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.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Compositional Diversity
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Together
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
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
Friday, October 01, 2010
New Job Wisdom
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.
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.
Monday, September 13, 2010
More Theory Thoughts Again
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.
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.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Hooray for Florida!
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.
Friday, September 03, 2010
More Theory Thoughts
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 . . .
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 . . .
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Theory Thoughts
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.
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.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Moving, Canon, Calling, Peace!?
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!?
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!?
Friday, August 06, 2010
Welcome to Lakeland
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.
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.
Sunday, August 01, 2010
Murfreesboro Memories
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?
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?
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Past
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!
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!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Hymn Society - Birmingham 2010
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.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Nearing the End in Ahoskie
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
American Masterpiece May
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
More on Energy
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.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Chopin, Energy
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.
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.
Monday, June 07, 2010
Omni-
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.
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.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Watoto Choir
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.
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