Today we compared two Genesis passages.
In the first, God created light.
In the second, humanity was told that survival would involve work.
The comparison reminds us that God is different from us in that God speaks and creation happens. There doesn't seem to be a planning or working stage involved. On the other hand, humanity has to work to get from an idea to a product.
As performing artists, we enjoy the moment before the public. But the life of a musician is really much more about daily work that is for our ears only. We should be grounded in that fact and seek to find some fulfillment in that daily toil.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Theory Fun
1.
In my Music Fundamentals class, we have been studying how to generate intervals above and below specific notes. I taught the students that for ascending intervals, they can use an ascending major scale as a starting point. For instance, if they need to determine a major third above G, all they need to do is consult the G major scale and note that the third note of the scale is B. All of the intervals from the tonic up to any other note in a major scale are major, except for scale degrees 4 and 5, which are perfect. Minor intervals are then generated by lowering the top notes of these major intervals a half step.
One of my students started asking questions about generating descending intervals and whether or not some sort of scale could be helpful. After thinking about this a little, we realized (something that is actually pretty obvious but I hadn't thought through before) all the intervals from the top tonic down to any other note in a major scale are minor, except for scale degrees 4 and 5, which are perfect! Thus, a descending major scale can be used as a template for determining descending intervals.
2.
I have one adult student outside the University. She plays for church services, and the focus of our lessons is for her to learn how to enhance her hymn accompaniments through improvisation.
An important skill to develop towards that end is the ability to quickly understand what chords and chord progressions are in the hymn at hand.
As we were analyzing chords in a hymn, we came upon a cadential six-four chord. As many of you know, the naming of that chord is controversial. Some call it "I six-four" since the pitches in the chord are those of a second inversion I chord. Some call it "V six-four" because it has a strong dominant feeling. The problem with calling it that, though, is that in the standard system for labeling chords with Roman and Arabic Numbers for roots and inversions, respectively, it is assumed that all the chords are stacks of thirds. Thus, the bass note of a cadential six-four chord couldn't really be the root of the chord since the distance from that pitch to the next chord member is a fourth and not a third. In addition to that problem, there is already a chord that is labeled "V six-four" without being inconsistent with labeling principles. The bass of that chord starts on scale degree 2, not 5. The phrase "Dominant six-four" is a little better, but it can still be a little confusing as "V" and "dominant" are synonymous when referring to scale degrees and chords (most of the time.) The phrase "cadential six-four" seems to be the clearest description of the chord's funtion and its inversion.
Now for the good part! I asked my student if the chord sounded like it had a tonic, dominant, or pre-dominant function. She accidentally but very accurately referred to it as "Tominant" - tonic pitches with rather dominant function.
In my Music Fundamentals class, we have been studying how to generate intervals above and below specific notes. I taught the students that for ascending intervals, they can use an ascending major scale as a starting point. For instance, if they need to determine a major third above G, all they need to do is consult the G major scale and note that the third note of the scale is B. All of the intervals from the tonic up to any other note in a major scale are major, except for scale degrees 4 and 5, which are perfect. Minor intervals are then generated by lowering the top notes of these major intervals a half step.
One of my students started asking questions about generating descending intervals and whether or not some sort of scale could be helpful. After thinking about this a little, we realized (something that is actually pretty obvious but I hadn't thought through before) all the intervals from the top tonic down to any other note in a major scale are minor, except for scale degrees 4 and 5, which are perfect! Thus, a descending major scale can be used as a template for determining descending intervals.
2.
I have one adult student outside the University. She plays for church services, and the focus of our lessons is for her to learn how to enhance her hymn accompaniments through improvisation.
An important skill to develop towards that end is the ability to quickly understand what chords and chord progressions are in the hymn at hand.
As we were analyzing chords in a hymn, we came upon a cadential six-four chord. As many of you know, the naming of that chord is controversial. Some call it "I six-four" since the pitches in the chord are those of a second inversion I chord. Some call it "V six-four" because it has a strong dominant feeling. The problem with calling it that, though, is that in the standard system for labeling chords with Roman and Arabic Numbers for roots and inversions, respectively, it is assumed that all the chords are stacks of thirds. Thus, the bass note of a cadential six-four chord couldn't really be the root of the chord since the distance from that pitch to the next chord member is a fourth and not a third. In addition to that problem, there is already a chord that is labeled "V six-four" without being inconsistent with labeling principles. The bass of that chord starts on scale degree 2, not 5. The phrase "Dominant six-four" is a little better, but it can still be a little confusing as "V" and "dominant" are synonymous when referring to scale degrees and chords (most of the time.) The phrase "cadential six-four" seems to be the clearest description of the chord's funtion and its inversion.
Now for the good part! I asked my student if the chord sounded like it had a tonic, dominant, or pre-dominant function. She accidentally but very accurately referred to it as "Tominant" - tonic pitches with rather dominant function.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Father
My father would have turned 78 yesterday. That means he passed away a little over eight years ago. It's very hard to believe it's been that long.
Last night at choir practice we were rehearsing the old American tune "Hark! I Hear the Harps Eternal." Kathy said we are to sing it on All Saints Day.
Part of the text of "Hark! I Hear..." is:
"Souls have crossed before me saintly
to the land of perfect rest
and I hear them singing faintly
in the mansions of the blest."
That first line made me think of my father. Over the years, my mother highlighted his integrity in conversations with me by commenting on aspects of his personality:
"He doesn't have an ulterior bone in his body."
"One thing your father can't stand for is people being mistreated."
My father loved music, especially the music of the church. The song "It Is No Secret" by Stuart Hamblin played a crucial role in his call to ministry. One of his favorite hymns was "When Morning Guilds the Skies." He chose that as a congregational hymn for many of the worship services he planned.
He grew up in the heyday of the big bands. He really knew the history and output of Benny Goodman and Harry James. He also loved the crooners like Dick Haymes. He even wrote and recorded a ballad on a couple of occasions. It's called "The Moonlight and You" and it sounds a little Glenn Miller-esque. I have the 45s.
In terms of classical music, certain works that I played really captured his imagination:
Debussy . . .la cathedral engloutie
Paganini-Liszt E Major Etude
Ginastera Sonata, First Movement
Liszt Dante Sonata
He liked the image of me as a happy young musician playing the opening theme of Kabalevsky's Youth Concerto.
Debussy First Arabesque was a bit of theme for us - a little bit nostalgic - as it was theme music for a short segement about astronomy that appeared on Saturday TV. After I went away to college, he would sometimes hear it and think of how he and I had often looked at the stars together when I was still living at home.
He also identified deeply and personally with the beginning of Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto. In those opening bars he heard the struggle of a hero and his family facing the stormy opposition of the world and fate.
The second movement of Beethoven Sonata Op. 111 conjures up in my mind my father on his hospital bed in our living room during his last summer. During his mostly unconscious last days it was as though his soul was lingering in the room - not necessarily in his body - maybe up near the ceiling. It is that sensibilty that I hear in the Beethoven: sad, beautiful, questioning, floating, and all about the essence of human identity and existence.
Dad and I were good friends.
Maybe I'll learn Op. 111 for him one of these years.
Last night at choir practice we were rehearsing the old American tune "Hark! I Hear the Harps Eternal." Kathy said we are to sing it on All Saints Day.
Part of the text of "Hark! I Hear..." is:
"Souls have crossed before me saintly
to the land of perfect rest
and I hear them singing faintly
in the mansions of the blest."
That first line made me think of my father. Over the years, my mother highlighted his integrity in conversations with me by commenting on aspects of his personality:
"He doesn't have an ulterior bone in his body."
"One thing your father can't stand for is people being mistreated."
My father loved music, especially the music of the church. The song "It Is No Secret" by Stuart Hamblin played a crucial role in his call to ministry. One of his favorite hymns was "When Morning Guilds the Skies." He chose that as a congregational hymn for many of the worship services he planned.
He grew up in the heyday of the big bands. He really knew the history and output of Benny Goodman and Harry James. He also loved the crooners like Dick Haymes. He even wrote and recorded a ballad on a couple of occasions. It's called "The Moonlight and You" and it sounds a little Glenn Miller-esque. I have the 45s.
In terms of classical music, certain works that I played really captured his imagination:
Debussy . . .la cathedral engloutie
Paganini-Liszt E Major Etude
Ginastera Sonata, First Movement
Liszt Dante Sonata
He liked the image of me as a happy young musician playing the opening theme of Kabalevsky's Youth Concerto.
Debussy First Arabesque was a bit of theme for us - a little bit nostalgic - as it was theme music for a short segement about astronomy that appeared on Saturday TV. After I went away to college, he would sometimes hear it and think of how he and I had often looked at the stars together when I was still living at home.
He also identified deeply and personally with the beginning of Rachmaninoff Second Piano Concerto. In those opening bars he heard the struggle of a hero and his family facing the stormy opposition of the world and fate.
The second movement of Beethoven Sonata Op. 111 conjures up in my mind my father on his hospital bed in our living room during his last summer. During his mostly unconscious last days it was as though his soul was lingering in the room - not necessarily in his body - maybe up near the ceiling. It is that sensibilty that I hear in the Beethoven: sad, beautiful, questioning, floating, and all about the essence of human identity and existence.
Dad and I were good friends.
Maybe I'll learn Op. 111 for him one of these years.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Freshmen Devotionals
More on music as a family -
Although we may not always feel like it, family members are often the most likely people to "get" us. When things don't work out the way we hoped, when we're irritable, or when we desperately want to be loved, our families (at their best) somehow seem to understand us better than anyone. We may not always feel like that's the case, but when we're far away from them and feeling lonely, we realize it's true.
Sadly, not all families have that sort of connection, but I think it is usually a natural good of being in a family.
Music can provide us a similar connection. Sometimes we encounter musical moods that resonate with our own moods - moods we had previously thought were unique to us. Then we know we are not alone. Others have travelled the same path.
At different times, music can move us from our own conflicted moods to more open and joyful ways of thinking and feeling - just like a good talk with somebody from home.
Although we may not always feel like it, family members are often the most likely people to "get" us. When things don't work out the way we hoped, when we're irritable, or when we desperately want to be loved, our families (at their best) somehow seem to understand us better than anyone. We may not always feel like that's the case, but when we're far away from them and feeling lonely, we realize it's true.
Sadly, not all families have that sort of connection, but I think it is usually a natural good of being in a family.
Music can provide us a similar connection. Sometimes we encounter musical moods that resonate with our own moods - moods we had previously thought were unique to us. Then we know we are not alone. Others have travelled the same path.
At different times, music can move us from our own conflicted moods to more open and joyful ways of thinking and feeling - just like a good talk with somebody from home.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Olga Kern
Last week, several of us from Murfreesboro drove down to Greenville to hear Olga Kern play a concert at East Carolina University.
In Chopin's Third Piano Sonata she created a beautiful calming effect as she released the intensity of the sound and tempo beginning with and moving into the second theme.
The second half of the concert included Rachmaninoff Second Sonata and Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 with a cadenza by Rachmaninoff. This got me wondering about the Liszt-Rachmaninoff connection. Rachmaninoff studied wuth Siloti, who was a Liszt student.
As I was researching that connection, I came across information regarding Rachmaninoff's burial. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, NY where many other famous people are buried including Anne Bancroft, Tommy Dorsey, Lou Gehrig, Ruth Laredo, Robert Merrill, and Ayn Rand.
Back to Olga Kern, her encores were all Russian, and included probably one of the very best performances we are likely to hear of Rachmaninoff's C sharp minor Prelude, which we most often hear played by high school (or younger) pianists.
In Chopin's Third Piano Sonata she created a beautiful calming effect as she released the intensity of the sound and tempo beginning with and moving into the second theme.
The second half of the concert included Rachmaninoff Second Sonata and Liszt Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 with a cadenza by Rachmaninoff. This got me wondering about the Liszt-Rachmaninoff connection. Rachmaninoff studied wuth Siloti, who was a Liszt student.
As I was researching that connection, I came across information regarding Rachmaninoff's burial. He was buried in Kensico Cemetery in Valhalla, NY where many other famous people are buried including Anne Bancroft, Tommy Dorsey, Lou Gehrig, Ruth Laredo, Robert Merrill, and Ayn Rand.
Back to Olga Kern, her encores were all Russian, and included probably one of the very best performances we are likely to hear of Rachmaninoff's C sharp minor Prelude, which we most often hear played by high school (or younger) pianists.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Freshmen Devotionals
Most recently, we considered the fact that in Genesis, God is depicted declaring what was accomplished on each day of creation to be good.
Artists, musicians, and poets have typically found inspiration in the created order. The goodness of experiencing nature grounds and heals us. God made nature beautiful, and there doesn't seem to be in reason why it had to be so. In every moment, millions of special, seemingly one-time events happen that can touch us if we are paying attention: the flight of a butterfly, the play of the sunlight, a gentle breeze.
At Chowan, we are blessed to be in an environment in which we have instant access to the beuaty of nature just outside our walls.
Artists, musicians, and poets have typically found inspiration in the created order. The goodness of experiencing nature grounds and heals us. God made nature beautiful, and there doesn't seem to be in reason why it had to be so. In every moment, millions of special, seemingly one-time events happen that can touch us if we are paying attention: the flight of a butterfly, the play of the sunlight, a gentle breeze.
At Chowan, we are blessed to be in an environment in which we have instant access to the beuaty of nature just outside our walls.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Freshmen Devotionals
Today, we continued to explore the ways in which music provides us a family.
Ideally, family and friends are people who will never abandon us. Unfortunately, that's not always the case.
David Dubal once told my class that music will never abandon us. I think this is true in virtually everyone's case. We develop a relationship with music from childhood, and that relationship continues and deepens, if we nurture it, for as long as we live. Family and friends may forsake us, but music will still be with us providing memory, catharsis, and a vehicle for expression. This is one way in which music is a great gift to humanity.
Two New Testament examples:
Paul and Silas had music as their companion in jail.
Jesus, in his most dire hour, quoted a psalm. On the cross, he remembered the words of scripture and found expression in a song.
Ideally, family and friends are people who will never abandon us. Unfortunately, that's not always the case.
David Dubal once told my class that music will never abandon us. I think this is true in virtually everyone's case. We develop a relationship with music from childhood, and that relationship continues and deepens, if we nurture it, for as long as we live. Family and friends may forsake us, but music will still be with us providing memory, catharsis, and a vehicle for expression. This is one way in which music is a great gift to humanity.
Two New Testament examples:
Paul and Silas had music as their companion in jail.
Jesus, in his most dire hour, quoted a psalm. On the cross, he remembered the words of scripture and found expression in a song.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
From Baltimore to Murfreesboro
Night before last, I drove back from Baltimore to Murfreesboro after spending three days in the William Garrison Collaborative Piano Competition. One of many wonderful aspects of the experience was the renewed sense of purpose and belonging here in Murfreesboro. This is home to me now, and as always, I was happy when I drove up the hill and around the curve to see the Murfreesboro skyline (a few street lights across a field.) A startled deer leapt from the roadside, across the ditch, and ran to dark woods.
I learned or re-learned lots of important lessons this weekend.
1. It is very good to view music-making in a broader context than the music itself. Jeff had chosen a set of sacred songs to include in our repertoire for the competition, and the judges chose several of those songs for us to perform. That allowed us to witness to our beliefs and to worship on Sunday morning at the same time we were performing for the judges.
2. Competitions that pit voices against instruments put judges in a tricky bind. Vocal and instrumental music are clearly different genres, are hard to compare and contrast, and many musicians tend to specialize in one or the other.
3. Playing in the competition confirmed, yet again, the importance of balance. From a technical standpoint, I ideally approach the instrument in such a way as to be active, but not to waste energy. That wasted energy can create tension and playing problems. I felt our performances had balance in another way. We maintained technical control while also engaging all of the passion within us to perform. Often, one of these can interfere with the other.
4. Unknowns create tension. Not trying out the instrument in the hall before playing, not knowing who the judges are, not knowing which works they will request to hear: all of these things made the semi-final round very tense.
5. Regarding our repertoire, we learned that the second of Liszt's Petrarch Sonnets probably stands alone the best of the three.
6. The esoteric experience of playing for judges gave new life to my belief in the importance of performancing and the appropriateness of joy and freedom being part of performing in a normal public setting.
7. When you work hard applying all you've been taught, and when you know you've executed your plans well while managing yourself in relation to your environment, then you can have a sense of achievement and pride in your accomplishment that doesn't require affirmation from others.
Things I really liked about the weekend:
Spending three days with my good friend Jeff
Showing him around Baltimore
Seeing the renovations at Peabody
Being warmly welcomed by Mr. Shirley-Quirk and Dr. Falby at Peabody
Hearing Alan Walker's speech and Petri's Ricordanza recording
Visiting with other competitors and Peabody graduates, ushers, Liszt Society officers
Attending Mass
Staying at Ariel and Vivien's home
Thinking of my parents while on a breezy morning walk in the Dechosa's beautiful neighborhood
Ariel's prayers for us that encouraged us to boldly witness
Realizing the quality of colleagues I have at Chowan
Returning home to where I belong
I learned or re-learned lots of important lessons this weekend.
1. It is very good to view music-making in a broader context than the music itself. Jeff had chosen a set of sacred songs to include in our repertoire for the competition, and the judges chose several of those songs for us to perform. That allowed us to witness to our beliefs and to worship on Sunday morning at the same time we were performing for the judges.
2. Competitions that pit voices against instruments put judges in a tricky bind. Vocal and instrumental music are clearly different genres, are hard to compare and contrast, and many musicians tend to specialize in one or the other.
3. Playing in the competition confirmed, yet again, the importance of balance. From a technical standpoint, I ideally approach the instrument in such a way as to be active, but not to waste energy. That wasted energy can create tension and playing problems. I felt our performances had balance in another way. We maintained technical control while also engaging all of the passion within us to perform. Often, one of these can interfere with the other.
4. Unknowns create tension. Not trying out the instrument in the hall before playing, not knowing who the judges are, not knowing which works they will request to hear: all of these things made the semi-final round very tense.
5. Regarding our repertoire, we learned that the second of Liszt's Petrarch Sonnets probably stands alone the best of the three.
6. The esoteric experience of playing for judges gave new life to my belief in the importance of performancing and the appropriateness of joy and freedom being part of performing in a normal public setting.
7. When you work hard applying all you've been taught, and when you know you've executed your plans well while managing yourself in relation to your environment, then you can have a sense of achievement and pride in your accomplishment that doesn't require affirmation from others.
Things I really liked about the weekend:
Spending three days with my good friend Jeff
Showing him around Baltimore
Seeing the renovations at Peabody
Being warmly welcomed by Mr. Shirley-Quirk and Dr. Falby at Peabody
Hearing Alan Walker's speech and Petri's Ricordanza recording
Visiting with other competitors and Peabody graduates, ushers, Liszt Society officers
Attending Mass
Staying at Ariel and Vivien's home
Thinking of my parents while on a breezy morning walk in the Dechosa's beautiful neighborhood
Ariel's prayers for us that encouraged us to boldly witness
Realizing the quality of colleagues I have at Chowan
Returning home to where I belong
Monday, September 10, 2007
Freshmen Devotionals
Today we read Gensis 1:1-5 - God bringing order to chaos.
The idea that the basis of creativity is the bringing of order goes against the commonly encountered stereotype of artists being disorderly, wild, irrational, etc.
Music students can also make creative works of their lives as they fashion well-ordered ways of working, resting, thinking, and so forth.
The idea that the basis of creativity is the bringing of order goes against the commonly encountered stereotype of artists being disorderly, wild, irrational, etc.
Music students can also make creative works of their lives as they fashion well-ordered ways of working, resting, thinking, and so forth.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Vision
Night before last was my first performance at Chowan. My friend Jeff Prillaman (tenor) joined me for this recital. It went well, and we had a great audience. Also, we continued to experiment on stage with out interpretations and came up with a few new ideas through that spontaneity.
My main post-recital reflection relates to planning.
One of my father's favorite Bible verses was Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people perish." It actually continues, "but he that keepeth the law, happy is he." But most often, we hear the first half quoted alone. When you read the entire proverb, it seems that the vision needed comes from God's law.
The name of the newsletter of my father's home church in Durham was "The Vision." When he had the opportunity later in life to name his own church's paper, he named it "The Vision," too.
So I've always had those words in my mind.
For a while, I paraphrased the verse as my own musical slogan "Where there is no plan, the music perishes." That was during the period after I realized that a totally spontaneous and emotional approach to interpretation is extremely problematic. I saw that I needed a vision - a plan - for performing.
I now believe the music doesn't need the interpretative plan to survive, except in extreme cases. The plan is more for me.
Having a specific plan for each passage of each work in a performance provides the performer many valuable things. First of all, you are provided with a narrow and clear path through the performance, and that protects you from many of the distractions - internal and external - that might compromise the focus and meaning of the performance. Second, you are provided a clear way to gauge your success when evaluating the performance afterwards.
Thinking on this issue of planning has brought me to a new thought about the nature of spontaneity. I wonder what the difference is between a spontaneous interpretive decision and a planned decision in terms of the listener's experience. When a critic praises spontaneity, on what grounds does he or she make the judgement that what the experience was a spontaneous happening? Sometimes my spontaneous playing has sounded planned to other musicians.
All of this leads me to yet another question, and it is a question about that seemingly illusive characteristic of performers - charisma. I think our culture tends to think of charisma as something the individual performer possesses. As I write, that strikes me as an odd stance in a mostly relativistic culture. Certain performers demonstrate tremendous charisma, but it is completely lost on some listeners. What are we to make of that?
As I understand them, sounds have absolute qualities related to physics. However, those qualities are perceived differently depending upon the makeup and functioning of one's ears. While I think I hear sounds the way they really are, a whale or a dog may hear very different aspects of those same sounds. The differences in perception exist not only between species, but also within the human race. Ears of different ages hear different aspects of sounds, too. These facts pinpoint the reality that the experience of music at the basic level of experiencing sound may vary widely from person to person, in spite of the absolute nature of the qualities of the work experienced. And these differences have nothing to do with personal preference or culture. They are rooted in absolute physical qualities of the hearing mechanism.
The preceding paragraph relates to my question about charisma in that it touches on the fact that perceptions of the same musical event vary widely from person to person, and that fact is built into the nature of things.
I sometimes pray that my music might be coordinated within God's will to touch specific listeners in the contexts of their lives - that musical experiences might work together with other life events to bring about good in lives of listeners. A listener may need to be musically inspired in a particular way at one point in his or her life but not at another. This need for inspiration has nothing to do with me, and the fulfillment of that need also transcends the score or my efforts.
Thus, I wonder if charisma is not a quality possessed by a performer, but a gift of experience that comes to listeners when they need it. Perhaps that was the way the people who invented the word understood the gift they were experiencing, and therefore created a word that means a grace, favor, a divine gift.
My main post-recital reflection relates to planning.
One of my father's favorite Bible verses was Proverbs 29:18, "Where there is no vision, the people perish." It actually continues, "but he that keepeth the law, happy is he." But most often, we hear the first half quoted alone. When you read the entire proverb, it seems that the vision needed comes from God's law.
The name of the newsletter of my father's home church in Durham was "The Vision." When he had the opportunity later in life to name his own church's paper, he named it "The Vision," too.
So I've always had those words in my mind.
For a while, I paraphrased the verse as my own musical slogan "Where there is no plan, the music perishes." That was during the period after I realized that a totally spontaneous and emotional approach to interpretation is extremely problematic. I saw that I needed a vision - a plan - for performing.
I now believe the music doesn't need the interpretative plan to survive, except in extreme cases. The plan is more for me.
Having a specific plan for each passage of each work in a performance provides the performer many valuable things. First of all, you are provided with a narrow and clear path through the performance, and that protects you from many of the distractions - internal and external - that might compromise the focus and meaning of the performance. Second, you are provided a clear way to gauge your success when evaluating the performance afterwards.
Thinking on this issue of planning has brought me to a new thought about the nature of spontaneity. I wonder what the difference is between a spontaneous interpretive decision and a planned decision in terms of the listener's experience. When a critic praises spontaneity, on what grounds does he or she make the judgement that what the experience was a spontaneous happening? Sometimes my spontaneous playing has sounded planned to other musicians.
All of this leads me to yet another question, and it is a question about that seemingly illusive characteristic of performers - charisma. I think our culture tends to think of charisma as something the individual performer possesses. As I write, that strikes me as an odd stance in a mostly relativistic culture. Certain performers demonstrate tremendous charisma, but it is completely lost on some listeners. What are we to make of that?
As I understand them, sounds have absolute qualities related to physics. However, those qualities are perceived differently depending upon the makeup and functioning of one's ears. While I think I hear sounds the way they really are, a whale or a dog may hear very different aspects of those same sounds. The differences in perception exist not only between species, but also within the human race. Ears of different ages hear different aspects of sounds, too. These facts pinpoint the reality that the experience of music at the basic level of experiencing sound may vary widely from person to person, in spite of the absolute nature of the qualities of the work experienced. And these differences have nothing to do with personal preference or culture. They are rooted in absolute physical qualities of the hearing mechanism.
The preceding paragraph relates to my question about charisma in that it touches on the fact that perceptions of the same musical event vary widely from person to person, and that fact is built into the nature of things.
I sometimes pray that my music might be coordinated within God's will to touch specific listeners in the contexts of their lives - that musical experiences might work together with other life events to bring about good in lives of listeners. A listener may need to be musically inspired in a particular way at one point in his or her life but not at another. This need for inspiration has nothing to do with me, and the fulfillment of that need also transcends the score or my efforts.
Thus, I wonder if charisma is not a quality possessed by a performer, but a gift of experience that comes to listeners when they need it. Perhaps that was the way the people who invented the word understood the gift they were experiencing, and therefore created a word that means a grace, favor, a divine gift.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Pavarotti
Luciano Pavarotti passed away this morning.
I was privileged to hear him once at the Met singing Giordano's Andrea Chenier in the mid-90s. I was struck by two things about him during that performance. The first was the richness of his voice that was not apparent from recordings. He wasn't singing especially well that evening, and didn't seem to be in good voice, but the stunning quality of his gift was still overwhelming.
The other thing was more of a surprise. His persona comes across strongly in videos, but it can give the wrong idea. In person onstage, he had great humility. As I experienced his performance, my sense was that he was concentrating on the same work with his voice as all the other singers were doing with their voices - only his voice shone more brightly, even in that cast of international opera stars.
I was privileged to hear him once at the Met singing Giordano's Andrea Chenier in the mid-90s. I was struck by two things about him during that performance. The first was the richness of his voice that was not apparent from recordings. He wasn't singing especially well that evening, and didn't seem to be in good voice, but the stunning quality of his gift was still overwhelming.
The other thing was more of a surprise. His persona comes across strongly in videos, but it can give the wrong idea. In person onstage, he had great humility. As I experienced his performance, my sense was that he was concentrating on the same work with his voice as all the other singers were doing with their voices - only his voice shone more brightly, even in that cast of international opera stars.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Freshmen Devotionals
On Mondays, I'm sharing a one-minute devotional thought with my first-year music theory class.
There are at least two themes to be developed in this context over the course of the semester:
creativity
music as a family
Our very first devotional referred to our being made in God's image. My friend Paul Scaringi pointed out to me that, at the point in Genesis at which we learn that we were made in God's image, one of the few things we know about God is that God creates. Perhaps being made in God's image means, in part, that we are creative beings, too.
Today's devotional dealt with one of the obvious things about music as a family. Families are groups of people with which we have meaningful relationships. Music provides us with similar groups of people.
It may be that music draws its practicioners closer together than some other disciplines do. Why might this be? In each piece of music we make together, we experience a life story in miniature: beginning, middle, end, with struggles and a climax, etc. Sharing these compressed and intense life experiences with other musicians can create strong emotional ties between us.
Being in music also gives us a group of people known as the audience. Even though we may not always feel like it, most audience members are on our side. They want to see us succeed and are proud when we do well. That's just the way our biological family members ought to root for us in life, even though not everybody's family always does so.
There are at least two themes to be developed in this context over the course of the semester:
creativity
music as a family
Our very first devotional referred to our being made in God's image. My friend Paul Scaringi pointed out to me that, at the point in Genesis at which we learn that we were made in God's image, one of the few things we know about God is that God creates. Perhaps being made in God's image means, in part, that we are creative beings, too.
Today's devotional dealt with one of the obvious things about music as a family. Families are groups of people with which we have meaningful relationships. Music provides us with similar groups of people.
It may be that music draws its practicioners closer together than some other disciplines do. Why might this be? In each piece of music we make together, we experience a life story in miniature: beginning, middle, end, with struggles and a climax, etc. Sharing these compressed and intense life experiences with other musicians can create strong emotional ties between us.
Being in music also gives us a group of people known as the audience. Even though we may not always feel like it, most audience members are on our side. They want to see us succeed and are proud when we do well. That's just the way our biological family members ought to root for us in life, even though not everybody's family always does so.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Music Appreciation: Melody, Harmony, Rhythm
The course I have taught the most is Music Appreciation. Ironically, it also tends to be the course with which I struggle the most. This is partly because, as a music major, I never took a Music Appreciation course. Thus, I don't have personal knowledge of the needs of the types of students who do. I think it rarely happens that the instructor for Music Appreciation took such a course since most of us were music majors.
Another of my difficulties with the course is that I'm not convinced that a course in merely appreciating the aspects of a medium is really meaty enough for college. I have also taught the course as a more sociological exploration of the music world, but I'm not sure that's really what the title of the course suggests. Striking a balance between these two seems ideal.
A third issue is that , as I am not always convinced of any particular approach to the course, I struggle to be fully committed to the project.
The good news is that I think I have struck upon an approach this semester that I believe I will find to be more compelling and meaningful. My goal is to equip the students to recognize the universal application of great music.
I have been led to this new approach by the struggle outlined above, and by the fact that I am now teaching in a Christian university in which I feel more at liberty to explore the spiritual aspects of the material I cover.
For the most part, I'm teaching the same basic material that I've usually taught. Only I'm looking for deeper connections and references to provide the students a conceptual framework for relating to the music, and maybe even growing as people through that relationship.
So far, we've studied the basics of musical organization - two trinities:
melody, harmony, and rhythm;
dynamics, timbrer, texture.
(Musical form is a bigger category in my mind.)
We started with rhythm, which is analogous to the human pulse. Thus, it relates to the physical body and to movement. As long as we are living, there is the rhythmic motion of blood pulsing through our veins. There are poignant pauses in music that make me wonder if the music can go on, and if so, how? Miraculously, the music continues, just as we do. The persistence of life is fundamental and good.
Melody has been described as relating to the human soul, and I would suggest that its twists and turns, its risings and fallings, relate to the state of the soul. Melodies move us mysteriously. It is hard to understand (even for people who spend lots of time analyzing music) why melodies affect our emotions the way they do. I don't want to discount this mystery and the fact the melodies seem to speak in a spiritual way that cannot be approached by mind or body. But, I think it is meaningful that the state of the human soul is often described in terms of human posture. We lift our hearts, or we are down-trodden. As melodies make their journeys, theyfollow a paths of posture that may relate to the various states of our souls.
Harmony has been described as musical perspective. That is, a series of chords often creates a sense of depth. For example, when we hear a dominant chord, we know we are one move away from tonic. I say "move" because perspective is based on location. So on a fundamental level, harmony might be understood as somehow relating to location.
Sometimes we musically move from home and back again. Other times, we think we're going to stop off at home, but suddenly find ourselves in the house next door (deceptive resolution.) Still other times, we end up in another town entirely (modulation.)
That's my new model. It's a work in progress and a subtle revision of other peoples' ideas.
A quick review before I develop these ideas a bit more:
rhythm - pulse, the body
melody - the state of the soul
harmony - location
It seems like that accounts for the basic aspects of human existence in musical terms.
This scheme becomes more interesting to me when I consider the intersections of these categories - and I have to consider those intersections as we rarely encounter only one of these aspects in a piece of music.
Melody and harmony:
The really touching and expressive melody notes tend to be dissonant. Dissonance is a term that really makes the most sense in the context of harmony. Maybe those expressive tones are so touching because they show us the freedom of melody being shackled by the constraints of harmony. This might resonate with the pain of our own coming to grips with limitations and boundaries.
Rhythm and melody:
At certain moments in music, rhythm seems to motivate the arrival of some superb melodic event. On the the other hand, rhythm sometimes seems to be excited by the intensity of melody. Here we might sense the body and the soul acting upon each other. The outcome of that interaction in life can be joy or friction. Perhaps it is in this way that the stucture of music can tell us of the relationship of body and soul in the culture that created it.
Another of my difficulties with the course is that I'm not convinced that a course in merely appreciating the aspects of a medium is really meaty enough for college. I have also taught the course as a more sociological exploration of the music world, but I'm not sure that's really what the title of the course suggests. Striking a balance between these two seems ideal.
A third issue is that , as I am not always convinced of any particular approach to the course, I struggle to be fully committed to the project.
The good news is that I think I have struck upon an approach this semester that I believe I will find to be more compelling and meaningful. My goal is to equip the students to recognize the universal application of great music.
I have been led to this new approach by the struggle outlined above, and by the fact that I am now teaching in a Christian university in which I feel more at liberty to explore the spiritual aspects of the material I cover.
For the most part, I'm teaching the same basic material that I've usually taught. Only I'm looking for deeper connections and references to provide the students a conceptual framework for relating to the music, and maybe even growing as people through that relationship.
So far, we've studied the basics of musical organization - two trinities:
melody, harmony, and rhythm;
dynamics, timbrer, texture.
(Musical form is a bigger category in my mind.)
We started with rhythm, which is analogous to the human pulse. Thus, it relates to the physical body and to movement. As long as we are living, there is the rhythmic motion of blood pulsing through our veins. There are poignant pauses in music that make me wonder if the music can go on, and if so, how? Miraculously, the music continues, just as we do. The persistence of life is fundamental and good.
Melody has been described as relating to the human soul, and I would suggest that its twists and turns, its risings and fallings, relate to the state of the soul. Melodies move us mysteriously. It is hard to understand (even for people who spend lots of time analyzing music) why melodies affect our emotions the way they do. I don't want to discount this mystery and the fact the melodies seem to speak in a spiritual way that cannot be approached by mind or body. But, I think it is meaningful that the state of the human soul is often described in terms of human posture. We lift our hearts, or we are down-trodden. As melodies make their journeys, theyfollow a paths of posture that may relate to the various states of our souls.
Harmony has been described as musical perspective. That is, a series of chords often creates a sense of depth. For example, when we hear a dominant chord, we know we are one move away from tonic. I say "move" because perspective is based on location. So on a fundamental level, harmony might be understood as somehow relating to location.
Sometimes we musically move from home and back again. Other times, we think we're going to stop off at home, but suddenly find ourselves in the house next door (deceptive resolution.) Still other times, we end up in another town entirely (modulation.)
That's my new model. It's a work in progress and a subtle revision of other peoples' ideas.
A quick review before I develop these ideas a bit more:
rhythm - pulse, the body
melody - the state of the soul
harmony - location
It seems like that accounts for the basic aspects of human existence in musical terms.
This scheme becomes more interesting to me when I consider the intersections of these categories - and I have to consider those intersections as we rarely encounter only one of these aspects in a piece of music.
Melody and harmony:
The really touching and expressive melody notes tend to be dissonant. Dissonance is a term that really makes the most sense in the context of harmony. Maybe those expressive tones are so touching because they show us the freedom of melody being shackled by the constraints of harmony. This might resonate with the pain of our own coming to grips with limitations and boundaries.
Rhythm and melody:
At certain moments in music, rhythm seems to motivate the arrival of some superb melodic event. On the the other hand, rhythm sometimes seems to be excited by the intensity of melody. Here we might sense the body and the soul acting upon each other. The outcome of that interaction in life can be joy or friction. Perhaps it is in this way that the stucture of music can tell us of the relationship of body and soul in the culture that created it.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
LSMF: Ecumenical Reflections
Yesterday was the last day of the final session of this year's Lasker Summer Music Festival. During this session, I was struck and inspired by the integrity with which each participant brought his or her own faith to the festival and by the respect which each participant showed for each other's faith journey.
We share common ground - each of us is a musician and each of us is a Christian. As I have reflected on this common ground this afternoon, I have tried to articulate for myself what it seems to be that we all share in the way of faith - how it is that we might all be called Christians.
Each of us has a redemptive relationship with God through Christ, and that relationship is mediated in large part by the community of Christians across space and time, and by the Bible.
I am reminded of the words of Herschel Hobbs who suggests that it is good for Christians to cooperate on projects across denominational lines whenever such projects do not compromise the consciences of any of those Christians. Seeking to better integrate one's faith and artistic work seems to be one of those projects, and I feel blessed to have been able to work on that with my friends who were in Lasker this week. Psalm 133 is how I feel.
Tonight it's raining in Murfreesboro. It's the first serious rain we've had in weeks. On the eve of classes beginning, it's symbolic to me of the past being cleaned away for a fresh start tomorrow, and of the thirsts for knowledge and meaningful work that are to be quenched as the semester unfolds.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Pianist/Organist
Today,I substituted as organist at First Baptist in Ahoskie. It was my idea. I thought it would be a good growing experience and fun - and it was.
I played organ for chapel and church services for a couple of years, but rarely in a situation in which a very high standard of organ playing was really required.
This time was different. Since I'm a pianist and not really an organist, and I'm accustomed to maintaining a certain professional and artistic standard in my music making, I'm acutely aware of the unknowns I face when I come to the organ:
1. First, there are the pedals, which I've never practiced for more than a day or two at a time.
2. Registration - It's exciting that the possibilities for sound variation are virtually limitless on the organ, but choosing appropriate combinations is second nature only for good organists.
3. Dynamcs - It's really not obvious how much sound is enough or too much, and the acoustics and organ console placement often obscure the actual volume level at which you're playing!
To put it in another way, having a good pianist who doesn't practice the organ play for a service on a fine pipe organ is like having a watercolor artist execute his vision as a granite sculpture which, by the way, he has to chisel with his feet.
After several days of practice and many mixed emotions, I came to grips with my lack of technic and the unknown instrument and parameters. How? Practice.
I think one of the most wholesome things a musican can do is to practice. What could be better for us than to work on our musical skills, especially when we are preparing for an actual musical event that makes our practicing into clearly needful work?
A little advice for others not in my shoes (that is, other pianists trying to be organists for a day or two.) This advice will be obvious, but try to find a way to play the Doxology without pedals, if at all possible. Don't let your pride get the best of you. After all, viewed in a broader context - and I think it also must be really wholesome to try to view our musical work in a broader context - this whole project is an invitation to humility.
This week, I also spent some nice time with organists. One is my colleague James M. Guthrie whose knowledge as a performer of Baroque and pre-Baroque music is as good as anyone working in the field. He's a practicer!
Kathy and I also spent some time with a wonderful couple of organists, Carol and Paul Doyan in Scotland Neck. Mr. Doyan has a terrific plan for performing all of the works of Vierne during that composer's anniversary a few years away.
I played organ for chapel and church services for a couple of years, but rarely in a situation in which a very high standard of organ playing was really required.
This time was different. Since I'm a pianist and not really an organist, and I'm accustomed to maintaining a certain professional and artistic standard in my music making, I'm acutely aware of the unknowns I face when I come to the organ:
1. First, there are the pedals, which I've never practiced for more than a day or two at a time.
2. Registration - It's exciting that the possibilities for sound variation are virtually limitless on the organ, but choosing appropriate combinations is second nature only for good organists.
3. Dynamcs - It's really not obvious how much sound is enough or too much, and the acoustics and organ console placement often obscure the actual volume level at which you're playing!
To put it in another way, having a good pianist who doesn't practice the organ play for a service on a fine pipe organ is like having a watercolor artist execute his vision as a granite sculpture which, by the way, he has to chisel with his feet.
After several days of practice and many mixed emotions, I came to grips with my lack of technic and the unknown instrument and parameters. How? Practice.
I think one of the most wholesome things a musican can do is to practice. What could be better for us than to work on our musical skills, especially when we are preparing for an actual musical event that makes our practicing into clearly needful work?
A little advice for others not in my shoes (that is, other pianists trying to be organists for a day or two.) This advice will be obvious, but try to find a way to play the Doxology without pedals, if at all possible. Don't let your pride get the best of you. After all, viewed in a broader context - and I think it also must be really wholesome to try to view our musical work in a broader context - this whole project is an invitation to humility.
This week, I also spent some nice time with organists. One is my colleague James M. Guthrie whose knowledge as a performer of Baroque and pre-Baroque music is as good as anyone working in the field. He's a practicer!
Kathy and I also spent some time with a wonderful couple of organists, Carol and Paul Doyan in Scotland Neck. Mr. Doyan has a terrific plan for performing all of the works of Vierne during that composer's anniversary a few years away.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Welcome to Chowan
We've been in Murfreesboro for a little more than a month now and have easily adjusted to how nice life is here!
Just as I left behind some great colleagues at UR, I have some terrific new collegues here who have helped us to feel very much at home.
The town is of historical interest. It's a very old town, Lafayette passed through here, and the inventor of the Gatling gun and Walter Reed lived here.
Last week was the Watermelon Festival which is a family-friendly event complete with free watermelon, a parade, a 5K race, fireworks, and lots of good food.
This website has links to the university, the historical association, and the watermelon festival.
Just as I left behind some great colleagues at UR, I have some terrific new collegues here who have helped us to feel very much at home.
The town is of historical interest. It's a very old town, Lafayette passed through here, and the inventor of the Gatling gun and Walter Reed lived here.
Last week was the Watermelon Festival which is a family-friendly event complete with free watermelon, a parade, a 5K race, fireworks, and lots of good food.
This website has links to the university, the historical association, and the watermelon festival.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
UR Music Department: An Appreciation
I wrote the following for the Univerity of Richmond Music Department newletter this summer.
In the fall, I will be joining the faculty of Chowan University in Murfreesboro, NC. I’m taking this last opportunity to write for News and Notes to express my appreciation for the colleagues with whom I have been privileged to work these last seven years in the Music Department at UR.
First of all, I shall always be grateful to the faculty members who voted to hire me, thereby giving me a great place to learn and work, not to mention financial security and health coverage, for the better part of a decade!
Next, there are the many individuals who have contributed to my development as a professional and as a person:
Dr. Anderson who has been a model administrator and mentor
Mr. Becker whose remarkable artistic openness and friendship have helped my developing sense of self and value as a pianist
Dr. Riehl whose impeccable musicianship has consistently inspired me to strive for a higher level of music making
Dr. Longobardi whose ability to be nurturing and challenging at the same time sets a goalpost for my own classroom teaching
Dr. Fairtile whose joy in hard work and willingness to support and enhance the faculty’s efforts brightens up any trip to the library
Dr. Cable whose concern during my mother’s final illness was comforting to me
Dr. Pellegrinelli who took the time to be a friend and whose intellect has taught me to think better
Dr. McGraw who knows how to be super-competent and easy-going at the same time
Dr. Broening whose quiet commitment to family, teaching, composing, and Third Practice is amazing
Dr. Kong who leads the way as a musician who is totally invested in the work of department and in the welfare of her colleagues (I’m especially grateful for the many times she has recommended me for pianistic work in Richmond.)
And Kathy Panoff whose behind-the-scenes work and advocacy for the arts are so important
Finally, there are the many adjuncts that do so much of the musical work of the department. I appreciate the camaraderie and performances we have shared that have been both entertaining and enlightening.
Thank you all for many good years – years I will remember dearly.
In the fall, I will be joining the faculty of Chowan University in Murfreesboro, NC. I’m taking this last opportunity to write for News and Notes to express my appreciation for the colleagues with whom I have been privileged to work these last seven years in the Music Department at UR.
First of all, I shall always be grateful to the faculty members who voted to hire me, thereby giving me a great place to learn and work, not to mention financial security and health coverage, for the better part of a decade!
Next, there are the many individuals who have contributed to my development as a professional and as a person:
Dr. Anderson who has been a model administrator and mentor
Mr. Becker whose remarkable artistic openness and friendship have helped my developing sense of self and value as a pianist
Dr. Riehl whose impeccable musicianship has consistently inspired me to strive for a higher level of music making
Dr. Longobardi whose ability to be nurturing and challenging at the same time sets a goalpost for my own classroom teaching
Dr. Fairtile whose joy in hard work and willingness to support and enhance the faculty’s efforts brightens up any trip to the library
Dr. Cable whose concern during my mother’s final illness was comforting to me
Dr. Pellegrinelli who took the time to be a friend and whose intellect has taught me to think better
Dr. McGraw who knows how to be super-competent and easy-going at the same time
Dr. Broening whose quiet commitment to family, teaching, composing, and Third Practice is amazing
Dr. Kong who leads the way as a musician who is totally invested in the work of department and in the welfare of her colleagues (I’m especially grateful for the many times she has recommended me for pianistic work in Richmond.)
And Kathy Panoff whose behind-the-scenes work and advocacy for the arts are so important
Finally, there are the many adjuncts that do so much of the musical work of the department. I appreciate the camaraderie and performances we have shared that have been both entertaining and enlightening.
Thank you all for many good years – years I will remember dearly.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
More Richmond Goodbyes
As I wrote several posts back, many events are rounding off my Richmond experience meaningfully and connecting back to my arrival in town or to my arrival at Woodland Heights.
Yesterday, I turned in my keys at UR, which was a little sad. Then I did some research in the Virginia Baptist Historical Society library on campus. There I ran into Dr. Slatton who took Kathy and me out to lunch after church when we visited River Road Church when we first got into town.
Last night, Kathy and I went to a Richmond Braves game with our friend from the neighborhood, Diane. The Braves lost to the Durham Bulls which is what I think happened at the first game we attended when we first moved to Richmond.
Tomorrow is our last Sunday at Woodland Heights Baptist Church. I'm playing the Mark Hayes arrangement of the Doxology tune. I think that wasthe first thing I played at Woodland Heights.
At Woodland Heights I have tried to develop the idea of a church musician's work being a larger work than a single hymn or the events of a single Sunday. Musical and improvisatory themes or approaches can be developed over a season such as Advent or over years of music ministry. So I think it's appropriate from an artistic standpoint to end my time here as I started it. This encapsulates my presence and praise over these several years in this place.
One problem with this approach is that one seldom knows how long one will be serving in a particular church or what direction the life of the church and its music might go. Thus, long-range artistic planning of this overall work maybe be complicated in terms of consciously inflecting structure. (Maybe this also makes the work more like improvising than composing on both long-range and local levels.) But the ebb and flow of the cycles of the church year provide climaxes and other shapes to be articulated. And I think it makes sense that the liturgical calendar would supercede an individual's trajectory in terms of corporate worship.
Part of the appeal of playing for church services is that the musician gets to return again and again to the same group of listeners. At times I have found this very liberating. It frees the musician to provide what is best suited for the moment and the day without feeling the pressure to try to demonstrate everything you can do one any one occasion. People get to relate to many facets of the musician's gifts over a sustained period of time, and I like to think that gives them a richer experience.
I think I didn't play the printed ending of the Doxology arrangement the first time arond at Woodland Heights. I substituted something a little more calming so as not to disrupt the flow of worship by drawing the congregation into the mood to comment on my playing by applauding. Tomorrow I will probably play the printed ending as it is our farewell Sunday and that might give a sense of resolution from that very first time as well as feeling more complete so as to convey that our work here is done.
Yesterday, I turned in my keys at UR, which was a little sad. Then I did some research in the Virginia Baptist Historical Society library on campus. There I ran into Dr. Slatton who took Kathy and me out to lunch after church when we visited River Road Church when we first got into town.
Last night, Kathy and I went to a Richmond Braves game with our friend from the neighborhood, Diane. The Braves lost to the Durham Bulls which is what I think happened at the first game we attended when we first moved to Richmond.
Tomorrow is our last Sunday at Woodland Heights Baptist Church. I'm playing the Mark Hayes arrangement of the Doxology tune. I think that wasthe first thing I played at Woodland Heights.
At Woodland Heights I have tried to develop the idea of a church musician's work being a larger work than a single hymn or the events of a single Sunday. Musical and improvisatory themes or approaches can be developed over a season such as Advent or over years of music ministry. So I think it's appropriate from an artistic standpoint to end my time here as I started it. This encapsulates my presence and praise over these several years in this place.
One problem with this approach is that one seldom knows how long one will be serving in a particular church or what direction the life of the church and its music might go. Thus, long-range artistic planning of this overall work maybe be complicated in terms of consciously inflecting structure. (Maybe this also makes the work more like improvising than composing on both long-range and local levels.) But the ebb and flow of the cycles of the church year provide climaxes and other shapes to be articulated. And I think it makes sense that the liturgical calendar would supercede an individual's trajectory in terms of corporate worship.
Part of the appeal of playing for church services is that the musician gets to return again and again to the same group of listeners. At times I have found this very liberating. It frees the musician to provide what is best suited for the moment and the day without feeling the pressure to try to demonstrate everything you can do one any one occasion. People get to relate to many facets of the musician's gifts over a sustained period of time, and I like to think that gives them a richer experience.
I think I didn't play the printed ending of the Doxology arrangement the first time arond at Woodland Heights. I substituted something a little more calming so as not to disrupt the flow of worship by drawing the congregation into the mood to comment on my playing by applauding. Tomorrow I will probably play the printed ending as it is our farewell Sunday and that might give a sense of resolution from that very first time as well as feeling more complete so as to convey that our work here is done.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
More on Spoleto
Lest anyone misread my remarks about serious music in the last post, hearing an orchestra full of brilliant and enthusiastic young performers under the baton of an uncompromising conductor in works like Strauss Till Eulenspiegel and Dukas Sorcerer's Apprentice was great fun. Hearing them make the sounds they were making, and with just the right attitude, was, simply put, a great time.
On another topic, but also fun, I noticed that in both the Verdi Requiem and in Dukas there are moments in which the physical actions demanded of the performers to play their music illustrate what the music is about - a sort of visual onomatopoeia or text painting (which term sounds visual but isn't!)
I've noticed this phenomena in a number of piano pieces such as Liszt's Mazeppa, in which the pianist looks like a galloping horse or a man tied to a running horse as in the piece's story. An even more extreme example might be seen in a live performance of Henry Cowell's Tiger, in which the pianist looks like a tiger pouncing on its prey as the pianist performs violent and unrelenting tone clusters with his or her forearms.
In Verdi, the moment is the playing of the two bass drums during the Dies Irae. The Physical effort required to produce the desired sounds at the precise off-beat times, never fails to give the percussionist the appearance of frantic physicality. I say it in this way because it is not an expression on the face that conveys that mood - I was sitting too far away to see facial expressions. It's the dramatic and rapid movement of the entire body that gives a sense of the wrenching and ultimate drama of judgement being portrayed in the music.
In Dukas, the various seesawing bowings of the violinists and violists picture the rising water of the story unexpectedly and exquisitely.
On another topic, but also fun, I noticed that in both the Verdi Requiem and in Dukas there are moments in which the physical actions demanded of the performers to play their music illustrate what the music is about - a sort of visual onomatopoeia or text painting (which term sounds visual but isn't!)
I've noticed this phenomena in a number of piano pieces such as Liszt's Mazeppa, in which the pianist looks like a galloping horse or a man tied to a running horse as in the piece's story. An even more extreme example might be seen in a live performance of Henry Cowell's Tiger, in which the pianist looks like a tiger pouncing on its prey as the pianist performs violent and unrelenting tone clusters with his or her forearms.
In Verdi, the moment is the playing of the two bass drums during the Dies Irae. The Physical effort required to produce the desired sounds at the precise off-beat times, never fails to give the percussionist the appearance of frantic physicality. I say it in this way because it is not an expression on the face that conveys that mood - I was sitting too far away to see facial expressions. It's the dramatic and rapid movement of the entire body that gives a sense of the wrenching and ultimate drama of judgement being portrayed in the music.
In Dukas, the various seesawing bowings of the violinists and violists picture the rising water of the story unexpectedly and exquisitely.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)