Christmas Cards from Murfreesboro

For any friends who might be reading my blog around Christmas, I'm including a few pictures of our warm and charming surroundings here in Murfreesboro.






This little Christmas tour starts with a scene just outside town.





This is the home of one of our local merchants who sells spinning wheels, looms, and so forth. The children at this house study piano with Kathy.





Here is one of the majestic old homes in the historic district all decked out for Christmas.






The Murfreesboro Historical Association presents a Christmas tour every year, and this year's tour explored some of Murfreesboro's international connections. Thus, the flag of Scotland.





This last photo is the steeple of the Methodist church across the street surrounded by lots of mistletoe. My friend and colleague, James M. Guthrie, is the organist and choir master, and I play there on occasion.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Great Christmas Music in NC

Last week, our church (First Baptist of Ahoskie) held a church-wide party and concert that included mostly lighter selections performed by all the different musical groups in the church. Kathy coordinated most of this music. One creative item was a sing-along accompanied by handbells.

The other two items that really caught my attention were songs I've known for many years but had either never thought much about or have a new take on this year.

"Silver Bells" was the first of these songs. The text in combination with the musical style perfectly situate the song between urban and rural life.

The second song was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." I had been thinking this song was about the most depressing Christmas song, second only to "Shake Me I Rattle." It has always seemed sappy, sentimental, and maudlin to me.

This year, I'm hearing it differently.

The song is really about community and belonging.

Now that both of my parents have passed on, the song has taken on a new depth for me. As I was hearing it in the context of our church - in the context of Christian community - I realized that these people are my community and family now, and may very well be for many years to come. I'm new here, but the time is right for me to grow into this community, to connect, to know and to be known.

Freshmen Devotionals

Last week was our last week of classes and our final devotional was as follows.

Musicians get very busy at Christmastime. There are extra concerts, church services, parties, etc., all of which require music.

Often we hear the complaint that the busy-ness and commercialism take us away from real devotion to Christ at Christmastime.

While the busy-ness of the Christmas season may distract us fom whatever routine of quiet time we may have, I think a healthier and more joyful approach to the situation might be to recognize that all the busy-ness, whether sacred or secular, is a reverberation of Christ coming into the world so many years ago.

Thus, as we go about the myriad of things we have to do in this season, we can engage in each of them worshipfully and joyfully as we remain mindful of Christ's coming that created this cultural rhythm that has endured for centuries.

Freshmen Devotionals

This is the devotional thought I shared with my freshmen music theory class the Monday after Thanksgiving.


There are several things that make our class hard, not least among them:

Meeting at 8 A.M.

Not all of us find theory a natural fit for our way of processing information

And did I mention meeting at 8 A.M.?

These things and others could contribute to us not feeling so grateful at times.



One of my mother's favoerite Bible verses to quote was Psalm 118:24 -

"This is the day the Lord hath made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."


I have often understood this to mean that God has made the day. God has given me time to live. I should be grateful for that time. By itself, the verse seems to say nothing about what I'm experiencing during that time, but that we should rejoice because God has made the time.

I don't think that's really what the verse means in the context of the psalm. Still, I think it is a good thought, and I am more joyful when I think that way. I'm more mindful of God when I have that mindset.

In its context, the verse refers to a day in which God has saved the writer, and we can also be grateful that God is in time with us, redeeming and saving.

Freshmen Devotionals

Our most recent devotional was based on the following reading from John Wesley's sermon entitled "God's Approbation of His Works."

Such was the state of the creation, according to the scanty ideas which we can now form concerning it, when its great Author, surveying the whole system at one view, pronounced it "very good." It was good in the highest degree whereof it was capable, and without any mixture of evil. Every part was exactly suited to the others, and conducive to the good of the whole. There was "a golden chain" (to use the expression of Plato) "let down from the throne of God;" an exactly connected series of beings, from the highest to the lowest; from dead earth, through fossils, vegatables, animals, to man, created in the image of God, and designed to know, to love, and enjoy his Creator to all eternity.


This passage paints a picture for me of how God created us to be:

without any mixture of evil

functioning at our very best

performing our role which is important for all of creation


These three themes could be foundational to a Christian approach to artistic or student work. We need to have a pure devotion to our work. We express that devotion by striving to do our very best. The health of the whole community depends on us doing the best with our part.

Freshmen Devotionals

Today we compared two Genesis passages.

In the first, God created light.
In the second, humanity was told that survival would involve work.

The comparison reminds us that God is different from us in that God speaks and creation happens. There doesn't seem to be a planning or working stage involved. On the other hand, humanity has to work to get from an idea to a product.

As performing artists, we enjoy the moment before the public. But the life of a musician is really much more about daily work that is for our ears only. We should be grounded in that fact and seek to find some fulfillment in that daily toil.

Theory Fun

1.

In my Music Fundamentals class, we have been studying how to generate intervals above and below specific notes. I taught the students that for ascending intervals, they can use an ascending major scale as a starting point. For instance, if they need to determine a major third above G, all they need to do is consult the G major scale and note that the third note of the scale is B. All of the intervals from the tonic up to any other note in a major scale are major, except for scale degrees 4 and 5, which are perfect. Minor intervals are then generated by lowering the top notes of these major intervals a half step.

One of my students started asking questions about generating descending intervals and whether or not some sort of scale could be helpful. After thinking about this a little, we realized (something that is actually pretty obvious but I hadn't thought through before) all the intervals from the top tonic down to any other note in a major scale are minor, except for scale degrees 4 and 5, which are perfect! Thus, a descending major scale can be used as a template for determining descending intervals.

2.

I have one adult student outside the University. She plays for church services, and the focus of our lessons is for her to learn how to enhance her hymn accompaniments through improvisation.

An important skill to develop towards that end is the ability to quickly understand what chords and chord progressions are in the hymn at hand.

As we were analyzing chords in a hymn, we came upon a cadential six-four chord. As many of you know, the naming of that chord is controversial. Some call it "I six-four" since the pitches in the chord are those of a second inversion I chord. Some call it "V six-four" because it has a strong dominant feeling. The problem with calling it that, though, is that in the standard system for labeling chords with Roman and Arabic Numbers for roots and inversions, respectively, it is assumed that all the chords are stacks of thirds. Thus, the bass note of a cadential six-four chord couldn't really be the root of the chord since the distance from that pitch to the next chord member is a fourth and not a third. In addition to that problem, there is already a chord that is labeled "V six-four" without being inconsistent with labeling principles. The bass of that chord starts on scale degree 2, not 5. The phrase "Dominant six-four" is a little better, but it can still be a little confusing as "V" and "dominant" are synonymous when referring to scale degrees and chords (most of the time.) The phrase "cadential six-four" seems to be the clearest description of the chord's funtion and its inversion.

Now for the good part! I asked my student if the chord sounded like it had a tonic, dominant, or pre-dominant function. She accidentally but very accurately referred to it as "Tominant" - tonic pitches with rather dominant function.

Father

My father would have turned 78 yesterday. That means he passed away a little over eight years ago. It's very hard to believe it's been that long.



Last night at choir practice we were rehearsing the old American tune "Hark! I Hear the Harps Eternal." Kathy said we are to sing it on All Saints Day.

Part of the text of "Hark! I Hear..." is:
"Souls have crossed before me saintly
to the land of perfect rest
and I hear them singing faintly
in the mansions of the blest."

That first line made me think of my father. Over the years, my mother highlighted his integrity in conversations with me by commenting on aspects of his personality:
"He doesn't have an ulterior bone in his body."
"One thing your father can't stand for is people being mistreated."



My father loved music, especially the music of the church. The song "It Is No Secret" by Stuart Hamblin played a crucial role in his call to ministry. One of his favorite hymns was "When Morning Guilds the Skies." He chose that as a congregational hymn for many of the worship services he planned.

He grew up in the heyday of the big bands. He really knew the history and output of Benny Goodman and Harry James. He also loved the crooners like Dick Haymes. He even wrote and recorded a ballad on a couple of occasions. It's called "The Moonlight and You" and it sounds a little Glenn Miller-esque. I have the 45s.



In terms of classical music, certain works that I played really captured his imagination:

Debussy . . .la cathedral engloutie

Paganini-Liszt E Major Etude

Ginastera Sonata, First Movement

Liszt Dante Sonata


He liked the image of me as a happy young musician playing the opening theme of Kabalevsky's Youth Concerto.

Debussy First Arabesque was a bit of theme for us - a little bit nostalgic - as it was theme music for a short segement about astronomy that appeared on Saturday TV. After I went away to college, he would sometimes hear it and think of how he and I had often looked at the stars together when I was still living at home.

He also identified deeply and personally with the beginning of Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto. In those opening bars he heard the struggle of a hero and his family facing the stormy opposition of the world and fate.



The second movement of Beethoven Sonata Op. 111 conjures up in my mind my father on his hospital bed in our living room during his last summer. During his mostly unconscious last days it was as though his soul was lingering in the room - not necessarily in his body - maybe up near the ceiling. It is that sensibilty that I hear in the Beethoven: sad, beautiful, questioning, floating, and all about the essence of human identity and existence.



Dad and I were good friends.
Maybe I'll learn Op. 111 for him one of these years.

Freshmen Devotionals

More on music as a family -

Although we may not always feel like it, family members are often the most likely people to "get" us. When things don't work out the way we hoped, when we're irritable, or when we desperately want to be loved, our families (at their best) somehow seem to understand us better than anyone. We may not always feel like that's the case, but when we're far away from them and feeling lonely, we realize it's true.

Sadly, not all families have that sort of connection, but I think it is usually a natural good of being in a family.

Music can provide us a similar connection. Sometimes we encounter musical moods that resonate with our own moods - moods we had previously thought were unique to us. Then we know we are not alone. Others have travelled the same path.

At different times, music can move us from our own conflicted moods to more open and joyful ways of thinking and feeling - just like a good talk with somebody from home.

Olga Kern

Last week, several of us from Murfreesboro drove down to Greenville to hear Olga Kern play a concert at East Carolina University.

In Chopin's Third Piano Sonata she created a beautiful calming effect as she released the intensity of the sound and tempo beginning with and moving into the second theme.

The second half of the concert included Rachmaninoff Second Sonata and Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 with a cadenza by Rachmaninoff. This got me wondering about the Liszt-Rachmaninoff connection. Rachmaninoff studied wuth Siloti, who was a Liszt student.

As I was researching that connection, I came across information regarding Rachmaninoff's burial. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, NY where many other famous people are buried including Anne Bancroft, Tommy Dorsey, Lou Gehrig, Ruth Laredo, Robert Merrill, and Ayn Rand.

Back to Olga Kern, her encores were all Russian, and included probably one of the very best performances we are likely to hear of Rachmaninoff's C sharp minor Prelude, which we most often hear played by high school (or younger) pianists.

Freshmen Devotionals

Most recently, we considered the fact that in Genesis, God is depicted declaring what was accomplished on each day of creation to be good.

Artists, musicians, and poets have typically found inspiration in the created order. The goodness of experiencing nature grounds and heals us. God made nature beautiful, and there doesn't seem to be in reason why it had to be so. In every moment, millions of special, seemingly one-time events happen that can touch us if we are paying attention: the flight of a butterfly, the play of the sunlight, a gentle breeze.

At Chowan, we are blessed to be in an environment in which we have instant access to the beuaty of nature just outside our walls.

Freshmen Devotionals

Today, we continued to explore the ways in which music provides us a family.

Ideally, family and friends are people who will never abandon us. Unfortunately, that's not always the case.

David Dubal once told my class that music will never abandon us. I think this is true in virtually everyone's case. We develop a relationship with music from childhood, and that relationship continues and deepens, if we nurture it, for as long as we live. Family and friends may forsake us, but music will still be with us providing memory, catharsis, and a vehicle for expression. This is one way in which music is a great gift to humanity.

Two New Testament examples:

Paul and Silas had music as their companion in jail.

Jesus, in his most dire hour, quoted a psalm. On the cross, he remembered the words of scripture and found expression in a song.

From Baltimore to Murfreesboro

Night before last, I drove back from Baltimore to Murfreesboro after spending three days in the William Garrison Collaborative Piano Competition. One of many wonderful aspects of the experience was the renewed sense of purpose and belonging here in Murfreesboro. This is home to me now, and as always, I was happy when I drove up the hill and around the curve to see the Murfreesboro skyline (a few street lights across a field.) A startled deer leapt from the roadside, across the ditch, and ran to dark woods.


I learned or re-learned lots of important lessons this weekend.

1. It is very good to view music-making in a broader context than the music itself. Jeff had chosen a set of sacred songs to include in our repertoire for the competition, and the judges chose several of those songs for us to perform. That allowed us to witness to our beliefs and to worship on Sunday morning at the same time we were performing for the judges.

2. Competitions that pit voices against instruments put judges in a tricky bind. Vocal and instrumental music are clearly different genres, are hard to compare and contrast, and many musicians tend to specialize in one or the other.

3. Playing in the competition confirmed, yet again, the importance of balance. From a technical standpoint, I ideally approach the instrument in such a way as to be active, but not to waste energy. That wasted energy can create tension and playing problems. I felt our performances had balance in another way. We maintained technical control while also engaging all of the passion within us to perform. Often, one of these can interfere with the other.

4. Unknowns create tension. Not trying out the instrument in the hall before playing, not knowing who the judges are, not knowing which works they will request to hear: all of these things made the semi-final round very tense.

5. Regarding our repertoire, we learned that the second of Liszt's Petrarch Sonnets probably stands alone the best of the three.

6. The esoteric experience of playing for judges gave new life to my belief in the importance of performancing and the appropriateness of joy and freedom being part of performing in a normal public setting.

7. When you work hard applying all you've been taught, and when you know you've executed your plans well while managing yourself in relation to your environment, then you can have a sense of achievement and pride in your accomplishment that doesn't require affirmation from others.


Things I really liked about the weekend:

Spending three days with my good friend Jeff

Showing him around Baltimore

Seeing the renovations at Peabody

Being warmly welcomed by Mr. Shirley-Quirk and Dr. Falby at Peabody

Hearing Alan Walker's speech and Petri's Ricordanza recording

Visiting with other competitors and Peabody graduates, ushers, Liszt Society officers

Attending Mass

Staying at Ariel and Vivien's home

Thinking of my parents while on a breezy morning walk in the Dechosa's beautiful neighborhood

Ariel's prayers for us that encouraged us to boldly witness

Realizing the quality of colleagues I have at Chowan

Returning home to where I belong

Freshmen Devotionals

Today we read Gensis 1:1-5 - God bringing order to chaos.

The idea that the basis of creativity is the bringing of order goes against the commonly encountered stereotype of artists being disorderly, wild, irrational, etc.

Music students can also make creative works of their lives as they fashion well-ordered ways of working, resting, thinking, and so forth.

Vision

Night before last was my first performance at Chowan. My friend Jeff Prillaman (tenor) joined me for this recital. It went well, and we had a great audience. Also, we continued to experiment on stage with out interpretations and came up with a few new ideas through that spontaneity.

My main post-recital reflection relates to planning.

One of my father's favorite Bible verses was Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people perish." It actually continues, "but he that keepeth the law, happy is he." But most often, we hear the first half quoted alone. When you read the entire proverb, it seems that the vision needed comes from God's law.

The name of the newsletter of my father's home church in Durham was "The Vision." When he had the opportunity later in life to name his own church's paper, he named it "The Vision," too.

So I've always had those words in my mind.

For a while, I paraphrased the verse as my own musical slogan "Where there is no plan, the music perishes." That was during the period after I realized that a totally spontaneous and emotional approach to interpretation is extremely problematic. I saw that I needed a vision - a plan - for performing.

I now believe the music doesn't need the interpretative plan to survive, except in extreme cases. The plan is more for me.

Having a specific plan for each passage of each work in a performance provides the performer many valuable things. First of all, you are provided with a narrow and clear path through the performance, and that protects you from many of the distractions - internal and external - that might compromise the focus and meaning of the performance. Second, you are provided a clear way to gauge your success when evaluating the performance afterwards.

Thinking on this issue of planning has brought me to a new thought about the nature of spontaneity. I wonder what the difference is between a spontaneous interpretive decision and a planned decision in terms of the listener's experience. When a critic praises spontaneity, on what grounds does he or she make the judgement that what the experience was a spontaneous happening? Sometimes my spontaneous playing has sounded planned to other musicians.

All of this leads me to yet another question, and it is a question about that seemingly illusive characteristic of performers - charisma. I think our culture tends to think of charisma as something the individual performer possesses. As I write, that strikes me as an odd stance in a mostly relativistic culture. Certain performers demonstrate tremendous charisma, but it is completely lost on some listeners. What are we to make of that?

As I understand them, sounds have absolute qualities related to physics. However, those qualities are perceived differently depending upon the makeup and functioning of one's ears. While I think I hear sounds the way they really are, a whale or a dog may hear very different aspects of those same sounds. The differences in perception exist not only between species, but also within the human race. Ears of different ages hear different aspects of sounds, too. These facts pinpoint the reality that the experience of music at the basic level of experiencing sound may vary widely from person to person, in spite of the absolute nature of the qualities of the work experienced. And these differences have nothing to do with personal preference or culture. They are rooted in absolute physical qualities of the hearing mechanism.

The preceding paragraph relates to my question about charisma in that it touches on the fact that perceptions of the same musical event vary widely from person to person, and that fact is built into the nature of things.

I sometimes pray that my music might be coordinated within God's will to touch specific listeners in the contexts of their lives - that musical experiences might work together with other life events to bring about good in lives of listeners. A listener may need to be musically inspired in a particular way at one point in his or her life but not at another. This need for inspiration has nothing to do with me, and the fulfillment of that need also transcends the score or my efforts.

Thus, I wonder if charisma is not a quality possessed by a performer, but a gift of experience that comes to listeners when they need it. Perhaps that was the way the people who invented the word understood the gift they were experiencing, and therefore created a word that means a grace, favor, a divine gift.

Pavarotti

Luciano Pavarotti passed away this morning.

I was privileged to hear him once at the Met singing Giordano's Andrea Chenier in the mid-90s. I was struck by two things about him during that performance. The first was the richness of his voice that was not apparent from recordings. He wasn't singing especially well that evening, and didn't seem to be in good voice, but the stunning quality of his gift was still overwhelming.

The other thing was more of a surprise. His persona comes across strongly in videos, but it can give the wrong idea. In person onstage, he had great humility. As I experienced his performance, my sense was that he was concentrating on the same work with his voice as all the other singers were doing with their voices - only his voice shone more brightly, even in that cast of international opera stars.

Freshmen Devotionals

On Mondays, I'm sharing a one-minute devotional thought with my first-year music theory class.

There are at least two themes to be developed in this context over the course of the semester:

creativity

music as a family

Our very first devotional referred to our being made in God's image. My friend Paul Scaringi pointed out to me that, at the point in Genesis at which we learn that we were made in God's image, one of the few things we know about God is that God creates. Perhaps being made in God's image means, in part, that we are creative beings, too.

Today's devotional dealt with one of the obvious things about music as a family. Families are groups of people with which we have meaningful relationships. Music provides us with similar groups of people.

It may be that music draws its practicioners closer together than some other disciplines do. Why might this be? In each piece of music we make together, we experience a life story in miniature: beginning, middle, end, with struggles and a climax, etc. Sharing these compressed and intense life experiences with other musicians can create strong emotional ties between us.

Being in music also gives us a group of people known as the audience. Even though we may not always feel like it, most audience members are on our side. They want to see us succeed and are proud when we do well. That's just the way our biological family members ought to root for us in life, even though not everybody's family always does so.

Music Appreciation: Melody, Harmony, Rhythm

The course I have taught the most is Music Appreciation. Ironically, it also tends to be the course with which I struggle the most. This is partly because, as a music major, I never took a Music Appreciation course. Thus, I don't have personal knowledge of the needs of the types of students who do. I think it rarely happens that the instructor for Music Appreciation took such a course since most of us were music majors.

Another of my difficulties with the course is that I'm not convinced that a course in merely appreciating the aspects of a medium is really meaty enough for college. I have also taught the course as a more sociological exploration of the music world, but I'm not sure that's really what the title of the course suggests. Striking a balance between these two seems ideal.

A third issue is that , as I am not always convinced of any particular approach to the course, I struggle to be fully committed to the project.

The good news is that I think I have struck upon an approach this semester that I believe I will find to be more compelling and meaningful. My goal is to equip the students to recognize the universal application of great music.

I have been led to this new approach by the struggle outlined above, and by the fact that I am now teaching in a Christian university in which I feel more at liberty to explore the spiritual aspects of the material I cover.

For the most part, I'm teaching the same basic material that I've usually taught. Only I'm looking for deeper connections and references to provide the students a conceptual framework for relating to the music, and maybe even growing as people through that relationship.

So far, we've studied the basics of musical organization - two trinities:

melody, harmony, and rhythm;

dynamics, timbrer, texture.

(Musical form is a bigger category in my mind.)

We started with rhythm, which is analogous to the human pulse. Thus, it relates to the physical body and to movement. As long as we are living, there is the rhythmic motion of blood pulsing through our veins. There are poignant pauses in music that make me wonder if the music can go on, and if so, how? Miraculously, the music continues, just as we do. The persistence of life is fundamental and good.

Melody has been described as relating to the human soul, and I would suggest that its twists and turns, its risings and fallings, relate to the state of the soul. Melodies move us mysteriously. It is hard to understand (even for people who spend lots of time analyzing music) why melodies affect our emotions the way they do. I don't want to discount this mystery and the fact the melodies seem to speak in a spiritual way that cannot be approached by mind or body. But, I think it is meaningful that the state of the human soul is often described in terms of human posture. We lift our hearts, or we are down-trodden. As melodies make their journeys, theyfollow a paths of posture that may relate to the various states of our souls.

Harmony has been described as musical perspective. That is, a series of chords often creates a sense of depth. For example, when we hear a dominant chord, we know we are one move away from tonic. I say "move" because perspective is based on location. So on a fundamental level, harmony might be understood as somehow relating to location.

Sometimes we musically move from home and back again. Other times, we think we're going to stop off at home, but suddenly find ourselves in the house next door (deceptive resolution.) Still other times, we end up in another town entirely (modulation.)

That's my new model. It's a work in progress and a subtle revision of other peoples' ideas.

A quick review before I develop these ideas a bit more:

rhythm - pulse, the body

melody - the state of the soul

harmony - location

It seems like that accounts for the basic aspects of human existence in musical terms.

This scheme becomes more interesting to me when I consider the intersections of these categories - and I have to consider those intersections as we rarely encounter only one of these aspects in a piece of music.


Melody and harmony:

The really touching and expressive melody notes tend to be dissonant. Dissonance is a term that really makes the most sense in the context of harmony. Maybe those expressive tones are so touching because they show us the freedom of melody being shackled by the constraints of harmony. This might resonate with the pain of our own coming to grips with limitations and boundaries.

Rhythm and melody:

At certain moments in music, rhythm seems to motivate the arrival of some superb melodic event. On the the other hand, rhythm sometimes seems to be excited by the intensity of melody. Here we might sense the body and the soul acting upon each other. The outcome of that interaction in life can be joy or friction. Perhaps it is in this way that the stucture of music can tell us of the relationship of body and soul in the culture that created it.

LSMF: Ecumenical Reflections

Yesterday was the last day of the final session of this year's Lasker Summer Music Festival. During this session, I was struck and inspired by the integrity with which each participant brought his or her own faith to the festival and by the respect which each participant showed for each other's faith journey.

We share common ground - each of us is a musician and each of us is a Christian. As I have reflected on this common ground this afternoon, I have tried to articulate for myself what it seems to be that we all share in the way of faith - how it is that we might all be called Christians.

Each of us has a redemptive relationship with God through Christ, and that relationship is mediated in large part by the community of Christians across space and time, and by the Bible.

I am reminded of the words of Herschel Hobbs who suggests that it is good for Christians to cooperate on projects across denominational lines whenever such projects do not compromise the consciences of any of those Christians. Seeking to better integrate one's faith and artistic work seems to be one of those projects, and I feel blessed to have been able to work on that with my friends who were in Lasker this week. Psalm 133 is how I feel.

Tonight it's raining in Murfreesboro. It's the first serious rain we've had in weeks. On the eve of classes beginning, it's symbolic to me of the past being cleaned away for a fresh start tomorrow, and of the thirsts for knowledge and meaningful work that are to be quenched as the semester unfolds.

Pianist/Organist

Today,I substituted as organist at First Baptist in Ahoskie. It was my idea. I thought it would be a good growing experience and fun - and it was.

I played organ for chapel and church services for a couple of years, but rarely in a situation in which a very high standard of organ playing was really required.

This time was different. Since I'm a pianist and not really an organist, and I'm accustomed to maintaining a certain professional and artistic standard in my music making, I'm acutely aware of the unknowns I face when I come to the organ:

1. First, there are the pedals, which I've never practiced for more than a day or two at a time.

2. Registration - It's exciting that the possibilities for sound variation are virtually limitless on the organ, but choosing appropriate combinations is second nature only for good organists.

3. Dynamcs - It's really not obvious how much sound is enough or too much, and the acoustics and organ console placement often obscure the actual volume level at which you're playing!

To put it in another way, having a good pianist who doesn't practice the organ play for a service on a fine pipe organ is like having a watercolor artist execute his vision as a granite sculpture which, by the way, he has to chisel with his feet.

After several days of practice and many mixed emotions, I came to grips with my lack of technic and the unknown instrument and parameters. How? Practice.

I think one of the most wholesome things a musican can do is to practice. What could be better for us than to work on our musical skills, especially when we are preparing for an actual musical event that makes our practicing into clearly needful work?

A little advice for others not in my shoes (that is, other pianists trying to be organists for a day or two.) This advice will be obvious, but try to find a way to play the Doxology without pedals, if at all possible. Don't let your pride get the best of you. After all, viewed in a broader context - and I think it also must be really wholesome to try to view our musical work in a broader context - this whole project is an invitation to humility.

This week, I also spent some nice time with organists. One is my colleague James M. Guthrie whose knowledge as a performer of Baroque and pre-Baroque music is as good as anyone working in the field. He's a practicer!

Kathy and I also spent some time with a wonderful couple of organists, Carol and Paul Doyan in Scotland Neck. Mr. Doyan has a terrific plan for performing all of the works of Vierne during that composer's anniversary a few years away.

Welcome to Chowan

We've been in Murfreesboro for a little more than a month now and have easily adjusted to how nice life is here!

Just as I left behind some great colleagues at UR, I have some terrific new collegues here who have helped us to feel very much at home.

The town is of historical interest. It's a very old town, Lafayette passed through here, and the inventor of the Gatling gun and Walter Reed lived here.

Last week was the Watermelon Festival which is a family-friendly event complete with free watermelon, a parade, a 5K race, fireworks, and lots of good food.

This website has links to the university, the historical association, and the watermelon festival.

Hulin Music

Please note:

the name of this blog will be changing soon to hulinmusic.blogspot.com.

UR Music Department: An Appreciation

I wrote the following for the Univerity of Richmond Music Department newletter this summer.

In the fall, I will be joining the faculty of Chowan University in Murfreesboro, NC. I’m taking this last opportunity to write for News and Notes to express my appreciation for the colleagues with whom I have been privileged to work these last seven years in the Music Department at UR.


First of all, I shall always be grateful to the faculty members who voted to hire me, thereby giving me a great place to learn and work, not to mention financial security and health coverage, for the better part of a decade!


Next, there are the many individuals who have contributed to my development as a professional and as a person:

Dr. Anderson who has been a model administrator and mentor

Mr. Becker whose remarkable artistic openness and friendship have helped my developing sense of self and value as a pianist

Dr. Riehl whose impeccable musicianship has consistently inspired me to strive for a higher level of music making

Dr. Longobardi whose ability to be nurturing and challenging at the same time sets a goalpost for my own classroom teaching

Dr. Fairtile whose joy in hard work and willingness to support and enhance the faculty’s efforts brightens up any trip to the library

Dr. Cable whose concern during my mother’s final illness was comforting to me

Dr. Pellegrinelli who took the time to be a friend and whose intellect has taught me to think better

Dr. McGraw who knows how to be super-competent and easy-going at the same time

Dr. Broening whose quiet commitment to family, teaching, composing, and Third Practice is amazing

Dr. Kong who leads the way as a musician who is totally invested in the work of department and in the welfare of her colleagues (I’m especially grateful for the many times she has recommended me for pianistic work in Richmond.)

And Kathy Panoff whose behind-the-scenes work and advocacy for the arts are so important

Finally, there are the many adjuncts that do so much of the musical work of the department. I appreciate the camaraderie and performances we have shared that have been both entertaining and enlightening.

Thank you all for many good years – years I will remember dearly.

More Richmond Goodbyes

As I wrote several posts back, many events are rounding off my Richmond experience meaningfully and connecting back to my arrival in town or to my arrival at Woodland Heights.

Yesterday, I turned in my keys at UR, which was a little sad. Then I did some research in the Virginia Baptist Historical Society library on campus. There I ran into Dr. Slatton who took Kathy and me out to lunch after church when we visited River Road Church when we first got into town.

Last night, Kathy and I went to a Richmond Braves game with our friend from the neighborhood, Diane. The Braves lost to the Durham Bulls which is what I think happened at the first game we attended when we first moved to Richmond.

Tomorrow is our last Sunday at Woodland Heights Baptist Church. I'm playing the Mark Hayes arrangement of the Doxology tune. I think that wasthe first thing I played at Woodland Heights.

At Woodland Heights I have tried to develop the idea of a church musician's work being a larger work than a single hymn or the events of a single Sunday. Musical and improvisatory themes or approaches can be developed over a season such as Advent or over years of music ministry. So I think it's appropriate from an artistic standpoint to end my time here as I started it. This encapsulates my presence and praise over these several years in this place.

One problem with this approach is that one seldom knows how long one will be serving in a particular church or what direction the life of the church and its music might go. Thus, long-range artistic planning of this overall work maybe be complicated in terms of consciously inflecting structure. (Maybe this also makes the work more like improvising than composing on both long-range and local levels.) But the ebb and flow of the cycles of the church year provide climaxes and other shapes to be articulated. And I think it makes sense that the liturgical calendar would supercede an individual's trajectory in terms of corporate worship.

Part of the appeal of playing for church services is that the musician gets to return again and again to the same group of listeners. At times I have found this very liberating. It frees the musician to provide what is best suited for the moment and the day without feeling the pressure to try to demonstrate everything you can do one any one occasion. People get to relate to many facets of the musician's gifts over a sustained period of time, and I like to think that gives them a richer experience.

I think I didn't play the printed ending of the Doxology arrangement the first time arond at Woodland Heights. I substituted something a little more calming so as not to disrupt the flow of worship by drawing the congregation into the mood to comment on my playing by applauding. Tomorrow I will probably play the printed ending as it is our farewell Sunday and that might give a sense of resolution from that very first time as well as feeling more complete so as to convey that our work here is done.

More on Spoleto

Lest anyone misread my remarks about serious music in the last post, hearing an orchestra full of brilliant and enthusiastic young performers under the baton of an uncompromising conductor in works like Strauss Till Eulenspiegel and Dukas Sorcerer's Apprentice was great fun. Hearing them make the sounds they were making, and with just the right attitude, was, simply put, a great time.

On another topic, but also fun, I noticed that in both the Verdi Requiem and in Dukas there are moments in which the physical actions demanded of the performers to play their music illustrate what the music is about - a sort of visual onomatopoeia or text painting (which term sounds visual but isn't!)

I've noticed this phenomena in a number of piano pieces such as Liszt's Mazeppa, in which the pianist looks like a galloping horse or a man tied to a running horse as in the piece's story. An even more extreme example might be seen in a live performance of Henry Cowell's Tiger, in which the pianist looks like a tiger pouncing on its prey as the pianist performs violent and unrelenting tone clusters with his or her forearms.

In Verdi, the moment is the playing of the two bass drums during the Dies Irae. The Physical effort required to produce the desired sounds at the precise off-beat times, never fails to give the percussionist the appearance of frantic physicality. I say it in this way because it is not an expression on the face that conveys that mood - I was sitting too far away to see facial expressions. It's the dramatic and rapid movement of the entire body that gives a sense of the wrenching and ultimate drama of judgement being portrayed in the music.

In Dukas, the various seesawing bowings of the violinists and violists picture the rising water of the story unexpectedly and exquisitely.

Serious Music

We returned from Spoleto in Charleston today. Last night we heard a concert that included Mahler Fourth Symphony.



Hearing that concert and another of Verdi Requiem the night before got me thinking about orchestral music and some important points regarding my experience of it.



1. It is serious music. I think this term is often misunderstood in our contemporary culture. The term is not meant to compare the music with other musics in such a way as to say symphonic music is serious and other musics are silly. I think the term means that the nature of classical symphonic repertoire is serious. Its themes involve serious issues of the self, life and death, myth, and ultimate reality. Its modes of developing these themes are also characterized by rigorous rhetoric and imagination. Its greatness is that it is not a smooth presentation calculated for quick response. Instead, it is a complex and profound argument that proceeds with significance. It is plumbing discussion as opposed to the sound bite. It is a sun or a moon that continues to rise in the hours following the concert.



2. It is mysteriously grand. After hearing the Mahler Symphony, I knew that the music was bigger than my thoughts about it, or than any thoughts I've read about it. To really engage with the work is to grapple with Mahler's worldview as best we can know it. But more than this - even when we think we know some ideas the music is about, we are still to digest the eloquent things Mahler is saying about his subjects and the beautiful, multi-faceted way in which he says those things. Even beyond this (or before this), hearing the symphony is a profound human experience in an of itself. The life and richness of its depths become more apparent as we realize that we don't know all that the work is saying.



3. It is needed. So many aesthetic experiences today are packaged in such a way as to narrowly direct our thoughts and shorten our attention span. The symphonic works of Mahler and others challenge us to take a serious look at our selves, our beliefs, and our world. Added to this, the opportunity to hear live symphony performances is only taken advantage of by a small percentage of the population in most American cities with orchestras. And in many parts of the country, live orchestral music may only be available two or three times a year at best. It is a different experience from listening to the orchestra on recording, and I believe more people could feel more rooted if they regularly attended orchestra concerts.



Depth is what I think the symphony has to offer - knowing yourself and the human condition. The symphony may seem foreign, but that may be because of the way our culture has conditioned us, not because of who we are deep inside. Maybe the symphony is boring, but I'm wondering if "boring" is sometimes code for serious, and we just aren't always so well-equipped to deal with the value of serious experiences. It may seem impolitic to suggest that this music lifts people, but its culture and composers may have designed it to do so. The case for such a view has been made from history.

Reviewing Richmond

We have lived in Richmond seven years now and are preparing to move in a month.

Interestingly, I have had several musical opportunities that are helping me to review the work I've done here.

Last week, I was invited back to Collegiate School, a private school where I taught for several years when we first came to town, to provide a yearly evaluation for a number of the piano students. It was an inspiring day filled with bright young people. There were two brothers with great attitudes who played a ragtime duet from memory. There were several students who had not studied more than two or three years who were making great strides and had prepared lots of repertoire. And there was a brilliant student who really grasped and conveyed the exact character of the accents in the classical era work she was playing. That really impressed me. I also enjoyed lunch with my former boss in the fine cafeteria where I used to eat (including the giant bowl of graham crackers that's always available for an easy dessert.)

On the weekend, I accompanied a senior recital at Collegiate which brought back more memories of student recitals, playing for baccalaureate, and gigs across state. One such gig was accompanying a senior in a scholarship competition in Bristol which was a very long drive, especially after the competition.


This Sunday, I had the opportunity to play for Pentecost Sunday service at Grace Baptist Church. Kathy and I were members there for a couple of years. The congregation is very open to creativity and the arts. I played Chopin Revolutionary Etude for the prelude as the piece seems firey and windy - appropriate qualities for Pentecost. Accompanying the congregational singing for the service also gave me an opportunity to encapsulate much of what I have come to view as relevant to the art of hymn playing while living in Richmond in a final service with that church community. This involves some (hopeful tasteful) text painting, a sense of tension and release following both the text and musical sense of the phrases, ideas about tempo change between verses relating to the text, ideas about the relationship of the pianist and the congregation regarding tempo (sometimes I follow, sometimes I push), and the possibility of binding together numerous musical events in a service by incorporating textures or figurations in the hymn accompaniments that appear in the other service music.

Finally, tonight at choir rehearsal we worked on Ken Medema's "To This Altar" which I first learned at Woodland Heights Baptist Church during the last several years with Kathy leading our choir. It's a very moving piece that touches me everytime we rehearse it. Medema describes it in this way:

"It is about bringing our life problems to God's altar for healing."

The text is broad yet somehow specific (maybe I'm saying that it is deeply thought out and felt, and thus has deeply human and universal application.) Whatever my day's experience is, it finds a healing and warming context in this worshipful anthem.

Competition Advice

I'm entering a competition with a singer friend this fall. It has been years since I've entered a competition. Last time, I learned all I needed to know through mail and phone calls. Today, most of the information is available on-line.

There is at least one drawback in our current, seemingly convenient situation. The design of some websites, as in the case of this competition, can make it hard to find out everything you need to know. Ironically, it seems like a lot of energy was put into getting all the information onto this website, only the information a participant needs to know is spread throughout the site instead of being in a single participant-friendly location and format. I've returned to the site again and again to make sure I'm not missing anything.

Thus, my advice to anyone entering a competition in this day and age: you might need to visit multiple pages of a site to get all the information you need. Don't assume you've got it all. Look thoroughly and don't hesitate to e-mail questions to the appropriate folks.

Gottschalk and Gershwin

This week I had the fun of performing excerpts from several Gottschalk works for a documentary on Cuban jazz that should be completed in November. Gottschalk travelled in Cuba and wrote some works that contain quintessential rhythms that have come to be associated with jazz and permeate much of the music we hear today.

In addition to practicing the excerpts, my preparation also included finding shoes and cuff links that looked like something Gottschalk might have worn.

I coached the excerpts with Dr. Mike Davison, one of my colleagues at UR who is an expert regarding Cuban jazz. He suggested that I play more percussively as Cuban music is very percussion-oriented. At the same time, Gottschalk was a 19th century parlor pianist known for his polish and charm. It's interesting to conjecture what type of performance would have amounted to flamboyance , exoticism, and visceral appeal in that world of poetry and highly melodic music.

Sometimes we classical musicians assume that a jazz influence is somehow a sign of primal and raw expression. But I think the composers who incorporated touches of jazz into their concert music were viewing jazz as modern, sophisticated, and suave as often as they were viewing it as being expressively primal or raw. I wonder if some unexamined, inherited prejudice may be at play that robs us of recognizing a wider range of expressiveness in this music.

Last night we went to Richmond Ballet's performance of George Balanchine's Who Cares? based on the music of George Gershwin and premiered by the New York City Ballet in 1970 . The ballet injects the rhetoric and forms of a traditional ballet with the jazzy flirtatiousness and glitz of a 1920's Broadway show -
a prime example of the neoclassical impulse.

Change of Address

This little announcement may be important to those of you who read this blog periodically. I'm thinking of changing its name and address to hulinmusic.blogspot.com.

If you look for the blog in a few weeks and can't find it, try that address.

Rocks Crying Out

Yesterday I listened to my last day of music juries as a member of the University of Richmond faculty. One student who was in my theory class this semester played the first movement of Brahms E minor Cello Sonata. This student, Heather Stebbins, is very bright, and in addition to being a budding cellist, is also a gifted composer.

As I listened to her consistent tone, her variety of vibrato, her unfolding of the details of the score, and noted her grasp of the function of each line she played, I realized that her instrument was singing.

As I am quite accustomed to instrumental music, I often miss the miracle of a performer causing inanimate material stuff to sing. In this performance, wood and strings, metal and bow hair, lifted up their voices in a way that was mysterious, poignant, and longing. I thought of the strangeness of the musical saw - a pedestrian tool that emits an ethereal tone - and I realized that the same extraordinary dynamic exists whenever instruments sing.

Perhaps this is a good part of the creativity of the performer - breathing elegant speech into soul-less materials, much like God breathing life into soil and making humanity.

Maybe instrumental music is inherently worshipful as musicians and instrument makers ornament God's creative work through their endeavors. They cause wood and metal to cry out, just like the stones Jesus said would praise him if the people didn't sing.

Cage: 4'33"

My friend Bill Vickery recently shared with me an article about Cage's 4'33" from the Wall Street Journal. I teach the piece in my classes and here's part of what I teach about this piece.


The piece is deeply artistic in that it is a multi-layered reflection of musical culture and of the composer's thoughts. Cage made no decisions regarding what sounds would be heard during the performance except that the performers wouldn't play or sing anything. This brings up many philosophical questions regarding traditional ideas about composition and performance:

What should the composer control?

What does a performer do?

What is the role of the audience?

How do these ideas shape our expectations and experience of musical events?


In addition to these philosophical questions about the nature of art, there are also religious issues at play. Cage contemplated some sort of silent piece that could have been called "Prayer" years before he wrote 4'33". Also, Cage was involved with Zen Buddhism. Perhaps 4'33" is a secularized invitation to the meditative experience that he encountered in Eastern religion.


Having performed the work on several occasions for my students, I can confirm that the experience is akin to the entrance into meditation. First there is some awkwardness and discomfort at the unusualness of the situtation. Audience members are focused to take in a performance, but the performance involves little action and no traditional musical sound. This awkward stage may include some giggles and restlessness. Soon these give way to a calmer atmosphere, and listeners become aware of everyday sounds that they usually tune out - the ticking of a clock, the bussing of the lights, a car passing. Little by little, it seems that listeners become more personally focused and become aware of their own breathing and so forth. This self-awareness can be very calming, and we rarely achieve that sort of focus and tranquility as a group in our society.


4'33" presents another quandry.

What's the next step for a composer who has written a piece with no notes in it?

Cage continued down his path by writing aleatoric music - music in which chance procedures replace the composer's choice regarding various musical elements. 4'33" is part of that larger movement, and that larger movement also expresses the Buddhist ideal of removal of one's will from the situations one faces in life.

Chaos Theory

I learned a bit about chaos theory at lunch with my friend Robert Johns a couple of weeks ago. Two ideas immediately related to music in my way of thinking.

1. Chaos theory suggests that seemingly random or chaotic phenomena may be based on some extremely organized and intricate order. This is illustrated by many 20th century musical works, expecially works in the realm of serialism. Such works often sound totally unorganized to listeners on the first hearing, but many of these works are among the most tightly organized in every parameter of music from pitch and rhythm to timbre and register.

2. Chaos theory suggests that tiny bits of change at one point in a process may bring about radical large-scale change at some later point. My mentor, Dr. Vern Falby, often described tracking the tonality of a piece of music as being similar to tracking a bear through the forest. A broken twig here and a twisted branch there are the tiny signs that point the way to the bear. A sharp here or a flat there are the initial signs that the music is moving into a new key.

Westminster Choir College Performance

March 16 at 7:00 PM the Westminster Choir of Westminster Choir College will present a concert at Huguenot Road Baptist Church, co-sponsored by the Da Capo Institute.

Admission is free and the concert will be a treat that includes a wide array of music from American spirituals to works by contemporary Estonian composers.

For more information about this performance and other Westminster Choir College-related events in Richmond next week, click here.

Return to Blogging and Schumann's Waldszenen

My mother passed away in July of 2006 after a difficult three months in the hospital. Since that time I haven't really had time or desire to blog. At one point I was pretty sure I'd stop altogether, but I'm back in the mood now.

Two things put me back in the mood. First, my friend Jeff Prillaman designed a new website for the summer music festival with which I work and included the blog address in a prominent location. That got me started thinking that I should not give up on the blog. Second, yesterday I came across the blog of Ben Witherington who is providing what I think is an excellent reponse to the Jesus Tomb book and upcoming film. Dr. Witherington's blog affirmed for me the value of this medium and the quality of work that can take place through it.

Now, on to music.

My pianist friend Samir Vugdalic is working on Schumann's Waldszenen. The set includes movements with titles such as "Friendly Landscape" and "Hunter in Ambush." Thinking of these pieces got me thinking about the changing contexts of classical music. I assume that the people who originally heard and enjoyed these pieces knew a good bit about rural life and hunting from first hand experience. Maybe they were wealthy and hunted for sport, or they were poor and hunted for food. I don't know any of this for sure, but it seems likely that Schumann's first listeners would have at least been more in touch with these aspects of life than the majority of the modern classical audience members who are mostly urbanites.

I'm interested in playing some of these pieces for contemporary rural audiences to see what insights they have into the music and what enjoyment they might have of it.

Another friend, Robert Johns, helped me develop another example of meanings or perceptions of music changing depending upon context. Light shows, electronic sounds, and jarring percussive effects are experienced by many listeners as being completely normal at a rock concert. The same listeners perceive those elements as being unmusical and weird in the context of an avant-garde art music concert. Somehow the avant-garde-ness outweighs the familarity and coolness/neatness of the technological media.

(By the way, these seemingly hypothetical listeners are actually numerous classes of music appreciation students I have taught over the past few years.)