Hulin Music

Christmas Music 2010

2011-12-26T16:02:00.007-05:00

As always, the Christmas season has been full of music that has been meaningful, joyful, and deep, as well as light, at times.

My first highlight was the Southeastern University Christmas concert. This year, I had no musical responsibilities in this concert, so I was free to enjoy being an audience member. It was a real pleasure to take in live music. Plus, it was a worshipful experience.

Next, I coordinated a couple of performances of my advent cantata, The Promise of a Child. One was at our house and involved church members and school colleagues and students. The most meaningful part of this for me was the presence of student-friends who share these events with me.

The second performance took place in Lasker when I returned for my annual Christmas concert. This year, I traveled to Lasker alone. A thirteen hour drive puts a performance in a unique perspective for someone like me who mostly performs nearby. Plus, this program kept changing as personnel also changed. All the performers who joined me in this endeavor were great and did nothing less than make the event possible and successful. Plus, they were all friends. Baritone Greg Parker sang his air "And a Great Portent Appeared in Heaven" with refinement and meaning. I'd like to travel around giving art song recitals with Greg. Unfortunately, our society doesn't really support that. Flutist Jeremy McEntire was, as always, fun to make music with. The afternoon of the concert we read through a few arrangements and chose several to play. The ones we chose formed a little suite of tunes that are about non-biblical Christmas-related stories: The Cherry Tree Carol; Bring a Torch, Jeannette, Isabella; and Good King Wenceslas.

Upon returning to Lakeland, I settled in for the central worship of the season: Christmas Eve and Christmas Sunday services. I came to these events with a refreshed mindset. Through playing for worship lately I have been reminded that solo playing and accompanying congregational singing are two different things, and not just in the more surface differences. The congregational accompanist needs to support and shape as well as providing commentary and energy. All of this is undergirded by reflection on what types of things we say and sing in worship.

I am learning to embrace the electronic keyboard I play every Sunday. But before I express this embrace, I must articulate why the embrace is difficult. My love, calling, and training involve the acoustic instrument and music designed for it. The experiences of acoustic versus electric instruments are two different experiences. Some will tell you they are not, but they are. Of course, many people seeking to buy pianos can be convinced that an electronic instrument will suit their needs, but this does not mean that the experiences are the same. A keyboard salesman is not the person to ask. A concert pianist or a handcrafter of fine instruments can clarify what is at stake in the absence/loss of an acoustic instrument. This is not intended to disparage electronic instruments. There is music that sounds good on them. But it generally isn't piano music or music conceived for voices two or three hundred years ago. Also, in spite of the electronic instrument's seeming variety of sounds, I can only express a small portion of the nuance on them that I am capable of on even a bad acoustic instrument. Really, I am not making my own sounds. I am playing someone else's sounds.

With those things said, I am moving forward with trying to figure out how and what to play on the keyboard. Towards that end, I am undertaking a composition project. I am envisioning a set of 24 short pieces, mostly offertories, that sound good to me on the keyboard. I started by composing a little lullaby of sorts for Christmas Eve. Already I have learned to keep things simple - few fast notes and transparent textures seem to work best.

Keeping things simple was also part of my musical Christmas worship. Instead of improvising all of the carol accompaniments, I used some very basic techniques and limited the improvisation to several specific moments for particular reasons. Since it was Christmas, I utilized more of the color options than usual, though. That seems to be my tradition.

I'll share a few notes about the accompaniments for my own records and for any interested readers.

On Christmas Eve, we opened with O Come All Ye Faithful - lyrically played since it is a piece of invitation to see the Savior. Second verse, alto doubled an octave higher for a bit of a sonic aura for a verse about angels.

Advent chorus "Christ Be Our Light" played with bell patch which is the timbre we've associated with the piece through Advent. Last verse, addition of eighth notes to express the greater intensity of its concluding ideas.

Away in a Manger - guitar patch, emphasis on tenor in second verse to resonate with the text about lowing cattle

Hark the Herald - Kathy played along on horn, bass double in octaves for fullness, third verse improvised a rising line to underscore the theme of rising in the text.

Go Tell It on the Mountain - Again, I basically stayed with the hymnal version instead of making it sound more gospel-like as I usually do. However, I did listen for a more authentic inflection of syncopations and added some clangorous eighths in the verse abut ringing out.

Angels from the Realms of Glory - bass doubling and strong shaping of the phrases: the phrases of the verse rise quickly and then fall, and in the chorus they build on one another "Come and worship, Come and worship, Worship Christ the newborn King!"

O Little Town of Bethlehem - organ patch, alto double on verse two, again for angels, and a cappella on third verse "How silently, how silently . . ."

Silent Night - improvised obliggato for "glories stream from Heaven above."

And on Christmas Sunday morning,

a carol medley:

How Great Our Joy - again, emphasis on phrasing. This is the mediant/submediant song. Check out the structure of the melody if you're interested. It's almost minimalistic or cubist in its varying patterns of the same pitches and movements around tonic.

followed by Joy to the World
verse 1 - a few added dotted notes for the regal nature of the text
verses 2 and 3 - paying attention to the text painting of the tune of words like "floods" and "flow"
verse 4 - more dotted notes

and Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee with a Christmas text
Mostly flowing eighth note accompaniment with a decrescendo to the third line in which the lowliness of the Christ child's birth is referenced.

Rise Up Shepherd and Follow - call and response a cappella

What Child is This? - harpsichord patch and baroque sounding ornaments and pacing. Also, noting the questioning nature of the text and the tune/harmony. More kingly references, too, in the third verse.

Conclusion of the service, bringing Luke and Matthew stories together - The First Noel -
We moved through the first five verses rather quickly and broadened the sixth which deals most with our response and unity. Unison with unity texts.

Pastor Tim spoke to God's call for a more humble world and of the Christmas message of an enduring peace that starts in the heart and works its way out.

Christmas Music 2010

2011-12-26T16:02:00.005-05:00

Inspired

2011-11-29T19:57:00.006-05:00

I am grateful for the sense of inspiration that comes from a lot of my work these days. It has something to do with there being a good match between my specific gifts and the specific needs and interests of my students.

Today has been the culmination of several lines moving through my life as of late, and that puts me in a particularly gratifying place this evening.

Before Thanksgiving, I was reminded of a truth that one learns to be true by living for a while: We can and do change. I always need that reminder when I stumble. Our efforts over time do change us.

Something I'm learning about being healthy: When challenges appear, try not to let every area of your life slip into crisis mode. If I can keep some practicing or composing going on a nice schedule, or if I keep some exercise regiment or can keep some semblance of discipline in my eating, then I have a better chance at keeping the real issues I'm struggling with in perspective.

Today I had the privilege and blessing of meeting with one student and hearing their story of becoming a pianist. Knowing and telling the stories of how we became musicians is so powerful and grounding.

My ear training students gave me some fine insight into what would make their experience better. Actually, one of their ideas is something I've known or suspected for many years but just wasn't sure about how to bring it about. Now I'm thinking I really need to do it because the students also believe it would help. It will take some work, but there will be more joy and success because of it.

Then I got to teach a lesson on Haydn D Major Concerto. Here are some of the ideas from that lesson.
- Performance is about projection and communication of all that we have discovered and practiced. In that way, it's a lot like public speaking. Talk/play to the person on the last row, and your voice will have enough energy for the whole room.
- The dynamic of piano and orchestra: the piano is a piano but might also be an orchestra, so look out orchestra.
- The importance of communicating clear and convicted pulse when playing with orchestra; the idea of telegraphing the nature and timing of the orchestral entrance by the way you play the preceding beats.
- The need for "hard rhythm" or rhythmic spine, often in the left hand, at moments that might otherwise feel a little indefinite and mushy.
- The value of solfege for understanding the tensions of voice leading - what a tremendous tool for teaching the feeling of music.
- The fact that a score can look and sound simple and clear but can convey such an incredibly rich record of the human experience.
- The spiraling pattern of passages of repeated harmonic or thematic patterns with variation: much like the book of Isaiah in which a message continually develops through commentary.

That lesson was followed by a faculty meeting that concluded with a time of prayer in which we prayed for the various needs of individuals and our institution.

Tonight I'm enjoying our scotch pine Christmas tree that's full musical ornaments. We also have Floyd the Illuminated Christmas Flamingo in the guest bedroom window.

And my son and I had a good talk about what it means to be family tonight.

Thank you everybody for a day that has meant a lot to me.

Recording

2011-11-07T16:24:00.005-05:00

Over the weekend, a colleague and I recorded ten art songs at a studio a couple of hours away. I thought it might useful to somebody for me to share a few reflections on the experience.

If you're working with a studio or engineers that don't have a lot of experience recording classical music, you will need to let them know what you want. You'll also need to plan how you want to perform so that you're happy with the end result.

It's not unusual to have the mics within three feet of your face or instrument. A lot of recording people feel that closer is better. A problem with that approach for classical musicians is that we do not prepare our way of performing to be heard from that distance. The piano sound is too direct, plus there can be extra mechanical noises within the instrument that normally don't make it off the stage to the audience. The singer's breath will be much more present than is intended and much more detail of the voice will be heard. In addition, the singer's normal range of dynamics and intensity may create issues when recorded from so close.

In the case of art song, engineers who don't do lots of classical work won't necessarily know that the "vocals" don't need to be way in front and might make the piano seem to have only a hint of its normal body. Neither singer nor pianist is likely to be happy with such a mix. Once the mix moves in the direction of what we'd expect to hear in the concert hall, the engineers might be a little anxious that the voice that the voice doesn't seem dominant enough. Of course, your singer will know what he or she wants.

One up-side of all of this capability for technological manipulation is that you really don't have to worry about balance if you're being recorded with separate mics in separated spaces. For the pianist, that means that you don't have worry much about using a transparent sounds so as not to compete with the singer's timbre. The engineers can create something like that for you.

Another positive is that you don't have to keep repeating things to get one complete and acceptable take. Some editing can be done. It's a good idea to think through where complete breaks in sound can occur in your repertoire because editing at those points will be easiest.

Musically speaking, it's probably best to go for clarity. Look for places where it could easily become a little unclear as to what beat or part of the beat is being heard. Then, plan to play those spots with appropriate inflection so as not to confuse the listener. Strong, clear lines are also important. They might even need to be stronger and more compelling than in a public performance since there are no visual cues for the listener.

If you have two or three days in the studio, I think it's wise to use all of the time available toward the beginning of the process. Even if you are feeling less fresh towards the end of the first day and want to go home early, you'll be glad you pushed through when things get bogged down in editing, etc., on the second or third day.

Finally, try to stay relaxed. It can be very hard to do, but I think it's highly unlikely that you'll perform better if you're uptight. Here's how it goes for me:
1. I don't want to create the need for any extra takes as I want to make things as smooth as possible for my singer. Thus, my baseline is to not make any silly errors - wrong notes and so forth. That's not normally my focus in live performance.
2. Add to that the way one focuses when accompanying - mostly focusing on being together in time. I don't want to be early ever, and I don't want to be noticeably out of sync.
3. If a wrong note happens or if we're not as coordinated as I like to be, then my brain tries to fill up with "How bad did that sound? How not together were we?" while we're still recording the rest of that take. More often than not, those things don't sound as bad in the playback. I have to trust that fact and dismiss the unhelpful questions that come up in midstream so they don't take over. At least that's what I try to do.
4. Then there's the constant starting and stopping which is also foreign to live performance. Here, it's worthwhile to truly wait until you're ready before you begin each take. Your focus is the most important thing in the recording situation.

One more idea: take along some candy to keep your energy up.

Authority

2011-10-10T15:12:00.010-05:00

Good discussion in our Faith Integration Seminar today: What is the place of power in the classroom? What about coercion? What about students who resist involvement in the process?

A passage from Parker Palmer's The Courage to Teach inspired these questions. I've continued to think on these things throughout the day and have been attempting to state answers for myself.

I desire voluntary cooperation in all of life. To get very far, this has to be an attitude adopted by a community, not just an individual.

Palmer suggests that real authority replaces the emphasis on power. Power becomes irrelevant in the presence of such authority. This would be authority that is developed over time through building trust and respect within a community. In my experience, it seems like caring too much about having power prevents a person from developing this sort of authority. But those who are genuinely engaged with the work to be done and who treat those around them with the dignity that fellow human beings deserve develop it in the context of their communities.

This is an image of the path to the chapel on campus and an emblem of the activities of our seminar.

With the Furniture

2011-10-05T20:13:00.009-05:00

In the midst of a University Assessment Committee meeting yesterday, I looked at my hand resting on the table in front of me and had this strange new thought:

That's a nearly forty-year-old piece of equipment. (My hand, not the table.)

Not long before the meeting, I had been practicing some Liszt pieces I've known for a while. More and more, I enjoy playing works I've know for a while. My hands and arms appreciate moving through familiar patterns and producing combinations of sounds that they figured out how to produce comfortably some time in the past.

I have very few machines that are forty years old and still function. But much of my furniture is at least that old. Maybe that's part of why we appreciate older things as we age: we start to belong with the antiques in that they have a few years on them but are still sturdy and functional. They're even a little elegant which might inspire us. They're a little more human in these ways than some of our newer things - gadgets that will be displaced and replaced in a few years.

And there's something else I have that's a little old like me: music. I play stuff that's stood the test of time and spoken to the human heart, in some cases, for centuries. Thinking about that makes me want to play something really old - millenia old, not just centuries.

That's where I am - at home with my old stuff and my old self.

And my beagle. She and her ilk have also been hanging out with humans for a long, long time. And I think I can sense her passion for her human family in her greetings and her desire for quality time with us.

Paul, my personal apostle, (I'm referring to Dr. Paul Harlan my colleague at Southeastern who designed the theory curriculum I teach) reminded me that the extraordinary difference between the machine of my hand and the clothes washer that no longer works is that the hand is made of human tissue that rebuilds and refreshes itself. It's kind of a miracle when you put it in those terms.

It occurs to me that the aging of the hands and the mind were not particularly addressed in my musical education. The health of the hands was in a big way, but there was no intentional discussion of what happens or might happen as one grows older.

9/11/11

2011-09-12T19:33:00.010-05:00

Following the events of September 11, 2001, I found myself unable to stop thinking about the destruction of the Towers and the suffering that happened there. The idea of lives extinguished in the most horrifically painful way took over my consciousness. I played my first solo recital as an adjunct faculty member at the University of Richmond on September 23, 2001. At that point, I still couldn't stop thinking of planes striking great structures. Those images changed my way of hearing and interpreting my repertoire on that occasion, and I prefaced the concert by saying so. The program was Bach's E Flat Minor Prelude from the first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier, Debussy's prelude "The Sunken Cathedral", Liszt's Petrarch Sonnet 104, and the F Minor Sonata of Brahms. I added "A Mighty Fortress is Our God" as a closing meditation.

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When I first heard about the second plane, it seemed inevitable to me that we would respond to these events by going to war. As I experienced my shock and grief at what happened on that day, and as I reflected on its impact on my own understanding of my art, I thought that 9/11 would be the defining event for my generation of artists in the United States. Perhaps that has come to pass, but so much has happened since 9/11 that has moved us away from the grief and, in some ways, away from the possibility of healing, that I'm not sure if 9/11 itself has become the theme I expected it to be.

__________________________________________________________

While watching footage from that day this weekend, my sense of the immense grief of 9/11 was renewed, although I still can't get myself to accept (for more than a few moments at a time) that those events really happened . I accept them as facts of history, but the parts of my mind and heart that could try to feel the maginitude of their human significance seem inaccessible to me. This has generally been my experience of grief: at some point, my system simply stops trying to make sense of what has happened. Maybe that's what is meant by "acceptance." But when I closely observe my inner workings, I haven't accepted anything. I just don't seem to have the capacity to grieve non-stop indefinitely.

__________________________________________________________

I played Bach's F Minor Prelude from the second book of the Well-Tempered Clavier for offertory at church on this tenth anniversary of 9/11. As I prepared and as I played, I thought a bit about "Why Bach?" and as we drove to church, I noted that I was not the only one who turned to Bach on this day. As names were read at Ground Zero, Bach was played on the flute.

Why Bach? For me, it's not because of his context or some detail of his biography. While those things may affirm my faith and assure me that the human experience and the experience of art transcend any single time and place, what I discovered in the midst of the living and researching of playing the music is that somehow Bach's music is a gift from God. It ministers to us, and we intuitively turn to it at times like this. As such a gift, it seems to be able to convey the pain of the individual as well as the grief of the entire race while also sounding a note of hope.

As I played, I realized that my generation can find an authentic voice in interpreting our work, our music, and the great classics of our civilization in light of 9/11. No other generation can do this and noone can define what it is to do this but us. Perhaps this is a profound truth that each generation learns. As Fleisher puts it, the structure of the musical work is a vessel into which we pour our feeling.

As I grieve and seek to console others at the piano, I learn afresh how to phrase, how to wait, how to aspire, and how to end.

Definitions

2011-09-02T07:28:00.008-05:00

I'm feeling the most comfortable I've ever felt being a college music professor this semester. It seems like it can take quite a while to feel really settled in one's calling, particularly when there have been so many voices trying to define who and what one should be without reference to, or awareness/understanding of, that calling. I have sensed this most strongly in the area of performing. How much performing should I be doing? Where should I be doing it? How should I relate that performing to the rest of my work and life? What should I be performing? With whom should I be performing? . . . These are serious questions regarding how to conduct my professional life, how to spend my time, and what my identity is. After all, the performing part of my life existed before the college professor part and will probably be with me long after the college professor part. (I hope to have a long and productive academic career and a long and productive time of retirement afterwards during which I continue to make music!)

What is a performance?

Here's my current definition:

A performance is a committed effort that explores one’s capabilities, and in so doing, becomes a valuable human achievement.

There are all sorts of ways in which a rendering can be a committed effort. I like the idea that a committed effort involves a balance of the thinking, feeling, and acting parts of us. It seems like commitment falls apart when these are not in balance.

This definition is about exploring what one can do, not comparing it with what someone else can do. Perhaps competition makes us work harder at times, but the opposite can also be true. If we compare our efforts to the efforts of those around us, sometimes we'll think "what I'm doing is good enough" but we might be falling short of our actual potential by letting our context define what is good enough. We might also be diminishing the value of our human achievement.

Finally, these efforts are valuable as human events because they apply commitment to exploring our capabilities. These efforts can happen at many stages and levels from a child learning to clap a rhythm to the greatest actors performing Shakespeare on film for posterity. There is something pure in this pursuit that distinguishes the human race each time it happens.

Another definition - music theory:

Music theory is the activity of making valid statements about the experience of a piece of music.

Sometimes theory seems really abstract to students and other musicians, but it's not really. To some extent, any endeavor involving words will be a bit of an abstraction since words are abstracts. But music theory is about using words and other means to describe and discuss the experience of music.

I call it an activity, but the word "discipline" could replace that word since it is a discipline. But I have chosen "activity" since all sorts of people do it who aren't intentional about it being a discipline. Anyone who listens and processes what they are hearing is doing theory, not just the student in school or the professional musician.

There are at least two types of knowledge that need to inform our more specifically "theoretical" statements about music to bolster their validity: knowledge of history and knowledge of performance. Since the score only conveys what would not have been assumed (as Robert Levin says) we need to know the context to intelligently deal with the score. And hearing lots of music performed live helps us develop a sense of what details can be clearly heard in performance and which move more into the background.

Finally, Theory is about the experience of a piece of music. As Dr. Falby taught us, good theory is about what we hear, not about circling notes on a page. Theory deals with the organization of the sounds within a given work. That organization is what we are experiencing if we are experiencing that work.

Poem on the Eve of Another Year of Music Education

2011-08-16T08:21:00.013-05:00

Running by Lake Hollingsworth
I see a cormorant standing on a pier
wings outstretched in the sun's spotlight
like a conductor
about to give the downbeat
for the lake's morning music

I see another bird with an amber glow
This one I don't know

I pass big men
who are walking
and perspiring hard

And I meet old men with knee braces
who are still moving

And young women
who want to avoid heart disease as much as I do

One wearing roller-blades
sits on a bench between two palm trees
keeping her thought processes going
as she looks at the lake

In and out of the shade I go
as gallinules grub
beneath the fresh growth of water lettuce

It's rural and exotic and urban here
like jazz

Looking at the lotus blossoms
I think of the people who got me here
parents, teachers -
quite an association

And I think of young people
who are learning that cheesecake is a city dessert
and also not exactly a cake

And I thank the Spirit behind all of this

Two-thirds through my run
I see the white portico
of the house
that marks
my stopping point

I remember that it is by example
that we learn how not to give up on the important things

Piano Teachers

2011-07-29T18:10:00.005-05:00

The last stop on our recent three-week trip through the Carolinas, Virginia, and Maryland was Rock Hill, SC where I lived from 3rd grade until 11th grade. We had the privilege of being hosted by my high school chorus director, Marianne Helton, and we also had a delightful dinner catching up with Dr. Judith Barban who was the first piano teacher I studied with after my mother.

Each time I think of these three great ladies, I am reminded of the many layers of musicality they instilled in me. For the last few days, I have continued to meditate on the conversation I had with Dr. Barban during that meal. The more I reflect, the more I realize how much of my musicality, my understanding of myself as a person who feels in an artistic fashion, my understanding of my calling, and my spirituality come from the hours I spent with her as a child.

Certainly we can benefit from masterful teachers at every stage of our learning, and each these teachers needs to address a wide range of issues including musicality, technique, how to structure our work, and how to view ourselves. With that said, it seems that my student career involved the following sorts of layers:

In the musical womb - learning the basics of playing and reading, and having joy in sharing music

Musical mid-wifery or toddlerhood - learning to see oneself as an artist who relates personally to pieces of music

Days of discipline, adolescence? - learning to practice and have some poise and self-control

Preparation - getting ready for undergrad auditions

Professionalism - learning technique and musicianship as an adult who wants to take a place with professionals

The final challenge - working with a master who pushes you to strive for the excellence of the great artists

So True: Things I Was Told and Subsequently Learned About Composing

2011-06-09T08:19:00.007-05:00

Here's a post I wrote in June but for some reason never published until now (July 11).

1. Composing = editing.

Dr. Benjamin made this point repeatedly and I disliked it back then. But now I know it's true and I have accepted it.

Finale is great for this process because you easily create draft after draft after draft without feeling the tediousness that rewriting and copying by hand involve.

2. For me, composition seems to work best when I keep it in the realm of the experimental.

Writing for my reputation, for an effect, for posterity - all of these seem to shut down my creativity and bring on writer's block. But when I give myself a clear musical assignment, a one-time exploratory activity, things flow much, much better.

The assignment, or plan, is the generator, as le Corbusier put it. It gets things started and powers them. But often, once things get going, the logic of the sounds takes over and pilots the course of the piece from there on out.

The semesterly composers' concerts and writing for Meherrin Chamber Orchestra at Chowan gave me plenty of opportunities to write with this experimental mindset. Since I wasn't in a formalized composition program in school, I missed out on participating in the regimen of composers' concerts and forums, but my experience at Chowan provided something like those things. Kudos to my colleague, James M. Guthrie, who continues this good work at Chowan. Also, thank you to him for his faith and subtle mentoring. His musing comments in the hallway often led to my own compositional assignments - questions like "Have you ever written a piece in which the pedal stays down the whole time?" or "Have you tried any mirror writing?"

3. Most of the time, composing is not about creating new materials. It's about what to do with the musical materials that already exist.

We've had centuries of creation of materials. It's pretty hard to come up with some completely new basic musical idea at this point. But how to use the ideas and styles that already exist, and what you can say by how you use them, that's the name of the game.

I don't mean to discourage the garage-band musician who believes he or she is working in complete freedom and disdains all rules. That musician's involvement with music may be an expression of non-conformity, but composition itself is almost always a dialog with the principles of an existing style or styles, whether or not the composer is conscious of this. (I suppose non-conformity is too, actually.)

4. It's okay to be tonal.

Since composing is about dialoging with a style or styles, it stands to reason that one would do well to write in dialog with a style they know well. That's part of why I feel okay about being a tonally-based composer. It worked out just fine for Bach and Beethoven as well as Schnittke and Part, also Alice Parker and Bernstein, as well as tons of film composers and composers of music for worship, etc. This is not to disparage atonality but to recognize that I have a good sense of how the materials of tonality work and how they have been used by many composers over the centuries. So tonality is naturally a big part of my vocabulary.

Summer Lessons

2011-06-01T19:43:00.010-05:00

I like teaching piano lessons to college students in the summer. I'm more relaxed and so are they, plus, we have more time, so we don't feel rushed and can take on projects that we'd never have time for during the school year.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day with a student working on Bach and Haydn.

We started with an hour on Bach C-minor Prelude and Fugue from the Well Tempered Clavier, Book I. We noticed similarities in Bach's prelude style between this prelude and the C-major and D-minor preludes from the same volume: they are improvisatory in nature, elaborate on standard chord progressions, and have a one-handed passage preparing for the final cadence in which the rhythmic groupings change. We discussed performance practice for Bach, the instruments Bach wrote for, and idiomatic expression on these instruments. We analyzed the fugue a bit, noting the spiraling form of the subject beginning with a 4th, then a 5th, then a 6th. We discussed how memorizing imitative contrapuntal music is different from learning more homophonic music, and we tracked the keys as well as the alterations the intervals in the subject undergo in these different keys and as they appear in various sequences. I also emphasized that the name of the game is fingering if you want a solid learning experience with a fugue. In making decisions about fingering, we need to balance the helpfulness of not having too many different hand positions and the necessity of not over-extending the hand. Also, relying on scale and arpeggio fingers we already know will save a great deal of time and give us more security.

Then we moved on to the first movement of Haydn's Major Concerto in D Major which we discovered feels like a sonata form but only has one really clear theme. We highlighted passages in which the pianist needs to be very clear about the rhythm/meter for the sake of the conductor and the orchestra. We also explored how to interpret the absence of a dynamic marking such as at the first piano entrance in this work. This led to a little discussion of musical editions and what goes into creating them.

We also noticed several textures and figurations that are very typical of Beethoven, which appear to have there source in Haydn. In addition, we pinpointed one of Haydn's "life motives" as Michael White at Juilliard would say: rhythms that go "short short long" as in the "Surprise" Symphony and in this concerto.

Then, we took a break for lunch at our local German restaurant. I tried a chicken aubergine sandwich, which is pretty much like eating chicken parmigiana and eggplant parmigiana at the same time on a sandwich - a great accompaniment to analyzing cadenzas. So during our meal, we did harmonic and motivic analysis of the cadenza printed in the score we were using for the Haydn. The goal of our analysis was to prepare to write our own cadenza. (Haydn didn't write one for this concerto.) After lunch, we listened to the cadenzas Richter and Argerich play on Youtube and charted what happens in those cadenzas, as well.

Things we reviewed/discovered about cadenzas:

They are lengthy elaborations of cadences, usually ending on a trill on scale degree 2.

Cadenzas are usually based on material from the movement in which they are found, and first-movement cadenzas often seem to be more substantial than last-movement cadenzas, keeping with the tradition and mood of the first movement being the intellectual center of gravity for the entire work and the last movement being a rousing conclusion.

Some cadenzas, like the one in our score, further celebrate the most significant theme or themes of the movement.

Some cadenzas are motivically freer and are based on significant harmonic ideas from the movement. The one Richter plays picks up on the low-six scale degree going to scale degree five from an Italian 6th chord in the movement.

Some cadenzas, such as the one Argerich plays,develop more obscure ideas from the movement.

Another strategy is to build on what was heard immediately before the cadenza.

We can also vary our concluding trill so as to play on the expectations of the listeners - a familiar Beethoven trick.

Our composition assignment is to determine the overall chord progression, then flesh it out with motivic material from the movement and appropriate Viennese classical-style figurations. I loaned my student my copy of Czerny's School of Velocity to be used as a catalog of such figurations.

My student was interested in featuring the more obscure aspects of the concerto in this new cadenza. I think it's a good idea as it brings some balance by drawing our attention to the motives and ideas that have remained mostly in the shadows during the movement. But I suggested also having one or more really obvious references to the main theme that every listener would be able to hear in addition to the development of the more obscure details that the connoisseurs can enjoy.

I'm looking forward to seeing the results!

Maps

2011-05-21T10:10:00.011-05:00

I'm reading a good book by Gerald Danzer entitled Atlas of World History. A couple of points have stood out as being relevant to music.

The term "geography" is often used very generally today, but it traditionally fit into this scheme:

topography - mapping a small enough region that the local level details of the landscape like hills and streams can be shown

chorography - mapping a region or continent

geography - mapping in a global context

I extrapolate this idea of several meaningful levels to music study.

For example,

local-level analysis of harmonies, motives, and so forth (topography)

consideration of the form of the work at hand (chorography)

understanding of the work in the context of the composer's output or the style (geography)

Another scheme might go this way:

intra-opus style (the first two levels from above)

inter-opus style (the third level from above)

and finally, the place of the work's performance in broader culture which would include musicological and ethnomusicological topics

We musicians need a bit of all this in our lives.

A second point is what I think is an extremely well-stated definition regarding the concept of "classic" or "classical."

Danzer writes:

"A society develops a classic culture when it gathers together traditional ways of life and expresses their values in such a powerful way that it sets standards of achievement for future generations."

Here's a link to a fascinating program for preserving valuable elements of the cultures on our planet.

Sad

2011-05-07T07:51:00.001-05:00

School's over.
Students are gone.

May in April

2011-04-01T16:12:00.003-05:00

Amaryllis and lilies blooming - looks like May to me here on April 1.

Also, fighter jets are scrambling over Lakeland - part of the big Lakeland air show, but still unnerving at times.

Excellent theory students pulled several April Fools pranks on me today:

First, a happy-looking sign on the door said that our class was cancelled.

A single student was waiting just inside the door with a string attached to a dollar bill on the floor. The student said she was the only who showed up.

Then, the rest of the students came in through the back door. Coincidentally, there were no lights in the room due to a momentary power outage.

At the end of class, my attention was drawn to a snail that had been placed on the podium.

I particularly enjoyed the incongruity of all these things happening in conjunction with each other. Most of all, I appreciate the caring and imagination my students expressed in this playful way. I'm glad we can have fun together and learn, too. Thank you all!

Now, back to those interval class vectors!

Storm

2011-03-31T16:25:00.004-05:00

Campus was hit by an intense storm around noon today. My class prayed, told alligator stories, and practiced identifying 13th chords by ear.

Maintenance workers were darting about campus within minutes of the peak of the storm to address the possibility of any dangerous issues that could have developed. It was very impressive to see the immediacy of their response.

The rains and winds continue.

The Divine Servant Fountain looked particularly substantial and persistent in the midst of the storm.

Music!

2011-03-24T17:37:00.006-05:00

Reading C.S. Lewis on the problem of animal pain this morning - excellent and serendipitous preparation for teaching a lesson on the very poignant "Little Shepherd" from Debussy's Children's Corner.

Driving to and from school today, listening to the last movement of Beethoven's fifth piano concerto - marvelous imagination and variety expressed with basic scales and triads!

Now I'm watching an episode of The Incredible Hulk. Great soundtrack in this series: sensitive reiteration of a handful of motives in a range of settings, and played beautifully by live musicians. Joe Harnell's "Lonely Man" theme from the closing of the show.

Birthday

2011-03-21T11:40:00.003-05:00

After a week, I'm still 39.

On my birthday, I went for a drive to Zephyr Hills 30-some miles from Lakeland. It's a town with a water-bottling plant and an old-fashioned touristy strip of buffets and waffle houses.

On the drive back, I heard this moving interview with Fleisher that touches on his relationship with Brahms First Concerto and his struggles with his hand.

I also heard a portion of another interview with a musician. Unfortunately, I didn't learn who it was that was being interviewed, but the important and timely thing for me was his description of a time in his life when he started asking what he would contribute to the musical world. Perhaps I'm entering that type of season, too. I realize that it is probably time for me to determine some priorities amongst my many goals and focus time and energy on the most important of my goals.

Written at 5:39 A.M.

2011-03-08T05:39:00.007-05:00

I'm turning 39 today. Not yet a fan!

Spring Break is here - a great thing about life in academia. You can feel the break arriving for about two weeks.

So far, I've seen the mini-shuttle fly across the sky, I've gone for a jog with a friend in the Circle B Bar Reserve - an excellent place to see alligators, and I watched the Yankees stomp the Phillies in an exhibition game.

A post by a friend reminds me that rest is part of God's plan.

I also discovered the amazing work of a very talented friend from high school. I'm purchasing a copy of the film for my birthday.

There's so much I don't know.

I do know:
I'm where I should be doing work I believe in.
I have a way of working that is my own.
And I miss my students.

King David

2011-03-01T09:25:00.010-05:00

On Friday, I was listening to a recording of Josef Hoffmann playing Rachmaninoff's C-Sharp Minor Prelude, and with the first three notes, I remembered the term "sound picture" or "tone picture" that I think I first encountered in an older book about Beethoven.

That Rachmaninoff prelude is so vivid that images and emotions immediately came into play and moved me away from thinking of musical values like harmonic progressions and the performer's inflections that usually occupy my mind when I'm listening.

Friday evening, I attended Rich Balach's senior recital and had similarly fresh and transporting experiences listening to Wolf's "Schlafendes Jesuskind" and "Begegnung."

Last night, I had the privilege and fun of playing piano in Southeastern's performance of Honneger's King David. The work is a compelling choice for a college department to present. It's a masterpiece involving a variety of 20th century techniques in addition to being a little Hebraic and a little Handelian. It's challenging for the performers, but not as forbiddingly difficult as a 20th century work can be. There are lots of solos, each of which is brief, of a distinct character, and has a few difficulties of pitch or rhythm. Thus, lots of students get to sing manageable but challenging solos.

In the midst of all of this is the conductor who, on this occasion, was our own very capable Dr. Dan Gordon. This was my first time playing an extended work with him and I was impressed with his conducting clarity and presence of mind. He made me think of a World War I fighter pilot, exposed to the elements, piloting, sometimes upside down, through clouds of bitonal bullets and metrical mayhem - an odd image, but an appropriate one for a work premiered in 1921.

As a member of the chamber orchestra playing this performance, I had the perspective of a pianist sitting in front of singers, behind trumpets, next to a keyboardist (playing harmonium and celesta parts), and at the opposite side of the room from the percussion, cello, and trombone. What I heard was not what the audience heard since I was sitting two feet from the piano and positioned as I just described. So while I'd like to hear the overall product, I did get to know about some details that the audience didn't experience as fully as I did. This is one of the reasons that playing in performances of works like this is so valuable. You get an entirely different perspective on the work involving a different kind of intimacy. While the experience provides another way of understanding the work that I could share with others, it is primarily meaningful and special to me.

This particular piano part is a very enjoyable part to play once you get over the fact that you are counting for much of an hour and half while also trying to calibrate your musicality to the movements of the conductor. Actually, those things can be pleasurable, too, but they require discipline.

During our rehearsals and the performance, I started to appreciate the extent and power of Honneger's "tone painting" in this work. Similar to my experiences with Hindemith, once I accepted Honneger's techniques as a part of his language, I could more readily focus on how masterfully clear he is in conveying the experiences that his "symphonic psalm" is all about. His constant responsiveness to text is something he shares with Handel.

A few examples from the piano corner:

#2 The Song of David, the Shepherd - the chromatic counterpoint within a small range throughout beautifully conveys the feeling of the "quiet pool" of the text, but it can also convey a sense of disquietude as David desires restoration of spirit, protection from pain, and so forth.

#4 Song of Victory - the energy of this choral writing is totally galvanizing. I'm surprised that this brief chorus hasn't become a musical icon to be used by HBO and others alongside the opening of Carmina Burana and the Dies Irae from Verdi's Requiem.

#6 Psalm: In the Lord I put my Faith - the piano chimes in with tremelo and vaulting patterns at "Flee like any bird unto the mountain" instantaneously transporting the listener to a different clime. It is also in this number that the pianist gets to strum the first harp-like chords that frequently accompany David in his many moods throughout the oratorio.

#11 Psalm: God the Lord shall be my light - the rhythm of the piano part is positively infectious and underscores the joy of triumph over a dangerous foe as described in the text.

#12 Incantation of the Witch of Endor - I've been involved with a couple of performances of King David and this number seems to capture the imaginations of the listeners the most. It's about an incident with Saul and a witch that is probably kind of obscure to a lot of us. Honneger has his own fresh way of painting the creepy sound-world of such a scene. In a way, it's in the tradition of Berlioz. But it strikes me that to paint his scene, Honneger doesn't resort to anything particularly novel in terms of instrumentation or instrumental techniques (for his time) as Berlioz did. To me, the two pianissimo interjections played by the piano at "Appear! Appear!" seem as erie as any woodwind bending its pitches. Of couse, a lot of the imaginative impact of this movement comes from the spoken monodrama.

At the end of #12 there's a strange chord, one that's physically uncomfortable to play for both hands. There's so much sound going on when you play it that I doubt anyone could discern if you just played a more comfortable cluster in each hand. I tried that in rehearsal and it sounded pretty much the same to me. But in the performance, I played Honneger's chord. Maybe he wanted the pianist to feel a little uncomfortable there, and at the very least, I'm sure the pitches he wrote fit logically with everyone else's notes at that moment.

#16 The Dance before the Ark - includes a very striking chord change in an already sparkly bit of writing for the piano at the word "splendour" in the phrase "O radiance of the morn and the splendour of noon, Mighty God be with us."

#18 Song of the Handmaid - has a questionable instrumentation choice, I think. In a pretty transparent texture, piano and flute play short notes together in a high register, and the tuning is problematic, given the nature of the instruments themselves. But maybe that slight disagreement about pitch is what Honneger wanted - an imitation of the sounds of crickets David could have heard when he rose from his bed to walk around the roof of the palace one evening and saw Bathsheba.

#19 Psalm of Repentance - puts words of repentance in the mouths of both male and female choristers which made me think of David and Bathsheba repenting together. That's a scene I'd never thought of before.

This brings me to a final general reflection on King David. Before the concert, Dr. Gordon prayed a thoughtful prayer that emphasized that David was human in all the best and worst ways that we are, too. I believe Honneger's music communicates the richness of that human story. Indeed, it restores humanity to a familar character from the pages of the Bible.

Good Times in Florida

2011-02-22T19:29:00.016-05:00

My 200th blog post!

I started the day with the discovery of this creature moping around our screened-in porch. He's the creepiest frog I've come across.

His body looks pretty much like the head of a snake, which leaves you wondering where the rest of the snake is.

He's mean-looking, too.
(Click on the photos to see up close, if you dare.)

This afternoon, I rehearsed my beginning band piece with the beginning band. I learned several things from the process:

Harmonic 4ths, 5ths, and octaves chosen from a minor pentatonic collection that I thought would sound austere and bluesy by turns are much more dissonant and complex-sounding due to the tuning difficulties of beginners.

True accelerandi require too much coordination with the conductor to really work at this level.

On the positive side, I think my piece is a good teaching tool that invites awareness of some jazz traditions as well as allowing for a little culture to be built up around studying the piece. It's a rhapsody that begins with a fanfare, has a 12-bars blues progression, a stop-time in which the low brass get to stand up and play Glenn Miller-style, and a call-and-response build-up at the end.

Back at home, we had fresh tangelo juice squeezed from the crop of our own tree. Very sweet juice.

After supper, I took a cool jog to Lake Hunter.

Spice of Life

2011-02-16T16:57:00.005-05:00

A varied day in music here in sunny Lakeland:

five minutes reminding my hands how Chopin First Scherzo goes

attended faculty prayer

a little intro to Dalcroze Eurythmics with a student doing an informal independent-study version of Keyboard Skills for Music Educators

a piano lesson drilling letter names and rhythms with an adult beginner

Ceasar salad for lunch

gave a theory test on chromatic mediants, various pitch collections, tritone substitutions, and jazz harmonization

post-test orange juice sitting on a bench

put new horn obliggato for Malotte's Lord's Prayer into Finale

played for choral rehearsal of the dance from Honneger's King David

coached "Super Boy and the Invisible Girl" and "Little Shop" for Night on Broadway event

listened to some of Mahler 7 first movement on the way home - wondrous fanfares, nature sounds, and sweeping lines that feel like syrup poured on my soul

Imagination

2011-02-14T14:32:00.007-05:00

Those of you that know me well know that exploring the intersection of music and faith is my passion. That pursuit has led me to the more general recognition that we human beings need help with re-integrating our faith into the various compartments into which we've separated our lives. The end result is hopefully a more joyful, peaceful, and connected existence.

To put this in another way, I find myself working for a fuller expression of God's image in us. To me, that means that we exist as a cooperative and loving community of creators, which is what I think the Trinity is.

I remember writing in cover letters for job applications seven or eight years ago that I was interested in teaching imagination. At that time, that mostly meant getting my students to think and feel more personally about the music they perform. I'm now realizing that those words about teaching imagination were prophetic. It recently dawned on me that, as I help students recognize God's image expressed through creativity, I am teaching imagination. The word "image" is right there in the word "imagination" but I've been missing the deep connection to God's image in us.

I don't think this realization will necessarily radically change the way I teach, but it does allow me to see how my various musical and pedagogical activities serve a single spiritual goal. When I help my students organize their thinking about music, when I show them how to develop proficiency at the keyboard, when we experiment with ways to communicate in performance, I am nurturing their creativity, their God-image-ness. When I am patient with them, when I challenge them to live in community, when I'm honest about myself, I model wholesome productivity in my relationships with them.

I am grateful for the distinct opportunity of working in an environment in which I can realize these truths about my calling. The culture of faith integration at Southeastern was a providential surprise for me, and it affirms my faith that the Holy Spirit coordinates our lives in very specific ways.

Years ago, I introduced myself to new acquaintances as a classical pianist. Frequently, that led to the response "But what do you do for a living?" or something to that effect. Once I had a full-time college job, I started introducing myself with "I teach in the music department at such-and-such university." That sounded more conventional and sometimes led to more substantive conversations about music.

Now, I think I'm going to start telling people that I teach imagination. That will be unusual, but I think it will lead to the most meaningful conversations and connections yet - a type of witnessing that is rooted in what I do everyday and that focuses on what I believe to be the beauty of God's will as expressed from the very first chapter of the Bible.

Gesture

2011-02-03T14:07:00.003-05:00

Four hours of rehearsal yesterday - Broadway, folk tunes, sacred anthems . . . and private piano teaching today . . .

From my current perspective, it seems that the root compelling thing in a performance of a piece of music is the grasp of gesture. If a performance conveys shape and movement, it acts upon me and I am moved. Tired and out-of-tune voices might be okay if the way they move through the music has purpose. I might experiment with having students focus on conveying the gestures of a work before thinking of the dynamics and tempi written in the score. Those markings can be used to refine the students' understanding of the gestures after they have really engaged with the basic gestures.

Hearing

2011-01-28T12:15:00.006-05:00

Several points regarding human hearing:

Rich Wilkerson Jr. spoke this week in an SEU chapel service. He mentioned that, according to scripture, hearing seems to be more important than seeing in the Kingdom of God. This is all bound up with relying on God's voice and living by faith. I plan to keep that in mind as I read scripture for myself.

Rev. Wilkerson went on to mention that we human beings don't see so well for our first six months of life, so much of our early knowledge and connection with our parents and surroundings comes through our hearing.

This morning, I happened to hear (and see) a bit of a music education presentation that compared our senses of sight and sound. The ratio of the wave lengths of violet to red light - the extremes of our visual range - is less than 2 to 1. We hear a much wider range of a least seven octaves with each octave being a 2 to 1 ratio. So in a way, we hear a lot better than we see.

Beagles and Beginners

2011-01-21T10:18:00.006-05:00

It's "raining up a storm" in Lakeland and has been since early morning. Sophie (the beagle) was disconsolate last night due to the lightning and thunder.

I'm writing a beginning band piece for a specific beginning band. I like writing to specifications. Clear parameters really help me know what to do and to feel good about it. They push me to engage very realistically with the craft of composition.

Here's my assignment as I understand it so far:

jazz-based or influenced

small number of low brass that play best together

clear and restricted ranges for all instruments (generally an octave or less)

clarinets are the strongest and largest section

parts need to be simple enough to be played but engaging enough not to bore the players

fairly simple rhythms

and nothing can move much faster than moderato

it would probably be a good idea to write music that sounds pretty good even if some of the players lose their place and keep playing anyway!

And I'm sure there are more things I'm not remembering at the moment or haven't realized yet.

This composition process is fun but slow: discovering what the piece is and can be. It's very true in this situation that the primary work of composition is editing. I write a little, trying to make something I like, I listen back and think of the parameters, adjust it accordingly, then I listen again to see if it works for me, then I adjust it accordingly, then I think about the parameters, adjust, put the passage back in context, adjust, etc. etc. etc.

Like I said, fun but slow. And good for me.

Composing is like building a house. That doesn't sound very original. But I like architecture and this image helps me. It's also good for appreciating, from the outside, the significance of what composers do.

When you build a house, you need to consider what that house is for - a single young professional, a large family with children . . . shelter in the tropics or on a mountain in New Hampshire . . .

And you need to make sure it's structured well. There are principles involved in making it a good "machine for living" and lots of wise people and regulations to help you do that.

And from time to time, someone comes along and suggests a totally new type of room or way to use an existing room. Then that catches on and changes the way we see houses and the way we live in them.

When composing, I need to take into account who's going to be using my music and where it will be used:
opera singer? congregation? children?
concert stage? church? classroom?

How will it be structured? Its structure will have something to do with the questions I just posed above - "form follows function."

And then Beethoven comes along and says "What if we make the first theme sound like an introduction, put the second theme in major mediant, and have a really long closing group? Oh yeah, and a quick appearance of the first theme transposed into the Neapolitan right when we think the piece is about to end. How did he come up with this stuff? But it really works, so we listen to him.

Finally (sort of a new topic) the other day I noticed that almost all the melody notes in "All the Things You Are" are the thirds of the chords that tend to be used to harmonize them. Anyone who tries to play the piece on the piano with good voicing has probably already noticed this. But it struck me because I've been thinking about the relationships between melodies and their accompaniments, and particulatrly about how what members of the chords are featured in the melodies contibutes to the mood of the music.

Before Christmas, I was meditating on the fact that Mary "pondered all these things in her heart." That sounds very inner to me. I was wondering how to write a melody that would express Mary's inner-ness, and I improvised some melodies that focused on the insides of chords - the thirds. It seems like that leads to melodies that are sweet and warm, and at times, rather innner in nature.

Something New

2011-01-15T12:53:00.006-05:00

I ran my first 5K today. I ran with Clark, a friend from church. He's a more experienced runner with a good attitude - basically that running is a nice way to experience a nice day.

I don't think this means I'm in particularly good shape but that I'm not in such bad shape. It might also mean that I am, in fact, leading a healthier lifestyle, which was one of the goals I set for myself in moving to Florida.

Also new, I'm listening to a different recording each week as I drive to and from work. Watching various PBS arts events over the holiday inspired me to get back into learning about more repertoire.

So far, I've listened to Kyle Matthews's Timeless Christmas Child CD driving back and forth to visit family around Christmas. Kyle's work is accessible, fun, and profound, and sometimes, all three at the same time. The next week was Sondheim's A Little Night Music. This week I've been lisening to music of Richard Danielpour. I like his music, and I find that I like it more the more I listen to it.

Next week, Giordano's Fedora.

A Day I Will Remember

2011-01-08T21:09:00.005-05:00

While Kathy took one of the tests for certification as a music teacher in Florida, I explored north of Tampa. I stumbled upon the Hindu Temple of Florida, a beautiful structure. Just down the street is a residence that is a small replica of Graceland complete with Elvis's musical gate and stone wall. That sightseeing was followed by an excellent coffee at a Selena's Latin Cafe, a new place in that neighborhood.

After picking Kathy up at the end of her successful test taking, we went for a walk on a trail nearby and saw a rather large alligator sunning itself on the opposite side of a pond. We returned to Selena's for a fantastic Cuban-style pulled pork sandwich.

Back at home, I finished reading Daina Chaviano's Island of Eternal Love which is a beautiful and touching book that involves African, Spanish, and Chinese families who moved to Cuba; famous Cuban musical figures; and a phantom house, and imp, and ghosts. Also a highly ideological parrot named Fidelina.

After reading, I checked e-mail and saw a four-minute-old story about the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords. We have watched the story of that tragedy unfold into the evening.

I played some Lecuona.

Lots to Blog About

2011-01-03T06:40:00.008-05:00

The holidays tend to be a time of abundant life for us musicians - lots of work, work that's inspiring, as well as some time to reflect on its meaning.

Kathy and I returned to Lasker (as well as Murfreesboro, Ahoskie, and Rich Sqaure) for the first time since our move. The occasion was my eighth Christmas concert in Lasker, an event in which Kathy joined me on her horn, also singing, and as piano four-hands partner.

It felt like returning home and like Christmas. Many friends came to the concert and visited with us during our time there.

I rarely travel so far for a performance. It puts a different emphasis on the work. This time, it was a good thing, and it usually is, in my experience.

As we prepared the concert, I thought of the many approaches composers have taken to Christmas. On this concert we played, among other things, pieces about

a town
heavenly bread
Mary and Joseph
a tree
a star
spreading the good news
meditation under the night sky
the ways Jesus is envisioned by children around the globe
joyful singing
gift giving
the night of Jesus' birth
snow
and riding in a sleigh!

Our goal was to match our energy to that of the music and to communicate with the audience. Kathy played very well and I was pleased with my effort, too. By the end of the evening, I was reminded that being one's self is what is really required and that so much of the other stuff is really stressful and extraneous.

I also connected more deeply with "I Wonder as I Wander" than ever before since I was a returning Carolinian playing a piece with roots in NC for Carolinians.

Former students attended and turned pages for me. We visited at the lovely reception afterwards. All these things were very special to me.

We were back in Lakeland in time for Christmas Eve at the Church in the Meadows. I always like to offer prayers for friends around Easter and Christmas services. These times deepen my sense of connection with the sacred, so it seems like more of heart might be in the prayers.

In that spirit, I tried something new. I offered my playing at the Christmas Eve service as a prayer for an old student that I learned had recently had to leave to school. I did this in the same sense that Mass might be said for someone or ones who are ailing.

I brought in the new ear with some Liszt, this year being the bicentennial of his birth. I practiced Sposalizio on the 1st. I'm building my relationship with the piece on a daily basis. On this occasion, I noticed how important it is to stayed tuned to the metrical flow of this music - especially in the single-line passages and phrases with lots of rests - so as to really hear what Liszt has written.

On the first Sunday of the year I played new stuff for our service: my own prelude on "Morning Has Broken" (an arrangement I wrote for a student in the fall) and for offertory, I premiered my tune MEADOWS. That was the first thing I wrote after moving to FL. It is a song expressing the concept of Christian community.

2010

2010-12-31T17:44:00.005-05:00

The sun is setting on 2010 here in Lakeland, FL.

Greetings to all our friends, near and far.
You are on our minds and in our hearts.

Christmas Season

2010-12-13T20:42:00.006-05:00

It has been a beautifully crisp and clear winter day here in Lakeland, complete with driven chops out on Lake Bonny. Tonight, the house is filled with wonderful Christmas cooking smells: sweet potatoes and chocolate cookies.

I woke up this morning thinking of my student days and the various existences I have led in Baltimore, New York, and Richmond. I think fondly and prayerfully of all my old friends and enemies, and of our growing up processes. I hope they think the same way of me from time to time.

Perhaps I am growing up a bit more now as I am coming to recognize the various seasons I have moved through. Our friend, Stefan, has stressed the concept of seasons from time to time, and there seems to be great groundedness to that. I am at peace with my current season which is one of savoring the experiences of each day without being anxious about the passage of time. (That's just happened to me. I don't entirely know why, but I know it is a grace.) This is also a season of slower, but probably better, work for me. And it's a season of settling down and treasuring home and family life.

Perhaps being at peace with various seasons of life, and with the seasons of a piece of music, is part of the affect and aura of a late performance by Cherkassky or Moravec. Neither ever seems rushed, and the music is always noble and fresh.

Tonight, I'm also grateful for the yearly return of Christmas music and my cyclic hearing of my Joan Sutherland Christmas CD. It never fails to move me. I have a tiny sense of what happens physically to make that shimmering quality her voice has, and that's moving. Plus, there's no fear, only excitement, as her voice climbs. And in the lower register, there's a touching vulnerability without the nervousness of other voices. Added to that golden instrument is her absolute genius sense of line. If you're a musician, I'm sure you are moved at first by this, but I find I need to suspend my own sense of line to be the most deeply touched and instructed when listening to her. Her sense of line is much better than mine. She is always tuned into the forward movement of the music. She takes breaks without losing momentum. She grasps and sings each gesture and conveys the tremendous meaning of each line's shapes in a way that goes beyond words for me. It is power and flight and love and joy and humanity.

So, Merry Christmas to all and God bless us every one!

Florida Christmas

2010-12-09T13:42:00.008-05:00

Reflections and memories from this first Christmas season as a Florida resident:

First day the heat came on in our house - cozy!

First lizard in our house - too small and quick to catch, also the same color as our den carpet - hard to see. I assume he's still somewhere in the house. I also realized that I think of lizards as being male just like I've noticed that some folks always think dogs are male and cats are female. But lizards can't all be male.

Insightful student reminded me that it's good to be sad sometimes. A balance of some sort is what is needed. The music of Haydn demonstrates the reality of that balance well, as does the music of Chopin. Maybe that's why good Haydn pianists are sometimes good Chopin pianists.

First experience playing the celesta part in Nutcracker excerpt. Also enjoyed playing keyboard parts for excerpts from Polar Express and It's a Wonderful Life. Special to me: playing piano for Chip Davis "Silent Night" arrangement with my theory student as the solo cellist.

I'm feeling very at home in Lakeland and missing our usual warm Flordia weather!

I also feel very at home at Southeastern. In my experience so far, our mission statement is true: We are a loving Pentecostal community. Love is a hallmark of the place, as is a strong belief in the Holy Spirit. So it's a great place to be.

Advent Inspiration

2010-12-04T10:44:00.004-05:00

If you have any interest in being moved this Advent season, here are two must-see videos. Thank you so much to the friends that shared these with me!

The first one helps us see, hear, and feel that the kingdom of God really is among us.

The second demonstrates what an extraordinary part of God's creation the human being is. This is border-line miraculous and the feeing you have when you see it will probably show you how it is that human talent serves as a sign of the Divine. The experience is the glorious opposite of seeing a disaster and involuntarily uttering "My God."

Mortality

2010-11-30T13:37:00.004-05:00

If you play enough events for long enough, these sorts of things will happen.

One of the gentlemen who attended our house concert last Sunday passed away on Wednesday. I didn't know him, but a number of friends from church had their last visit with him during our musical evening.

On the most recent Sunday, the beginning of Advent, at the conclusion of a worship service devoted to hope, another church member collapsed during our closing hymn "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." He will be okay, I think.

I have no point to make about this. Using these facts to make a point would be insensitive. I only want to recognize that these things happen and that they change one's perspective.

Fall House Concert

2010-11-25T17:07:00.016-05:00

Sunday night, we had our first house concert at our place here in Lakeland. There were thirty in attendance, mostly friends from church and a few neighbors. We called the event "Piano, People, and Pies." Ten folks brought pies, including my colleague and his wife, Dr. Hawkins and Lisa, who dropped off a fantastic sweet potato pie and pie pockets in the morning, even though they couldn't attend the actual concert.

The repertoire was
Malotte "Lord's Prayer" for horn and piano
Gottschalk "Caprice on Home, Sweet Home"
Hulin Thanksgiving Sonata for horn and piano
Ross "Variations on Auld Langsyne"

The Gottschalk is a lovely version with some Chopin nocturne quality and some three-hand effect. I cut out half of the repetitive section at the end.

The Thanksgiving Sonata is a "medley sonata" as Dr. Guthrie described it. I composed it for Kathy and me, and it features most of the well-known Thanksgiving tunes as its themes. There are three movements:
I. Plymouth - mostly dissonant depiction of the Pilgrims' struggles at sea and here on the American continent.
II. Spacious Skies - a majestic lullaby about the grandeur of the frontier.
III. Rondo - with ASH GROVE as the primary theme.
I like the piece a lot. If anyone ever really has a need or interest in such a work, let me know.

The Ross variations are from my ancestral anthology (click here for blog dedicated to that collection). Ross was a Scottish composer who wrote several concerti, but this is the only work of his that I've explored.

The pies were as follows:
Chocolate with cookie crust
Lemon Meringue
Butterscotch Meringue
Two Pecans
Peanut
Pumpkin
Sweet Potato
Lemon Chess
Cherry

In general, it seemed like a success. With that much pie, the deck was sort of stacked in our favor. Plus, we had an ace up our sleeve, Kathy's charming 97-year-old grandmother who sat in the back corner of the den and conversed with all of these new people.

I felt a little unhappy with my effort, and for a simple reason. Several reasons, actually. I need to get the piano voiced and regulated. Also, I needed a little more regular practice going into the event. But most of all, I was reminded that a bottom line for me ought to be simply to do a good job with the basics of musicianship: tempo, balance, phrasing . . . and having a plan about these things. Composers have a reasonable expectation of at least that much. Spontaneity can be good, but not as one's total interpretive strategy. A plan lets the performer know how to judge his or her efforts. And, playing works of less-than-genius quality might require more conscious planning to give the pieces their best chance.

Engagement

2010-11-22T13:32:00.001-05:00

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of performing a concert with my new colleague, Dr. Shudong Braamse, a marvelously talented soprano who performs compellingly while being the model of humility and egolessness. I was blessed by the way she really performed the repertoire when with an audience. In other words, her level of energy rises to that of the music in a warm and personal way that brings the listeners together in a significant artistic experience. Perhaps having one's energy rise to the level of that of the music is an aspect of the mechanics of the charisma of musicians.

We performed the same concert again this weekend (11/9). While Dr. Braamse put forth an excellent effort once again, my level of energy did not rise to that of the music this time. I was tired. Also, I had fallen over my dog and landed on my wrist a few days earlier (I'm okay now) and that resulted in me not practicing for a couple of days.

I mulled over this energy level issue during the afternoon and night following my recent lack-luster performance. While energy level is part of the equation for me, it struck me early on the morning after that what I was really lacking at that concert was engagement with the music.

I can play most of the repertoire on that concert without practicing, and I have learned the parts that required practice, so I can get through all of the music with just a few minutes' touch-up right before the performance. But daily practice is necessary to maintain engagement with the music.

Thanksgiving Break

2010-11-20T20:19:00.003-05:00

Here's a lovely blog post by a Southeastern music student to get the Thanksgiving holiday started. Be sure to listen to the Youtube link at the end of the post as part of the experience.

Chopin Sonata No. 2

2010-11-15T10:07:00.009-05:00

Over our fall long weekend, I visited with a pianist friend who is working on Chopin's second sonata. So we could talk about the piece, I studied the score and listened to some recordings. Here's what I noticed.

1. This seems to be a work without satisfying climax. There is no plateau at which the music feels that it has arrived. Instead, Chopin keeps deflecting in another direction at the moment when we expect a convincing arrival.

(In his recording of the piece, Michelangeli plays it in such a way that the second theme in the first movement sonds like the climax. That is, the resolution is the arrival point in his performance.)

2. There is a general lack of contrast in the work. The themes are closely related within and between movements. All of the movements are in the tonic key except for one in the subdominant. The mood of the first movment is so similar to that of the beginning of the second that it almost feels like the first is continuing when the second begins. The energy and project of the first movement may not yet be done.

3. For a large sonata, the first movement exposition is actually really compact. Perhaps that adds to its tension.

Maybe its agitato marking is more about emotion to be supressed than expressed - a tension between the public and private selves.

The fragmented nature of the devlopment with its unadorned melody-in-octaves utterances can feel downright futuristic.

4. The second movement seems perhaps to indicate a contrast between male and female in a dance setting, perhaps indicated by register, tonality, and mood.

It seems to me that its loud dynamic markings might be of the restraining type, that is, "forte" might mean "only forte."

There is some lightness in this scherzo, but it is easily missed if the pianist doesn't play the passages in major with some joy. Those passages actually don't even sound particularly like they are in a major key if they are played with the same attitude as the minor sections.

5. The march and its return seem to have an inexorable quality. They are part of the public ceremonial acceptance of death, not an individual and personal outcry.

6. The overall impression of the entire sonata feels a little like an unraveling over the four movements.

DREAM

2010-11-13T06:15:00.004-05:00

This may seem like a rare political post from me.

But I don't think this is a political issue. It's a human issue.

It looks like the U.S. Senate will consider the DREAM Act soon. There's lots of misinformation about the Act, as well as general lack of knowledge about the relevant issues. I've met some of the people whose futures hang in the balance, and I think it's very important. Please take a look:

DREAM Act

Tchaikowsky Champion

2010-11-10T13:26:00.009-05:00

Last night, I had the great joy of hearing my new colleague and friend, Young-Ah Tak, perform Tchaikowsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 with the Imperial Symphony Orchestra here in Lakeland. The performance was masterful and a work of art that persists vividly in my mind today.

From the beginning, Young-Ah demonstrated that she was in full command of this very difficult concerto, never even beginning to seem the least bit desperate in handling its demands. Instead, she played with poise and intensity, giving the audience an experience of the concerto, not as a vehicle of virtuosity, but as an expressive masterpiece.

Those who know Young-Ah's playing will rightly assume that the octaves were miraculously fast and clean and that the rapid filigree passages were incredibly clear and consistent. But deeper aspects of her talent made the performance particularly moving.

For example, numerous times Young-Ah listened so well to the orchestra's pacing (which may have been different from her own conception of the flow of the piece) and she bent her playing to meld with the energy of the orchestra. Because of this, the huge emotional waves that pass between piano and orchestra had a cohesiveness that I have rarely felt in this work.

At other times, she pushed in a way that was appropriate and exciting, in a way that emphasized the complex and dynamic relationship between orchestra and soloist in a Romantic concerto.

If you are a pianist with an International score of the piece, the rehearsal numbers in the following remarks will assist you in getting a good sense of what struck me so much about the interpretation.

Leading into #10: Young-Ah's phrasing and sound had a melting quality over the course of this passage that took us all into a deeply personal space.

Between 14 and 15, so much tension is built up, and I think it can be very hard to keep the rhythmic intensity going with a large orchestra exchanging chords with the pianist's octaves, but they did maintain the tension, and the way Young-Ah played the arpeggios just before 15 conveyed the essence of something elemental that had been unleashed and was spinning out.

At 20, there was no sense of diminished energy or sound when the piano took over from the orchestra. The seamlessness was amazing and invigorating.

In the cadenza after 31, in the passage with measures of alternating accelerando and a tempo Young-Ah played the a tempo measures in a beautifully contrasting fashion that returned us to that deeply personal space I mentioned before.

The opening theme of the second movement was played with great tenderness and inflection that still haunts me.

Just after 37: Young-Ah thoughtfully played one of these bars as a slight echo of the bar before.

The bar before 38: a wonderfully felt two-note sigh at this transition.

Also, Young-Ah accompanied the orchestral soloists in a lovely relaxed way at the a tempo before 39.

Given the right instrument, acoustic, and performer, 39-46 can be a colorful sonic feast for the listener. The sounds can be so good and varied that there is no need or time to think about them beyond registering that "This sounds great!" That was the case last night.

At 46: Again, poignantly personal melodic playing as well as amazing trills that fit perfectly into the line.

At the risk of sounding silly, I'll say that in the last movement, Young-Ah's energy was that of a giant cat and the orchestra was her ball of string. It was very playful on a monumental scale.

At 63, I couldn't help but smile at the sparkling suppleness of her playing, and I smile even more now when I think about the storm that was to be unleashed at 66. As Young-Ah precisely coordinated the beginning of the cadenza with that final timpani strike, I also thought about how nice it was to have our departmental chair, Dr. Tindall, as the timpanist. He is, as I have said, the most spirited timpanist around - a real musician.

The orchestra played with heart throughout, and Maestro Thielen listened closely and did an admirable job of coordinating all the effort onstage into a meaningful and unified expression.

Following the concert, there was a lovely reception in which warm remarks were made by the general manager, the conductor, and Young-Ah. Young-Ah spoke of making a connection, which is exactly what she did with the orchestra and the audience. It was an inspiring night that refreshed my belief in the tremendous value of the arts to humanity.

Feelings

2010-11-04T16:15:00.005-05:00

Here are some ideas that help me.
I was reminded of them as I worked with piano students this week.

Be the best you. Noone else has the opportunity to do that.

Feeling the music is an expression of your intuitive grasp of the music. Your subconscious understands the structures of the music that you think about in theory class. Don't let the thinking-about stop the feeling. Being conscious ought to help you feel with greater sensitivity.

What should you feel as you play? Sometimes it's the momentum of a phrase. Sometimes it's conviction about a rhythm. Feeling and movement are linked. Some passages require that your body learn them through drumming or dancing, and that's what you should be feeling when you play them.

relevant paraphrases:

St. Augustine - rhetoric involves conveying structures with appropriate feeling

Fleisher - everybody has feeling, the job is to pour that feeling into the shape of the vessel (piece of music) before you

Hope

2010-10-24T21:22:00.007-05:00

This post is dedicated to my late father who was born on this date in 1929.

Today, Kathy and I visited the Smithsonian's new air and space facility near Dulles Airport. The history of aircraft we saw there was a complex reminder of the ingenuity, bravery, and treachery of humanity.

In one tiny corner of the facility, there was a shining disc of hope, a golden record like the records of the sounds of earth that are traveling through space on the Voyager satellites. The inspiring inscription on the records reads "To the makers of music - all worlds, all times."

How meaningful and important music must truly be to our planet's civilization for us to have reached out to the universe in such a beautiful way.

The list of music on the records is here.

First Performances

2010-10-21T05:46:00.008-05:00

One's first performance in a new town can be a little stressful, especially if it's a new town in which you plan to live for a while! The main reason for the stress is that you know that many people will base their understanding of you, your musicianship, and your abilities on what they perceive on that occasion. In addition, you never know who will be at such a performance or what they know or believe about piano playing. Often, some real connoisseurs show up, so you want to be at your pianistic best. As an insightful friend suggested to me, it can feel a little more like an exhibition than a concert. You want to give the audience a good sense of the range of things you can do well. Further exacerbating the situation is the fact that your competitiveness can kick into overdrive which can result in a distorted reading of the music and get you off-message. And that brings me to my point.

For me, the mature approach to these issues is to stay focused on the message of the music. The message has enough weight to replace the smaller personal concerns and competitiveness. Perhaps some of the really meaningful energy of performing comes from the confrontation and struggle between the message and the self on-stage.

What do I mean by "message?" I'm referring to what the music might be able to say to me as a human being and what its value is to my spirit. A good way to start to articulate what such messages might be would be to say what pieces of music might be about without using technical musical language. Imagine you're an audience member who is not a musician. What might you get from a given work?

At my first performance in Lakeland last week, I played Chopin's C-sharp Minor Nocturne Op. 27 No. 1 and a transcription of Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata with flute.

From its very first measure, the Chopin is filled with a lot of uncertainty - and that might cause you to feel a little uncertain as you play it. As unsettling as that is, it might be okay and even appropriate. Preparing for last Monday's performance, I felt that the message of this nocturne is about the experiences of struggle and effort, the ups and downs of life, and the fact that the sympathetic God is with us through it all. I think it is a very affirming and honest work, moving between uncertainty and moments of hope, with great victories followed directly by defeats that seem beyond our control, ultimately concluded by a sunrise.

The Schubert is a lengthy work with many wonderful tunes but perhaps not the most compelling overall shape. As I tried to understand its drama and trajectory, I remembered that Schubert was a school teacher. For some reason, a lot of his music for instruments makes me think not of the dramatic moods of the poems he sets as songs but of more peaceful scenes at home. Picturing him in his classroom expands those feelings for me. I can hear both lovely and dreary moments of classroom life in the Arpeggione.

I imagine Schubert was a great story teller and probably told some stories that captivated the imaginations of his students - maybe stories about pirates. At any rate, they are lively stories, charming and colorful, but not actual events. I think that might express the tone of the piece, as well. There's a little more narrative mixed into this sonata than the title "sonata" would lead us to believe.

In the end, I think a big part of the spiritual message of most any work of chamber must be the enactment and celebration of cooperation.

Bloch Again

2010-10-17T07:58:00.011-05:00

This morning's Sunday School lesson is on Ecclesiastes. To get in the mood, I put on Bloch's Schelomo while I was preparing to cook biscuits.

Our household is very in-sync with the music today. After the climax that's followed by a flutey section that always reminds me of a startled flock of birds after a gun blast, Danny (our cat) joined in by drumming on the corner hutch. To hear his tapping, and to see him spring into action at that precise moment, added to the mysterious and spiritual mood of the moment. Something about Danny's involvement made me think of Martin Buber (I seem to remember that he wrote a bit about his cat in I and Thou) and about moments of being on the razor-thin edge between the spiritual and the mundane, of moments when real encounter with that which is beyond us seems very near.

A while later, as the music reached its final climax, the tea kettle also reached its highest-pitched whistling.

Older post on Schelomo

I can also never think of Schelomo without thinking of Stephen Kates. I think the first concert Kathy and I attended together included a performance of the piece with Mr. Kates and one of the Peabody orchestras. I believe this was the first time I realized I was hearing someone put their classical and beautiful abstract technic into the service of such a raw and splenetic expression, sometimes even disregarding (or maybe I should say "transcending") those concepts of supposedly "good playing." Mr. Kates transcended my idea of being a classical cellist and become some sort of deeply human folk musician, connected with something ancient and authentic, seemingly grasping the infinite depths of meaning the music was meant to convey. The proper way to play at a concert seemed to have no relevance to him as he played (yet his performance was great through and through), and I think "the right way to play" was also the farthest thing from all of our minds in the audience as we witnessed this extraordinary event.

A YouTube link to a bit of Schelomo and photos by Bloch

Speaking of Bloch, some of you might recall that this blog was originally called "Blog About Bloch." That silly title came from a silly discussion with my organist cousin about the idea of opening a French-Romantic-pipe-organ-themed hot dog stand in Jackson, NC that would have been called "Franck's Franks." Neither of us had the money or motivation to throw away on such a business plan that would have had no chance of success, but the conversation got me thinking about writing a "Bloch Blog," which sounded fun since it sounds a little like "blah-blah" although the music of Bloch is very far from blah.

Compositional Diversity

2010-10-14T09:07:00.003-05:00

A Facebook conversation between my friends Matt Lane, Beau Mansfield, and Lloyd Arriola led me to this thought. I tried to post the comment there, but something went wrong, so I'm posting it here in hopes that they might see it.

It occurs to me that the surface of one composer's music (by which I mean the organizations of all the notes we hear in his or her works) might be very diverse but might also be based on a small number of deeper ideas. Another composer might explore an astounding array of ideas regarding structure or could work from quite disparate sources of inspiration but express those things using the same musical language all the time. The work of the former might be perceived as very varied, while that of the latter (which might actually be the more experimental and imaginative) might come across as sounding less varied.

Together

2010-10-13T09:48:00.004-05:00

A little poem about the experience of teaching, testing, and thinking:

They look at numbers under staves

They listen for tones that are not sounded

They are quiet and sweet

All right-handed, they tilt their heads to the left as they think

Some don't:

two pianists

and a trumpeter who looks really strong

The back row is engaged,

but why are they back there?

I gave them all next week's test yesterday

Stupid me

We are all together in Mod 3

New Job Wisdom

2010-10-01T12:48:00.006-05:00

During the transition in my new workplace, I have been reminded of some important principles for musicians in academia, as well as folks in other jobs, to bear in mind.

1. College jobs involve much more than teaching the content area you expect to be teaching when you finish your own schooling. In addition to that content, you may be expected to teach writing, speaking, critical thinking, citizenship, ethics, etc., in your classes. Also, there are many other duties such as committee work and efforts to have interdisciplinary and institution-wide cohesion that require commitment. You need to learn to use relevant technologies for instruction and communication and learn how to address various types of learners. To some extent, you are also responsible for the physical dimension of the equipment and facilities you and your students use. Plus, there is usually academic advising that could involve students beyond one's own discipline. Finding new students can also be important as well as having good relationships with the community that supports your institution. Generally, you are evaluated on voluntary service to your institution and well as the community beyond, participation in professional organizations, and pursuing ongoing education. There is also the growing tide of assessments of all sorts to gather data about your institution so that well-informed decisions can be made at every level of the organization and in such a way as to please accrediting bodies and Congress! And, you are evaluated by your supervisor, your faculty peers, and your students as well as independent outside individuals brought into play as part of the accreditation process. Above all, you share care about students and cooperate with colleagues. All of this is par for the course and new-comers to the job may or may not realize that before they apply for employment.

To some readers, that description of duties and involvements might be surprising, or it might seem a little daunting or negative. I actually view it in a positive light as this sort of job challenges me to utilize many facets of my mind and to develop skills that I might otherwise not develop.

2. Moving to a new place as a musician may mean a gap in your performing activities or at least a major adjustment and some patience. Usually, you have to cancel a few concerts where you came from, and the official concert series in the new region are usually booked for the coming season before you know for sure you are moving there. This can be frustrating as there are moments when you think a year of your performing life may be going down the drain! But, with a little patience, flexibility, and perhaps some creativity, new opportunities do appear. I think it actually makes sense to get re-established gradually anyway. There will be more about becoming part of a new concert scene in a future post.

3. New jobs provide opportunities to recognize (and share!) the limits of your knowledge. There are many questions to ask colleagues about how things are done in the new setting from the details of software to be used to deeper cultural expectations and dynamics. I'm hesitant to ask some of these questions as they show what I don't know, but those questions are normal. Some of the smartest people I've known have been totally willing to ask lots of questions and had no embarassment about what they did not know.

As I ask questions, I also learn yet again how many really good college teachers there are. In every job I discover lots of people who care deeply about the work and the students and have a great deal of conscience and expertise in the conduct of their careers. It's inspiring. Asking and answering questions in such a community diminishes ego and builds collegiality and respect- all things I need.

More Theory Thoughts Again

2010-09-13T12:24:00.006-05:00

Maybe I should just change the name of this blog to "Theory Thoughts."

I'm really enjoying the challenge of the new job - excellent students who are engaged with the material, faculty and administration who are supportive of exellence in our discipline, and an institution that encourages the integration of faith with one's teaching.

I'm particularly feeling at this stage that the teaching of theory is the central aspect of my calling here. I cherish the freshness and joy of gathering with my students at noon and sharing around music. It feels a little like church and also like I am at the pulpit. But the real challenge is this: this is the activity in my current professional life that I can pour my heart into the most. But caring a lot means it hurts more when things don't go so well! How to care? How to do well?...

Bringing one's faith to bear on such work in an intentional fashion takes lots of reflection. Doing the basic job of teaching theory excellently is hard to begin with. One basic of which we need to periodically remind ourselves is that the process is messy. That is, the process of adjusting our consciousness to the logic of the music at hand is a marvelous but messy activity. But I want to articulate that activity in a deeper and broader context. The temptation might be to go for too much - too much aiming for profundity and thereby turning one's self into a cliche. The challenge is to keep a framework that allows us to shift from the highest level of living and the universe and beyond, back to the most local details of the organization of the music and styles studied. Being conscious that this is a continuum or a multilayered endeavor should help to hold it all together for me and the students.

As first year faculty at Southeastern, we're reading Parker Palmer's The Courage to Teach, and just in time for me, too, as it addresses the issues of identity and integrity as a person that I am facing in this new classroom setting. Two passages that have sharpened my understanding in our first reading are as follows.

Palmer writes:

Once again, when I seek my identity and integrity, what I find is not always a proud and shining thing. The discoveries I make about myself when I remember the encounters that have shaped and revealed my selfhood are sometimes embarrassing - but they are also real. Whatever the cost in embarrassment, I will know myself better, and thus be a better teacher, when I acknowledge the forces that play within me instead of allowing them to wreak havoc on my work.

Florida Scott-Maxwell, writing in her mid-eighties, made the point powerfully: "You need only claim the events of your life to make yourself yours. When you truly possess all you have been and done . . . you are fierce with reality."

In the margin, I wrote, "This happens in performance." So many times, I have discovered what was actually within me while performing music. There's such an interplay between self and the work of art and the audience when we perform that we often discover feelings, ideas, and aspects of our identity that have very old roots or may even seem unfamiliar to us because we have tried to plan so much of who we are. This dynamic reminds me of the phrase from Fred Pratt Green's "When in Our Music God is Glorified" - "How often making music we have found a new dimension in the world of sound . . ."

This issue of being performers is something to which we musicians who also teach should be sensitive. A lot of good teaching involves active participation and creation on the part of the students. That has to be good for the majority of students. But we who were trained as performers are accustomed to presenting and developing our own ideas. What's more, as students, we sought out master teachers to give us their input and perspective. In the process, we discovered our own voices, but the process was traditionally designed to teach us the art and expose us to the voices of our teachers.

Here's the other passage that immediately shed light on what I'm doing:

How does one attend to the voice of the teacher within? I have no particular methods to suggest, other than the familiar ones: solitude and silence, meditative reading and walking in the woods, keeping a journal, finding a friend who will listen. I simply propose that we find as many ways as we can of "talking to ourselves."

These words made me realize that I might already be developing as the type of teacher Palmer is describing. What's more, since these are all things I do to some extent in my own way as part of my daily routine, maybe I'm actually a contemplative and just don't normally describe myself in that way. Ongoing reflection keeps me moving and refreshed in the midst of work that might seem like a draining activity to those on the outside of it.

Hooray for Florida!

2010-09-12T15:23:00.004-05:00

I've just changed the template of this blog to reflect the sunny atmosphere of my new home, Lakeland, FL. It's a beautiful town full of scenic lakes, 1920s homes, a whole campus of Frank Lloyd Wright's architecture, and something always blooming that's unfamiliar to a mid-Atlantic sort of guy like myself. Hopefully, the overall effect on me will be the development of a slightly sunnier disposition!

One thing that's making a difference in my daily journey with students is the expectation of Southeastern that most classes will begin with a prayer. There's some real wisdom in that as I have noticed that when I don't start with a prayer, I usually don't remember to finish with a prayer. While that goofy-sounding statement is true, there's deeper wisdom than that in encouraging such prayers as I find that the prayer is an invitation to remember that we are wanting to live out our days in relationship with God, and we seek to understand our classrooms as holy places where we hope to engage in our work as a sacred activity.

More Theory Thoughts

2010-09-03T12:07:00.004-05:00

One thing I learned from Dr. Falby, and a point that I should always stress with my students, is that music is multi-layered and full of meaningful intricacies. To put this in more poetic terms, great music of genius is, as he said once in Lasker, "saturated with glory."

This saturation with glory makes analysis (that is, pursuing consciousness of all that is happening in the music) complicated. But exploring the layers and intricacies can also be a worshipful activity as we are exercising our abilities to think, to discern, to imagine, and to celebrate wonders.

In this way, our creative work mirrors God's way of creating since the universe of which we are a part is, itself, multi-layered and full of fantastic intricacies.

I am reminded as I write that not only can music be incredibly rich in its internal organization, it also intersects with our lives and other disciplines in an amazingly diverse number of ways from dance, to math, to biology, to history, and religion to the deeply personal and spiritual . . .

Theory Thoughts

2010-08-24T16:55:00.027-05:00

As I gear up for teaching music theory in my new job at Southeastern, I'm thinking about what a lot of music theory consists of, especially in the early stages of learning - recognizing and labeling musical materials. When I was a student, I thought those activities were pretty mundane and not very theoretical.

While I have come to accept that mastering some basic concepts is a normal and necessary way of entering into a discipline, I also believe there might be more profound and exciting implications to the seemingly simple act of naming things.

As described in Genesis, one of the first things Adam had the opportunity to do was to name the animals. There are many things I really like about that passage:

One is that it sounds like God made all those creatures because God was concerned about what things were good for us and what things were not good for us. It wasn't good for us to be alone. My dog and cat really are helpers and partners of sorts to me at times, mostly by accepting me and by being small, cute, energetic, and random creatures around the house.

I also like the freedom that is part of this Genesis scene. It doesn't seem like God commanded Adam to name the animals, nor does it seem that God caused him to call the animals anything in particular. Instead, I think God and Adam shared a wonderfully relaxed and uncomplicated communion. I imagine them sitting down over coffee and looking at God's portfolio of work. In this pre-fall picture, Adam's behavior is presented as really healthy and whole. He naturally sees, processes, and acts in a good way. It reminds me of the really bright children I worked with at Collegiate School in Richmond who were endlessly curious and had lots of innate learning skills. What's more, they applied those skills with joy as it was naturally fun for them to do so! Maybe those are more layers of what "coming as a child" means.

I'm also really struck by God the creator's desire to see what each aspect of the creation meant to Adam. That's exactly how we human artists are about our creations. We want to know the significance of the things we create in the experience of our fellow human beings. It is through their feedback that we know that we are, indeed, serving. Because of this, it seems to me that creativity is linked to relationship.

Now, back to naming.

I would think that naming took analysis and reflection for Adam, and developing words to represent creatures must have involved some creative fun. Organizing is an important aspect of the creative process as we know it. Sorting the animals by name was a way of bringing order to the human understanding of the world God had created. In this way, Adam was getting to partner with God in creating.

I'm intrigued by the fact that it seems like language already existed when Adam named the animals. I have usually assumed that we humans created language from its foundations. But in Genesis, God had already spoken some pretty involved sentences to Adam before Adam was given the opportunity to name the animals. Also, I had been thinking that language arose from a communication need between humans, but it sounds like Adam was the only one of us around when this naming happened. That seems significant to me because, while the language Adam was creating would be for the use of the race, at its inception, the language was just between him and God.

While naming, it seems that Adam realized his need for someone like himself, and when Eve was brought into being, Adam verbally expressed his need and prayed a prayer of thanks through the act of naming her.

Maybe God left the animals unnamed so that we could fully appropriate the created order to our experience through thought and language. Through the language aspect, we expressed the need for community with other people, and language went on to create a shared human culture once there were other humans with whom to share it. All of this seems to have grown out of relationship with God and the Creation.

So as we continue to see and name patterns and organizations in the both the created worlds of living things and physical phenomena such as sound, I think we are following through on God's invitation to name, organize, and create within our own consciousness. And through that exploration of what God has made, we can discover and develop community.

Moving, Canon, Calling, Peace!?

2010-08-13T06:53:00.007-05:00

Our piano was delivered this week - two average-sized guys, a fancy dolly, and a truck with a lift made it possible. I think the lift is really crucial for a smooth move. The piano was mostly in surprisingly good tune for an instrument that spent several weeks riding around who-knows-where on a truck and sitting on its side in warehouses. The company is Modern Piano Moving out of Missouri and their trucks make big loops around the eastern states picking up and delivering pianos several weeks later. Each team delivers from 7 to 10 instruments a day. They also a have a giant logo on the side of their truck that looks like a very long piano with wheels, sort of like a drag racer.

Now, back to our public radio station. I think that what I've been enjoying about it so much during this time of transition is the affirmation of the canon of music that I love and have devoted a lot of time to here in a new place for me. It provides some consistency and resonates with my childhood revelation that, to some extent, music is my family. The fact that this music has stood the test of time, a fact with which I am very familiar and have heard time and again, is now ringing true in my own experience. It is okay and probably very good to be devoted to a canon since it is an inherent aspect of the nature of a canon that the preserved material has been found to be of value by generations. You can trust the music to be strong, dependable, even powerful.

Another thing that has brought me peace during this move, and something that has been pretty much a spiritual bottom-line for me, is the sense of calling to this place, this work, this home, and so forth. When I wake up and am surprised that I am living in Florida, I just remind myself that it's fine because I was called to make this move. When I'm out walking and am tempted to covet someone else's house, I remind myself that everything happened in such a way with our house as you let us know that we are in the house we are suppose to be in. And when I wonder what I should be playing and where, I can look for a sense of calling to repertoire and events, and all will be well.

It occurs to me that the concept of calling, which is so important to many of us, is rarely explored in our popular culture.

Finally, on a really different note, as I was eating an orange a few mornings ago (an orange grown near here, I think, but packaged in New Jersey for some reason) our lovely wooden wind chime, made by disabled veterans and bearing the single word "peace," fell from the ceiling to the floor. I wonder what that means!?

Welcome to Lakeland

2010-08-06T22:09:00.004-05:00

We could not have asked for a more beautiful place to live. Tonight we took a long stroll around Lake Mirror and watched various water fowl and an alligator.

While I am really starting to enjoy the beauty of our new home, I also struggle with the emotions that go along with leaving home again and coming to a new place. The music I've been hearing on 89.7 FM WUSF has comforted me: Chopin 2nd Concerto, Weber First Clarinet Concerto, and Ravel Violin Sonata.

Murfreesboro Memories

2010-08-01T07:48:00.011-05:00

Tomorrow, the moving truck arrives, and I'll be exchanging "Carolina Moon" for "Moon Over Miami" or at least "Luna over Lakeland." (I made that last title up). "Carolina Moon" was supposedly written on, or near, the s-shaped bridge in Hertford, NC. Hertford was the hometown of some of my ancestors. The last several years, I've been thinking of doing an Earl Wild-styled arrangement of "Carolina Moon." "Moon Over Miami" just happened to be playing as background music in the Human Resources office when I went to do paperwork at Southeastern.

I sense that my system is still a little confused about our move. Normally, when I leave my in-laws in Lake Mary, I go to Interstate 95 and drive back to NC. This time, I'll get on Interstate 4 and go to our place in Lakeland.

I'll miss looking at the Carolina moon through the pine trees in my back yard. I'll miss the silhouette of the water tower over the library. I'll miss walks through campus with Sophie (our beagle). I'll miss Murfreesboro's connection back to Lafayette and his time. And I'll miss long afternoon talks over iced tea with town and college friends.

I really enjoyed my three years living at 212 E. High St. in M'boro. Being there had a great mix of urban and rural that allowed me to enjoy both my Hulin and Harrison heritage. Being in an old-ish house in the region of my ancestors gave Kathy and me a sense of having lived at "the old homeplace," and has provided us with a psychological space to which I am sure we will often return as we interpret ourselves in new contexts.

There's so much newness involved in this move - new job, new church, new house, new neighborhood, new city, new state, new culture. Fortunately, lots of people have reached out to make the transition less intimidating.

We attended College Park Baptist in Orlando this morning. An inspiring report on youth missions was structured around verses of John Bell's "Will You Come and Follow Me." The depth and relevance of this text continues to reveal itself to me. The second verse, in particular, spoke powerfully to my needs today and to my belief in God's call:

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name? . . .
Will you let me answer payer in you and you in me?

The Past

2010-07-21T16:51:00.003-05:00

It's a well-known fact that we southerners live with a great weight on our backs known as "the past." I'm acutely aware of that seemingly inescapable burden as I sort through pictures and artifacts preparing for our move. I don't even know who some of the people are in the pictures. Perhaps I keep their pictures thinking that somehow we'll figure it out. I can't quite envision a future, however, in which I sit with all these documents and actually do figure it out.

Keeping these things has something to do with an imagined future in which these items define me and add more to my life than they do now. But I don't think that keeping all of this will bring that about in any significant way. The mystery is part of the heritage, anyhow.

I am starting to think it would be a great relief to live lighter and to only keep that which is necessary for telling our story.

Also, much of this material stuff is really about someone else's life. I think of the phrase "let the dead bury their dead." Maybe we haul the dead around for too long and don't get around to living our lives fully. Maybe we do that in music, too. I'm not totally sure what that means.

Maybe I'm just tired of packing!

Hymn Society - Birmingham 2010

2010-07-19T20:07:00.007-05:00

We had a great week at Samford with old and new Hymn Society friends. This week, I was most impressed by the good ecumenical experience that these meetings provide. Every time, I come home more aware and more interested in other believers and their heritage.

I put together my own little American music conference by choosing particular small sessions to attend. Several dealt with African-American hymn traditions including the work of Tindley (a composing pastor who served a mega-church in the early 20th century), research into the second oldest African-American hymnal (presented by a distant cousin of mine, Dick Hulan!), and a session on several female African-American hymn writers. In this last session, I learned Margaret Douroux's beaatifully moving "Give Me a Clean Heart." We also enjoyed an evening of shaped-note singing, a hymn festival led by James Abbington and dedicated to the music of "the unknown bards" who wrote the spirituals (the quoted phrase comes from James Weldon Johnson's poem about those spiritual composers), and evening prayer led joyfully by our friends Stefan Waligur and Kaaren Lynn Ray. These evening prayer times featured bagpipes and took place in Hodges Chapel, which is by far the most ornate worship space I have seen in a Baptist community. Click here for a virtual tour.

The personal lessons of the week for me highlighted two of my on-going themes: the deep meaning and significance of community and the importance of thinking for one's self.

The most emotional moment of the meeting was singing "We Shall Overcome" hand-in-hand with my fellow musicians and realizing the endurance, peace-mindedness, and heroism of the many great civil rights workers whose names and deeds I need to celebrate more.

Nearing the End in Ahoskie

2010-07-07T14:09:00.003-05:00

Sunday was a meaningful day for me in worship in Ahoskie. Kathy and I have two more Sundays with First Baptist, I believe, so I'm reflecting more and more on the meaning of our three years in this community and on the culmination of our work and learning here.

The service started with "God of Our Fathers" utilizing the recently expanded capabilities of our pipe organ. As I was pushing buttons and making enormous sounds, it occurred to me that I was operating one of the most powerful machines that an individual can operate in our vicinity - at least a very big musical machine. Normally, power like that doesn't mean much to me, but the freshness of the sound on this occasion invited me to think of God's power in a way that moved and instructed me.

When I first started playing for worship in Ahoskie, I was feeling the importance of imaging contemplation and gentleness through the way I played in most of our services. I was also trying to make sure the voices of the congregation were supported but not overwhelmed and that the people never felt oppressed by the sounds of the organ. These ideas are still at the core of my approach and personality, but on Sunday, I also felt comfortable with the way power was expressed through the musical rendering.

Why? The text of "God of Our Fathers" eventually focuses on Heaven and the resolution of our earthly conflicts. It lends itself to what I like to picture: the slain lamb returning in such glory that all our attempts at having power are simply irrelevant. I wonder if God's laughing at us, as is sometimes described in the Psalms, is not so much that we are in derision but that we're just funny in our self-importance.

It seems to me that it is not enough to stress God's power, because power alone is not what we believe to be God's essence. God's power is coupled with a willingness to become infinitesimal and totally vulnerable, and to sacrifice self. I can see more of the unique quality of the God of Christianity in this combination of unimaginable power and willingness to become tiny. The Trinity helps me hold all these aspects together in a single deity.

In addition, God's power must transcend all earthly power to an astronomical proportion. An earthly expression of power must be like a cut-out paper doll compared to the reality of the universal God. At the same time, I wonder if the true lowliness of Jesus also dramatically transcends all our human efforts at humility and service.

During Sunday's service, I played "Jesu, Jesu" as offertory, and I played it as expression of tenderness and intimacy. I sensed that I needed to do so to connect back to the grandeur of "God of Our Fathers" so that, all added up, we provided a fuller, truer picture of God's way with us.

The approach to playing for worship services that I have been developing in Ahoskie became crystal clear to me at that time: there need to be a variety of expressions in worship that are combined meaningfully to best convey a sense of the unique character of God. Transcendence is a profoundly stirring part of that unique character to my way of thinking. After considering God's utter transcendence in both powerfulness and powerlessness, I felt as though I had worshiped more thoroughly in spirit and truth than I usually do.

American Masterpiece May

2010-06-29T08:19:00.005-05:00

This May, we were able to hear two American masterpieces for our first time in person, and one of them twice:Porgy and Bess, then Bernstein's Mass, then Porgy and Bess again!

As I watch the Virginia Opera's production of Gershwin, I was struck by the fact that the opera is about a community, and a community of faith in particular, as it grapples with its own demons and those of the greater world.

I was also excited by the tremendous spectrum of musical styles that Gershwin combines into a sensible whole and by the many ways of sounding American in the realm of concert music that it seems like he established with this opera.

Glenn Winters, the superb outreach lecturer who works for Virginia Opera, made a connection for those of us who heard his lecture that I had never considered. When Gershwin is going for a sweeping lyrical romantic moment, his melodic style resonates with that of Tchaikowsky and other Russian greats as he reaches back into his own family's heritage (his parents having come to the U.S. from Russia).

Bernstein's work was technically exciting and had many moving moments for me, as well. After a while, though, there was a certain unconvincing whiny-ness about it that seemed to belabor the point for me. But maybe that's the real point. Maybe Bernstein was trying to provide a big group therapy session for America about our relationship with God. The work makes good sense when viewed in relationship to the progression of his symphonies, each of which can be viewed as dealing with conflicts of modern religion on at least the national scale.

A great thing about the work for me is the return of the priest, of God, when the people realize they want him. The fact that it is the child that reaches out to him and brings him back makes it even more poignant.

This pivotal role of a child at the end, as well as the priest's breakdown and troubled relationship with the people makes me think of similar aspects in Mendelssohn's Elijah.

More on Energy

2010-06-16T12:02:00.005-05:00

I'm editing or adding to what I wrote in my last post about energy flow in performance. While I think there's definitely some truth to what I wrote, maybe the sense of fatigue that sometimes comes after performance is a sign, at times, that the performer has crossed the bounds of the style of a work and the taste appropriate for performing it. "Style and taste" might sound superficial, but they really aren't if they are a reflection of the articulation of the flow of energy that is essential to the music.

Chopin, Energy

2010-06-12T19:20:00.003-05:00

This year marks the bicentennial of Chopin's birth. I've been commemorating this a bit by listening to some Chopin and reading Alan Walker's excellent speech about Chopin that was recently printed in the MTNA's journal. In the speech, he puts much of the well-known information and anecdotes about Chopin's life in a broader context and provides his own insights into the importance of Chopin's achievements.

In reading, I was reminded of Chopin's often-referenced idea that a pianist need not work for the equalization of his or her fingers at the keyboard but that we should explore and use the individual strengths and qualities of our fingers as though they were the varied voices of a choir. I don't think this means Chopin would have played unevenly, and it is clear that he had his own idiosyncratic approach to fingering choices. As I ponder the implications of his statement at the piano, it occurs to me that embracing something like his approach without losing the evenness of our playing may mean adjusting our overall sound concept at times so that the stronger fingers find a way to fit with the weak.

On a different topic, I've been contemplating music as involving the flow of energy. As we play, we ride the energy or at least try not to impede its flow. This is another way of saying that we look to play the longest line we can hear. Sometimes being sensitized to this flow of energy and managing it may really take something out of us in terms of concentration and personal investment. On the other hand, it seems like listening to music ought to give us energy as we receive that flow. It's probably really worthwhile for those of us who perform music to differentiate between the experiences of performing and listening and to prepare ourselves for each activity specifically.

Omni-

2010-06-07T07:47:00.005-05:00

One of the really nice things about the rhythm of the academic life is that it provides the possibility of a little time to study and to be refreshed in one's thinking and discipline during the summer.

I've been reading a few different things this May and June, some of which involve theology, and it occurred to me for the first time this morning that in English we have fancy, sort-of-technical terms for God being all-powerful, present everywhere, and knowing everything (omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient). I wonder why we don't use similar words to emphasize that God created everything, is all-loving, all-serving, all-sustaining, entirely holy, infinity suffering, and willing to forgive all of us.

Music in Afghanistan

2010-05-29T14:32:00.003-05:00

I'm proud of my friend Lara's journalistic work that you can see here.

Watoto Choir

2010-05-27T07:33:00.003-05:00

Here's a great organization that's using music to address one of the most horrific problems of our time. We heard them in Ahoskie earlier this year and were touched by their energy, discipline, joy, and hope.

Holy Week Thoughts

2010-03-31T17:25:00.007-05:00

I've been listening to George Harrison's "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." It's a touching song that becomes profoundly moving when you imagine the words being God's words to you or to the entire human race. I have linked to a version in which the words are very clear and there are few instruments - good for meditation. If you want to use it that way, I recommend listening several times to let the ideas sink in as a message for you. Also, I'd ignore the images that are provided at the link.

I'm also wondering about the title "King of the Jews" that is often associated with Jesus. I think we sometimes assume that is an appropriate title for him, but I can't recall a time in scripture when he uses the title himself or approves it. Early in Matthew, others are looking for the one that is "born the King of the Jews," and towards the end of all the gospels, Pilate asks if he is the King of the Jews, to which Jesus responds, "You say so."

Finally, I'm thinking back to death of Pope John Paul II which was close to this time five years ago. It seems like it's been a longer time than that. That was a sad Easter. Reading a blogpost from that time takes me back to what that was like.

Chowan Pianofest 2010

2010-02-28T16:20:00.008-05:00

This weekend was our third Pianofest here at Chowan and it fulfilled my hopes, as well as surprising me a bit.

The primary purposes of Pianofest, as I see them, are to refresh our enthusiasm here about pianistic work and to inspire us. Hopefully, the various events being open to the public also results in a general growth of interest in the art of piano-playing.

Our first concert involved my colleague, Paula Pressnell, playing the four impromptus of Schubert's Op. 90 in order. Between nos. 1 and 2, Mark Puckett played Chopin's preludes in e, b, D flat, and g. Between nos. 3 and 4, Josiah Antill played Liszt's B Minor Ballade. Mark, Josiah, and I experimented with designing powerpoint shows to enhance the audience experience of these pieces. Mark's show started with a few sentences about the context in which Chopin composed his pieces, followed by images inspired by the pianist von Bulow's poetic titles for those four preludes: Suffocation, Tolling Bells, Raindrop, and Impatience. Josiah's powerpoint presented the association of Liszt's piece with Byron's "The Prisoner of Chillon" and the subsequent slides led us through the phases of the poem as we listened to the piece.

We learned from this concert that Mrs. Pressnell is a particularly good Schubert player and that Schubert sounds especially good on the Grotrian. The first impromptu put us in just the right mood to experience the unique phenomena known as the classical piano recital.

While I'm interested in innovation and feel it is my responsibility to provide my students some introduction to basic skills in a variety of styles, it was good to be reminded that the piano recital is its own unique art form and was perfected some years ago in Europe. The piano recital can be, and often is, an experience of reflection, bordering on the sacred. It creates a container or clears a space for contemplating great Western and human values: the work of the mind and the soul, the the experience of longing, and the search for peace. Again, Paula's playing, as well as the student's powerpoints and pianistic efforts, directed us to such beautiful and lofty ruminations. And I don't think I'm just describing my experience as the sense of calm and engagement was palpable in the hall throughout the concert.

Special thanks to Terrell Batten for the great work with the spotlight, in particular at the close of the concert when he noticed that there was no other light left for Mrs. Pressnell's final bow and quickly remedied the problem!

I played our second concert, which was a concert built around the sixth Beatitude of Jesus: Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. I chose various works to express the idea of purity through musical means from a pure experience of the sound of the instrument in Jahn Adams's "China Gates" to the pure quality of the transcription of Bach's Chaconne (originally for violin) for piano, left hand alone, by Brahms. I also played Haydn's Sonata No. 48, which took me back to my childhood, and managed to play it without mishap. (It was the first piece I had a memory slip in on my first solo recital around 25 years ago!)

The main message I got from preparing and performing this recital was to strive for musical purity in my work. By that I mean to keep my feet planted on the earth and to focus a little more on musical fundamentals like knowing the mood that is to be created, establishing and maintaining a tempo, analyze and plan to highlight the relationships of tones melodically and harmonically (phrasing and balance). . . If I want to add in something more imaginative or creative, it's probably safest to think of it in just those terms - something added into the basic work of musicianship, not something to completely and instantaneously transform my approach.

Along these same lines, as I worked on the Chaconne and looked for a convincing way to pace and inflect the music, my faith, which I sometimes practice, was affirmed - the answer was in the score. For me, the slur and phrase markings were a major key to interpreting this work. The breakthrough came when I started to think of them more like bowings. The longer the marking, the more energy went into the line and the less energy went into the individual notes. The shorter the marking, the less energy went into the line, and more energy into the individual notes.

Thank you, Taylor Yandell, for the photos of my first performance of the Chaconne.

I concluded the evening with Gottschalk's Berceuse. This piece is based on a song he wrote in which a mother sings to her baby while the father is away. I assume the father is away fighting in the Civil War. I had been wondering how the low bass octaves figured into this scene, and I had been trying to keep them in the background. During the concert, I realized that they might be thought of as the distant rumbling of the cannons of war.

On Saturday, I held a masterclass that was attended by a diverse audience including music majors, music appreciation students, several students from a studio in the next town, and a few interested folks from the community. I like teaching before an audience like this as it gives people who are not musicians some insight into the discipline of music. The young students played well, and it's always inspiring to hear the results of the hard work that developing pianists are doing.

Fulfillment

2010-02-10T16:26:00.004-05:00

Last Wednesday, I went to church to practice organ. When I sit down in the choir loft to put on my organ shoes, I am always reminded to pray, even if I have not been praying much lately. I think it has something to do with the nature of the sanctuary, my role in shaping worship there, and my relationship with that house of worship.

On this particular occasion, I also thought of the fact that I've been playing piano for over thirty years now. It's odd to be old enough to have been doing something for over thirty years. Everyone who has been there must know that. But it can also be good.

It dawned on me that the deepening sense of fulfillment I get from musical work has something to do with the fact that I had many early childhood experiences with music. It seems to me that our early exposure must be a major factor in developing our potential for personal fulfillment. It would be hard to find a much better argument for a diverse education for the young.

January 2010

2010-02-01T09:32:00.006-05:00

We've been enjoying a beautiful and much-needed, snow-induced sabbath these last few days. There are at least four inches, and some places, seven inches of snow in our region, plus layers of ice. It's a quiet time and great for eating homemade muffins and drinking coffee.

Last weekend I played two recitals with my good friend Jeremy McEntire at University of Richmond and Randolph Macon. I hadn't played at Randolph Macon before and enjoyed St. Anne's Hall, which is a small timbered church building with a nicely responsive Steinway and a warm acoustic.

One of the works we played was Rachmaninoff's Vocalise. I've played the piece many times with various instruments and voice. I always wonder at its falling lines, especially the long descent at the beginning. This aspect of falling is one of the things about Russian music that has mystified and depressed me by turns.

One of the lectionary passages for the day was Psalm 130 which begins, "Out of the depths I cry to thee, O thou Eternal." As I thought about that reading and Vocalise, I thought of a new way to understand those falling lines. I can hear them not as our sinking down but Christ's coming to be with us in the depths of our human experience. This removes the desolation and replaces it with hope, strength, and empathy.

What Music Can Do

2009-12-24T14:47:00.006-05:00

Christmas Eve is one of the days of the year that feels sacred to me. It is a deep day that resonates with other Christmas Eves in other years and brings thoughts of both the spiritual meaning of the day and memories of the friends with whom I've spent it.

Today I find myself contemplating my blessings - friends near and far, family, work, home, the town where we live, and of course, music.

Several of this semesters's musical events have fed my soul and given me reasons for living. The first was Jim Guthrie's organ recital. To hear Jim playing so well and providing an afternoon of Frescobaldi made me feel like we really are holding up our end of the culture and that friends here are committed to the work of the arts that the world needs done. Jim played this music in such a way that even the casual listener could hear the various lines and their courses. And by playing this recital, he made myself and others personally aware of the greatness of Frescobaldi. The music has a sacred discursiveness about it. Its wanderings are like those of a soul in contemplation. Sometimes, tiny pipe sounds drew us up into a sense of some heavenly recess. There was always a sense of leading toward resolution, but it often came from somewhere other than where I expected, often culminating somewhere away from tonic. It was music full of thoughtful and unexpected harmonies that showed that lines can go many places. The experience refreshed my commitment to the art of music and its importance, as well as to my work here at Chowan.

The second invigorating event of the semester was the preparation for Handel's Messiah. Many of us at school and in the community were involved with rehearsals for this masterwork. Dr. Parker preached the texts of the work in these rehearsals, and we labored together as if we were trying to pull some great ship out into deep water so it could sail. The sense of being part of that huge process, of living life along that big trajectory along with many others, gave the semester shape and meaning. It was wonderful to be sharing this task with people of various age groups, races, and economic classes. And it was all done for the sake of the musical work and for its effectiveness when shared with the audience. I dare say that the world would be a better place if more people had something like this experience in their lives.

Finally, I think of how music can draw us into worhip. The Russian Christmas concert in Lasker was full of music that transported the listeners to other lands and sacred scenes. I look forward to tonight's Christmas Eve service which should do the same.

May our new year be full of more music that brings joy, peace, and meaning!

Christmas Images

2009-12-22T21:01:00.010-05:00

Lo How a Rose E'er Blooming -

beautiful roses blooming in our yard on December first.

New use for a piano -

storage of musical Christmas ornaments at the Smithfield Christmas Store.

For Lasker Christmas pictures with music click here.

Christmas at Chowan 2009

2009-12-06T17:33:00.005-05:00

Tonight was this year's Christmas at Chowan concert. It came just as we had our first noticeble frost and a little bit of ice.

I played Lyapunov's "Procession of the Magi." As I trudged home through the cold between the rehearsal and the performance, I thought about the inexorable quality of this music and how Russian music has as one of its specialities the unstopable march. I first noticed this quality in a Lazar Berman performance of one of Rachmaninoff's Moment-Musicaux.

As I played the piece during the concert, I felt a little like there were people present who weren't interested in this music. They may just be because of the unfocused feeling I get when participating in a variety show type of concert like this one. Or maybe it is because the music unfolds slowly and I become anxious that the listeners are losing interest. Whatever the reason, these sorts of thoughts are distracting and do not help me play well!

Maybe the slowness with which the music unfolds gives it the inexorable quality. As always, the music is to be trusted and the musician shouldn't worry about the audience's instant gratification if that isn't the way the music is designed.

Later on the program, I played several pieces from Rebikov's The Christmas Presents. That playing experience was better for me. The audience seemed focused with me and I realized how extraordinary it is for a room of 100 to 200 people to sit and listen intently to one man play a few quiet notes an a piano.

Excellent Song

2009-11-08T19:02:00.003-05:00

This morning, we sang the classic praise and worship song "As the Deer" by Martin Nystrom based on Psalm 42. As the choir rehearsed it, I thought about what has given it its lasting appeal and its place in the canon of worship music.

And that is that it is an excellently written song. The tune does exactly what the words say, but in the best tradition of Handel, it does so without becoming silly. In fact, it's quite possible to listen to the piece over and over without being distracted by the text painting. But I think it makes the song more deeply meaningful.

The word "panteth" or "pants" is split between two quick notes that suggest the urgency of panting.

The two things longed for - "water" and "heart's desire" - are set with the longing gesture of an appogiatura. The appogiatura on "water" might also be heard as part of a wave that encompasses the words "for the water so my."

Next, the most important word in the comparison - the real topic of the song - "soul" - appears on the highest note of the phrase.

The following phrase ends "and I long to worship you." Here, the music bows down with the words.

In the third phrase, one note insistently repeated perfectly sets the words "You alone."

Then, at "spirit yield" the music also yields before it turns back to the tune and tonality of the first phrase.

Fall Break Review, Part II

2009-11-04T17:00:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, I played for a wedding at Connaritsa Baptist Church. This was a lovely autumn wedding with flowers in fall colors and bride's maids in red dresses. It was also a fun experience because of the historic nature of the church being the fourth oldest Baptist congregation in our region.

The instrument at Connaritsa is an older spinet, and as I played it, I was reminded of one of my basic beliefs about making music - a belief that I think is really important, but not always so easy to live with. And that is that making music is about cooperation, not competition or domination.

When confronted with a smaller and limited instrument, my gut reaction is to force it to bend to my will. The result of that approach is usually somewhat tortured. The instrument strains and groans, and little joy is expressed. More beauty comes when I relax and look for what the instrument can do well. This may mean sharing my vision with a decent, musical, mid-ranged dynamic and not striving for grand effects at either extreme of the dynamic scale. I think the result is better music and maybe better being human.

On Thursday night, Ms. Pressnell and I gave our first faculty two-piano recital on the two Baldwin concert grands in Daniel Recital Hall. While the older of the two instruments has some problems on its own, it makes a very good partner for the newer Baldwin.

The concert was great fun to play, and we were both relaxed and focused on good piano playing much of the time. We played a chaconne on Dido's Lament by Purcell. It happens to be Purcell's 350th birthday this year. I thought a bit about the recent earthquake victims in the South Pacific as I got ready to play this lament. Next was the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony then the second movement on Shostakovich's Second Piano Concerto. We concluded the first half with an arrangement of Hava Nagilah, which is about the happiest-sounding piece of music you're likely to find in a minor key.

The second half consisted of Saint-Seans Danse Macabre (which was the last thing we added to the program and turned out to be both our favorite and the crowd's favorite), three hymn arrangements by Nielson and Young - Come Thou Fount, When I Survey, and the Doxology tune - and several movements from Zwillich's Peanuts Gallery. We played a simple arrangement of Shenandoah for an encore.

One very specific comment I recieved a day or so after the concert was about the way I played the very last note of Shenandoah - living proof of the saying "God is in the details."

Last Sunday, I played a concert of parlor music for the Perquimans County Restoration Association. You can read about that here.

And now I'm reflecting all the way back to our season-opening faculty gala. That was my first solo playing on the Grotrian - Brahms: Op. 116, Nos. 1,2 and 3. I like the idea of the entire year of concerts here at Chowan (or at least my part in them) being one large work, and I hope our faithful audience members will connect the Brahms of the Gala Concert with the First Sonata which I plan to play during Pianofest in February.

That night was also my first bit of chamber music with the new piano. Dr. Parker sang several of Vaughan Williams's Vagabond Songs. The piano's capabilities were especially moving in that situation as it makes many many gradations of mezzo piano and softer possible. Also, its tone never competes with the timbre of the voice. Finally, it's possible to make much of the text-painting sound literally like the words and ideas being illustrated on this instrument! It's clearly a superbly-suited instrument on which to play songs of such high calibre with a fine and sensitive artist like Dr. Parker.

Worship, God's Image, Creativity

2009-11-04T16:23:00.000-05:00

Daniel preached an excellent sermon this morning on worhsip. He drew our attention to the various words that relate to worship in the Bible. Of course, "worship" is an old English word meaning "to ascribe worth to." According to Daniel, the Hebrew scriptural word for worship actually means "to bow down" and the Greek New Testament word means "to serve." He pointed out that all of these concepts are verbs, not nouns - that worship is something we do, not so much an experience we receive (that would make worship into a noun).

Contemplating those three words, I note that the English word really means something different from the Biblical words. "To ascribe worth" suggests that we are somehow in a position to access the worth of our creator. That seems a little absurd to me. To bow down and to serve have none of that in them. Instead, they are acts of pure response to the Creator.

I've also been thinking once again about how we humans are created in God's image. Being in God's image, we, too, create. I think that means that on a fundamental, existential level, creativity has nothing to do with competition. At any rate, making music is a way of enacting being in God's image. The Psalmists repeatedly implore us to make music joyfully, and I think that flows naturally and logically from being made in God's image. What could be more basic and joyful than to recognize that we are creations and that we have a kinship with the Creator? There is nothing of the self to assert in this. Instead, we proclaim our gladness at being, at being creations, at being creations in relationship with the Creator, and at being something that the Creator has declared to be good!

Fall Break Review, Part I

2009-10-04T18:46:00.021-05:00

Fall Break is right around the corner, and it feels like a good time to turn a corner in my year. We've been blessed with some actual fall-like weather for several weeks. That is, we've stayed out of the 90s for some time now. In addition, I actually felt a little bit of Christmas on the way as I walked home tonight. Maybe that's because I've just started learning a couple of Lyopunov's Fetes de Noels which, by the way, I'd highly recommend to any classical pianist wanting to learn some Christmasy repertoire.

Christmas is such a lovely time of year here with the cool weather, the historic homes decorated, and many meaningful festivities. This all reminds me that I really like being here.

Loving a place and being called to a place is a lot like a marriage. The love and the calling are much bigger than any one bad experience or interaction. But those things can distract us and cloud our vision, so we need to be smart in cherishing the relationship.

(By the way, Kathy and I try not to create bad experiences or bad interactions for each other, but sometimes we have to share bad experiences inflicted upon us by others!)

In addition to the approach of fall break, I had several gigs this week that brought a period of performing to a pretty satisfying conclusion. I have some time now before any major performing, so I can do some enjoyable, disciplined, and unhurried preparation. Also, I have some time to work on trying to do a little less but better, and getting in the habit of more consistent exercise and better eating habits, etc. . . . !

And that brings me to the real topic of this post: a little reflection on the piano playing I've done and heard so far this year. I'll cover these events in reverse order and over the course of a couple of posts.

Dr. White, our president here at Chowan, gave a concert this afternoon to raise funds for Chowan University mission trips. Dr. White studied some formally growing up and also listened closely to his grandfather who was a talented natural musician. One of the moving things about Dr. White's musicianship is his consciousness of this link to the past. He is conveying what he can reproduce of his grandfather's style to his own grandchildren and others with whom this way of playing strikes a chord. My favorite selection from this afternoon's concert was a rendition of the gospel song "Ivory Palaces" which was his reconstruction of his grandfather's playing and, to my ears, it rang with authenticity, particularly in its pacing and the interesting flowing tenor voice that provided a countermelody to the tune.

Another arrangement that captured my imagination was "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" which took advantage of the rich low bass notes of the Grotrian, each of which sounded like some great pillar put in place at the beginning of time. Dr. White indicated that this was one of his favorite songs, and the comfortable fluidity with which he played it suggested to me that the song iteself has been a long-time companion of his at the piano.

Two other selections that were of particular musical interest to me were a medley and a theologically-thoughtful arrangement of "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross." The medley combined several tunes that I never thought of together but make perfect sense as a group: "Fill My Cup, Lord" based on the story about the woman at the well, "Kumbaya," and "Holy Ground." These last two have very similar melodies that are nearly interchangeable at points.

Dr. White gave an explanation of his rendition of "When I Survey." The sections represent the vision of the cross, then the reality of death on the cross, then the fact that there is life beyond the cross. That narrative framework gave the arrangement integrity and meaning.

Fur Elise

2009-09-18T22:13:00.004-05:00

I recently taught a lesson on that great warhouse of the intermediate literature, "Fur Elise." All of you who play or teach the piece are aware of several trouble spots, and the one I am thinking about is the bit where the hands trade back and forth in the A section when the opening theme is about to turn. More often than not, that spot serves as an invitation for students to apply their ingenuity to not dividing the hands as Beethoven indicated as well as playing music that isn't in the score!

In many instances, I am willing to rearrange hands and other things to get what I think is the best effect. But I feel like there are compelling reasons to play this passage as Beethoven arranged it:

1. It's Beethoven and his scores are as close to sacrosanct as we get in the classical realm.

2. Switching hands as Beethoven wrote provides a visual impression of brilliance even though the actual execution is not hard. In fact, it might just be easier to play with the hand switching than without it!

3. Switching hands nearly guarantees that the pianist will play the articulation that Beethoven indicated.

4. Beethoven's piano music was some of the first to so convincingly suggest orchestral music. Switching the hands provides for a variety of finger strengths and orientations for the same pair of notes. That's reminiscent of the changing of resources as Beethoven passes a motive around the orchestra from one instrument to the next.

5. On a structural and physical level, at least the A section of piece is a set of variations on the alternation of the hands. The very opening theme is permeated by one hand following the other. The passage in question is a more compressed manifestation of that idea.

A silly thought following up on #5 above - I'm surprised that I've never come across a Romantic-era transcription of the piece with alternating "Liszt Octaves" replacing the single-lined chromatic scale that occurs near the end!

A Great Story

2009-09-11T21:50:00.002-05:00

Tonight I heard this inspiring true story that's well worth the time it takes to read it.

Servanthood

2009-08-27T04:54:00.003-05:00

As a lot of you know, I feel some dissonance about the terms "leader" and "leadership" in the context of Christianity. As I've repeatedly noted for myself, Jesus invites us to be servants, not servant-leaders.

This morning, I started reading James since there will be a lengthty passage of James read in our worship service on Sunday. James begins "James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ."

That led me to do a quick survey of the openings words of New Testament letters to see how the authors presented themselves -

Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ
Paul, called by the will of God to be an apostle of Christ Jesus
Paul, an apostle . . .
Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ
Paul, a prisoner for Christ Jesus
Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ
Simon Peter, a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ
Jude, a servant of Jesus Christ
The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place; and he made it known by sending his angel to his servant John

Nothing about leadership there. Servant, apostle, prisoner - I believe these are all pretty un-exalted and are not power-oriented concepts. I'm thinking that "apostle" has a churchy and authoritative context for us today since we only use it in the context of referring to people who were pillars in the church. But I bet that word did not have those overtones when the scripture writers chose it. It means "messenger" or "one sent."

Chowan Inspiration

2009-08-22T04:32:00.012-05:00

This has been the week of meetings, inventories, syllabus writing . . . oh yes, and meetings.

I like the awareness of tradition here at Chowan. Periodically, someone says "This is the day when . . ." or "Traditionally on this day . . ." This is something I often wanted more of at other places.

I was feeling particularly inspired after Thursday which was the day of the faculty retreat. It was a rich day that culminated with a look at the new "Murph's" which is our newly renovated, truly transformed, sport-themed space formerly known as the snack bar. And that was followed by a reflective walk with Sophie (our dog) - reflective except for the part when we were running!

On our walk, my love for Murfreesboro and my work here was refreshed. I thought of my father's inspiration for his work, particularly as expressed in his church newsletter articles from his days at Sylvia Circle Baptist Church in the 80s. There was a sense of heaven on earth for him that came not from things being peaceful but purposeful.

Joy comes in being part of perfecting a place, helping a community become whole. And that's what has been going on here for a very long time. One would be saddened to move on because that work is so fulfilling.

Strolling quietly after dark under the tall pines reminds me that God is present and working, and Squirrel Park (the university commons) has been particular mysterious and intriguing lately as a pair of owls has been making an appearance there around dusk.

MacDowell Columns building stubbornly looms up out of the night like a bulldog jaw or a great fist. It says "Wars have come and gone - but we are still here. Hurricanes have scarred our land, but we are still here. Doors have closed and opened agin - we are still here. Depression, Recession - still here."

And we're still here for the continuation of civilization. It seems that the whole project - civilization and intitution - exist and persist as a grace from God.

Great Grotrian

2009-08-09T15:07:00.018-05:00

Yesterday was an historic day for all things piano at Chowan. This summer we have really been blessed by the incredible generosity of donors and administrators with an interest in music. One of the superb additions to our instruments they made possible came in the form of a Grotrian concert grand that was delivered yesterday by Famous Jerry of Disputanta, VA. Famous Jerry and his men were a model of teamwork with each one responding quickly to Jerry's expert directions and noone ever whimping out at a crucial moment.

Grotrian is a great old German piano company that makes instruments with a beautiful sweet sound that are incredibly responsive to the pianist's touch. for more on Grotrian, click here.

The moving process was amazing.

First, ramps were placed on the steps of Macdowell Columns building. The top ramp was secured around two of the columns to keep it securely in place as 1000 plus pounds rolled over it. The men doing the moving were by no means huge, but no doubt they were very strong. The one mover who was noticebly muscular was always at the heavy and bottom end whenever a piano was on a ramp.

As the piano made its way onto the Turner stage, those of us watching were moved by the athleticism and stunning nature of an 1100 pound piano moving so quickly (you can't let the momentum be lost on the way up the ramp!) and the sense of that massive object, being piloted by flesh and bone, in a moment of near flight moving from up-ramp to down-ramp as it cleared the lip of the stage.

Next came a bit of down time as the legs and pedals of the Grotrian were put back on and the legs and pedals of the Baldwin were taken off. There was a poignancy about those two giants meeting for a few moments this one and only time on the stage of Turner.

There was yet more poignancy as the Baldwin awaited its voyage from the hallowed halls of Columns to Daniel Recital Hall.

Next came intensity as the movers threaded the Baldwin through entryway of Daniel recital hall, the setting emphasizing the mass of the instrument as it was lifted and balanced at the top of the steps before rolling down into the hall. This Balwin is the heaviest model of piano made in the U.S., weighing in around 1300 pounds.

At the end, a little more lifting to put the Baldwin back in operable order -

After everything was back in place and the movers had left, Kathy I went to the halls to try out the instruments in their new homes. I was delighted to find that things are even better than I anticipated!

The beautiful and sweet sound of the Grotrian transforms what was a decent recital space into something that emphasizes the elegance of live classical music performance. While the instrument has plenty of power and projects with rare clarity, it doesn't reward aggressiveness. Instead, it encourages the pianist who listens to play lyrically and melodically.

In Daniel, the Baldwin demonstrates much more character than we knew it had in Turner. That's a real delight because it makes the room a much more rewarding recital space and will give our students much more to work with on their weekly recitals. Also, the old and new Baldwins are particularly well-matched as two-piano instruments.

Hymn Society

2009-07-25T15:21:00.009-05:00

We returned this week from the annual conference of the Hymn Society in the United States and Canada to the sounds of band camp rehearsal on campus and breezy evening walks that remind us that the coast isn't very far away.

I can tell by the way I feel - emotionally, mentally, and spiritually rejuvenated- that Hymn Society was very good for me.

Our flight to Minnesota for the conference was my first flight, and I think I might not have been as afraid of it as I thought I was. I was still nervous, though.

The conference was at St. Olaf, which is a liberal arts school with a very strong choral tradition in Northfield, MN.

Some major memories of the conference for me follow:

The first night's hymn festival for which John Ferguson played piano and organ - Ferguson is an incredibly gifted artist who draws the congregation into worship through his insightful playing and sensitivity

Carl Daw's profound and personal texts, many of which deal with peace and the Trinity

Witnessing Brian Wren's quick mind for finding just the right word to fit the theological and poetic requirements during a workshop for text writers

Learning about David Morales's terrific work with young people in inner-city Oakland - you can read Cantare con Vivo's mission statement here

A very moving hymn festival (in which Kathy read scripture) that was structured around the parables of Jesus

Plenary sessions featuring Marva Dawn and a talk on what types of hymns Dr. Seuss would like (this was light-hearted and challenging)

Breakout sessions about performance practice for Lutheran chorales, a new collection of Psalm paraphrases by Richard Leach, a new collection of settings of texts by Fanny Crosby - many recently rediscovered texts that speak to a broader range of issues that the best-known Crosby texts, and Djembe drumming to accompany congregational singing

Lots of fresh organically-grown food raised on-campus

Video of the hymn festivals can be found here.

After the conference, we went to Duluth, MN to visit our friends, Paul and Eileen Scaringi. While there, I read Paul's dissertation which deals with freedom, creativity, and the Trinity in the works of Berdiaev and Moltmann.

Paul is the pastor of the United Protestant Church of Silver Bay, MN, which is the oldest ecumenical church on MN and is aligned with several denominations including American Baptist, Church of Christ, Methodist, and Presbyterian. Kathy sang my setting of verses from Psalm 87 which I wrote for the occasion.

After church, we did a little hiking along the cliffs beside Lake Superior.

Learning Aesthetics

2009-07-07T20:44:00.014-05:00

After the Festival, I took a trip to Charlotte, NC to visit a student. While there, I had a great time staying with friends in the Hyaets Community. I also took the opportunity to visit Rock Hill, SC where I lived from 3rd grade to 11th grade.

During the visit to Rock Hill, I was able to assess the town from a little more adult perspective than when I lived there, and I was struck that about two thirds of the town I knew consist of quite lovely neighborhoods with fine buildings and tree-lined streets. The other third of the town - where we lived most of our time there - seems to be a community in real need.

In the middle of the town is a gem known as Glencairn Gardens. I was very fortunate to have daily access to the gardens for several of my "formative years." On revisiting the gardens this time I had the very moving epiphany that my sense of aesthetics was developed in large part by the many times I visited the gardens during those years. On a daily basis, the concepts I consciously I mostly learned later were played out in the physical realm all around me. Those experiences shaped me as an artist.

The gardens have a brilliant few weeks in the Spring when the azaleas are blooming. The amount of color in the landscape is unblievable at that time. But year-round, the gardens pack a powerful impact because of issues relating to arrangement, proportion, etc.

The central feature is multi-tiered fountain that flows into a large pool that is often full of waterlilies. The symbol of the fountain is powerful and beautiful. It essentially appears to be an inexhaustible spring from which life-giving water flows. Here, ideas and an image from the physical world go hand in hand, just as Emerson said they do. The fountain speaks of abundance and miracles. The way the water spills from one tier to the next certainly shaped my understaning of flow and its importance.

From some vantage points, the fountain is easily seen and framed from a distance and a higher elevation. From other directions, it is hidden until almost the last moment of one's approach. One can experience many shades of framing, approach, introduction, and context there.

Because of the hills, meandering paths, various fountains, and the surrounding streets, one is also drawn into a sonic awareness of the many aspects of the place which can be experienced simultaneously (through sound) and constantly change as one changes location.

Reflecting on all of this and on how these things shaped me made me think that artists, and musicians in particular, need such places in our lives. We need to be become alert to what things make for beauty and practice experiencing those things as we grow our own sense of proportion, relationship, and so forth.

Sometimes we are fortunate to live very close to a scene that was designed to embody prinicples of beauty, and other times we need to travel to such places. I am thinking of giving my students exercises for discovering beauty in the physical realm around us - exercises for recognizing the nature of materials and the relationship of those materials - so as to fine-tune their understanding of the beauty of the musical objects with which they deal in performance.

On a deeper level, all of this is important because the gardens gave me a place to muse, to mediatate, to imagine, and to grow. Experiences of beauty can provide sanctuaries for such deeply significant human activities. Maybe all those things are the spiritual content the world desperately needs that transcends the physical or the sonic.

Hulin Musicians

2009-07-02T14:45:00.005-05:00

Another Hulin musician who has been brought to my attention:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6IrSq1rOoL4

And don't forget swamp pop

Festival Reflections 2009

2009-06-29T07:38:00.006-05:00

Lasker Summer Music Festival 2009 came to a fine conclusion last night.

Every year, participating in the Festival gives me new direction and perspective for the year ahead. Meeting with encouraging and challenging musicians for these few days, performing and discussing how our faith and art relate, and gathering with the intention of sharing and discovering - these things always refresh and redirect me.

This year, I leave the Festival knowing I did some good and elegant playing, and also being reminded that one needs to think seriously about the results one wants in performance and structure practice according to that goal. One ought to ask "What is a reasonable amount of practice given my goal?" For musicians to mature, we need to know how much time needs to be put in to get the desired results.

Dr. Falby presented a probing talk on the experience and meaning of the goosebumps often brought about by listening to music. This refreshed our sense of purpose as deliverers of goosebumps since the musical moment connects the listener with some sense of the transcendent. This talk also provided a framework for the Festival audience members to process and discuss their experiences of the performances.

There were many musical highlights. In fact, the performers provided such a variety of interesting works that items which would have normally stood out as unique became part of the extraordinary fabric.

The work/performance that seemed to create the greatest impression was Paula Pressnell and Ariel Dechosa's performance of Beethoven's Choral Fantasy on two pianos. Before the performance, we may have had questions about the effectiveness of the piece without orchestra or chorus. But the immediate strong response of the audience, as well as their continued discussion of the performance show that:

1. the work can work as a two-piano piece - it becomes a different type of piece, but very effective

2. the work has some innate goodness that is not dependent upon the timbre or size of the performance forces, and

3. of course, the performance was brilliant!

Other personal highlights include Ariel's masterful handling of Prokofief 6th Sonata,
the fun of playing Erik Satie's Sports et Divertissements with Ken Wolfskill's witty narration,
also having fun playing my own Maritime Suite with Kathy,
Josiah Antill presenting and playing his own music so well,
Jim Guthrie's fiddle playing,
Jeremy McEntire's supreme musicianship playing Gluck and Guthrie,
Kathy and Ariel's exquisite performance of Strauss's Allerseelen,
improvisatory work with Tracee, Jeff, Kathy, and Jeremy (Come Ye Sinners Poor and Needy" was a major goosebump experience for me),
our own little revival of Billings's Chester with offstage horn,
Jeff's very refined version of the second of the Liszt Petrarch Sonnets and of course, the superb quality of the high D flat he sang in it . . .
so I liked everything!

It was also a very eventful few days in Lasker beyond these musical
experiences. The air conditioner stopped working in the fellowship hall, so we migrated to Agnes's house for one evening. Beautiful new landscaping was dedicated at the church, and the Methodist church on the outskirts of town had its closing services and ceremony on Sunday.

Piano at Chowan

2009-05-07T06:13:00.014-05:00

Classes ended yesterday and piano juries will be held today, so it's time for me to take a look back at the 08/09 year in piano at Chowan.

The main point I have reflected on throughout the year is that it has been a particularly rich year for pianists at Chowan. We have had lots of opportunities to play and hear a huge variety of music and to see many different approaches to playing a piano.

The very first concert at the school this year was a performance of works of Elliott Carter and Olivier Messiean to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the births of those geniuses. This was brought to us by Paul Hanson and Joanne Kong, colleagues of mine from the University of Richnond. What an eye-opening event for one's first concert as a freshman music major! The musical complexity and expression, as well as the technical difficulty of the works they performed, opened a whole new world of music to us. They also provided an excellent powerpoint presentation that made these incredible works more accessible to us.

Joanne Kong played, as always, with an earnestness that drew us close to the composers' hearts and the essence of the music. Her anguished way of inflecting the movement of Messiaen's Vision de l'Amen devoted to the agony of Christ is still etched in my mind seven months later.

Paul Hanson has unlimited technical resources which he deploys with the maximum amount of cool. He's a great model for all of us who sabotage ourselves by overdoing even simple things. He's a fine artist and craftsman who presides over a marvelous unfolding of pianisitic feats, as in Carter's Night Fantasies, without showing the slightest bit of strain or anxiety.

What's more, both were exceptionally professional, cooperative, kind, and flexible throughout their whole visit, which makes them role models well beyond their superb piano playing.

Another big piano event first semester (and one that provided a major stylistic contrast with the Carter/Messiaen event) was the concert of Christian singer/songwriter/pianist Kyle Matthews. Kyle was with us for a couple of days and was very encouraging regarding the value of the work we're trying to do here, as well as sharing with students what his experience has been in the music business. In addition to being warm and open with us, his concert was a tour de force as he accompanied himself for an entire evening of his own moving and spiritually challenging songs.

Our Pianofest guest was Ariel Dechosa who played two massive masterworks on his recital including Prokofief's Sixth Sonata, which is a miracle both by virtue of the fact that a human being concieved it and also because there are people like Ariel who can play it brilliantly.

This year's Pianofest also focused on ensemble playing and featured our students in duets written especially for them and Mr. Dechosa to perform together. Mr. Dechosa and I played a flamboyant William Tell Overture and Mrs. Pressnell and I played a set of more modest Beethoven variations with which I was rather pleased.

And that brings us to the year's faculty performances that included Mrs. Pressnell's continued exploration of the Viennese classical repertoire with a Haydn sonata and Beethoven's Choral Fantasy and my lecture recitals on 19th cetury parlor music in North Carolina and Erik Satie's Sports et Divertissements.

Mrs. Pressnell and I also provided lots of exposure to ways in which pianists make music with other musicians. In the fall, she played an excellent art song recital with our chairperson, Greg Parker. She also plays for most of our students' performances which happen most weeks on our departmental recital as well as at juries, senior recitals, and choral performances.

I played for clarinetist David Niethamer in a concert of Brahms E flat Sonata and the premiere of a big sonata by my colleague, James M. Guthrie. In the spring, soprano Julia Rolwing exposed us to the music of Wagner, and we also did our first performance anywhere of Strauss's Four Last Songs right here at Chowan.

The studio has taken on lots of projects and provided music outside the school on several occasions. In studio class, we surveyed the works of Beethoven first semester and Russian piano music second semester. We also went out for pizza and got acquainted with the pipe organ at First Baptist Ahoskie. Mark, Josiah, and Terrell played for church worship services, revival services, gospel choir, Christmas concerts, Chowan New Music days, performances of their own music, the Undergraduated Research Conference, jazz ensembles, and the first-ever Chowan University Relay for Life Pianothon.

In addition to all these piano activities, Dr. Guthrie made it possible for us to hear Bach and Telemann on harpsichord and an array of music on the virginal. Dr. Guthrie also played a colorful and powerful organ recital at Murfreesboro Methodist, and organist and alumna Fay Monroe shared a worshipful afternoon with us at Murfreesboro Baptist.

Dr. Guthrie also arranged for the NACUSA national conference to take place here at Chowan this year. That was a day full of concerts of new music that included chamber and solo works for pianists as well.

Yet another pianist who spent time with us this year was composer/activist Stefan Waligur who presented his Celtic Mass at FBC Ahoskie around Christmas time. He visited our first-year theory class and asked us a probing question that we should continue asking ourselves:
"What are you doing with your music?"

Beethoven's Choral Fantasy

2009-04-29T06:03:00.006-05:00

I have recently joined an exclusive club. In fact, I'm not sure I know any other members. I am pianist who has played the Choral Fantasy as a pianist and as a violist. I know Beethoven also played viola, but I doubt he ever played it in a performance of the Choral Fanatasy.

On Monday night, our Chowan performance season had its great conclusion with the majority of our music students and faculty, as well as a number of members of the Virginia Symphony, performing Schubert's Mass in G Major and Beethoven's Choral Fantasy. These "Masterworks Concerts" are terrific projects that bring the year to a rousing close and expose students and community to grand musical experiences that they can't find anywhere else in our region.

My friend, Jeff Prillaman, sang in the performance and suggested that I write a paper on playing the Fantasy as a pianist on the viola. I might make a more formal presentation of this at some point, but for now, I want to share my experiences here.

I was seated directly behind the piano (on the bass side) and the lid of the piano was off. This was a more more powerful and compelling sonic experiecne than sitting at the keyboard with a board (the music rack) between me and the strings.

Adding to the effect of power was the fact that I was surrounded by sound and the viola vibrated sympathetically in my hands.

From my violistic vantage point, the structure of the opening of the piece became much clearer to me. The opening measure, which I understand as a Beethoven in his monumental defiant mood (but am usually tempted to dismiss as simply a tonic chord) really came to life as Beethoven setting into motion three registers of the piano. The low, middle, and high sounds are clearly experienced as different locations, different choirs, from behind the piano with the lid off.

My use of the term "choirs" just now makes me start to wonder if that is the real meaning of this being a "choral fantasy," not just the fact that it has an actual vocal choir at the end. After all, once Beethoven starts repeating his "Ode to Joy" tune, he organizes the orchestra into choirs of double winds, clarinets, horns, etc. all accompanied by piano, and then there is a choir of vocal solosists, then the full choir.

A couple of details related to the viola part were important to my experience. At one point, Beethoven gives the violists a single note on beat four of a measure that feels early and funny. We violists laughed at the way it felt every time we played it. I doubt that one note is even heard in the context of the whole orchestra, but it's something cute and special Betehoven put there just for the violists.

At another point, there is a very rapid transition from pizzicato to arco. If we are to take this literally as a change that all the violists should make at the same time while playing both the last plucked note and the first bowed note, it has implications for tempo. And it happens at a point at which the piece might really take off. I wonder if this is a spot at which one should take a cue for the tempo from a seemingly obscure detail in the viola part.

There are several tricky transitions I referenced in my last post. In performance, there is a sense of synergy that pulls the group through those transitions even if some of the players are uncertain. Perhaps the piece is enough in our collective consciousness so that as a group we know how it goes, or maybe Beethoven has written in such a way that the tenuousness of some lines dovetails with more certain material in other instruments (but I don't think that's what happens.)

There are many passages that feel and sound very different, and the particular differences leave me thinking that this piece is more for the listeners than for the performers. Some portions feel jumpy and uncertain but sound sublime and like paradise. But a lot of the performers do get to sit around and listen during the piece, so Beethoven includes us as listeners as much as he can.

Finally, the great triplet ascending octave-ish passages in the piano in the presto finale sound very brilliant as if a rocket has been fired up out of the orchestra, but they do not feel brilliant as you play them.

That Tricky Beethoven

2009-04-26T19:38:00.004-05:00

Tomorrow night we are performing Schubert G Major Mass and Beethoven Choral Fantasy - two beloved works - on the season-closing Masterworks Concert at Chowan.

The Fantasy has a couple of transitions at which the tempo, and sometimes meter, change very abruptly. One of the transitions is designed to confuse the ear of the listener - which means it can confuse the people playing it as well!

The following quotation from Ignaz von Seyfried, a friend of Beethoven, applies.

But when, especially in the Scherzos of his symphonies, sudden, unexpected changes of tempo threw all into confusion, he would laugh tremendously, assure the men he had looked for nothing else, that he had been waiting for it to happen, and would take almost childish pleasure in the thought that he had been successful in unhorsing such routined orchestral knights.

Research Reflection

2009-04-19T06:43:00.004-05:00

It seems to me that a lot of good music research needs to be interdisciplinary. After all, music connects with a wide range of disciplines in a variety of ways. In fact, although we often picture research as being the work of specialists, trying to get a fuller picture of whatever one is researching frequently leads the researcher to acquiring knowledge beyond his or her own field.

Here are the two recent examples that got me thinking about this:

A student is working on a term paper about Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. The text in the symphony is by Schiller. For this student to do a good job with his research, he needs to go beyond what the books about Beethoven 9 say about Schiller to get an idea of the place of this text in his overall output, etc.

I am researching Erik Satie's Sports et Divertissements. I need to give a short presentation for Chowan's Symposium on Monday. My plan was to give a little general background and play a few of the pieces while pointing out what I have noticed about them, mostly from a theory and performance angle. Most of the reading I did was supporting that approach until I discovered an excellent book by Mary E. Brown that points out the fact that the person most responsible for the publication of the piano pieces and the drawings that went along with them had a background in women's fashion magazines, and the whole layout of Sports et Divertissements comes from that realm.

March 6 - 12

2009-03-12T16:21:00.005-05:00

A complex, rich, intense week -

Friday: NACUSA national conference at Chowan

This involved many fascinating works and performances including

an airy trio by Harvey Stokes full of scales for all the instruments

my own "Chowan Etudes" played in one of the buildings they are about

Scott Brickman's "Sketches of Maine" which is a musical landscape that grows on me more and more

Andrew Cole's computer music piece "Staring at the Sun" that is a concerto for ping pong ball and also "Sound, Timbre, and Density III" in which the flute (played exquisitely by my friend Jeremy McEntire) wanders through a garden of textures and takes on new hues and moods in each new setting

Jim Guthrie's "Electro-Sonata No. 3" with a speech-derived first movement, bubbly second movement, and an uplifting finale

Joe Alexander's piece for tape and tuba "Infamy" that develops from Roosevlt's famous statement

A fascinating slur technique etude for guitar composed and played by my colleague, Christian Loebs

John Allemeier's "Quiet Music" in which Dillon Savage tamed a cantankerous instrument with the grace and dignity of a real musical gentleman

Jeff Prillaman bringing my new songs to life and making them really work

performing some songs with haunting motives - "A Child's Garden" by Benjamin Williams - with Jeff

and much more

Saturday:

department of music strategic planning retreat

followed by birthday party with non-music colleagues

Kathy fixed chilli and lime tarts for this.

Sunday:

a new sense of vocation as a church musician

and an organ recital by Chowan alumna, Faye Monroe. This was a great reminder of how good some tunes are like Bach's "Be Thou But Near" and "Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring."

Then, revival services at Lasker on Sun, Mon, and Tues nights with Chowan students playing special music for the services.

During those days there were edifying and interesting theological views shared:

Lloyd Lee Wilson, a Quaker and our registrar, discussed a technique for learning to listen for God's voice - identify a voice that is not God and tune it out. Then, your life is quieter, and it's easier to discern the next voice that is not God, etc.

Another theologian I know also shared his view of Jesus and the disciples. For various reasons involving the historic and cultural context, he thinks the disciples may have been younger than we tend to picture them - as young as 8 to 10 years old even. These would have been considered young men apprenticing in their fathers' businesses and studying with the rabbi for their bar mitzvahs. It may be a hard idea to accept, but it could explain various misunderstandings and behaviors in the gospels.

Also thinking about practicing these days-

I once heard a mockingbird practicing, I think. Late at night, the bird was rehearsing its repertoire of songs. On each of several repetitions, each song sounded better inflected and more authentic to me. Maybe that's how we people should practice.

A lesson today on Bach E minor Toccata - Classical music is different from most of the music we hear in that it is long term music. It unfolds its ideas over a large span of time. Thus, to play it well, we need to follow the musical argument as it develops. The introduction to the toccata presents an idea which is lifted up and viewed from various angles, and then developed until it culminates in a new idea - the crux of the passage.

All this amidst students and friends struggling, and layoffs all around. It's a good time to pray for everybody.

NCMTA Regional

2009-03-01T14:32:00.006-05:00

Today it's cold and rainy - a perfect day to stay in the house with the dog and the cat, eat almonds, and drink spiced tea, which is what I have been doing!

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of adjudicating a division of the Raleigh regional North Carolina Music Teachers Association. I was delighted to hear so many young students who had their music solidly memorized, performed with excellent attention to the various markings on the score from articulations to dynamics, and who did so with distinct personality!

I tried to follow the criteria given on the evaluation form very precisely. The difference between "Superior" and "Excellent" was essentially that the superiors did what the excellents did, only with imagination. That extra spark of imagination, of personal connection with the music, makes you want to listen and causes you to find the playing satisfying and sometimes even surprising.

This was a good refresher course for me in what musical talent really is - physical, mental, and personal.

Specific repertoire notes:

I heard numerous young people play "Jimbo's Lullaby" by Debussy. I was moved by the luminous and tender sonority of the first appearance of the theme every time.

Another piece on the official list was a short Ligeti work which features several sudden changes of musical direction and dynamics. The young people did a great job with it.

I was also struck by how well many of the youngsters played their Baroque selections very well. I usually think of Baroque music as being a big challenege for students because of the counterpoint and the requirement of meticulous attention to fingering. But many of these budding pianists mastered these challenges.

Chowan Pianofest 2009

2009-02-25T13:07:00.009-05:00

Chowan Pianofest was this weekend and consisted of three concerts. The first was a lecture-recital about which I have commented at length on the Skinner Anthology Blog.

On Saturday night, we presented our first-ever Pianofest ensemble concert. Chowan piano majors joined our guest pianist, Ariel Dechosa, to perform duets I wrote specifically to show off some of the students' strengths and interests. I joined Ariel for Gottschalk's arrangement of the William Tell Overture, and my colleague Paula Pressnell and I played duets by Beethoven and Dvorak. Mrs. Pressnell also played Haydn's Sonata No. 52 in her characteristically well-planned, remarkably clear, and quick fashion.

Another interesting aspect of the program was the opening sequence of solo works. My student, Terrell Batten, performed the famous Bach Prelude in C Major from the Well-Tempered Clavier Book I, followed by Chopin's Prelude in C Minor. After those two works, another student, Josiah Antill, performed James M. Guthrie's Prelude in C Minor that explores aspects of the Bach and Chopin Preludes simultaneously.

I was very pleased with my students' work on this concert. Each one entered into the project earnestly and seriously. Mark Puckett showed fine technical and musical discipline in Grieg's Ase's Death and Debussy's Dr. Gradus ad Parnassum. Terrell conveyed a moving personal connection with the music he played, and Josiah played the last movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight" Sonata with good variety of sound while maintaining a steady sense of momentum.

On Sunday afternoon, Ariel Dechosa presented a concert including the third sonata of Brahms and the sixth of Prokofief. Ariel played the Brahms with beautiful focus and made a number of the transitions in the work sound profoundly right. His performance of the Prokofief was also eye-opening in terms of dexterity, energy, strength, and musicianship. I think there are several amazing facts regarding this work: it was concieved in the first place, concieved for piano, concieved for one person at a piano, and there are people who can play it well!

The juxtaposition of these three concerts that surveyed such a wide range of styles led to excellent discussion in Monday morning's theory class in which students had many thoughtful questions about aspects of piano playing from issues regarding memorization and fatigue to considering patterns like Alberti bass and extended techniques like playing the piano with one's fist or forearm.

One of the ongoing issues is the theme of battle in music. On Friday night, I played Kotzwara's once-popular Battle of Prague. While this piece, written in the late 1700s, seems to have very little in common with the musical vocabulary of Prokofief's Sixth, Ariel noticed many similarities in terms of the representative aspects of both works and the ways one has to maneuver about the keyboard. Dr. Guthrie and I have continued to wonder about the battle genre and about its progress since the Civil War. I've started to entertain the idea of writing a battle piece, but would rather not glorify battle in my work. Battle has become so devastating and impersonal that a work like Penderecki's Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima might better reflect battle in our age than a more traditional battle narrative.

For archival purposes, a number of Chowan students also did a great job with recording this weekend's concerts, under the supervision of Dr. Guthrie. I'm sure all the pianist participants really appreciate that work.

Unexpected Discovery

2009-01-15T22:38:00.006-05:00

Tonight, I was exploring recordings of "The Maiden and the Nightingale" by Granados. I'm studying the piece now, which is saturated with performance directions regarding fluctuations of rhythm. I wanted to hear how other pianists have interpreted these and other markings.

There are a lot of good recordings of the piece on-line, but the exciting surprise for me was the discovery of an exceptional pianist I had never come across before. His name was Harry Vooren and was a student of de Larrocha, according to the note on YouTube.

His recording demonstrates playing that is full of details without losing sweep, elegant without losing emotion.

The second post I wrote on this blog back in 2005 just happened to be about the piece "The Maiden and the Nightingale."

Playing/Living Joyfully

2009-01-07T10:29:00.004-05:00

Yesterday while practicing, I started wondering about what makes for joyful playing.

Here are some factors that seem to be part of it at times:

a sense of leaping in many phrases

lively articulation

having a sense of moving forward across the barline

and particularly applying that sense of forward momentum through the more thorny sections of a work

This morning, it occured to me that joyful living might share those aspects:

leaping into whatever day or activity is ahead with energy

clearly articulating what it is you are trying to do

staying in motion and moving ahead, especially in rough times

This is another nice example of what Dr. Falby says - everything I know, I know from music.

Seaworld Christmas

2008-12-31T17:13:00.010-05:00

My in-laws sent us to Seaworld for Christmas. I enjoyed the day and found it to be a surprisingly musical experience.

Not far into the park, I heard a recording of an all male chorus singing chant. Naturally, that intrigued me. When the third phrase arrived, I started hearing the instrumental accompaniment and recognized this "chant." It was "Winter Wonderland!" Those first two lines really do sound like chant when heard in this way.

Then we took a bridge, not to nowhere, but to Shamu Stadium. This long bridge was lots of fun. There was music playing and several choirs of fountains in the lake responded to some of the music. It was a lovely and energetic water ballet. I also heard a bit of Mannheim Steamroller's version of "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming" on that trip across the bridge. I've been playing the arrangement myself, and faster than the recorded performance (which I hadn't heard until yesterday). But my tempo was based on the metronome marking in the piano score.

Seeing the really big and smart animals in the Shamu show was very moving. This was more ballet, only with whales.

Shamu was presented as a member of the same family as all of us humans who share the planet, and this made some sense to me because Shamu seems a bit like some giant great-grandmother that many of us visit from time to time. And she lives in Florida.

Crossing the bridge again, we saw a skywriter writing "Jesus loves you" up above.

Later, we heard a good brass quintet called "The Penguins" play various Christmas carols. We enjoyed their playing, their rapport, and their festive costumes. The tubist also did an excellent and heart-wrenching imitation of a melting Frosty the Snowman.

In the evening, we saw Shamu's Christmas celebration. This was kind of the strangest worship service I've attended. I liked the inter-species aspect of this worship. But it was also really designed as a show.

One thing I found truly worshipful was singing Christmas songs along with the five thousand people who were watching the words on giant screens before the show. The calmness and innocence of song hovering over such a group was special. It did make me feel a bit like we were one big family.

Also worshipful was witnessing the cooperation and communication between people and these beautiful animals. That was poignant, too, because I bet there is much more we could say to each other, if only we knew how - more important things than "spin around," etc. But we saw some of the deeper things being said through the loving attitudes of the trainers with the animals.

The end of the show really was over the top: a very loud gospel choir, leaping flames, and jumping whales.

I had different feelings about the jumping of the whales depending on what music I was hearing when the jumping was going on. The upbeat gospel version was the most invigorating whale jumping.

On the way back across the bridge the last time we heard the end of "Sleigh Ride" as well as the Orlando Symphony playing some the sound track for Arctic Express from a distance.

Lowliness

2008-12-27T21:40:00.001-05:00

The main thought I have this Christmas is that the Incarnation was the lowliest thing imaginable, and the most beautiful thing.

Merry Christmas to all.

Nutcracker

2008-12-21T14:23:00.006-05:00

Yesterday we went to the Richmond Ballet Nutcracker performance, which is always great and great fun. The dancing, costumes, and sets are all beautiful, and there are dancers of all ages and all species (giant rats and a bear).

The Nutcracker provides a fine yearly reminder of the high quality of composer that Tchaikowsky was. Upon hearing his score this time, I was struck by the following.

Tchaikowsky seems like a much better-mannered composer than Wagner or Mahler (whose music I love). Tchaikowsky's music seems cooperative and cultured. Its themes never overstay their welcome, and it can charm us with its Mozartean balance. It's hard to beat that sort if charm. What's more, it is deeply moving without ever blurting out something inappropriate.

While Tchaikowsky's music is sometimes thought of as very emotional, I found it moving more often in a structural way. Its long lines move me like the elegantly engineered expanse of a great bridge.

The orchestra slipped up on me at one moment while I was focused on the dancing. The musical climax at that point, driven by the trombones, gave me the same sort of thrill that orchestral music gave me most of the time when I first started going to lots of live performances. It may be that so much thinking about music, particularly as I listen to it, keeps me from having those experiences as often now. But watching a staged production like a ballet or an opera can get my mind on something else, and the music can bypass my thinking. I recommend the experience for those musicians reading who find themselves in a similar place.

Perhaps the climax of the entire score is the tune that amounts to a descending scale during the grand pas de deux. A descending scale is essentially an ending, and constructing a piece out of endings is one of Rachmaninoff's strategies as in the famous C Sharp Minor Prelude. Maybe he got it from Tchaikowsy. Also, I heard little bits of orchestration throughout the ballet that reminded me a bit of Wagner. I've never looked into any Wagner/Tchaikowsky link. And of course, the descending scale pattern is a prominent leitmotiv in the Ring, representing Wotan's staff and treaties.

Humility and Revelation

2008-12-06T18:37:00.006-05:00

This week we saw performances of both the National Players and the North Carolina Symphony here at Chowan.

The Players presented Shakespeare's As You Like It, and as always, I left that performance with refreshed admiration for Shakespeare.

I was also really impressed by the way the actors seemingly selflessly pour themselves into their roles. For the most part, each one seems to seek just the right angle and right amount of energy for their characters. They don't seek to show off talent without regard to the demands of the character and drama at hand. This is really admirable as well, and could prove very instructive for musicians. We are often tempted to over-perform, to put too much or the wrong thing altogether into the musical vessel at hand.

Fleisher speaks of pouring one's musicality and so forth into the musical vessel. His playing also tastefully and compellingly snuggly fits the works he plays. Click here to see Fleisher playing Chopin Nocturne No. 8 on Youtube.

The NC Symphony played many Christmas carol arrangements on their concert. The real revelation was a work by Malcolm Arnold from the film The Holly and the Ivy. Arnold's imagination for orchestration was the star of the evening for me. One passage of particular beauty used oboe solo accompanied by the horns. Another novel passage was "Away in a Manger" played on xylophone accompanied by timpani and other percussion.

The NC Symphony has a great mission of being the symphony for all North Carolinians. They also have a roster of very engaging solosists who appear with them at various locations around the state. Two examples this season are Robert Levin and Marc-Andre Hamelin.

The Truth about Sonata Form

2008-11-17T15:19:00.006-05:00

I was on-line this afternoon preparing for my Form and Analysis course. This definition of sonata was the first item that came up in a Google search for sonata and it includes some very important information for practitioners and consumers of classical music to know.

Sonata

What is Sonata?

Sonata is a sedative, also called a hypnotic. It affects chemicals in your brain that may become unbalanced and cause sleep problems (insomnia).

Sonata is used to treat insomnia . . . causes relaxation to help you fall asleep and stay asleep.

Important information about Sonata

Sonata may cause a severe allergic reaction. Stop taking Sonata and get emergency medical help if you have any of these signs of an allergic reaction: hives; difficulty breathing; swelling of your face, lips, tongue, or throat.

Sonata will make you fall asleep. Never take Sonata during your normal waking hours, unless you have at least 4 hours to dedicate to sleeping.

Some people using Sonata have engaged in activity such as driving, eating, or making phone calls and later having no memory of the activity. If this happens to you, stop taking Sonata and talk with your doctor about another treatment for your sleep disorder.

Sonata can cause side effects that may impair your thinking or reactions. You may still feel sleepy the morning after taking Sonata. Until you know how Sonata will affect you during waking hours, be careful if you drive, operate machinery, pilot an airplane, or do anything that requires you to be awake and alert. Do not drink alcohol while you are taking Sonata. It can increase some of the side effects of Sonata, including drowsiness. Sonata may be habit-forming . . . Sonata should never be shared with another person, especially someone who has a history of drug abuse or addiction.

Before taking Sonata, notify your doctor if you have:

liver disease;
sleep apnea
lung disease
a history of depression, mental illness, or suicidal thoughts; or
a history of drug or alcohol addiction.

If you have any of these conditions, you may need a dose adjustment or special tests to safely take Sonata.

The sedative effects of Sonata may be stronger in older adults. Accidental falls are common in elderly patients who take sedatives. Use caution to avoid falling or accidental injury while you are taking Sonata.

Overdose symptoms may include sleepiness, confusion, shallow breathing, feeling light-headed, fainting, or coma.

Sonata side effects

Stop Sonata and call your doctor at once if you have any of these serious side effects:
aggression, agitation, changes in behavior;

thoughts of hurting yourself; or

hallucinations (hearing or seeing things).

Less serious side effects may include:

day-time drowsiness, dizziness, "hangover" feeling;

problems with memory or concentration;

numbness or tingling;

anxiety, depression, nervous feeling;

problems with vision;

headache;

nausea, stomach pain, loss of appetite;

dry mouth;

back pain, joint or muscle pain; or

mild skin rash.

This is not a complete list of side effects and others may occur. Tell your doctor about any unusual or bothersome side effect.

For the original article, click here.

Great Beethoven

2008-11-13T17:23:00.007-05:00

I've had two great Beethoven experiences in the last few weeks. I think the case for Beethoven's greatness is no enormous and rich that we sometimes don't even attempt to articulate it for ourselves. We just assume it. But it might be a very good thing to try be able to explain to people who are on the outside of the classical music world who might wonder what makes Beethoven so great.

In our form and analysis class, we've been considering how the whole is greater than the sum of the parts when it comes to multi-movement works. Over the course of the semeser, we've been building the skills to be able to really appreciate that truth. We listened to the first movement of the "Moonlight" Sonata and noted all the ways Beethoven gives us hope and then takes it away throughout the movement. The first phrase modulates from minor to relative major, only to slip right back into minor. We achieve relative major again, only to see it flattened into its parallel minor. The bass line reaches to its lowest point with a tritone - our most unstable interval. Then, the right hand spirals up and down in diminished chords that cause us to loose track of the meter and of where the descent will stop - ungrounded drifting. Finally, most of that happens again!

After that first movement, the second movement can sound surreal with its perky syncopations and carefree mood. Alone, it would be charming. After hearing the first movement, it can be incongruous, unsettling, or inappropriate. It leaves us with more questions than answers, and so we need the boiling and turbulent final movememnt. (I wonder if second movements following slow first movements tend to create more tension or inconguity as a rule.)

Most aspects of what I've described are so effective because Betehoven is playing with our expectations and our human nature. Thus, the music jumps into us, and we can't think of it as something outside and separate from ourselves.

Yesterday we spent some time with the Fifth Symphony. This work involves two of the big ideas of the Romantics: cyclic organization (the four-note motive comes back throughout the symphony) and evolution. This aspect of evolution, which permeates Mahler's works, is most obvious in Beethoven's orchestration. When transitioning between the two main themes in the exposition, Beethoven reiterates his motive in the horns. In the recap, it's a bassoon. He also adds an oboe cadenza in the middle of his first theme in the recap, and gives the second theme new color with woodwinds instead of strings.

Several weeks ago, we heard Awadagin Pratt perform Beethoven Fourth Concerto with the Virginia Symphony. I'm proud to have gone to school with Awadagin. His playing always strikes me as the playing of someone with real perspective. As he plays, you feel like he grasps whatever the music is about and has grasped it through living himself. The way he plays also causes the listener (at least this listener) to more thoroughly hear and register the work he's playing. I find myself still thinking of the way he played certain phrases weeks after the performance. And the way he played those phrases ultimately drove the nature of those phrases deeper into my mind. The rhythmically driven passages were compellingly played and the wandering passages were, once again, played with real knowing. The rubato he applied to the arching, yearning phrases of the second movement was also unforgettably meaningful and moving.

On the same concert, we heard the Eroica. On this hearing, I mostly found myself admiring the scope of Beethoven's vision - another part of his greatness.

Fall and Mannerism

2008-11-05T15:19:00.004-05:00

It's a lovely fall day in Murfreesboro - muted but colorful foliage, a little drizzle, and cool. I think living in M'boro is about as close to living in a charming New England town as one can get in North Carolina. We have lovely nature as I just described, history, old homes, and lots of individualists.

Now about mannerism:

I had a funny thought teaching yesterday. I was explaining some basic aspects of Mannerist art such as in works of El Greco in painting or Gesualdo in music. These include distortion, exageration, and jarring juxtapositions, all for dramatic effect. It struck me as I said those things that I had pretty much just described a political ad!

Sad News

2008-11-03T19:18:00.004-05:00

I was just sent this link regarding the death of Moshe Cotel.

Moshe Cotel was our orchestration teacher at Peabody. A fascinating pianist and a composer, Mr. Cotel made an important journey from the religion of classical musician to being a rabbi.

I didn't know him well, but I did admire him, and in the last year I have been intrigued by a series of concerts he has been presenting regarding "a Jewish life in classical piano." I had been thinking about inviting him to play for us here at Chowan some time in the next few years.

My one personal story related to Cotel is as follows and it is a poignant memory of the last time I saw him.

When I lived in New York, I took a lot of afternoon walks in Riverside Park. Most of those walks consisted of me wandering, contemplating, imagining, musing, praying, seeking to understand my life. On one of these walks, I saw a man in a blue pea coat that reminded me of Cotel, and as we got closer, it turned out to be him. He asked about my life since Peabody and was calm-spirited and kind. As we parted ways, I felt that his Riverside walk may have been the same sort of walk I was having.

Knowing he's no longer in it makes the world seem a little less complete.