerpts.</p> <p>I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. Playing in an orchestra is to skating in the Ice Capades what auditioning for an orchestral position is to winning the Olympics. </p> <p>Olympic athletes don’t have lives; they have only their goal, to win the Olympics. They sleep, eat, play, love and breathe that goal. Nothing else matters. Nothing else <em>can</em> matter, for every electron of their being must be pointed in one direction consistently for years in order to achieve that goal. Or attempt to achieve it. Many do not even gain a medal.</p> <p>I hired a professional technician to help me with the task of recording and then editing the CD. I’m glad I did. After 7 hours of recording, there were 2 hours of takes from which the best 10 had to be selected to comprise the final 15 minute CD. This guy was top notch. He took detailed notes of my random playing order for each excerpt. (I often gave up perfecting one and tried another, or several others, before returning to the first.)</p> <p>To be able to play those 10 excerpts with the highest quality, I had tested 50 or 60 reeds and rejected most of them (at $2 a shot) to get one or two which would let my music making shine through. I had practiced those excerpts with numerous reeds, and each reed had to be played slightly differently to make it work. Each excerpt also tended to demand a different kind of reed. Now I sought the <em>one reed to rule them all!</em></p> <p>Recording those 10 excerpts is like performing a decathlon, the height of athletic performance for any human. One has to be nimble to play Mendelssohn’s sprightly Scherzo, powerful to lift the heavy drama of Verdi’s Tosca or Kodaly’s Dances of Galanta, rich and somber for the opening of Tchaikovsky’s 5th Symphony, sensual and luring for Ravel’s Bolero, and some of all of the above for Brahms 3rd symphony. </p> <p>I also had to play parts one of the most deceptively difficult of concertos; Mozart’s. Mozart demands both the purity of expression of a child and the technical mastery of a great artist. </p> <p>I recorded right up to the deadline, allowing several hours for my engineer to edit the CD. With the finished product in my hands, I dared not listen to it, fearing only the flaws would reach my ears, nothing else. </p> <p>I reread the very specific directions for sending it, which said to <em>clearly label the jacket with my name</em>. I took out an indelible marker and wrote my name on the CD, instead of the jacket. Since this was to be a “blind” preliminary audition, they couldn’t see my name on the CD. I had to copy the CD to a fresh disk and follow the directions this time, labeling the outside. Not a big deal, but time was running out. </p> <p>It was now 8:15 PM. It had to be sent 9 PM to have it in the NY Phil office by the next morning. To be sure it copied correctly, I put the CD in my stereo and listened to a bit of each track. My heart sank. In the first 16 bars of the Mozart Concert, I noticed a few slightly out of tune notes. </p> <p>Musicians are both blessed and cursed with astoundingly powerful and uncompromisingly sharp self-criticism. Those few out of tune notes would be nothing in a live performance, nothing at all. They would be of little consequence in a recording with orchestra, when the listener is taking in the big picture and the shape of the phrase. But when there are hundreds of applicants vying for one of only a few hundred jobs in the country, those first 16 bars are CRITICAL. </p> <p>I pushed aside the gloomy mood which encroached. I was exhausted, having barely eaten the past two days, surviving on nervous energy. I headed for FedEx Kinkos to send it off. I flipped on the radio, which was playing a recording of Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks. The music came to the part where Till is about to be executed, as the whole brass section plays the doomsday march to the scaffold. It was appropriate music for my current mood. </p> <p>Till, played by the Eb clarinet in this section, screams out in fear and desperation at impending death. After squealing out an incredibly high note, the parts calls for a low one. In this performance, that low note was flat <em>as all get out!</em> I bellowed with frustrated laughter. Ah, the painful irony of it all. </p> <p>After mailing off the tainted CD, I returned home to focus on finding the cause of the deathly smell which had permeated my house. After sniffing around a bit, I located the little corpse of a chipmunk under my piano, the room in which I had been recording. (undoubtedly brought in by my cats several days earlier) Another ominously ironic sign? Death inspired music making? No wonder it was out of tune!!</p> <p>I decided I had to get out of the house. I phoned a friend to meet me at a restaurant for a bite to eat, my first real meal in two days. On the way I turned on the radio again. I immediately recognized the music which had pulsed through my veins since age 12; Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto.</p> <p>I also noticed several out of tune notes.</p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-1148896145364501786?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-78338997879830345352008-05-22T22:35:00.002-04:002008-05-22T22:42:24.851-04:00It doesn't get any better than this<div class="entry-content"> <p>The support for our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">beleaguered</span> orchestra may yet carry us to safety. You know how a Tsunami starts with a huge VOID? The water drops away from the shore before the wave rises. Well, the water has been pulling away from the shore of the Symphony for awhile, but now it’s rising into a huge wave of support for the orchestra. </p> <p>The May 15 concert, with the amazing Yo Yo Ma leading us to ever higher levels of music making, and our beloved <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Junichi</span> picking up where Ma left off, was a surge even higher than last week, which was already substantial music making (and appreciation of it) from us all. </p> <p>The crowd tonight filled the house to the brim, and even Buzz <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Trafford</span>, the board president determined to shut us down, felt he deserved to bask in it a bit, announcing that if we were playing in Severance Hall (Cleveland’s concert hall, smaller than the Ohio Theater), 500 people would be without seats. Keep basking Buzz, but don’t forget to zip up your wet suit. The water may be a bit colder than you like it.</p> <p>The delightful <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Rosamunde</span> Overture by Schubert allowed us all to settle in and enjoy the anticipation of excitement ahead. Schubert’s airy melodies floated from the orchestra like feathers in a tropical breeze. The world of music knows no budget limits or recession. And the orchestra played like a million bucks. If only we knew how to translate that wealth into greenbacks. </p> <p>I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">didn</span>’t have a part to play in the Haydn cello concerto, so I heard it from back stage. Ma may earn a chunk of change for one performance, but he puts out the goods. I doubt Haydn could have ever imagined his perfect concerto played MORE than perfectly. Not only was the performance flawless, at least from back stage, but it had drama, delight, intimacy, excitement and joy among its colorful moods. I watched some of the rehearsal with Ma and found myself rapt not only with his playing, but the effortlessness of his body language as he played. </p> <p>Needless to say, the crowd went wild. For Haydn? As I think about this a drone plays in my ear, like some kind of repetitive torture, telling me classical music is outdated, a dying art, insupportable by the market. The market seems to be changing its tune, and those who really should be listening are tone deaf. </p> <p>After intermission, Ma played the Saint-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Saëns</span> cello concerto, one of my favorite pieces by a favorite composer. Perhaps it’s because I had a crush on someone who played it for me in High School. The main melody of the first movement exudes the wavy passion of a slightly tipsy man deeply in love. He loves everyone! Ma laid it out, easy to follow, especially for a tipsy theme. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Junichi</span> was right there with him. We all enjoyed the ride. The second and third movements alternate between moods of domestic childhood bliss and a wistful theme which conjures the sweet pathos of life in a way only Saint-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Saëns</span> can. </p> <p>As we rollicked to the very end, we let lose (according to plan) in a way <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Junichi</span> rarely lets us do. We are just beginning to understand the control with which we are capable of “letting lose”. After nearly two years of working with him, we are just beginning to tap into our potential for controlled passion and power, the energy tapped by the greatest orchestras, from Cleveland to Berlin.</p> <p>For an encore, Ma joined members of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Carpé</span> Diem string quartet, sans orchestra, to play the slow and dramatically rich second movement of Schubert’s Cello Quintet. The quartet was buoyed by Ma’s powerful presence and outdid themselves. Though the piece was a bit long for an encore, the hall was stark silent with focus during the quietest moments of the music. </p> <p>It was time for the final work of the night, Ravel’s Bolero. Ma pulled up a chair and sat in the back of the cellos. He wanted to join us, and we were honored. He had briefly lauded, in no uncertain terms, our quality as an orchestra and the greatness of our city of Columbus. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Junichi</span> also offered some words to our audience. His charm and appeal grow each time he speaks. Without a microphone it was hard to hear him, but the gist was clear; he loves us, he loves the city, and believes deeply in both. </p> <p>I, along with my woodwind colleagues, was a bit nervous, having to play the ultra soft beginnings of Bolero “cold” after sitting there silent for more than ten minutes. Phil <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Shipley</span>, who was placed right in front of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Junichi</span>, began playing the famous bolero rhythm: tum-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">tupata</span> tum-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">tupata</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">tup</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">tup</span>, tum-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">tupata</span> tum-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">tupata</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">tupata</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">tupata</span> tum.</p> <p>Randy Hester, principal flute, began the famous theme, which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Junichi</span> had coached us to play sensuously, without inhibition. The tempo <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Junichi</span> chose seemed slow to us at first, perhaps because it’s more difficult to perform the solos effectively and control them at that tempo. Randy held perfect rhythm and added just enough enticement to invite the next soloist, myself. </p> <p>I had worked on this for a few hours last night, playing it with the metronome over and over to get the control and stability I wanted, from which I could then evoke just a touch of playful flirting. Not too much, however, because I knew there was a long way to go. I was happy with how it went, passing the theme on to my friend Betsy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Sturdevant</span>, bassoon.</p> <p>The bassoon states the second of the two themes the whole piece is built on. It is far more provocative and alluring. Betsy added just the right amount of heat to boost it up a notch and pass it on to Robert (Woody) Jones, my section colleague, playing the highly temperamental Eb clarinet. He repeated the theme presented by Betsy, and notched it up a bit, adding his own style and just the right amount of freedom to the undulating line.</p> <p>Next up was the Oboe D’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">amoré</span>, another unusual instrument between an oboe and an English Horn, played by Steve <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Secan</span>. His melody went back to the first one which Randy and I had played. He laid it down superbly, rhythmic and clean, with just a hint of sensuality, just like his teacher and mentor John Mack would have done. </p> <p><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Junichi</span> knew exactly how to help each person play their best. He coaxed those who needed it, and left others alone, sensing which would work best. The melody, though repeated endlessly, built in volume and color with each statement. </p> <p>Ravel’s purpose in writing the piece was to experiment with unique tonal color combinations, like Monet did in his paintings, where three painting of the same scene were rendered in completely different colors and moods. </p> <p>As the piece built, the tempo remained a powerful reality, the clock ticking as we all played our souls out to lure the audience into joining us in our passion. Phil <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Shipley</span> and Bill <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Lutz</span> held the hypnotic rhythm in perfect balance between stability and tension, wanting to move but restricted by time. Here lies the key to this piece; picking the right tempo. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Junichi</span> had set it perfectly from the first note.</p> <p>The various solos, all played gloriously, built on each other as bodies heat up each other and feed off that heat to heat up more. The passion rose and rose. </p> <p>The tempo never budged. The drums were pounding now, with the timpani joining in on three, one…. three, one…. three, one…. three, one. The orchestra played as one large organism. I lost myself completely and just basked in the rich aura of sound. </p> <p>At the orgasmic end, our audience JUMPED to their feet. </p> <p>It <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">doesn</span>’t get any better than that! </p> <p>Are you ready to ride the wave with us?</p><p><em>(Addendum: the music critic who reviewed this concert, Barbara <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Zuck</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">didn</span>’t stay to hear our incredible performance of Bolero, in what may end up being the Columbus Symphony’s LAST classical concert. Players, whom she’s heard for 30 years give their lives to the music, may now be forced to fall silent. She barely mentioned the orchestra in what she did write. Deadline or not, I find the gesture irresponsible and uncaring. Yet, if <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Zuck</span> is behaving against her best interests in supporting fellow artists in the orchestra, it begs the question, who is pulling her strings?)</em></p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-7833899787983034535?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-61645926833234510282008-05-10T16:30:00.000-04:002008-05-10T16:36:06.816-04:00Symphony Board Losing City's Respect<div class="entry-content"> <p>The Columbus Symphony board and management has canceled the lucrative summer Picnic with the Pops series, citing lack of funds. </p> <p>It should be known that the Summer Pops pays for itself in revenue. So why cancel it? Whatever the twisted intent, it has little to do with “saving the Symphony”.</p> <p>The move may be an attempt to corner the musicians into signing an insulting contract which sends the Columbus Symphony back to the dark ages. </p> <p>My guess is that the public already senses the perfidious deception behind Buzz Trafford’s public pontificating that the board’s hands are tied and the musicians just refuse to cooperate. This drastic and defeatist move will further weaken public respect for the current Symphony Board of Trustees.</p> <p>I had lunch today with a few reporters from the Dispatch who listened intently to my point of view. I emphasized that the musicians are VERY interested in negotiating, but not in being told what they MUST accept without question or DIE. </p> <p>Among other things, these reporters have been informed that the musicians initiated “good faith” bargaining steps by offering to take some pay cuts, but were rebuffed; they have been told that we called for a mutually chosen mediator, an unbiased third party professional to monitor the negotiations, to which the answer came back from management, “NO!”. </p> <p>We’ll see if the Dispatch squeaks any balanced truth in tomorrow’s paper. </p> <p>I told them that if they Symphony dies, it won’t be the musicians fault. These gentlemen were baffled by our unanimous rejection of management’s insulting demands. Our solidarity truly perplexed them.</p> <p>I believe the musicians’ consciences are clear. We are rational people. We’ve been reasonable. We’ve been patient. We’ve been polite and considerate. <strong><u>Understanding the seriousness of the situation, we have communicated our intent to compromise and our desire for professional mediation.</u></strong></p> <p>But we are not dealing with reasonable people, or being given fair and balanced coverage. So, what do we do now? </p> <p>I will not presume to speak further for my colleagues. But I think many of them would agree with the following thoughts:</p> <blockquote><p>For years now, the Columbus Symphony has existed as two very different organizations.</p> <p>One has been the actual orchestra itself, which has developed into a world class musical organization with an outstanding conductor and players. The Symphony Chorus has risen with the orchestra. Through education and outreach, thousands of lives have been enriched. Concert reviews have been rave, and audiences love them.</p> <p>The other less visible part of the Columbus Symphony has been its Board of Directors and executive management. Unlike the orchestra, the board and management have been a dismal failure, unable to reach their own stated goals and mismanaging the administration and budget, resulting in losses.</p> <p>Each time this has happened, rather than doing some soul searching about its own shortcomings and ongoing inability to maintain this pristine jewel in the crown of Columbus’ fine culture, the board and management have instead sought to dump their failures onto the backs of the musicians themselves. In the last contract go-around, management had a 15% loss, and the orchestra accepted 15% pay cuts with promises that management would do better this time. That hasn’t happened. Yet, the Columbus Museum raised an $80 million endowment and Nationwide Arena was built without tax funding. Columbus can accomplish great things with the right leadership.</p> <p>This year seems to be no different, only management has gone public trying to brand the musicians as offenders that “don’t understand the reality of the situation.” Instead of self-selecting and leaving so that others may succeed where they have failed, they have entrenched themselves in a senseless campaign to crush the orchestra. The only reality here is that Buzz Trafford and the board and management don’t know how to run an orchestra, and instead are trying to point the blame somewhere else.</p> <p><u><strong>When a baseball team is losing, who gets fired - the players or the manager?</strong></u></p></blockquote> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-6164592683323451028?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-25738590858527536742008-05-02T12:40:00.001-04:002008-05-02T12:45:29.924-04:00Stronger Self Image for ColumbusA relatively new grassroots website has done a great deal for the Columbus Symphony. <a href="http://www.symphonystrong.com/">Symphony Strong</a> has helped the musicians feel the support of all of Columbus. We need all the help we can get since, tragically, little or no support has come from our local newspaper, the Dispatch. (One has to wonder what they are thinking.) <p>However, Symphony Strong and others like it, which formed to garner support, have struggled to break through deeper issues preventing a real blossoming of solutions. The bigger picture looks like this. The face of Columbus is not one or a few people, but a culture of all of us, our self-perception and how others outside the city see us. </p> <p>Let’s say that I, David Thomas, see myself as a dashing, statuesque model, while others (unwilling to pop my bubble) see me as a craggy, half century old man. Who is right? I need to look closely at myself and find a positive overlap between those two views. I may not be a young model, but I can certainly enhance my image by spending some money on a good suit and a fine haircut and a fresh attitude. Then I can really like myself without self-deception.</p> <p>Recent developments have quelled the CSO’s immediate financial crisis, with a generous gift to us tide over for the next few months. Yet the problem has not changed. In yesterday’s Dispatch article <a href="http://www.dispatch.com/live/content/local_news/stories/2008/04/29/Central_Ohio.1.MainNewsSrv_1.AR0_ART_04-29-08_A5_VNA2ET1.html?sid=101">Gift lets Symphony finish, but after that… </a>the leadership continues to insist on a one sided solution:</p> <blockquote><p>Management says support for the symphony — both from patrons and corporate donors — isn’t what it used to be and that the symphony needs to shrink. In January, managers announced a plan to reduce the budget to about $9.5 million, down from $12.5 million this year.</p> <p>After musicians objected to that (first) plan, the board proposed a new contract keeping all musicians at a reduced salary and schedule, and requiring musicians to pay more of their health benefits. Musicians unanimously rejected that plan last week, leading to the impasse.</p></blockquote> <p>Judging from all the supportive letters of the past several months, many believe that high quality culture and music are important facets for a vibrant downtown and that Columbus currently achieves that status. Since January, none have accepted the proposed cuts as viable solution. Jan Ryan said in her Jan 28th letter to the Dispatch:</p> <blockquote><p>Anyone who attended Saturday evening’s CSO performance would agree that is was magnificent and we are not music critics but simply people who recognize the greatness of this orchestra! </p></blockquote> <p>Jerrie Cribb wrote in a Feb 5th letter:</p> <blockquote><p>You apparently do not realize how long it takes to build a superb instrument like this and what will happen if you cut it down. The best musicians will leave as will the fine conductor and we will be left with a mediocre chamber group</p></blockquote> <p>Betty Meil wrote on Feb. 7th:</p> <blockquote><p>Having moved to Columbus a few years ago from Cleveland, Ohio (which has a magnificent orchestra), I was very pleased to hear the excellent quality of the Columbus Orchestra — a first-rate orchestra.</p></blockquote> <p>But the <strong><em>vision</em></strong> to continue that high quality of music making on a scale representative of a city this size has not been tapped. Our (the city’s) self-perception and that of others is skewed by misconception. Much as we dislike it, we may be viewed as a cow town. Do we need to look in the mirror? The evidence is there, as shown in the April 4 Dispatch article entitled <a href="http://www.dispatch.com/live/content/local_news/stories/2008/04/07/1A_LOW_ARTS.ART_ART_04-07-08_A1_R39RAIH.html?sid=101">Grim reality: Perception is that city lacks in arts</a>. </p> <p>Supporter Donald Good, gave an ominous warning in his March 26 letter to the Dispatch:</p> <blockquote><p>I think it’s fair to say that if this orchestra, as it is now constituted and as it must remain in terms of permanent personnel (i.e. not a pick-up band), goes under, the rippling effect for the arts in the city, and the city’s reputation as a forward-looking entity, also will be widely affected.</p></blockquote> <p>One letter expressed frustration, such as Ann Elliot’s Jan. 24th letter, which ends:</p> <blockquote><p>Come on, Columbus! We must stop this madness and encourage the board to find other avenues to achieve fiscal security. As a start, we as a community must support our orchestra by consistently filling the house.</p></blockquote> <p>Other articles have furthered this honest self-exmination, such as Andrew Oldenquist’s <a href="http://www.dispatch.com/live/content/local_news/stories/2008/04/07/1A_LOW_ARTS.ART_ART_04-07-08_A1_R39RAIH.html?sid=101">Like NetJets, CSO is worth keeping in the city</a>. Or, another analogy, almost a cliché now; if the Buckeyes needed money, we’d all fess up, even if we didn’t like football. In the orchestra’s case, it’s not about the music, but the City’s pride.</p> <p>Bruce Ridge, Chair of ICSOM (International Conference of Symphony and Opera Musicians) put it eloquently in his letter (unpublished) to the Dispatch:</p> <blockquote><p>The question for Columbus should not be “can we continue to afford to support our orchestra”, but rather “how can we afford not to?” Too often lost in the discussion of orchestras in America is the simple fact that the arts are good business. The non-profit culture industry provides over 5.7 million jobs and accounts for over $166 billion in economic activity every year, including over $330 million in Greater Columbus alone!</p></blockquote> <p>In order to support the appropriate level of quality arts, Columbus leadership needs to face that it entails not only a lot of work, but also cooperation and coordination of forces. They also need to believe it’s all <em>worth</em> it. Here’s where the leadership needs to open their hearts. The people of the City trust those in power to do the <em>right thing</em>. We are ALL part of the Columbus identity, but only a few have the power to make our city’s dreams come true. </p> <p>The public obviously supports a proud cultural downtown, but a gridlock of certain attitudes, in defiance of knowledge and opinion to the contrary, has prevented a creative solution to the apparent impasse in the Symphony negotiations. Healing needs to happen before we can see ourselves in a balanced and healthy way.</p> <p>I see visionaries in Columbus who don’t have the clout. I see hard workers wishing to volunteer with no one to guide them in how to help, and I see money that needs some vision. What I don’t see in Columbus is all sides putting their heads together to make it happen. </p> <p>Erich Graff of the Utah Symphony wrote to the Dispatch Feb. 5th:</p> <blockquote><p>In Utah Symphony negotiations some years ago, the musicians’ posture was that Salt Lake City deserved an orchestra that was a “Cadillac.” Our Board Chair responded publicly that “maybe the community deserves a Cadillac but can only afford a Chevrolet.” What happened? Neither the community nor the musicians agreed and instead they rallied—it is now more than a decade later… and the musicians’ base salary is 50% higher and the Board is far more committed to the growth of the organization. </p></blockquote> <p>This is where Symphony Strong could come in. It has tried to remain neutral, a commendable position, and one which is potentially constructive. However, I hope the site’s creators will begin to take some risks by seeking more commentary from all sides. Perhaps several in depth (and “informal”) interviews with board members, musicians and the community are in order. I volunteer. A tally of ideas and solutions could be published there for the perusal of all. We could even vote on which solutions would be most desirable. </p> <p>I believe there is some movement behind the scenes to shift leadership toward a more constructive path in the negotiations. But those parties with good intentions may fear a backlash from others in power. The musicians have made it clear they more than ready to negotiate <em>in good faith</em>, a phrase too often used without appreciating its gravity. But they are wary, with good reason. </p> <p>A healthy arts organization takes a lot of work. It used to be done by its board and management. The new trend, however, is to involve the musicians much more in the tasks of running the organization. I propose that and more; include the community even more in the discussion. They have made it clear they wish it so. </p> <p>Let’s get a new attitude in Columbus so we can look at ourselves and know we are the best!</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-2573859085852753674?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-58144377586427195542008-04-27T23:51:00.004-04:002008-04-27T23:57:19.471-04:00Letter to Columbus: Save Your SymphonyThe following is a letter imploring the leadership of Columbus, Ohio metropolitan area to come together to resolve the tragic impasse threatening the future of our Symphony.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“The mission of the Columbus Symphony is to develop and foster the art of orchestral music at the highest possible artistic level. Through its concerts, outreach, and educational activities, it is a community resource that is a major component of the quality of life in Central Ohio.” </span>-From the Columbus Symphony Management Strategic Plan<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"...The board, musicians and community must work together (because) Columbus deserves and needs this orchestra," </span>-Anne Melvin, Columbus Symphony Trustee, Columbus Dispatch, 1/18/08<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"The foundation of the ARTS in Columbus is the Symphony. It's the treasure that supports the Opera, the Ballet, and educational programs for children in the public schools." </span>-Joann Foucht, Women’s Association of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, Columbus Dispatch, 1/28/08<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Last night’s brilliant performance by this maestro and this orchestra made believers out of everyone: The Hirokami Era has begun.”</span> -Barbara Zuck, Columbus Dispatch<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“...In six years I can make this orchestra one of the best.”</span> -Junichi Hirokami, NY Times, 4/12/08<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“...Business leaders and artists throughout the nation (are) watching Columbus. They... hope to see a demonstration of confidence in the future of this city.” </span>-Bruce Ridge, Chair, International Conference of Symphony and Opera Musicians (ICSOM) Letter to Editor, Columbus Dispatch, 2/6/08<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">To the Citizens and Leadership of Columbus</span>-<br /><br />The world is watching Columbus as the Symphony Board of Trustees and Management request large cuts from an orchestra whose members are performing with world class quality. The orchestra took 11% pay cuts three years ago, now restored, to help shore up sagging financial support following a lengthy period without an Artistic or Executive Director. Better results were promised. Now management insists on 40% salary cuts to stabilize the organization.<br /><br />A gem of cultural pride, loved by Columbus audiences, the Symphony as we know it would not survive these cuts.<br /><br />The people of Greater Columbus Community know and appreciate the exemplary quality of the Symphony. The flood of supportive letters to the Dispatch demonstrates this. Our fine Orchestra contributes to the vitality of downtown, both economically and culturally. Thousands of people attend regular concerts, enriched by the unique experience of live classical music. Thousands more benefit from the outreach and education fostered by the members of the Symphony.<br /><br />In the past decade, total non-musician expenses have increased an average of 7% per year, while total musician expenses increased only 4% per year. In fact, the percentage for musician costs actually went down from 47% of the total budget in the ‘99-’00 season to 39% in ‘05-’06. Musician costs for the ‘06-’07 season were around 42%, at the low end of the national average of 40-50%. (*-source footnote)<br /><br />The current total musician expenses amount to about $5.4 million out of a $12.4 million budget.* Why not maintain the heart of the orchestra, its musicians, and create a satisfactory budget built on that? Untapped gold mines of volunteers are eager to help. Grassroots organizations can generate untold support and revenue. Several burgeoning efforts are already proving their value. As a community let’s move into action and make it happen.<br /><br />Columbus can and should save this gem of our city.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">“Across the country, exciting things are happening for symphony orchestras. ...attendance is up, downloads are rising faster than for any other musical genre, ...and the New York Times is proclaiming that this could be "the Golden Age for Classical Music.” </span>- Bruce Ridge, Chair, ICSOM, 2/6/08<br /><br />I encourage you to be a part of the exciting things that are happening for symphony orchestras. Together we can make this happen.<br /><br />Respectfully,<br />David H Thomas<br />Principal Clarinet<br />Columbus Symphony Orchestra<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"I still want to believe there's a solution out there."</span> Tony Beadle, Executive Director, Columbus Symphony Orchestra, Dispatch, 3/14/08<br /><br />(* Sources- Total income and expense figures from audit reports provided by the CSO; Total musician expense figures from expense statements provided by the CSO)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-5814437758642719554?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-33186336765556402742008-01-19T00:49:00.000-05:002008-01-19T10:48:40.110-05:00Why I Am a Classical Musician<p>I carve a tiny piece of wood off the base of the reed. The shaving isn’t much larger than one or two hairs of daily growth on a man’s face. Almost nothing. I put the reed back on the mouthpiece and fasten it with the ligature. I form an embouchure and play the scale I repeat hundreds of times a day to check reeds. The raspiness has gone from the reed’s vibrations. The difference is huge. Now it has a bell-like ring as it pings through the instrument. Ahh!</p> <p>After 2 hours of working on reeds, I am tired. Add five hours of rehearsals today and that’s a full day. But I haven’t finished. I still need to review specific sections of this weekend’s music. And the reed I just fixed might not make it through five minutes of playing, with the time spent on it lost after that.</p> <p>Why do I do this? I smile as I ask myself. “Because I love it” might be one answer. But that’s not quite it. It’s more like an itch I have to scratch. From age 12 on I had the “ring” of the clarinet’s tone in my head, an ideal to strive for. Such a goal is elusive; it shifts and hides moments after being within your grasp.</p> <p>Reeds are part of the problem, but so is being human. I am not a machine. I have to eat and sleep. I get tired. I have good days and bad. Yet the goal is always there; to outdo myself. Like an athlete wishing to win the Olympics, I strive for perfection with an all too human body and life. I may not always achieve it. But the striving tenures me to strong and tenacious character.</p> <p>Of course, playing the instrument alone is only part of this puzzle. I am a clarinetist because I love music. Why do I love classical music so much?</p> <p>As I ponder this question, my ear wanders to a CD playing of Bach’s Goldberg Variations performed by Andras Schiff. It’s a new recording for me. I have at least four recordings of this piece by different performers. Each player creates something fresh with their interpretation. So while the music is very familiar to me, it sounds new in this pianist’s hands.</p> <p>Bach’s variations are accessible, dancelike and intimate, humorous and poignant. One in particular, the 26th, breaks my heart each time I hear it. I hang on every note. Schiff’s version is surprisingly feminine and coquettish, but with amazing facility and control. The tone of the particular piano he plays is also exquisite.</p> <p>This brilliant music, and the performance, seems to come from somewhere beyond human capabilities. Yet it reflects human emotions in a crystalline way. It says something to me which I cannot articulate. It tells me who I am and who I could be. It reminds me of my humanity and my frailty, my nobility and my baseness. It reaches across ages, like sculpture or painting, and shows me how history and art has formed me and the civilization I live in.</p> <p>Classical music offers a place of sanity in a harsh world. It clears the haze of daily life and allows us a glimpse of the thoughts and feelings of great people and a connection to our higher selves. And of their vulnerabilities. Who wouldn’t want to be inside Einstein’s head, or Picasso’s or Martin Luther King’s, as they thought and felt their great deeds? Well, I do. My life’s commitment is to be the instrument which recreates the vision of great composers for others.</p> <p>Unlike painting or literature, classical music is experienced directly in time. Though I enjoy recordings of great pianists and orchestras, I relish hearing one <em>as it happens</em>. A live performance reflects a unique snapshot in time, much like sports are reality in action. Just like the excitement of a supportive crowd in sports, the audience affects performers with their attention and enjoyment. In a live performance, the history of today day can cue a great performer to fresh new depths of expression and heights of emotion for those listeners.</p> <p>Orchestral performances are an intersection of many parts. First you have the music itself and the history of its style, something like recreating Van Gogh’s <em>Starry Night</em>. Then you have the particular orchestra and conductor, the “repainters”, if you will. Each member of the orchestra brings their own ideals and experience to the table, which then has to amalgamate into one voice. Then there are the acoustics of the hall, and the audience’s interest. It comes together each time to form a unique experience. When it all gels and the energy builds towards perfection, a particular performance can become an epiphany for all concerned.</p> <p>Back to my own life and career. I may fix numerous good reeds at home, but few withstand the test of playing in my hall. The acoustics are deplorable, sadly, for the orchestra and especially the audience. This is not a concert hall, but a movie theater. It is not meant for the sublte voice of great music. I need a dense, resonant tone to carry my musical intentions to the odd corners of the cavernous room and the ears of listeners. Dozens of hours of work are usually spent to find the right reed for the hall, one which responds in the weather of that day and the demands of that night’s music.</p> <p>Recently, I have been experimenting with other aspects of tone production, especially mouthpieces. When I first got this job 18 years ago, I had a great combination of reed type and mouthpiece which fit perfectly with the hall. I thought it was all the practicing I had done before winning the audition. I was naive. When that mouthpiece warped, ruining it, I searched for a decade and never found one with such beauty of tone. In the process I became a better musician. But it wasn’t without its cost in tens of thousands of dollars and countless hours and stress. Somehow I wonder if it’s worth it. I warn students of the gravity of choosing a music career.</p> <p>All this thought and activity is before I play a note in a concert. In a live performance, a musician is naked. Even beyond practicing clarinet, I have worked a great deal behind the scenes to make it seem “effortless” on stage. I have studied various techniques for focus and presence in order to overcome fatigue and stress from so many hours of repetitive practicing. In truth, much of my daily life since age 12 has been working toward the present performance. The goal may be ideal, but a human plays for it. Personally, I play better when I know I am being heard and appreciated. A great conductor helps bring my focus together, and a great audience. </p> <p>When the concert finally begins, the first note is a commitment to the rest of the piece and to my colleagues. Egos may clash on and off stage, but conflict usually disappears as the conductor raises his baton and we come together to go beyond ourselves. All my work may or may not pay off this time. Even the best athletes fall.</p> <p>Is it worth it? All this for the love of great ideas!? I guess that tiny shaving of reed is worth a great deal to me.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-3318633676555640274?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-6522843363598101452007-10-29T11:54:00.000-04:002007-10-29T11:55:14.624-04:00Teaching a Beginner Masterclass<div class="entry-content"> <p>Yesterday I gave my first masterclass to a bunch of 8th graders. Ultimately, I’m fishing for new private students. In Columbus, it’s not enough to be the best player in town. There are several other area teachers who canvas and solicit individual schools and who are willing to teach on site. Parents love this, since they don’t have to shuttle the kids to lessons halfway across town. I won’t be doing that, but I’ll give master classes free in all the middle schools to introduce myself and show my abilities. Then, if a student becomes serious about studying privately, they’ve already been introduced to me as a possible choice.</p> <p>The teacher at this middle school impressed me with her spirit and enthusiasm’s for her job. She follows each student’s development from 6th grade on. She has also turned down offers to teach higher grades because she loves teaching the middle school ages. I learned a lot from talking with her. </p> <p>I admitted to her I had not done this before. I’ve taught privately for most of my career, and I’ve coached a few woodwind sectionals for the local youth orchestra. But in that case, the material is the music they’re working on, not a group lesson in clarinet technique, and not 22 8th graders. So I was a bit nervous.</p> <p>I had scribbled some notes about basic clarinet technique: how to hold the instrument, how to breathe, forming an embouchure, etc. The truth is, I work on these basics every time I play. I kept the descriptions as clear and direct as possible, without under-rating their importance.</p> <p>8th graders are at that in between age, neither children nor young adults, but some of both. Since I don’t have kids, I have little experience with them. Most of my private students have been high school age. I decided to start off very honestly, and told them I had not done this before, and that I would appreciate their indulgence and feedback. I also told them that I myself practice the basics everyday, even though I’ve played clarinet for 30 years. I showed I was willing to meet them at their level, with some valuable advice to offer. It seemed to be a good way to start. Whew!</p> <p>I tried to make eye contact with most of them as I spoke. There were 22 students in the class, so I scanned the individual faces every few seconds. They knew I was watching.</p> <p>After a brief warm up and a quick lesson about hand position, I singled out two students with particularly good embouchures, and had them demonstrate for the class. Those two felt honored to be in such a position.</p> <p>As the class progressed, their attention occasionally slipped and I adjusted accordingly. For the most part, they were attentive. Once or twice, one boy chatted with a friend while I spoke. I gently asked his cooperation in allowing me to speak un-interrupted. His teacher went over and stood behind him. I barely noticed this at the time, but the reason became apparent later. </p> <p>Near the end of the class, during a question period, he asked an impressive and valid question: Why does his breathing become more labored after playing a few phrases of music in succession? I answered the question with an appropriately complex answer; many factors, including the reed, embouchure and breathing skill, affected the ease of breathing. </p> <p>After the class, his teacher brought him up to me to continue the discussion privately, which I was happy to do. We had a good talk, and eventually figured out that his mouthpiece had been damaged, and was causing undue resistance, causing his labored breathing. He seemed happy and comfortable talking to me.</p> <p>In my follow up feedback discussion with his teacher, she gave me encouraging feedback; I had involved and engaged the students, no easy task at this age; I had chosen the right level of language, neither condescending nor babying; and I had adjusted to changes in their attention by shifting to a game or contest to bring them back. I was happy with the success.</p> <p>But the icing on this gratifying cake was this. She explained to me that the boy who had asked the question had developmental problems, specifically in relating to men. Apparently, he had to be sequestered for belligerent behavior when a male substitute teacher taught the class. Somehow I had engaged him at a level he could trust. We had each overcome a block; he in relating to a man, me in relating to an 8th grader. I can’t imaging a better reward for an hour’s work. </p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-652284336359810145?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-92016628507877721552007-07-10T01:14:00.000-04:002007-07-10T01:16:05.762-04:00How to Play True Legato<div class="entry-content"> <p>Legato playing, the smooth connection between notes in a musical line, is difficult on any instrument. Piano has more difficulty playing legato, since it’s basically a percussion instrument. Voice wins easily for the most true legato, since the larynx can shift subtlety from note to note with a pure connection. </p> <p>You would think wind instruments, begin fairly close to the voice in their use of air to phrase, would have an easy task with legato. But the physical fact of a finger or pad covering a hole to change the length of the vibrating column commits an act of minor violence to it.</p> <p>To compensate for this limitation, many woodwind players “chew” on each note with their air to give the impression of legato. The legato then turns into “wa-wa-wa” instead of a smooth line “wa-a-a”. Yet, though this alleviates the <em>symptom</em> of a note changing with a clunk, this quick fix doesn’t really solve the problem. Rather, it creates other problems, namely tension in the air column and lack of direction in the phrase.</p> <p>During my studies at Northwestern with Robert Marcellus and Clark Brody, I learned the mechanism for the best possible legato on the clarinet. The key is in the steadiness of air support. This may seem obvious, but it’s actually very difficult to do. Remembering the “violence” of moving from note to note, and keeping in mind that each note will resonate differently depending on which holes are opened or closed on which part of the instrument, keeping the air steady is more elusive a task than it may seem. Our ears tend to tell our bodies to “wa-wa” to cover the clunkiness of notes changing. Our bodies will tense and flinch in anticipation of the sudden change in tone and resonance. So how do we resolve these issues?</p> <p>To create beautiful legato on the clarinet, one must override these urges and discipline the body. The first step is to ensure one is using the highest quality support. This simple act takes years to master. The air must be released and sent into the instrument using the whole torso and diaphragm in a harmonious motion. (This will be the subject of another post) When this is accomplished, one must consciously play “one note” with the air while moving the fingers with disciplined commitment. Most importantly, one must summon the courage not to flinch as the note changes. This detail takes a great deal of self-awareness, since the tiny movements of embouchure, air and fingers are barely noticeable, especially if one has been unconsciously adjusting to alleviate the bumps between notes.</p> <p>As an exercise, one might play a single note and imagine playing a simple scale. The fingers do not move, but the mind pretends they are, helping separate the integrity of air and embouchure from the air. Then play the scale very, very slowly, moving the fingers extremely slowly, so as to explore each muscle movement in every detail. This may cause some fuzziness or dead space between notes, but the exercise will accomplish its goal of giving the player full awareness of the movement. Meanwhile the air must remain a pure stream as it was during playing one note. Lastly, be aware of any changes in embouchure and override them. Play “coldly”, like a machine.</p> <p>Ultimately, when the motions of the three components of legato are separated, namely air stream, fingers and embouchure, the player will have a chance to idealize the connection between notes. Flinching the embouchure and air will be reduced to the minimum necessary to “voice” the next note, no more. The fingers will move with disciplined commitment, with no unnecessary violence of movement. Then the player may give the smoothest direction possible to the line of the phrase, creating a clear, musical statement of intent and direction.</p> </div> <!-- .entry-content --> <!-- #post-ID --><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-9201662850787772155?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-42521896559312516182007-06-21T19:16:00.001-04:002007-06-21T19:16:50.094-04:00Organic RhythmI used to play in a woodwind quintet, the wind equivalent of a string quartet. It was a pretty decent group made up of successful freelancers from around town in Washington, DC.<br /><br />During one rehearsal, we had trouble playing some passages together. The oboist complained we needed to practice with a metronome. I countered with the idea that we needed to feel the rhythm together, regardless of the metronome. We were both right. Metronomes help, but "live" rhythm is rarely ever metronomic. Like tuning, "scientific" correctness is not necessarily what sounds best. She never conceded my point.<br /><br />I know a lot of musicians like her. Their goal is to play more or less like a machine: perfectly in tune with a tuner and in rhythm with the metronome. But music played like that puts me to sleep. Why have humans play at all when a computer program would be more efficient?<br /><br />Great musicians can play a phrase of music with incredible rhythmic accuracy, and yet never quite match up with a metronome. Great chamber groups and even whole orchestras can do the same. It's obviously a lot harder for the latter, but with years of experience and trust among players, a larger group can be free and stay together rhythmically.<br /><br />One form of freedom is called "rubato", which means "to steal or borrow" time from one part of the phrase to add to another. The total sum of time is the same as the metronomic phrase, but with much greater freedom. That kind of phrasing says keeps the listener interested with its unpredictable freedom. The player can then emphasize the natural tension and relaxation and explore the infinite possibilities with each repeated phrase or section of music.<br /><br />Played by a great artist, a fairly conservative phrase of music, which may sound completely rhythmic to the listener, will still have subtle freedom. The allure of a great performance is how it floats and flirts with with stodgy rhythm without committing to any predictability.<br /><br />In the case of chamber music, each player still has the freedom of a soloist, but has to interact conversationally with the other players.<br /><br />A good orchestra will have a rigorous system of trust and hierarchy, starting with the conductors interpretation and freedom, trickling down through the various leaders of each section and on down to the lower ranks. Unfortunately, this means the lower ranks do have have much freedom at all, and have to be content following their leaders. But even in this case, each player has the responsibility to commit wholeheartedly to recreating the freedom and direction of phrasing set up by the conductor.<br /><br />Knowing what rhythmic freedom to take and where to take it is the sign of a master musician. It can only be taught to a degree. The rest is experience, talent and intuition.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-4252189655931251618?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-38948119489091806512007-04-23T23:46:00.000-04:002007-04-23T23:47:47.936-04:00Trying Out New Equipment<div class="entry-content"> <p>Musicians are as reliant on their equipment as they are their arms and legs. Great equipment is half the battle to playing well. But the search is not so easy.</p> <p>I’ve been trying out new mouthpieces for months now. Actually, I’ve been searching ever since I started playing clarinet. The perfect mouthpiece is an extension of your body, your musical soul. The more it matches you, the easier it is to make music with it. The less it matches, the more fighting you do just to get past its limitations.</p> <p>The old mouthpieces from the 40’s and 50’s are still unmatched. Like the Stradivarius violins, there is something mystical about those old mouthpieces. Some say it’s the hard rubber they were made of, and how it’s aged and tempered over the decades of aging.</p> <p>But the material only accounts for some of the qualities in a good mouthpiece. There are the interactions acoustically between the facing, where the reed vibrates, and the baffle, where the vibrations expand, and the chamber, where the sound is sent into the bore of the instrument.</p> <p>The facing is the flat table where the reed is held by a ligature, a device to fix the reed in place. (Even the ligature has multiple designs to help with tone and response, but that’s another post) The facing consists mainly of the tip opening, which is the space between the tip of the reed and the mouthpiece. It’s where the vibrations (flapping of the reed) begin. The length of the facing is how far down the flat table the facing begins to curve away from the reed. The length of the facing gives depth to the sound, since the reed is vibrating further down. The shorter the facing, the more flexible it is at the expense of depth, and the longer it is, the less flexible but deeper it sounds.</p> <p>The baffle is the inside, curved “beak”, where the sound expands into the bore. The swoop of the baffle, how deep or flat it is, affects the speed and expansion of the tone. It also affects response in articulation.</p> <p>The chamber is the transition from the beak to the round bore of the clarinet. The size and shape of this transition further affects how the sound forms as it enters the instrument.</p> <p>Each of these areas interacts with another, and so is dependent on the others. One type of baffle may work with one facing, but not another. One chamber may hinder a deep baffle, but not if the facing is very open.</p> <p>Then there is the interaction between the player and the mouthpiece. Each mouthpiece has a certain character. The craftsman does his best to make each “blank” into the best mouthpiece it can be. The player then chooses between these various “works” and finds the one which best matches his playing.</p> <p>Reeds are another maddening variable. One mouthpiece may work well with one reed, but may be fussy about reeds in general. So when trying mouthpieces, I have to try many different reeds on them over a period of time to test its consistency. I also need to test mouthpieces in the context of the orchestra to see how the pitch settles and how the response and tone work under pressure.</p> <p>The process of trying mouthpieces can take years. At some point, a sane person needs to just put away all but one and work with it, get reeds to match it, and give it time to become and extension of the body which plays the music. </p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-3894811948909180651?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-10131018137701737462007-03-21T12:18:00.001-04:002007-03-21T12:20:51.146-04:00...but I'm with the conductor!<div class="entry-content"> <p>So what?! It doesn’t matter a pile of feathers who's with the conductor if it’s not together. Many musicians, good ones, don’t understand this basic fact of life in an orchestra. You have to factor in delay time for acoustics and human response time. So staying with the conductor is not the blanket solution. But it’s not rocket science, either.</p> <p>There’s a clear hierarchy of leadership in the orchestra. The concertmaster leads not only the first violins, but also has some leadership of the other string sections. Within each string section, its principal is leader. So, 1st and 2end violins, violas, cellos, basses, have their own leaders. The same applies to every other section. In the woodwinds, the oboe is usually the leader of the whole section, while each section leader is responsible for that section. The brass are similar, with the trumpet leading all the other leaders of the various brass sections. The French Horns tend to be their own section, influencing both the brass and woodwinds.</p> <p>So how do all those leaders stay together? Well, the conductor leads the way, giving the musical gestures and tempo and style indications. Then each section leader must interpret to make sense of it for their sections. The section leaders moderate and codify the conductor’s lead. For example, if the conductor’s tempo is simply too fast or erratic for a section, the leader may take the sensible path and lead a steadier, more playable tempo. The other sections will follow suit.</p> <p>Within each small section, the players must follow both the conductor and their section leader. In other words, they get information from both and make sense of it within their group. It’s easier in the woodwinds, where there are only a few players in each section. The second oboe will always defer to the first oboe, no matter what the conductor does. And when the flute and oboe play together, since they are both leaders, they will work out their own hierarchy of leadership.</p> <p>The leaders have to develop courage and tenacity to lead their sections in times of crisis. Occasionally a conductor will get lost or befuddled, and the section leaders have to become conductors, literally swaying in time to show where the beat it.</p> <p>All this processing takes some time, so there’s an inevitable delay from the time a beat is given by the conductor and the resulting music follows in the orchestra. As a kid seeing a live orchestra or the first time, I thought it was rude and lazy of the orchestra to play so far behind the conductor’s beat. Now I know why. In order to get 80-100 people in lock step doing a subtle ballet of ever changing music, it takes time.</p> <p>Like a huge, delicate machine, the orchestra undulates in subtle response to the various leads within it. Like a flock of birds or a swarm of insects, the group will stay together no matter what. At least it should, if the professional hierarchy is intact. But that’s another post. </p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-1013101813770173746?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-47298375396255252912007-03-14T22:44:00.000-04:002007-03-14T22:49:31.516-04:00Music Making versus Playing<div class="entry-content"> <p>Sometimes your heart is into it, and other times, well, you just go through the motions. We had a tough week for the orchestra last week. Our ex-Music Director was engaged for a guest appearance. A few years ago the orchestra and board were deeply divided over whether to keep him on as music director. Ultimately, one faction won and he was “allowed to move on” in his career.</p> <p>So when he came back last week, only a week after being conducted by our new music director, whom we LOVE, it was an uphill struggle to keep up our spirits. The program consisted of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto and Brahms 3rd Symphony. Brahms 3rd is one of my favorites, not only because it has a gorgeous clarinet solo in the second movement, but it’s also a masterpiece of symphonic composing. Picture it. Our ex-Director, who always explores the limits of every phrase, is leading us through this incredible piece, and half of us are suffering through it while the other half are trying to get into it.</p> <p>To credit the orchestra, everyone did their best to do make music. This guy, despite his passion, is known for his unpredictable interpretations. And that’s putting it lightly. To him, all music is Italian opera, full of drama. He can swoop down on phrase from the middle of nowhere and wallow in it like a girl in a bubble bath. Meanwhile, we’re turning blue or purple, his least favorite color, waiting for the next beat. And sometimes the next beat is really a <em>beast</em>, which swallows the bubble bath whole, girl and all, moving ahead to the prowl on the next unsuspecting phrase.</p> <p>Now don’t get me wrong or anything…I like him. He’s a great cook and in love with life, something most Americans know little about. We are a culture of bean counters, note takers, fact checkers, time keepers, rule makers, and on. Making music is not about those things. It’s about being free of the structures which convey its language. It’s about letting time float. Occasionally, he creates a brilliant nuance I could never imagine, which shudders through me like a homogenization beam from another planet, and I realize what music is all about.</p> <p>Each musician eventually finds a personal balance between subjective and objective interpretations of music. Subjective interpreters seeks the meaning through the emotions, the feeling of the music, while objective ones strive to recreate the composer’s intentions. Both are valid. In my opinion, George Szell maintained the perfect balance between the two. </p> <p>I lean toward the subjective camp. There are times when I feel I’m only playing the music, not feeling it, not <em>really</em> making music of it. Freshness helps wake me from the blindness of familiarity, especially with pieces I’ve played many times. This week’s Brahms 3rd gave me a chance to see it new, as through a microscope.</p> <p>Over the years of being under this guy as music director, he has shown me the wonderful nuances and magic which can be pulled from an ordinary phrase of music. Really there are infinite ways to play any piece. The objective camp believes there is one ideal way. I think there are numerous ideal ways. And often you don’t know what might work until you try it. Inspiration is critical to making music.</p> <p>After the show I argued with some colleagues, many of them string players, about these issues. I have to concede, this guy stretched Brahms <em>way</em> beyond the traditional, North German, stoic interpretation which works best with his music: the latent passion struggling to be free of its shadows, the yearning Bohemian dreaming of a better world.</p> <p>Yet, from my little island of music making within the group, I relished wallowing in the secret depths of Brahms’ introverted complexities, in the rich density of his tonal language, the Escheresque rhythmic structures. And many of my colleagues in the winds and brass felt similarly. We were “gellin”!</p> <p>The strings, however, saw it completely differently. They are the sea sprawled around our little windy islands. Spread apart and in much greater numbers, they couldn’t rely on the intimate person to person connections to stay together like the winds and brass did. They were lost at sea, while the guy up front was busy getting signals from outer space. They were not happy. Nope. Not!</p> <p>This brings me back to making music versus playing. The two are codependent. This week, while some of us were able to make beautiful music within the relative chaos coming from the podium, to flourish within it’s spontaneous freedom and compulsive freshness, others struggled just to play the notes together. Ultimately, if we can’t all enjoy the same spontaneity and freedom while playing together, it lacks the <em>most important</em> feature of a great performance: <em>cohesiveness</em>.</p> <p>So, here’s to guzzling music raw when ever we can, whether it’s 24 or 100 proof. But the lasting impression comes in the richness of a balanced meal accompanied by an aged wine, when we can actually remember what we did the night before. </p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-4729837539625525291?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-1165429556886864632006-12-06T13:25:00.000-05:002006-12-06T15:46:52.533-05:00Musicians are Territorial AnimalsPeople think musicians are sophisticated, cultured creatures.<br /><br />Yes, of course we are. At least in public.<br /><br />Behind the scenes, though, we are animals. We may act polite, but don’t get in the way of a musician who has delineated his or her territory.<br /><br />In my section, the second clarinetist will politely push away any stray objects which have slid or flopped into his circle of peace. He often comes to rehearsal early to push up all the chairs of the row in front of us. That way, when those players inch back they end up where they started the day before. He is always quiet about it. When another player crosses the line, he will bide his time and move them (or their “stuff”) at the first opportunity.<br /><br />Our principal oboist needs lots of space side to side and front to back. He and the principal flutist are constantly sliding back into my turf. But our oboist spreads wider than most wind players, not because he’s width challenged, but he likes to spread his legs way apart to make room for all the air he takes in before a solo. Elbows splay and legs anchor in an open V. His torso rises way up and back, so his head usually touches the music stand behind him, violating the turf of the first bassoonist.<br /><br />Our bassoonist likes her music stand about as far from her as she can get it. It’s pushed right up against the chair of the oboist. She needs the distance to accommodate her far sightedness, or something or other about seeing around the bassoon. So here we have a dangerous intersection of turf claims. One can feel the tension rising. Though there is rarely an outright war, the persistent jogging for turf bubbles beneath the surface, a cold war of sorts.<br /><br />String players are another breed. They don’t ask for space, or move chairs quietly between services. They just push their chair where ever they want and claim it as their own. You see, string players have the perfect excuse: they need tons of room for their bow arms!! Yes, they need a few feet in either direction outside the area necessary to move their arms. They need air space in which to vibrate their auras.<br /><br />Now we begin to see tensions beyond members of our own tribes. When situations develop between separate races and cultures, the peace talks become untenable, with little in common to allow sensible negotiations.<br /><br />The winds need a clear line of sight to the conductor. Granted, each musician needs to see, but the principal winds have numerous solos, and so feel an urgency in this matter. In our orchestra, we have a number of string players with big heads. Huge heads with big hair on tall bodies! Or so it seems to us when they are positioned in front of us. Before each concert or rehearsal, one of the principal winds usually needs to ask a string player to move a bit to allow us to see. Boy, if looks could kill. “You want me to what?!”<br /><br />They usually relent and move. But within minutes after the concert starts, guess what? Yup. The stage seems to miraculously move under the chair of that string player and they end up back where they know they deserve to be. Pooh on the sight-lines of anyone else.<br /><br />Most wind players unpack a huge array of paraphernalia before each service. We set up house. I used to bring in a little table on which I kept all my tools, reeds, etc. Oboists, bassoonists and clarinetists need an array of knives, chisels, drills, files, water holders, backup reeds, reeds to be tested, stores of old reeds, reeds kept for nostalgia. We need these to function. We cannot breathe or think without them. In the chaos of preparing for a big concert, there’s a flurry of activity in the reed sections as they fine tune their reeds for the weather that day, and for the particular needs of the repertoire we are about to play. Tools are strewn about, reed cases opened up, dozens of vulnerable reeds spread out for testing. You get the picture.<br /><br />Occasionally the dam bursts and hell breaks loose. Once in awhile, a conductor asks us to move up a row, usually to fill empty chairs during a piece with a smaller orchestration. Being closer also helps the players hear each other better. For the reed players, it’s a huge undertaking to move all their stuff up to the row ahead. And the stage hands who are usually available to help us move know better than to touch anything, lest they lose a hand or worse.<br /><br />When we are asked to move, the rumbling begins. The battle cry sounds. “I refuse to move all my stuff up there! The acoustics are more familiar back here. How are we expected to sound our best when all our stuff has to be packed up and moved? I’ll never remember that special reed I was going to play. There’s just NO WAY this is going to happen!! How dare they impose such ridiculous requests on us!”<br /><br />Though the conductor usually gets his way, there are occasions when the players shouts of dissent hold sway in order to keep the peace. And we are allowed to remain in our cozy caves, surrounded by all our beloved and familiar tools.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-116542955688686463?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-1162835662503045812006-11-06T12:53:00.000-05:002006-11-06T12:54:22.516-05:00Breathing is my Life…and my career. I cannot afford to breathe incorrectly. Yet I have been, perhaps for years. Habits change and erode over years, imperceptibly. When I went to an Alexander teacher to get some help with posture to relieve neck and shoulder pain, I ended up learning how much tension I was holding in my torso and neck. And you can’t breathe with a tight torso. Nope.<br /><br />During many, many solo performances in my career, I had to fight my body’s compulsion to breathe in order to finish some phrase or other. (This happens more often when I’m playing solo in front of the orchestra and standing. When sitting in the orchestra, there is more time to recover from each improper breath)<br /><br />Wind players often suffer from “bad air” remaining in the lungs after they breathe. A breath may be convenient or musically necessary at a place where the lungs are not yet empty, so the new air mixes with the old, stale air. After a few more breaths like this, the air in the lungs is full of carbon dioxide. The body will then being to convulse to try to breathe, even in the middle of a phrase. I have had to overcome this desperate reaction and continue until a more suitable time to breathe.<br /><br />The solution is to plan proper exhalation at certain times, and to take smaller breaths so as to fully exhale the at the end of a phrase. But proper breathing, where the muscles inhale and exhale much more efficiently, also helps to maintain a better balance of good and bad air. It helps keep un-necessary tension out of the chest, affording more freedom of breath.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-116283566250304581?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-1161818186181845462006-10-25T19:15:00.000-04:002006-10-25T19:16:26.196-04:00Entertaining the ConductorThe other night we had a pops concert, a tribute to Arthur Fiedler. The program style reflected his unique balance of light music with one substantial classical piece. We played about a half hour of “medium” light classical, some Wagner overtures and a Puccini Arias arrangement for orchestra. After an intermission, we played the entire Tchaikovsky violin concert, a hefty chunk of music for a pops audience. Then came another intermission. Yes, two intermissions. At the Boston Pops, much of the audience is set up at tables, so they can eat and drink during the concert. Then two intermissions make sense. Anyway, onward.<br /><br />The third half was all schlock. “Fiddle Faddle”, a tough little bugger, especially at the caffeinated tempos our conductor likes. Then a piece for typewriter and orchestra, very cute. Our principal percussionist dressed as a sleazy secretary, with a blue beehive wig and a cigarette hanging out of his/her mouth. The typewriter was the real thing, a heavy, old battle ax. The part was mostly the ticking of the keys, inter-spaced with the ripping of the carriage and the infamous little bell to warn you to return the carriage. Fun.<br /><br />Anyway, one of the traditions of Fiedler was to spontaneously insert an encore in the middle of the third half. Our conductor warned us. On Saturday night he decided to do it. The piece was “Stars and Stripes”. My music had gotten shuffled into the mix of everything in my folder, and I couldn’t find it. He started the piece, as I frantically looked for the part. Bum, bum-t-um tum, tum-tum-tum-tum-tum-TUM! The music started. I’ve played it many, many times, but in different keys, and with different repeats, etc. It’s not an easy piece, and I don’t have it memorized. So I kept looking. It wasn’t there. I thought someone had played a joke on me, but our orchestra doesn’t play jokes, they just get even. I started at the beginning of the folder and turned each piece over. I’m right in the middle of the orchestra, dead center, in sight of all. There I am calmly (now I know all are looking at me, so calm is the key) paging through my music…The piece is not that long, so it’s about a third over…and finally, there it is, hiding between Fiddle Faddle and Buglers Holiday. I knew it, it was a conspiracy between the string and the brass! Anyway, I dove in and played the rest.<br /><br />After the concert, as I walked out of the hall, the conductor happened to see me, and laughed as he said, “Dave, I had so much fun watching you frantically looking for your music during the march. Thanks for breaking the monotony and making me laugh!”<br /><br />I smiled. At least someone enjoyed it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-116181818618184546?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-1159991387596477702006-10-04T15:48:00.000-04:002006-10-04T15:56:20.750-04:00Preparing a ConcertoAs an orchestral clarinetist, I don’t play concertos very often. I do it more often than others in my orchestra, but it’s by choice. There is no obligation to do so. My job is as a principal orchestral player, which has its own set of challenges specific to the job. I could be content to play from within the orchestra, but I like to be out front once in awhile.<br /><br />On the other hand, there are many clarinetists who solo exclusively, such as Richart Stoltzman. Once, while having a drink with him after he played a concerto with us a few years back, he said something like this to me, “I wish I had the skill to play in an orchestra like you. I became a soloist because I didn’t get a symphony gig”. Mind you, this was meant as a light and supportive comment to me. He is made to be a soloist, and I am quite sure he is every bit as much or more skilled as I to play in an orchestra. The point is, it’s a specialization, like being a medical researcher versus being a doctor. Both are skilled in medicine, but one is more public.<br /><br />Playing a concerto is a very different experience from playing in the orchestra. Not better or worse, just different. The feeling is more exhilarating, but also more stressful. The playing position is usually standing, not sitting, which changes the way the instrument feels as I play. Even the approach to sound is different, more open and “soloistic”. By contrast, as a principal clarinetist, where I also get to “solo” from within the orchestra, the feeling is usually more reserved so as to blend better. Think of two paintings, one of a really cool looking cat, the other has a cool cat somewhere in the painting with people and furniture and books around it. I’m still the cool cat in each, but less prominent in one.<br /><br />The pressure of concerto-ing is higher, much higher. After all you are standing out there right in front with everyone staring at you, rather than sitting, somewhat hidden about halfway back in the orchestra. Preparing a concerto is also far more time consuming than orchestral music. In my case, this is partly because I am much more familiar with orchestral music than concertos, since it’s my regular job. So the preparation is intense and long. It usually starts many months in advance. I pick apart the piece and focus on the really difficult passages, breaking them into manageable mini-projects which I slowly build back together.<br /><br />To hone my musical ideas, I listen to several recordings of reputable soloists, taking style from those players and forming my own interpretation from them. While learning the piece, I allow my imagination to run free with the interpretation, taking far more liberty in my phrasing that I would in the final performance. This is to encourage my muse to be creative. I find this is necessary to help break free of the habitual constraints of playing orchestral repertoire. In that case, I am interpreting only a small part under the larger interpretation of a conductor’s.<br />Sometimes I hire a pianist to rehearse with, to get a feel for interacting with the accompaniment.<br /><br />Yet, as a concerto soloist, one has more liberty to create a style which matches one’s ability. Many factors are the choice of the soloist. Obviously the selection of a particular concerto is one. Otherwise there is the choice of tempos, the amount of rhythmic freedom, the amount of dynamic contrast, etc. Naturally, a soloist should emphasize his or her best features. If he is a more expressive player, the tempo can be set accordingly. If pyrotechnics is her specialty, then the style is set accordingly. Here again, as an orchestral player, I need to adjust my attitude toward having more control over the interpretation. But the resulting freedom can be very gratifying.<br /><br />As the final days before the first rehearsal approach, I meditate on the music I will play. I hear it in my head, sometimes to the point of madness. Little snippets will run in a playback loop, over and over and over. But, thinking about the piece, getting one’s mind around it, is as important as actual practice. When I play, I will go over the most tricky spots, playing slowly, cultivating a calm physical and mental attitude. I often say to myself, like a mantra, “You know this piece, you can play it, your fingers can play it. Trust yourself”. It’s so easy to become frantic as the day approaches.<br /><br />I had one stressful incident in my preparation for a concerto recently. I had stayed up quite late working on reeds. (another post altogether) I placed the reeds on my practice table, cleaned the cat litter box, put out the trash for morning pickup, and went to bed. I acknowledged that I should have started working on those reeds a few days earlier to have them stabilize by the performance. (reeds, made plant cane, need several days to adjust to being wet and played) The next morning, the reeds were missing, gone. I looked all over the house, near the cat box, in the bathroom, in the trash, outside. I don’t have a dog, so I only had myself to blame.:) In my fatigue, I must have inadvertently thrown them out with the cat litter and trash, which was then picked up the next morning.<br /><br />Now I was really behind. I had to spend several more hours that day getting enough reeds going to give me a decent choice before the performance. A delicately timed schedule is easily upset.<br /><br />Getting the right reed is crucial. Ideally, I can get on stage just before the first rehearsal to test my reeds and pick the one which flourishes in the hall. Our hall needs a full, resonant sound. It’s difficult to pick a reed for that in my small living room where I practice.<br /><br />After the first rehearsal of the piece, I can usually begin to enjoy the whole event. I say begin to enjoy. It’s not over yet. However, many of the unknowns are now known. I know how the piece feels live, I know how my reeds are doing, or not doing, I know how the conductor will follow me, I know how I’ll interpret the piece. I also know there’s not a whole lot more preparation I can do. Back to the little mantra above, “Trust Yourself.”<br /><br />Now, my focus is to stay primed and calm, ready and poised. I care for my body and smile a lot at my Muse, for that’s who will transform me from a person playing a concerto into a musician playing music. It’s a world of difference.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-115999138759647770?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13611482.post-1158191602944086032006-09-13T19:51:00.000-04:002006-09-13T19:53:22.956-04:00Imagine PlayingWhen I was learning the Mozart Clarinet Concerto for a performance years ago, I practiced as I jogged. I heard and felt the piece in my body phrase by phrase, back-wards from the end to the beginning. This practice also helped me memorize it. While my body flowed and loosened during jogging, the beautiful music played through me. Without the instrument, I was able to idealize how I wanted it to sound when I played.<br /><br />If you don't have the sound and the music in your ear, your body won't know how to get there, what to do. No teacher can teach a student who doesn't hear what they want to sound like, who they want to sound like. No teacher can teach a student to love a phrase of music beautifully played by a great musician. <br /><br />If you want to become a musician, listen to recordings. Fall in love with them, live them, breathe them. Go to concerts and find what you love about the music and the performance. Yearn for the satisfaction of hearing music played beautifully. Let your ear sing and play with the music as you hear it. Feel it in your body as you enjoy it. <br /><br />Listen carefully. Listen critically. Watch closely, if it's live. By critically I don't mean finding mistakes. I mean hearing detail. How does rhythm emphasize the shape of a phrase? How is pitch used? How is vibrato used? How does the body express the music? How is tone used? <br /><br />Imagine these things with your body. Imagine being that musician as they play. Become them in your mind. <br /><br />When practicing, let go of your judgments. Keep the ideal in your ear. Let your body flow toward that ideal. Relax into that flow. <br /><br />Now you are ready for a lesson. Now a teacher can help you learn.<br /><br />Even for professionals, hearing before playing is essential.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13611482-115819160294408603?l=www.sequenza21.com%2Fthomas.html'/></div>GarnetDavidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06482572917950645940noreply@blogger.com0