I'm reading a good book by Gerald Danzer entitled Atlas of World History. A couple of points have stood out as being relevant to music.
The term "geography" is often used very generally today, but it traditionally fit into this scheme:
topography - mapping a small enough region that the local level details of the landscape like hills and streams can be shown
chorography - mapping a region or continent
geography - mapping in a global context
I extrapolate this idea of several meaningful levels to music study.
For example,
local-level analysis of harmonies, motives, and so forth (topography)
consideration of the form of the work at hand (chorography)
understanding of the work in the context of the composer's output or the style (geography)
Another scheme might go this way:
intra-opus style (the first two levels from above)
inter-opus style (the third level from above)
and finally, the place of the work's performance in broader culture which would include musicological and ethnomusicological topics
We musicians need a bit of all this in our lives.
A second point is what I think is an extremely well-stated definition regarding the concept of "classic" or "classical."
Danzer writes:
"A society develops a classic culture when it gathers together traditional ways of life and expresses their values in such a powerful way that it sets standards of achievement for future generations."
Here's a link to a fascinating program for preserving valuable elements of the cultures on our planet.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Saturday, May 07, 2011
Friday, April 01, 2011
May in April
Amaryllis and lilies blooming - looks like May to me here on April 1.
Also, fighter jets are scrambling over Lakeland - part of the big Lakeland air show, but still unnerving at times.
Excellent theory students pulled several April Fools pranks on me today:
First, a happy-looking sign on the door said that our class was cancelled.
A single student was waiting just inside the door with a string attached to a dollar bill on the floor. The student said she was the only who showed up.
Then, the rest of the students came in through the back door. Coincidentally, there were no lights in the room due to a momentary power outage.
At the end of class, my attention was drawn to a snail that had been placed on the podium.
I particularly enjoyed the incongruity of all these things happening in conjunction with each other. Most of all, I appreciate the caring and imagination my students expressed in this playful way. I'm glad we can have fun together and learn, too. Thank you all!
Now, back to those interval class vectors!
Also, fighter jets are scrambling over Lakeland - part of the big Lakeland air show, but still unnerving at times.
Excellent theory students pulled several April Fools pranks on me today:
First, a happy-looking sign on the door said that our class was cancelled.
A single student was waiting just inside the door with a string attached to a dollar bill on the floor. The student said she was the only who showed up.
Then, the rest of the students came in through the back door. Coincidentally, there were no lights in the room due to a momentary power outage.
At the end of class, my attention was drawn to a snail that had been placed on the podium.
I particularly enjoyed the incongruity of all these things happening in conjunction with each other. Most of all, I appreciate the caring and imagination my students expressed in this playful way. I'm glad we can have fun together and learn, too. Thank you all!
Now, back to those interval class vectors!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Storm
Campus was hit by an intense storm around noon today. My class prayed, told alligator stories, and practiced identifying 13th chords by ear.
Maintenance workers were darting about campus within minutes of the peak of the storm to address the possibility of any dangerous issues that could have developed. It was very impressive to see the immediacy of their response.
The rains and winds continue.
The Divine Servant Fountain looked particularly substantial and persistent in the midst of the storm.
Maintenance workers were darting about campus within minutes of the peak of the storm to address the possibility of any dangerous issues that could have developed. It was very impressive to see the immediacy of their response.
The rains and winds continue.
The Divine Servant Fountain looked particularly substantial and persistent in the midst of the storm.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Music!
Reading C.S. Lewis on the problem of animal pain this morning - excellent and serendipitous preparation for teaching a lesson on the very poignant "Little Shepherd" from Debussy's Children's Corner.
Driving to and from school today, listening to the last movement of Beethoven's fifth piano concerto - marvelous imagination and variety expressed with basic scales and triads!
Now I'm watching an episode of The Incredible Hulk. Great soundtrack in this series: sensitive reiteration of a handful of motives in a range of settings, and played beautifully by live musicians. Joe Harnell's "Lonely Man" theme from the closing of the show.
Driving to and from school today, listening to the last movement of Beethoven's fifth piano concerto - marvelous imagination and variety expressed with basic scales and triads!
Now I'm watching an episode of The Incredible Hulk. Great soundtrack in this series: sensitive reiteration of a handful of motives in a range of settings, and played beautifully by live musicians. Joe Harnell's "Lonely Man" theme from the closing of the show.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Birthday
After a week, I'm still 39.
On my birthday, I went for a drive to Zephyr Hills 30-some miles from Lakeland. It's a town with a water-bottling plant and an old-fashioned touristy strip of buffets and waffle houses.
On the drive back, I heard this moving interview with Fleisher that touches on his relationship with Brahms First Concerto and his struggles with his hand.
I also heard a portion of another interview with a musician. Unfortunately, I didn't learn who it was that was being interviewed, but the important and timely thing for me was his description of a time in his life when he started asking what he would contribute to the musical world. Perhaps I'm entering that type of season, too. I realize that it is probably time for me to determine some priorities amongst my many goals and focus time and energy on the most important of my goals.
On my birthday, I went for a drive to Zephyr Hills 30-some miles from Lakeland. It's a town with a water-bottling plant and an old-fashioned touristy strip of buffets and waffle houses.
On the drive back, I heard this moving interview with Fleisher that touches on his relationship with Brahms First Concerto and his struggles with his hand.
I also heard a portion of another interview with a musician. Unfortunately, I didn't learn who it was that was being interviewed, but the important and timely thing for me was his description of a time in his life when he started asking what he would contribute to the musical world. Perhaps I'm entering that type of season, too. I realize that it is probably time for me to determine some priorities amongst my many goals and focus time and energy on the most important of my goals.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Written at 5:39 A.M.
I'm turning 39 today. Not yet a fan!
Spring Break is here - a great thing about life in academia. You can feel the break arriving for about two weeks.
So far, I've seen the mini-shuttle fly across the sky, I've gone for a jog with a friend in the Circle B Bar Reserve - an excellent place to see alligators, and I watched the Yankees stomp the Phillies in an exhibition game.
A post by a friend reminds me that rest is part of God's plan.
I also discovered the amazing work of a very talented friend from high school. I'm purchasing a copy of the film for my birthday.
There's so much I don't know.
I do know:
I'm where I should be doing work I believe in.
I have a way of working that is my own.
And I miss my students.
Spring Break is here - a great thing about life in academia. You can feel the break arriving for about two weeks.
So far, I've seen the mini-shuttle fly across the sky, I've gone for a jog with a friend in the Circle B Bar Reserve - an excellent place to see alligators, and I watched the Yankees stomp the Phillies in an exhibition game.
A post by a friend reminds me that rest is part of God's plan.
I also discovered the amazing work of a very talented friend from high school. I'm purchasing a copy of the film for my birthday.
There's so much I don't know.
I do know:
I'm where I should be doing work I believe in.
I have a way of working that is my own.
And I miss my students.
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
King David
On Friday, I was listening to a recording of Josef Hoffmann playing Rachmaninoff's C-Sharp Minor Prelude, and with the first three notes, I remembered the term "sound picture" or "tone picture" that I think I first encountered in an older book about Beethoven.
That Rachmaninoff prelude is so vivid that images and emotions immediately came into play and moved me away from thinking of musical values like harmonic progressions and the performer's inflections that usually occupy my mind when I'm listening.
Friday evening, I attended Rich Balach's senior recital and had similarly fresh and transporting experiences listening to Wolf's "Schlafendes Jesuskind" and "Begegnung."
Last night, I had the privilege and fun of playing piano in Southeastern's performance of Honneger's King David. The work is a compelling choice for a college department to present. It's a masterpiece involving a variety of 20th century techniques in addition to being a little Hebraic and a little Handelian. It's challenging for the performers, but not as forbiddingly difficult as a 20th century work can be. There are lots of solos, each of which is brief, of a distinct character, and has a few difficulties of pitch or rhythm. Thus, lots of students get to sing manageable but challenging solos.
In the midst of all of this is the conductor who, on this occasion, was our own very capable Dr. Dan Gordon. This was my first time playing an extended work with him and I was impressed with his conducting clarity and presence of mind. He made me think of a World War I fighter pilot, exposed to the elements, piloting, sometimes upside down, through clouds of bitonal bullets and metrical mayhem - an odd image, but an appropriate one for a work premiered in 1921.
As a member of the chamber orchestra playing this performance, I had the perspective of a pianist sitting in front of singers, behind trumpets, next to a keyboardist (playing harmonium and celesta parts), and at the opposite side of the room from the percussion, cello, and trombone. What I heard was not what the audience heard since I was sitting two feet from the piano and positioned as I just described. So while I'd like to hear the overall product, I did get to know about some details that the audience didn't experience as fully as I did. This is one of the reasons that playing in performances of works like this is so valuable. You get an entirely different perspective on the work involving a different kind of intimacy. While the experience provides another way of understanding the work that I could share with others, it is primarily meaningful and special to me.
This particular piano part is a very enjoyable part to play once you get over the fact that you are counting for much of an hour and half while also trying to calibrate your musicality to the movements of the conductor. Actually, those things can be pleasurable, too, but they require discipline.
During our rehearsals and the performance, I started to appreciate the extent and power of Honneger's "tone painting" in this work. Similar to my experiences with Hindemith, once I accepted Honneger's techniques as a part of his language, I could more readily focus on how masterfully clear he is in conveying the experiences that his "symphonic psalm" is all about. His constant responsiveness to text is something he shares with Handel.
A few examples from the piano corner:
#2 The Song of David, the Shepherd - the chromatic counterpoint within a small range throughout beautifully conveys the feeling of the "quiet pool" of the text, but it can also convey a sense of disquietude as David desires restoration of spirit, protection from pain, and so forth.
#4 Song of Victory - the energy of this choral writing is totally galvanizing. I'm surprised that this brief chorus hasn't become a musical icon to be used by HBO and others alongside the opening of Carmina Burana and the Dies Irae from Verdi's Requiem.
#6 Psalm: In the Lord I put my Faith - the piano chimes in with tremelo and vaulting patterns at "Flee like any bird unto the mountain" instantaneously transporting the listener to a different clime. It is also in this number that the pianist gets to strum the first harp-like chords that frequently accompany David in his many moods throughout the oratorio.
#11 Psalm: God the Lord shall be my light - the rhythm of the piano part is positively infectious and underscores the joy of triumph over a dangerous foe as described in the text.
#12 Incantation of the Witch of Endor - I've been involved with a couple of performances of King David and this number seems to capture the imaginations of the listeners the most. It's about an incident with Saul and a witch that is probably kind of obscure to a lot of us. Honneger has his own fresh way of painting the creepy sound-world of such a scene. In a way, it's in the tradition of Berlioz. But it strikes me that to paint his scene, Honneger doesn't resort to anything particularly novel in terms of instrumentation or instrumental techniques (for his time) as Berlioz did. To me, the two pianissimo interjections played by the piano at "Appear! Appear!" seem as erie as any woodwind bending its pitches. Of couse, a lot of the imaginative impact of this movement comes from the spoken monodrama.
At the end of #12 there's a strange chord, one that's physically uncomfortable to play for both hands. There's so much sound going on when you play it that I doubt anyone could discern if you just played a more comfortable cluster in each hand. I tried that in rehearsal and it sounded pretty much the same to me. But in the performance, I played Honneger's chord. Maybe he wanted the pianist to feel a little uncomfortable there, and at the very least, I'm sure the pitches he wrote fit logically with everyone else's notes at that moment.
#16 The Dance before the Ark - includes a very striking chord change in an already sparkly bit of writing for the piano at the word "splendour" in the phrase "O radiance of the morn and the splendour of noon, Mighty God be with us."
#18 Song of the Handmaid - has a questionable instrumentation choice, I think. In a pretty transparent texture, piano and flute play short notes together in a high register, and the tuning is problematic, given the nature of the instruments themselves. But maybe that slight disagreement about pitch is what Honneger wanted - an imitation of the sounds of crickets David could have heard when he rose from his bed to walk around the roof of the palace one evening and saw Bathsheba.
#19 Psalm of Repentance - puts words of repentance in the mouths of both male and female choristers which made me think of David and Bathsheba repenting together. That's a scene I'd never thought of before.
This brings me to a final general reflection on King David. Before the concert, Dr. Gordon prayed a thoughtful prayer that emphasized that David was human in all the best and worst ways that we are, too. I believe Honneger's music communicates the richness of that human story. Indeed, it restores humanity to a familar character from the pages of the Bible.
That Rachmaninoff prelude is so vivid that images and emotions immediately came into play and moved me away from thinking of musical values like harmonic progressions and the performer's inflections that usually occupy my mind when I'm listening.
Friday evening, I attended Rich Balach's senior recital and had similarly fresh and transporting experiences listening to Wolf's "Schlafendes Jesuskind" and "Begegnung."
Last night, I had the privilege and fun of playing piano in Southeastern's performance of Honneger's King David. The work is a compelling choice for a college department to present. It's a masterpiece involving a variety of 20th century techniques in addition to being a little Hebraic and a little Handelian. It's challenging for the performers, but not as forbiddingly difficult as a 20th century work can be. There are lots of solos, each of which is brief, of a distinct character, and has a few difficulties of pitch or rhythm. Thus, lots of students get to sing manageable but challenging solos.
In the midst of all of this is the conductor who, on this occasion, was our own very capable Dr. Dan Gordon. This was my first time playing an extended work with him and I was impressed with his conducting clarity and presence of mind. He made me think of a World War I fighter pilot, exposed to the elements, piloting, sometimes upside down, through clouds of bitonal bullets and metrical mayhem - an odd image, but an appropriate one for a work premiered in 1921.
As a member of the chamber orchestra playing this performance, I had the perspective of a pianist sitting in front of singers, behind trumpets, next to a keyboardist (playing harmonium and celesta parts), and at the opposite side of the room from the percussion, cello, and trombone. What I heard was not what the audience heard since I was sitting two feet from the piano and positioned as I just described. So while I'd like to hear the overall product, I did get to know about some details that the audience didn't experience as fully as I did. This is one of the reasons that playing in performances of works like this is so valuable. You get an entirely different perspective on the work involving a different kind of intimacy. While the experience provides another way of understanding the work that I could share with others, it is primarily meaningful and special to me.
This particular piano part is a very enjoyable part to play once you get over the fact that you are counting for much of an hour and half while also trying to calibrate your musicality to the movements of the conductor. Actually, those things can be pleasurable, too, but they require discipline.
During our rehearsals and the performance, I started to appreciate the extent and power of Honneger's "tone painting" in this work. Similar to my experiences with Hindemith, once I accepted Honneger's techniques as a part of his language, I could more readily focus on how masterfully clear he is in conveying the experiences that his "symphonic psalm" is all about. His constant responsiveness to text is something he shares with Handel.
A few examples from the piano corner:
#2 The Song of David, the Shepherd - the chromatic counterpoint within a small range throughout beautifully conveys the feeling of the "quiet pool" of the text, but it can also convey a sense of disquietude as David desires restoration of spirit, protection from pain, and so forth.
#4 Song of Victory - the energy of this choral writing is totally galvanizing. I'm surprised that this brief chorus hasn't become a musical icon to be used by HBO and others alongside the opening of Carmina Burana and the Dies Irae from Verdi's Requiem.
#6 Psalm: In the Lord I put my Faith - the piano chimes in with tremelo and vaulting patterns at "Flee like any bird unto the mountain" instantaneously transporting the listener to a different clime. It is also in this number that the pianist gets to strum the first harp-like chords that frequently accompany David in his many moods throughout the oratorio.
#11 Psalm: God the Lord shall be my light - the rhythm of the piano part is positively infectious and underscores the joy of triumph over a dangerous foe as described in the text.
#12 Incantation of the Witch of Endor - I've been involved with a couple of performances of King David and this number seems to capture the imaginations of the listeners the most. It's about an incident with Saul and a witch that is probably kind of obscure to a lot of us. Honneger has his own fresh way of painting the creepy sound-world of such a scene. In a way, it's in the tradition of Berlioz. But it strikes me that to paint his scene, Honneger doesn't resort to anything particularly novel in terms of instrumentation or instrumental techniques (for his time) as Berlioz did. To me, the two pianissimo interjections played by the piano at "Appear! Appear!" seem as erie as any woodwind bending its pitches. Of couse, a lot of the imaginative impact of this movement comes from the spoken monodrama.
At the end of #12 there's a strange chord, one that's physically uncomfortable to play for both hands. There's so much sound going on when you play it that I doubt anyone could discern if you just played a more comfortable cluster in each hand. I tried that in rehearsal and it sounded pretty much the same to me. But in the performance, I played Honneger's chord. Maybe he wanted the pianist to feel a little uncomfortable there, and at the very least, I'm sure the pitches he wrote fit logically with everyone else's notes at that moment.
#16 The Dance before the Ark - includes a very striking chord change in an already sparkly bit of writing for the piano at the word "splendour" in the phrase "O radiance of the morn and the splendour of noon, Mighty God be with us."
#18 Song of the Handmaid - has a questionable instrumentation choice, I think. In a pretty transparent texture, piano and flute play short notes together in a high register, and the tuning is problematic, given the nature of the instruments themselves. But maybe that slight disagreement about pitch is what Honneger wanted - an imitation of the sounds of crickets David could have heard when he rose from his bed to walk around the roof of the palace one evening and saw Bathsheba.
#19 Psalm of Repentance - puts words of repentance in the mouths of both male and female choristers which made me think of David and Bathsheba repenting together. That's a scene I'd never thought of before.
This brings me to a final general reflection on King David. Before the concert, Dr. Gordon prayed a thoughtful prayer that emphasized that David was human in all the best and worst ways that we are, too. I believe Honneger's music communicates the richness of that human story. Indeed, it restores humanity to a familar character from the pages of the Bible.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Good Times in Florida
My 200th blog post!
I started the day with the discovery of this creature moping around our screened-in porch. He's the creepiest frog I've come across.
His body looks pretty much like the head of a snake, which leaves you wondering where the rest of the snake is.
He's mean-looking, too.
(Click on the photos to see up close, if you dare.)
This afternoon, I rehearsed my beginning band piece with the beginning band. I learned several things from the process:
Harmonic 4ths, 5ths, and octaves chosen from a minor pentatonic collection that I thought would sound austere and bluesy by turns are much more dissonant and complex-sounding due to the tuning difficulties of beginners.
True accelerandi require too much coordination with the conductor to really work at this level.
On the positive side, I think my piece is a good teaching tool that invites awareness of some jazz traditions as well as allowing for a little culture to be built up around studying the piece. It's a rhapsody that begins with a fanfare, has a 12-bars blues progression, a stop-time in which the low brass get to stand up and play Glenn Miller-style, and a call-and-response build-up at the end.
Back at home, we had fresh tangelo juice squeezed from the crop of our own tree. Very sweet juice.
After supper, I took a cool jog to Lake Hunter.
I started the day with the discovery of this creature moping around our screened-in porch. He's the creepiest frog I've come across.
His body looks pretty much like the head of a snake, which leaves you wondering where the rest of the snake is.
He's mean-looking, too.
(Click on the photos to see up close, if you dare.)
This afternoon, I rehearsed my beginning band piece with the beginning band. I learned several things from the process:
Harmonic 4ths, 5ths, and octaves chosen from a minor pentatonic collection that I thought would sound austere and bluesy by turns are much more dissonant and complex-sounding due to the tuning difficulties of beginners.
True accelerandi require too much coordination with the conductor to really work at this level.
On the positive side, I think my piece is a good teaching tool that invites awareness of some jazz traditions as well as allowing for a little culture to be built up around studying the piece. It's a rhapsody that begins with a fanfare, has a 12-bars blues progression, a stop-time in which the low brass get to stand up and play Glenn Miller-style, and a call-and-response build-up at the end.
Back at home, we had fresh tangelo juice squeezed from the crop of our own tree. Very sweet juice.
After supper, I took a cool jog to Lake Hunter.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Spice of Life
A varied day in music here in sunny Lakeland:
five minutes reminding my hands how Chopin First Scherzo goes
attended faculty prayer
a little intro to Dalcroze Eurythmics with a student doing an informal independent-study version of Keyboard Skills for Music Educators
a piano lesson drilling letter names and rhythms with an adult beginner
Ceasar salad for lunch
gave a theory test on chromatic mediants, various pitch collections, tritone substitutions, and jazz harmonization
post-test orange juice sitting on a bench
put new horn obliggato for Malotte's Lord's Prayer into Finale
played for choral rehearsal of the dance from Honneger's King David
coached "Super Boy and the Invisible Girl" and "Little Shop" for Night on Broadway event
listened to some of Mahler 7 first movement on the way home - wondrous fanfares, nature sounds, and sweeping lines that feel like syrup poured on my soul
Monday, February 14, 2011
Imagination
Those of you that know me well know that exploring the intersection of music and faith is my passion. That pursuit has led me to the more general recognition that we human beings need help with re-integrating our faith into the various compartments into which we've separated our lives. The end result is hopefully a more joyful, peaceful, and connected existence.
To put this in another way, I find myself working for a fuller expression of God's image in us. To me, that means that we exist as a cooperative and loving community of creators, which is what I think the Trinity is.
I remember writing in cover letters for job applications seven or eight years ago that I was interested in teaching imagination. At that time, that mostly meant getting my students to think and feel more personally about the music they perform. I'm now realizing that those words about teaching imagination were prophetic. It recently dawned on me that, as I help students recognize God's image expressed through creativity, I am teaching imagination. The word "image" is right there in the word "imagination" but I've been missing the deep connection to God's image in us.
I don't think this realization will necessarily radically change the way I teach, but it does allow me to see how my various musical and pedagogical activities serve a single spiritual goal. When I help my students organize their thinking about music, when I show them how to develop proficiency at the keyboard, when we experiment with ways to communicate in performance, I am nurturing their creativity, their God-image-ness. When I am patient with them, when I challenge them to live in community, when I'm honest about myself, I model wholesome productivity in my relationships with them.
I am grateful for the distinct opportunity of working in an environment in which I can realize these truths about my calling. The culture of faith integration at Southeastern was a providential surprise for me, and it affirms my faith that the Holy Spirit coordinates our lives in very specific ways.
Years ago, I introduced myself to new acquaintances as a classical pianist. Frequently, that led to the response "But what do you do for a living?" or something to that effect. Once I had a full-time college job, I started introducing myself with "I teach in the music department at such-and-such university." That sounded more conventional and sometimes led to more substantive conversations about music.
Now, I think I'm going to start telling people that I teach imagination. That will be unusual, but I think it will lead to the most meaningful conversations and connections yet - a type of witnessing that is rooted in what I do everyday and that focuses on what I believe to be the beauty of God's will as expressed from the very first chapter of the Bible.
To put this in another way, I find myself working for a fuller expression of God's image in us. To me, that means that we exist as a cooperative and loving community of creators, which is what I think the Trinity is.
I remember writing in cover letters for job applications seven or eight years ago that I was interested in teaching imagination. At that time, that mostly meant getting my students to think and feel more personally about the music they perform. I'm now realizing that those words about teaching imagination were prophetic. It recently dawned on me that, as I help students recognize God's image expressed through creativity, I am teaching imagination. The word "image" is right there in the word "imagination" but I've been missing the deep connection to God's image in us.
I don't think this realization will necessarily radically change the way I teach, but it does allow me to see how my various musical and pedagogical activities serve a single spiritual goal. When I help my students organize their thinking about music, when I show them how to develop proficiency at the keyboard, when we experiment with ways to communicate in performance, I am nurturing their creativity, their God-image-ness. When I am patient with them, when I challenge them to live in community, when I'm honest about myself, I model wholesome productivity in my relationships with them.
I am grateful for the distinct opportunity of working in an environment in which I can realize these truths about my calling. The culture of faith integration at Southeastern was a providential surprise for me, and it affirms my faith that the Holy Spirit coordinates our lives in very specific ways.
Years ago, I introduced myself to new acquaintances as a classical pianist. Frequently, that led to the response "But what do you do for a living?" or something to that effect. Once I had a full-time college job, I started introducing myself with "I teach in the music department at such-and-such university." That sounded more conventional and sometimes led to more substantive conversations about music.
Now, I think I'm going to start telling people that I teach imagination. That will be unusual, but I think it will lead to the most meaningful conversations and connections yet - a type of witnessing that is rooted in what I do everyday and that focuses on what I believe to be the beauty of God's will as expressed from the very first chapter of the Bible.
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Gesture
Four hours of rehearsal yesterday - Broadway, folk tunes, sacred anthems . . . and private piano teaching today . . .
From my current perspective, it seems that the root compelling thing in a performance of a piece of music is the grasp of gesture. If a performance conveys shape and movement, it acts upon me and I am moved. Tired and out-of-tune voices might be okay if the way they move through the music has purpose. I might experiment with having students focus on conveying the gestures of a work before thinking of the dynamics and tempi written in the score. Those markings can be used to refine the students' understanding of the gestures after they have really engaged with the basic gestures.
From my current perspective, it seems that the root compelling thing in a performance of a piece of music is the grasp of gesture. If a performance conveys shape and movement, it acts upon me and I am moved. Tired and out-of-tune voices might be okay if the way they move through the music has purpose. I might experiment with having students focus on conveying the gestures of a work before thinking of the dynamics and tempi written in the score. Those markings can be used to refine the students' understanding of the gestures after they have really engaged with the basic gestures.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Hearing
Several points regarding human hearing:
Rich Wilkerson Jr. spoke this week in an SEU chapel service. He mentioned that, according to scripture, hearing seems to be more important than seeing in the Kingdom of God. This is all bound up with relying on God's voice and living by faith. I plan to keep that in mind as I read scripture for myself.
Rev. Wilkerson went on to mention that we human beings don't see so well for our first six months of life, so much of our early knowledge and connection with our parents and surroundings comes through our hearing.
This morning, I happened to hear (and see) a bit of a music education presentation that compared our senses of sight and sound. The ratio of the wave lengths of violet to red light - the extremes of our visual range - is less than 2 to 1. We hear a much wider range of a least seven octaves with each octave being a 2 to 1 ratio. So in a way, we hear a lot better than we see.
Rich Wilkerson Jr. spoke this week in an SEU chapel service. He mentioned that, according to scripture, hearing seems to be more important than seeing in the Kingdom of God. This is all bound up with relying on God's voice and living by faith. I plan to keep that in mind as I read scripture for myself.
Rev. Wilkerson went on to mention that we human beings don't see so well for our first six months of life, so much of our early knowledge and connection with our parents and surroundings comes through our hearing.
This morning, I happened to hear (and see) a bit of a music education presentation that compared our senses of sight and sound. The ratio of the wave lengths of violet to red light - the extremes of our visual range - is less than 2 to 1. We hear a much wider range of a least seven octaves with each octave being a 2 to 1 ratio. So in a way, we hear a lot better than we see.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Beagles and Beginners
It's "raining up a storm" in Lakeland and has been since early morning. Sophie (the beagle) was disconsolate last night due to the lightning and thunder.
I'm writing a beginning band piece for a specific beginning band. I like writing to specifications. Clear parameters really help me know what to do and to feel good about it. They push me to engage very realistically with the craft of composition.
Here's my assignment as I understand it so far:
jazz-based or influenced
small number of low brass that play best together
clear and restricted ranges for all instruments (generally an octave or less)
clarinets are the strongest and largest section
parts need to be simple enough to be played but engaging enough not to bore the players
fairly simple rhythms
and nothing can move much faster than moderato
it would probably be a good idea to write music that sounds pretty good even if some of the players lose their place and keep playing anyway!
And I'm sure there are more things I'm not remembering at the moment or haven't realized yet.
This composition process is fun but slow: discovering what the piece is and can be. It's very true in this situation that the primary work of composition is editing. I write a little, trying to make something I like, I listen back and think of the parameters, adjust it accordingly, then I listen again to see if it works for me, then I adjust it accordingly, then I think about the parameters, adjust, put the passage back in context, adjust, etc. etc. etc.
Like I said, fun but slow. And good for me.
Composing is like building a house. That doesn't sound very original. But I like architecture and this image helps me. It's also good for appreciating, from the outside, the significance of what composers do.
When you build a house, you need to consider what that house is for - a single young professional, a large family with children . . . shelter in the tropics or on a mountain in New Hampshire . . .
And you need to make sure it's structured well. There are principles involved in making it a good "machine for living" and lots of wise people and regulations to help you do that.
And from time to time, someone comes along and suggests a totally new type of room or way to use an existing room. Then that catches on and changes the way we see houses and the way we live in them.
When composing, I need to take into account who's going to be using my music and where it will be used:
opera singer? congregation? children?
concert stage? church? classroom?
How will it be structured? Its structure will have something to do with the questions I just posed above - "form follows function."
And then Beethoven comes along and says "What if we make the first theme sound like an introduction, put the second theme in major mediant, and have a really long closing group? Oh yeah, and a quick appearance of the first theme transposed into the Neapolitan right when we think the piece is about to end. How did he come up with this stuff? But it really works, so we listen to him.
Finally (sort of a new topic) the other day I noticed that almost all the melody notes in "All the Things You Are" are the thirds of the chords that tend to be used to harmonize them. Anyone who tries to play the piece on the piano with good voicing has probably already noticed this. But it struck me because I've been thinking about the relationships between melodies and their accompaniments, and particulatrly about how what members of the chords are featured in the melodies contibutes to the mood of the music.
Before Christmas, I was meditating on the fact that Mary "pondered all these things in her heart." That sounds very inner to me. I was wondering how to write a melody that would express Mary's inner-ness, and I improvised some melodies that focused on the insides of chords - the thirds. It seems like that leads to melodies that are sweet and warm, and at times, rather innner in nature.
I'm writing a beginning band piece for a specific beginning band. I like writing to specifications. Clear parameters really help me know what to do and to feel good about it. They push me to engage very realistically with the craft of composition.
Here's my assignment as I understand it so far:
jazz-based or influenced
small number of low brass that play best together
clear and restricted ranges for all instruments (generally an octave or less)
clarinets are the strongest and largest section
parts need to be simple enough to be played but engaging enough not to bore the players
fairly simple rhythms
and nothing can move much faster than moderato
it would probably be a good idea to write music that sounds pretty good even if some of the players lose their place and keep playing anyway!
And I'm sure there are more things I'm not remembering at the moment or haven't realized yet.
This composition process is fun but slow: discovering what the piece is and can be. It's very true in this situation that the primary work of composition is editing. I write a little, trying to make something I like, I listen back and think of the parameters, adjust it accordingly, then I listen again to see if it works for me, then I adjust it accordingly, then I think about the parameters, adjust, put the passage back in context, adjust, etc. etc. etc.
Like I said, fun but slow. And good for me.
Composing is like building a house. That doesn't sound very original. But I like architecture and this image helps me. It's also good for appreciating, from the outside, the significance of what composers do.
When you build a house, you need to consider what that house is for - a single young professional, a large family with children . . . shelter in the tropics or on a mountain in New Hampshire . . .
And you need to make sure it's structured well. There are principles involved in making it a good "machine for living" and lots of wise people and regulations to help you do that.
And from time to time, someone comes along and suggests a totally new type of room or way to use an existing room. Then that catches on and changes the way we see houses and the way we live in them.
When composing, I need to take into account who's going to be using my music and where it will be used:
opera singer? congregation? children?
concert stage? church? classroom?
How will it be structured? Its structure will have something to do with the questions I just posed above - "form follows function."
And then Beethoven comes along and says "What if we make the first theme sound like an introduction, put the second theme in major mediant, and have a really long closing group? Oh yeah, and a quick appearance of the first theme transposed into the Neapolitan right when we think the piece is about to end. How did he come up with this stuff? But it really works, so we listen to him.
Finally (sort of a new topic) the other day I noticed that almost all the melody notes in "All the Things You Are" are the thirds of the chords that tend to be used to harmonize them. Anyone who tries to play the piece on the piano with good voicing has probably already noticed this. But it struck me because I've been thinking about the relationships between melodies and their accompaniments, and particulatrly about how what members of the chords are featured in the melodies contibutes to the mood of the music.
Before Christmas, I was meditating on the fact that Mary "pondered all these things in her heart." That sounds very inner to me. I was wondering how to write a melody that would express Mary's inner-ness, and I improvised some melodies that focused on the insides of chords - the thirds. It seems like that leads to melodies that are sweet and warm, and at times, rather innner in nature.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Something New
I ran my first 5K today. I ran with Clark, a friend from church. He's a more experienced runner with a good attitude - basically that running is a nice way to experience a nice day.
I don't think this means I'm in particularly good shape but that I'm not in such bad shape. It might also mean that I am, in fact, leading a healthier lifestyle, which was one of the goals I set for myself in moving to Florida.
Also new, I'm listening to a different recording each week as I drive to and from work. Watching various PBS arts events over the holiday inspired me to get back into learning about more repertoire.
So far, I've listened to Kyle Matthews's Timeless Christmas Child CD driving back and forth to visit family around Christmas. Kyle's work is accessible, fun, and profound, and sometimes, all three at the same time. The next week was Sondheim's A Little Night Music. This week I've been lisening to music of Richard Danielpour. I like his music, and I find that I like it more the more I listen to it.
Next week, Giordano's Fedora.
I don't think this means I'm in particularly good shape but that I'm not in such bad shape. It might also mean that I am, in fact, leading a healthier lifestyle, which was one of the goals I set for myself in moving to Florida.
Also new, I'm listening to a different recording each week as I drive to and from work. Watching various PBS arts events over the holiday inspired me to get back into learning about more repertoire.
So far, I've listened to Kyle Matthews's Timeless Christmas Child CD driving back and forth to visit family around Christmas. Kyle's work is accessible, fun, and profound, and sometimes, all three at the same time. The next week was Sondheim's A Little Night Music. This week I've been lisening to music of Richard Danielpour. I like his music, and I find that I like it more the more I listen to it.
Next week, Giordano's Fedora.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
A Day I Will Remember
While Kathy took one of the tests for certification as a music teacher in Florida, I explored north of Tampa. I stumbled upon the Hindu Temple of Florida, a beautiful structure. Just down the street is a residence that is a small replica of Graceland complete with Elvis's musical gate and stone wall. That sightseeing was followed by an excellent coffee at a Selena's Latin Cafe, a new place in that neighborhood.
After picking Kathy up at the end of her successful test taking, we went for a walk on a trail nearby and saw a rather large alligator sunning itself on the opposite side of a pond. We returned to Selena's for a fantastic Cuban-style pulled pork sandwich.
Back at home, I finished reading Daina Chaviano's Island of Eternal Love which is a beautiful and touching book that involves African, Spanish, and Chinese families who moved to Cuba; famous Cuban musical figures; and a phantom house, and imp, and ghosts. Also a highly ideological parrot named Fidelina.
After reading, I checked e-mail and saw a four-minute-old story about the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords. We have watched the story of that tragedy unfold into the evening.
I played some Lecuona.
After picking Kathy up at the end of her successful test taking, we went for a walk on a trail nearby and saw a rather large alligator sunning itself on the opposite side of a pond. We returned to Selena's for a fantastic Cuban-style pulled pork sandwich.
Back at home, I finished reading Daina Chaviano's Island of Eternal Love which is a beautiful and touching book that involves African, Spanish, and Chinese families who moved to Cuba; famous Cuban musical figures; and a phantom house, and imp, and ghosts. Also a highly ideological parrot named Fidelina.
After reading, I checked e-mail and saw a four-minute-old story about the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords. We have watched the story of that tragedy unfold into the evening.
I played some Lecuona.
Monday, January 03, 2011
Lots to Blog About
The holidays tend to be a time of abundant life for us musicians - lots of work, work that's inspiring, as well as some time to reflect on its meaning.
Kathy and I returned to Lasker (as well as Murfreesboro, Ahoskie, and Rich Sqaure) for the first time since our move. The occasion was my eighth Christmas concert in Lasker, an event in which Kathy joined me on her horn, also singing, and as piano four-hands partner.
It felt like returning home and like Christmas. Many friends came to the concert and visited with us during our time there.
I rarely travel so far for a performance. It puts a different emphasis on the work. This time, it was a good thing, and it usually is, in my experience.
As we prepared the concert, I thought of the many approaches composers have taken to Christmas. On this concert we played, among other things, pieces about
a town
heavenly bread
Mary and Joseph
a tree
a star
spreading the good news
meditation under the night sky
the ways Jesus is envisioned by children around the globe
joyful singing
gift giving
the night of Jesus' birth
snow
and riding in a sleigh!
Our goal was to match our energy to that of the music and to communicate with the audience. Kathy played very well and I was pleased with my effort, too. By the end of the evening, I was reminded that being one's self is what is really required and that so much of the other stuff is really stressful and extraneous.
I also connected more deeply with "I Wonder as I Wander" than ever before since I was a returning Carolinian playing a piece with roots in NC for Carolinians.
Former students attended and turned pages for me. We visited at the lovely reception afterwards. All these things were very special to me.
We were back in Lakeland in time for Christmas Eve at the Church in the Meadows. I always like to offer prayers for friends around Easter and Christmas services. These times deepen my sense of connection with the sacred, so it seems like more of heart might be in the prayers.
In that spirit, I tried something new. I offered my playing at the Christmas Eve service as a prayer for an old student that I learned had recently had to leave to school. I did this in the same sense that Mass might be said for someone or ones who are ailing.
I brought in the new ear with some Liszt, this year being the bicentennial of his birth. I practiced Sposalizio on the 1st. I'm building my relationship with the piece on a daily basis. On this occasion, I noticed how important it is to stayed tuned to the metrical flow of this music - especially in the single-line passages and phrases with lots of rests - so as to really hear what Liszt has written.
On the first Sunday of the year I played new stuff for our service: my own prelude on "Morning Has Broken" (an arrangement I wrote for a student in the fall) and for offertory, I premiered my tune MEADOWS. That was the first thing I wrote after moving to FL. It is a song expressing the concept of Christian community.
Friday, December 31, 2010
2010
The sun is setting on 2010 here in Lakeland, FL.
Greetings to all our friends, near and far.
You are on our minds and in our hearts.
Greetings to all our friends, near and far.
You are on our minds and in our hearts.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Christmas Season
It has been a beautifully crisp and clear winter day here in Lakeland, complete with driven chops out on Lake Bonny. Tonight, the house is filled with wonderful Christmas cooking smells: sweet potatoes and chocolate cookies.
I woke up this morning thinking of my student days and the various existences I have led in Baltimore, New York, and Richmond. I think fondly and prayerfully of all my old friends and enemies, and of our growing up processes. I hope they think the same way of me from time to time.
Perhaps I am growing up a bit more now as I am coming to recognize the various seasons I have moved through. Our friend, Stefan, has stressed the concept of seasons from time to time, and there seems to be great groundedness to that. I am at peace with my current season which is one of savoring the experiences of each day without being anxious about the passage of time. (That's just happened to me. I don't entirely know why, but I know it is a grace.) This is also a season of slower, but probably better, work for me. And it's a season of settling down and treasuring home and family life.
Perhaps being at peace with various seasons of life, and with the seasons of a piece of music, is part of the affect and aura of a late performance by Cherkassky or Moravec. Neither ever seems rushed, and the music is always noble and fresh.
Tonight, I'm also grateful for the yearly return of Christmas music and my cyclic hearing of my Joan Sutherland Christmas CD. It never fails to move me. I have a tiny sense of what happens physically to make that shimmering quality her voice has, and that's moving. Plus, there's no fear, only excitement, as her voice climbs. And in the lower register, there's a touching vulnerability without the nervousness of other voices. Added to that golden instrument is her absolute genius sense of line. If you're a musician, I'm sure you are moved at first by this, but I find I need to suspend my own sense of line to be the most deeply touched and instructed when listening to her. Her sense of line is much better than mine. She is always tuned into the forward movement of the music. She takes breaks without losing momentum. She grasps and sings each gesture and conveys the tremendous meaning of each line's shapes in a way that goes beyond words for me. It is power and flight and love and joy and humanity.
So, Merry Christmas to all and God bless us every one!
I woke up this morning thinking of my student days and the various existences I have led in Baltimore, New York, and Richmond. I think fondly and prayerfully of all my old friends and enemies, and of our growing up processes. I hope they think the same way of me from time to time.
Perhaps I am growing up a bit more now as I am coming to recognize the various seasons I have moved through. Our friend, Stefan, has stressed the concept of seasons from time to time, and there seems to be great groundedness to that. I am at peace with my current season which is one of savoring the experiences of each day without being anxious about the passage of time. (That's just happened to me. I don't entirely know why, but I know it is a grace.) This is also a season of slower, but probably better, work for me. And it's a season of settling down and treasuring home and family life.
Perhaps being at peace with various seasons of life, and with the seasons of a piece of music, is part of the affect and aura of a late performance by Cherkassky or Moravec. Neither ever seems rushed, and the music is always noble and fresh.
Tonight, I'm also grateful for the yearly return of Christmas music and my cyclic hearing of my Joan Sutherland Christmas CD. It never fails to move me. I have a tiny sense of what happens physically to make that shimmering quality her voice has, and that's moving. Plus, there's no fear, only excitement, as her voice climbs. And in the lower register, there's a touching vulnerability without the nervousness of other voices. Added to that golden instrument is her absolute genius sense of line. If you're a musician, I'm sure you are moved at first by this, but I find I need to suspend my own sense of line to be the most deeply touched and instructed when listening to her. Her sense of line is much better than mine. She is always tuned into the forward movement of the music. She takes breaks without losing momentum. She grasps and sings each gesture and conveys the tremendous meaning of each line's shapes in a way that goes beyond words for me. It is power and flight and love and joy and humanity.
So, Merry Christmas to all and God bless us every one!
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Florida Christmas
Reflections and memories from this first Christmas season as a Florida resident:
First day the heat came on in our house - cozy!
First lizard in our house - too small and quick to catch, also the same color as our den carpet - hard to see. I assume he's still somewhere in the house. I also realized that I think of lizards as being male just like I've noticed that some folks always think dogs are male and cats are female. But lizards can't all be male.
Insightful student reminded me that it's good to be sad sometimes. A balance of some sort is what is needed. The music of Haydn demonstrates the reality of that balance well, as does the music of Chopin. Maybe that's why good Haydn pianists are sometimes good Chopin pianists.
First experience playing the celesta part in Nutcracker excerpt. Also enjoyed playing keyboard parts for excerpts from Polar Express and It's a Wonderful Life. Special to me: playing piano for Chip Davis "Silent Night" arrangement with my theory student as the solo cellist.
I'm feeling very at home in Lakeland and missing our usual warm Flordia weather!
I also feel very at home at Southeastern. In my experience so far, our mission statement is true: We are a loving Pentecostal community. Love is a hallmark of the place, as is a strong belief in the Holy Spirit. So it's a great place to be.
First day the heat came on in our house - cozy!
First lizard in our house - too small and quick to catch, also the same color as our den carpet - hard to see. I assume he's still somewhere in the house. I also realized that I think of lizards as being male just like I've noticed that some folks always think dogs are male and cats are female. But lizards can't all be male.
Insightful student reminded me that it's good to be sad sometimes. A balance of some sort is what is needed. The music of Haydn demonstrates the reality of that balance well, as does the music of Chopin. Maybe that's why good Haydn pianists are sometimes good Chopin pianists.
First experience playing the celesta part in Nutcracker excerpt. Also enjoyed playing keyboard parts for excerpts from Polar Express and It's a Wonderful Life. Special to me: playing piano for Chip Davis "Silent Night" arrangement with my theory student as the solo cellist.
I'm feeling very at home in Lakeland and missing our usual warm Flordia weather!
I also feel very at home at Southeastern. In my experience so far, our mission statement is true: We are a loving Pentecostal community. Love is a hallmark of the place, as is a strong belief in the Holy Spirit. So it's a great place to be.
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