Music jobs

Now that I have a job in the music industry, I thought it would make a good blog entry.

And by job, I mean a very part time one. I work a few hours a week in the library at the Oregon Symphony. It is funny we call our orchestras "symphonies" as a symphony is a type of composition, not really a group. Anyways, what I have done so far is transfer bow markings from the concert master's part to the rest of the section. This is not very interesting. But I broke down folders the other day, and it offered much more insight into an orchestra's workings. I learned about score order and that they keep exact records of how they perform each piece each time (at least in regards to instrumentation). But though I feel like i could, with time and more advanced organizational skills, be pretty good at the job, I could see myself resenting it's triviality at times. That is not to say that the job isn't necessary. In fact, it is jobs like librarian that makes the whole thing happen. Production seems more exciting and hands on, more active. Something different every day. But I have no background in production. We will see.

Conducting

I just finished my conducting final, and this guy is a bad ass! sometimes he just dances. AND look at the trumpeter with the beard.

Stage Fright

For years and years I have suffered from stage fright. Sometimes it is just not playing my best, sometimes it is so physically crippling that I cannot play my instrument. I thought I got over it, or at least that it was getting much better, but it reared it's ugly head again recently and I don't know why.

I got up to perform and all of a sudden I was shaking terribly and my mouth got dry and it was pretty awful. I had worked so hard on the piece, and I got on that stage and choked. The worst part was I felt prepared, even excited to perform the piece. I was even trying so hard to control my thoughts to think about breathing and being into the piece. But my body took over. I wanted to fight, but the rest of me decided to run away.


I know it is more subliminal than I give it credit, but I just don't identify with the "solutions" given by people on the internet. They suggest reminding yourself that your audience is not there to judge you, but to support you. That's not what I was thinking of before hand. I was thinking of how well I wanted to do and the nuances of my piece. I was stoked! But once it startd I started thinking very negatively.

I should try taking a shot or something. Then if that doesn't work, maybe I can try beta blockers.

(from http://www.ethanwiner.com/BetaBlox.html)
# 1. What are beta blockers (such as Inderal)?

Beta blockers block the receptors for the physical effects of a person's natural fight or flight response. They are not sedatives, and they can't help anxiety of a purely psychological nature.

Beta receptors are found in a number of places in the body: heart, lung, arteries, brain and uterus, to name a few. Like a key in a lock, beta blockers chemically fit into beta receptors and prevent norepinephrine from binding to the receptors that cause the symptoms of the fight-or-flight response.

The degree of these effects depends on the dose and the individual's sensitivity to the medication. Peak effect occurs in one to one and a half hours. Ideally, this could allow a performer to play at his or her best, without the distraction or interference of excessive fight or flight symptoms.

Blocking beta receptors can cause decreased heart rate; decreased force of heart contractions; bronchoconstriction (can cause asthma attacks in people with asthma); uterine contractions; decreased blood pressure; relief of migraines; and decreased tremor.

The beta receptors found in the different areas of the body are not all the same, thus different beta blockers may affect these areas differently. For instance, metoprolol (Lopressor) and atenolol (Tenormin) are beta-1 selective, which means they block only beta-1 receptors found primarily in the heart, but not the beta-2 receptors found in the lung and uterus. Thus, they can decrease blood pressure, heart rate and force of cardiac contraction, but are less likely to cause bronchoconstriction and uterine contractions. This selectivity is not absolute and depends on the dose.

Some beta blockers enter the brain better than others. Propranolol (Inderal) crosses the blood-brain barrier particularly well. This may be why propranolol causes more central nervous system side effects, such as hallucinations, nightmares, and depression, than the beta blockers that do not cross into the brain as easily.

Interestingly, the ability of beta blockers to help anxiety seems related only to their blockade of beta receptors outside of the brain. Beta blockers will not help the emotional symptoms of stage fright (for example, sleep problems or negative inner voices).

Everyone's body responds differently to beta blockers. For this reason it is important that each person experiment, under medical supervision, to find the ideal dosage for a performance situation. Similarly, it is important to take the beta blocker a few times and under different circumstances before a major performance to be sure the individual has no adverse reactions.

This sounds pretty severe, but I do not want to have to ever let myself down like that again.

hmmm

Palisades

Jon Wash not only can sing fantastically and in a style worthy of Sufjan, but his arrangement transformed this piece. His arrangement both paid the original homage and offered a new interpretation.

Some London Reviews

Then it was off to the symphony to see Essa-Pekka Salonen conduct the Philharmonia playing Messaien's Turangalila. I went in expecting to be bored of the atonality and happy with the huge symphony. Boy was I wrong, IT was THE MOST intense, captivating and moveing (both emotionally and physically_ piece I have ever heard. Salonen was fantastic, and though the Philharmonia didn't have the polished finesse of the Philharmonic (i might be predjudice), they really gave it their all. It is my new favourite piece, the one I will see every orchestra I can play. I LOVE it and came out charged and raring to go.


The last three performances:
1. Rational Rec: This was... an experience. In retrospect it's harder to be very negative, but I didn't exactly enjoy the concert. It was put on by our music teacher and two of his friends, one of whom is the guy with the talking in hyde park "art". It featured the work of six contemporary composers. The first was a parody/homage to the genre of rock, that consisted of about three chords, a guy screaming "yeah yeah" and him shuffling his ipod. The second was by far the most bizarre. A woman made weeeeird noises, like really weird, while this guy "played" his homemade instrument that emited random electronic sounds. They interviewed each other after that, we had a break, I realized I needed a lot more beer but couldn't afford it, then we went on to the next set. This consisted of an aurally unpleasing trio that was okay at the end, but at first made me want to tear my teeth out. This was followed by a guitar piece, the score of which was a map. The performer chose to go to different buildlings which had different riffs and, if they wanted to cross the road, had to play the elevator music.
I think the nutella and pancakes after this set was a highlight of the evening.
The next one was a duet between clarinet and accordian, which consisted of them trying to imitate eachother, then watching a video of themselves playing, then playig with the video.
The last one was my favorite (which honestly isn't high praise), a fun and raucus tango composed by a hilarious, trashed guy.
WTF?




After a sad, sad, saturday of sitting around doing nothing, I went to the London Phil to see Turnage's Lullaby for Henze, Henze's Seconda Sonata por ARchi, Brahm's Violin Concerto and the famous and beloved Tchaikovsky's sixth symphony.
The orchestra was set up in a wa I'd never seen before. From right to left, it went First Violins, Violas, Cellos, Second Violins, with the Basses behind everyone.
Turnage was good, but unremarkable. He was there, so I felt bad that we didnt' clap longer, but I think the Tchaik was on everyone's mind. I really liked the first movement of the Henze, and I knkew it was a good piece of music, but it was dense and ended on a really odd note.
The Brahms, however, was fantastic. Amazing. Spiritual. I LOVE JOHANESS BRAHMS!! He is just so right for me, so comforting yet interesting. I think I'm at a time in my life where I'm pushing myself to be edgy, to be atonal, but really all I want is something warm to feel safe with. And Brahms always makes me feel safe. The violinist was so organic and natural. Christian Tezlaff is my new favorite violinist. He played the violin like an extension of his body. But as soon as the goreous second movement ended and pounced straight into the third, his string broke. He freaked out and tried to trade violins with the concertmaster (or leader as they call them here), but didn't and ran off stage. While this was happening, behind me a lady repremanded a man for letting his young daughter mess around and disturb her. The kid must have been si or seven, and this lady was being a huge bitch about it. Who likes the symphony when they're that young?
Christian came on again and finished the piece, following it with a simple but perfect encore. Even though I had never heard the concerto before, I think Tetlaff was made to play Brahms.
The Tchaikovsky can't be described. Just listen to it. Jurowski without a score, molded it into his own being, giving it life and emotion that cannot be felt in a recording. The first movement was epic, giving way to a ani-climactic second and a radiant third. The anguish of the fourth held through until the last minute of bass solo, with Jurowski clearly so emotionally involved, one of those heart stopping moments when you're scared your breathing will interupt the sanctity. Then someone's cell phone rang. It was awful. AWFUL. Pooor Vlad!! It clearly menat o much to him and to have technology mar the moment like that... grrr. Sure almost had a kiniption (??) fit. All in all, though, a great musical experince. The phil never fails to impress.

My proudest musical moment

My friend's dad is the second violinist in the Kronos Quartet. He got me tickets last time they were in Portland, and it was an incredible concert. They go to do their encore and the first violinist announces that it is dedicated to John's (my friend's dad)family friend who is town for the concert Emily. My first thought was "that is SO funny that he has another family friend here named emily!" Then i realized it was me. It was a Sigur Ros piece, and I don't remember the name of it now, but i wrote it down.

When i was about 10, I was learning piano and my teacher assigned me a little version of the Ode to Joy. I LOVED it and I was secretly happy when my teacher, after I played it for him, told me I played it way too fast and assigned it to me for the next week.

Analysis: Prelude #15 by Frederic Chopin



Almost all great composers have written for the piano, but only one was the true master. Frederic Chopin needed no other instrument, no other medium through which to express his musical brilliance. Of all his piano works, we now turn our attention to the historically and critically disputed Preludes, op. 28. To Schumann they were "sketches" or even "ruins," inconsistent and unformed. But to others they are gems, as proven by their secure place in piano repertoire. Modeled after Bach's Well Tempered Clavier, the Preludes cycle through the twenty four keys, each one a unique musical portrait. Our tonal journey will linger in Db major, the fifteenth and longest Prelude in the group. Everyone continues to argue the lore behind this Prelude, aptly nicknamed "Raindrop." As the story goes, Chopin was composing the Preludes on a vacation to Majorca accompanied by George Sand. After his companion returned much later than promised due to a nasty storm, she found the composer at the piano, his musical pedal point mimicking the sound of the rain on the rooftop. Regardless of its truth (not only were the Preludes probably not composed in Majorca, but the specific piece referred to in the myth has changed multiple times), there is a certain eloquence in the comparison of Prelude 15 to the rain.

We cannot reject what has already been said, the image placed in our minds. So let the water fall through the sky as the first motive falls through the tonic chord, lingering on a dotted eighth and landing on a half note, only to rise again to its starting point.







We feel the pedal point Ab, always in sync with the harmonies, patter across the phrases, consistent but in no way relentless. Notice: this is the only melodically decisive phrase in the piece. Even the second theme in the A section cannot decide if it will repeat in full, so it fragments, eventually returning to our beginning melody.

The section ends with premonition of harmonic ambiguity, our ever-present Ab leading us to the dark and tempestuous section in C# minor. Tricky Chopin, modulating to the enharmonic minor! Or perhaps we should say benevolent Chopin, as Db minor would put us at eight flats that no one wants to deal with.

Now an ascending sequence rises from the depths of the bass clef, wandering as the pedal continues and adds an octave and the volume rises until the fortissimo climax, only to be repeated again. Nothing has been resolved yet, and tonal ambiguity prevails as we finally reach the pinnacle of the piece on a V7/iv. Only Chopin could take such conjunct motion and repetition and create music that begs such concentration and provokes such restrained passion. After all the wavering and the irresolution, lucky if even our leading tones resolve, we drift back, with relief, to first delicate melody. The skies are clearing; a solo two bars in the right hand provide the final tension before we calmly and quietly settle on the tonic, and our ever-present Ab ends its perpetual motion .

What beauty in simplicity, in contrast and consistency. Far from a ruin, this Prelude has intricacy and power in its architecture, leaving us feeling glad we weathered the storm.

program v. absolute

AS i sit here, listening to the rain, I start to think about program music. Not the most romantic opening sentence, huh? Anyways, it has to do with my recent analysis of the "Raindrop" Prelude. Chopin did not give it that name, but once you hear it, there is no way to escape it. The only other choice is to embrace it. Because "Raindrop" does not confine us to precipitation - we can feel the warmth of being inside and cozy on a rainy day, or the way the rain can depress us. How it can evoke brooding or sentimentality. In fact, this prelude is very Beethoven-esque, it has that internal quality of self-reflection, of being trapped in your own emotional mind. I just inadvertently brought up another philosophical topic: emotions vs. the mind. They are one in the same, I think. It is all interconnected, and I am not devoting much thought to trying to separate them.
But the absolutists say a Symphony, without any title can be anything we want. Classical music is so difficult to relate to, though. It is so easy to passively hear it without listening. Maybe programs help us connect with it, those of us who aren't great masters or trained professionals. hmmmm.

Music in my life

Why am I so drawn to music?

I want to be involved at symphonies, I want to teach it, and yet sometimes I am extremely bored by it. Aaron Copland or Nadia Boulange said that if you could still live without music, you have no reason to be involved with it. Or something like that. The point is I would never want to live without music, and I missed it terribly when I was away from it, but could i live with out it? Am i worthy of pursuing it to a very high degree? Can i learn it's languages, really get to a place where I can look or listen to a piece and judge it intelligently? I just don't know.

Not Enough

I need to make more time for music. It might seem like I'm doing a lot of it, that I spend hours rehearsing and practicing, but I don't focus on it enough, enjoy it enough. I do love playing trumpet, as much as I bitch about it. And I can't wait to start piano lessons again! Music history too! I am still debating about whether to take Topics or Jazz History, but I don't need to decide for awhile. It might look bad to have the same class 3-4 times on my transcript, but i do get repeat credit, and I would LOVE to take a class with George. I want to relax and lie on the floor and listen to Wagner and Mahler and not worry! I worry to much, and not about the right things. No good.


Another interesting idea: How do you reconcile the artist and the music? I mean, if the artist was a bad person and you know that, but you love their music, do you ever feel guilty? Like that their personality some how poisons it, makes it worse? Or should you just judge purely on the sound? Clearly I am talking about Wagner here. On the contrary, can a beautiful soul make music better?
hmmmm

Yesterday I gave a presentation on Schoenberg to my german class and I don't know how much of it they got. It is hard to explain music stuff to non music people. I am a total geek.

I think I'm going to try to heal a bit with music. Maybe Mahler's Ressurection? I need some ressurecting.

I think I miss music history. Honestly, I do. Call me a geek, it's been done before and rightly so, but there is a little void in my life and I think history belongs there. I will be taking at least one class next semester, so that will be nice, nice to run to the library and take out way more books that I'm going to read and nice to poor over details in the hope of finding out something new about my topic. But I hate that word, nice. Everything is nice, everyone is nice. Let's branch out, Emily. Use some more grown-up adjectives, like fulfilling, satisfying, intellectually stimulating. And even those, I feel, are intermediate adjectives. I want some really brilliant ones. Or just avoid using them altogether. An adjectiveless world would be a very stark one, though. See? You can't describe any nouns. Nouns need describing, and I think Plato would agree. We have the form of a horse, but to make it unique, we need to attach specifications to it, color, size, temperment.

What a rant! Maybe all this free thinking is getting to me. It is all for the best, I think. I could use some poeticism in my writing.

Some Stein for you

In honor of Gertrude:

We pull the weeds needing pulling but they come back strong. The strong weeds come back needing pulling so we pull the weeds so they don't choke the flowers. So we pull them but they come back strong, stronger than the flowers, you can't water the flowers without watering the weeds so we pull them out, out, but they are strong and come back and shouldn't we let them?

cooool

I just found this list of tings I did in London:

Soloists of the lond phil at Wigmore Hall
London Phil: Brahms, Sibelius and Zemlinsky
Gothic Singers: Medieval Music
Tate Britain
Tate Modern
V and A
Westminster Organ Recital/Evensong
National Portrait Gallery
Lion King
London Phil: Beethoven, Bartok and Dvorak
London Phil: Turnage, Ravel and Prokofiev
London Phil: Turnage, Henze, Brahms and Tchaikovsky
Konstantinova ensemble. Mahler unfinished piano quartet and Schumann op. 44 piano quintet
Les Mis
History Boys
Crystal Palace Museum
British Library
Viewing of Parliament
National Gallery of Scotland (Edinburgh)
Fitzwilliam museum
The hour in which we knew nothing of each other
Guildhall armours and brassiers award (winner Chris Evans)
LSO: Gergiev conducting Schoenberg Chamber Symphony and Mahler 7
ENO: Lucia di Lammermoor
Frankenstein
Wicked
After that Fall
The Serpentine Gallery
Dover Castle/ Regimental Army Museum
Dealer’s Choice
Much Ado About Nothing
Liverpool Cathedrals
Maritime Museum of Liverpool
Museum at the Docklands
Hairspray
The Magic Flute
Avenue Q
Relatively Speaking
The Sarajevo Story
Tate St Ives
British Museum
Rational Rec 2
Royal Ballet
Salome
National Gallery
Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Marlowe’s Dido Queen of Carthage
Stomp
National Portrait Gallery
Rational Rec
James, Son of James
Philharmonia: Messaien’s La Trangalia
Cinderella
Handel Concert (Handel’s Heroines)
Alban Berg Quartet (Hadyn, Schubert, Berg)
A Laughing Matter
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
The Mikado
The wallace collection
The importance of being earnest
Sir john soane museum
The Homecoming

My Rap

Since I was little I have been told to try hard

Do the best, pass the test

Look up and dream of success

Now I’m ambitious, dedicated

To young yet to be jaded

The drive their hopes created

Has flickered but not faded

I want to stand up

Make some noise, Make a racket

Someday you’ll quote me on your book’s dust jacket

But I can’t ignore

The doubts that plague me

Don’t know what’s in store

Where life will place me

Cause why does what I say even matter

My whispers amid this academic chatter

People smarter than me

Try harder than me

With their maps in hand for this uncharted journey

Noses in book, are they helping us all?

You can’t eat a journal, can’t live in a concert hall

The most brilliant minds

Dote on rhetorical finds

Countless dollars are spent

On their minutia and dissent

So I can see the disconnect

Reality intellect

But I refuse to reject

That it is worthless, and I suspect

That my future that gleams

The glitter of my hopes and dreams

Is actually gold

So forth I’ll go bold

If I’m happy I may

Above the storm and the fray

Make a difference some day

And that’s all I got to say

Song Lyrics

Inspired by Doc Pomus:

I go to classes everyday
rehearse, reads books and such
but sometimes I wish I was busier
So I wouldn't think of you so much

They say that love is easy
That it lifts you to the clouds
But I feel the dirt more than ever
Since you're not around

But I know the time will come
Where I can greet you at the door
Your hand will be mine to hold
And I won't cry no more

Til then, I'll wait so patient
It's for you I truly care
There ain't nothin' i wouldn't do
I know we'll find our somewhere

emmmmo, but the blues were emo, so there.

Carlos 'n me

MY first encounter with Carlos Kalmar, Conductor of the Oregon Symphony:

I was backstage at a rehearsal, shadowing the Operations Manager. Carlos comes out of the dressing room, and Anne moves to introduce me.
"Carlos, this is Emily Nelson. She's shadowing me."
he looks at me skeptically: "I was about to say, who the hell are you?"
Anne continues as he walks on, "She did an internship wth the London philharmonic"
he makes weird, not very impressed noises and walks away.

I think I made a great impression. Just awesome.

Short Story

Piano.

“Why don’t you ever play for me?”
She paused for a moment as he flipped through a magazine at her kitchen table, but quickly continued to dry the dishes from the dinner she had cooked.
“Did you hear me?”
Setting down the last plate, she faced him. He looked up now.
“Yes, I heard you. And I don’t know” she lied, running her fingers delicately over her still-wet palms.
“I think you do. I’ve asked you before and you seem to just avoid doing it. I know you still play. Why can’t I ever listen?”
She held his gaze for a moment before reaching below the sink for a towel. This one was getting better at reading her, and she didn’t know if she liked it or not.
“It doesn’t matter”
The towel was returned to its hook. She did not sit down.
“Why is this a big deal? Don’t get defensive. I’m not asking you to tell me your sordid past or reveal any secrets. I just want to hear you play piano. And you have been doing it for so long that it can’t be because you’re awful at it. You know I wouldn’t care if you were.”
His voice remained kind as he tried to catch her eye and she feigned interest in the dirty window.
They had asked her before. Love ran through her life like electricity. The bulbs would flicker then begin to fade, but she could replace them easily. He was no different.
“You know I don’t understand why you keep things from me. This, we, should always be honest.”
Oh God, is this really going to set him off? She was not in the mood.
“I am not keeping anything from you! I just play the piano, it’s just a thing I do.”
The dial on the stove gave way under her weight, clicking as gas escaped and she turned to correct it.
“I don’t get it, just tell me why you won’t.”
His whole body was facing her now, affirming his interest, and she lost hope he would drop this.
“Maybe I don’t want to.”
She studied her feet now, arms crossed over her chest protectively.
“Why?”
She chewed her lip.
“Because it’s mine.”
She looked up and watched his brows furrow.
“The piano? But you play…”
“No, the music.”
She was surprised she was telling him this and watched his reaction intently.
“But why? Music is such a wonderful thing to share, to bring people together. It would make us closer…”
“No!”
There wasn’t room for arguement in her tone.
“It isn’t fair but this is mine.”
He watched her soft, dark hair all to her shoulders as she undid her ponytail. Even from there he could smell the faint scent of shampoo, that warm and sweet vanilla.
He stood up from the table to her perch by the stove and took her chin in his hand, pulling her face up to meet his.
“Don’t fucking do that,” she said, jerking her head away.
He took a step back, embarassed by how demeaning he must have just come off as.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to hear you play. I understand.”
She wished she hadn’t said anything.

My Funeral

Funeral


Music plays a huge role in my life, and will too in my death. At first it seemed to difficult a task to sum up my life in thirty minutes of music. What emerged as the final playlist was a compilation of pieces important to me as both a listener and performer. I don’t feel it gives a narrative of my life or a comprehensive summation of my personality, but more a personal representation of the importance of music as a source of comfort and expression.
The first piece I chose was the fifth movement from Rachmaninoff’s All-Night Vigil. Rachmaninoff asked that this movement be played at his funeral, and though make no claims to be on par with such a great master, I still wanted to include it. The passion of Russian choral music are so moving and in the beauty I canot help but feel an uplifting and comforting tone. I am not religious at all, and I have no idea what they are singing about, but the feeling in the music is clear. The next two pieces are both solo piano works. The first, Intermezzo no. 2 from opus 118 by Brahms, was the first piece I have played on piano through which I felt I could truly express myself. I never get tired of either listening to it or playing it, and it is so full of love. The second, Etude no. 3 from Op 10 by Chopin, always makes me feel better when I’m sad. The melody has always touched me; it has that inexpressable tenderness that makes music so amazing.
The next piece is a simple Irish folk tune arranged for trumpet and wind ensemble called “’Tis the Last Rose of Summer” (paticularly fitting considering my middle name). In my biased opinion, there is nothing more gorgeous than a soulfully played trumpet. This short piece has so much simple beauty and a sentimental quality without sorrow, both very appropriate for a funeral.
As much as I love classical music, I have always thought that jazz musicians can express themselves on perhaps not deeper, but more intimate level. The performer has so much freedom that it becomes their piece far more than the composer’s. In a self-indulgent action, I decided the standard “Emily” would be perfect. I always felt so special whenever someone played it for me, and I suppose this would be the last time it would happen.
My last choice of song sticks out from the rest. I honestly have no idea who the band is, or what else they have done, but The New Radical’s “You Get What You Give” is the song I listen to whenever I feel like giving up. I might be interpreting it incorrectly, but I think it says that this world is hard, but youhave to keep fightint. You always have a reason to pursue your dreams because “you have the music in you.” I’d like to think I have the music in me.
My funeral should not truly be about me; I’ll be dead, I won’t care. It should be a chance for those who want to mourn my passing or celebrate my life to be able to do so, and find comfort or solace for their grief. Music more than anything had the power to do that, and I tried to choose pieces that would accomplish this goal.

Beethoven and his Nephew

Emily Nelson

Music and Language

9/27/08

Article Review

In the chapter “Beethoven and his Nephew” from his esteemed biography of the composer, Maynard Solomon sheds new light on this much-discussed period of Beethoven’s life. His narrative of the years 1815 to 1820 not only gives a solid factual overview, but also highlights Beethoven’s deep moral questionability and provides psychoanalytical theories regarding his behavior. It begins with the death of Beethoven’s brother Carl Caspar, whose son Beethoven lays claim in direct contradiction to the wishes of his brother. What ensues is a legal struggle between Beethoven and his brother’s widow, Johanna, along with the tragic circumstances surrounding the boy Karl. Beethoven’s actions have been condemned as unethical and cruel by previous biographers, but Solomon takes a more scientific approach, theorizing based on psychoanalytical methods in an effort to explain the actions and summarize the ultimate effect they had on the composer. Indeed, Solomon presents this period as one of the most psychologically important in the composer’s life; it forced Beethoven to deal with “unresolved issues of his family constellation” by bringing them out of the world of fantasy and into reality.

When viewed on a personal level rather than psychological, it is difficult not to whole-heartedly condemn the composer for his actions. Perhaps if he had claimed sole guardianship and subsequently provided a quality, loving home for Karl, sympathy would come more easily. But every action seems inexcusably selfish. It was not that Beethoven wanted the boy in his care, but he did not want him to be with his mother. He explicitly tried to turn the boy against Johanna, and at the same time was trying to obtain permission to ship the boy out of the country. His interactions with Karl were not one of a loving parent but cruelly ambivalent, smothering the boy alternately with affection and beratement. Solomon makes the pertinent connection between this behavior and Beethoven’s own childhood, noting that we should balance our condemnation with the “understanding that he was in the grip of forces that he could not control and that in his own way he ultimately sought atonement.” Was he the conductor of a train headed toward a man on the tracks, completely conscious of what was happening but unable to control his actions? Or was he Madame Bovary, entrenched in a world of fantasy he created for himself? From an outsider’s perspective, especially one from a relatively healthy family background, it is hard to understand what drove these seemingly misguided events. Solomon does an excellent job of trying to rationalize them, however, and provides an even-handed psychological explanation of Beethoven’s possible motivations.

But Beethoven is not just a case study in Freudian theory. He is a composer. And what brought us to have any interest in this man is his music. According to Solomon, Karl and Johanna were “catalysts” by which Beethoven could reach new creative heights. But unlike a chemical catalyst, Johanna and Karl did not remain unchanged. Beethoven’s creative breakthrough came at a terrible price to these two people. The whole event may have been psychologically beneficial to Beethoven, but does that excuse the irreparable damage he caused Karl and his mother? A utilitarian view might pardon his actions because such widely loved and musically genius works as the Ninth Symphony would have never happened if the scenario had played out differently. It is not an easy conflict to resolve but an intriguing one none-the-less, and Solomon guides us down the path to understanding with many new and interesting ideas regarding this period in Beethoven’s life.

The Appeal of the Artist

Wednesday in class we talked about the musicological quest to unite artists and their works on a very personal level. We want to hear struggle and love and anger in the music, for their inner selves to emerge in the notes, chords, melodies. We scrutinize the minutia of artist's lives as meticulously as any historical figures. Their family, behavior, sexuality, personality, everything is under the microscope: the geek version of People. It's big news when a new letter is unearthed or it turns out Handel had a previously unknown girlfriend. Though it is based around and music and eventually comes back to it, we have become obsessed with these figures in a extra-musical way. And i have no problem with this. I LOVE gossip, I love to know everyone's business. I know it's bad, but I'm a teenage girl- what do you expect? It also does enhance the listening experience, especially if you know the composer was expressing himself through his compositions which, I believe, is not always the case. Music and sound have intellectual appeal as well as emotional, and I can't imagine that all of Glass or Haydn's works have deep meaning to them. It also, honestly, was a profession before an art. It is also hard for someone who can barely write a chord progression to imagine being able to hear a melody or feel a symphony in a creative way, without thinking about going from ii to V to I. I am both envious and in awe of those so fluent in the language of music that it can be a form of expression. I feel like I have gotten to a point where I'm beginning to learn to express myself through music, but it has to be the right piece.
Anyways, I love listening to a piece and knowing what the composer was thinking, especially when I can't connect with the piece solely aurally. To listen in an informed way, with specifics in mind, helps me understand what they were trying to accomplish and appreciate the artistry.
I love musicology.

Music and Greed

Sometimes it is hard to comprehend the bigger picture when you live in the American middle class bubble. This looming financial crisis is clearly going to be devastating and has had a huge impact on our economy, but really I have seen nothing change. If I didn't read the newspapers, I would never have guessed.
So what does this $700 billion dollar bailout mean for art? From Damien Hirst's example, it seems people are still willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on it. But will people continue to be as generous towards art that doesn't exclusively benefit themselves? When you hear that banks are collapsing, that our economy is in shambles, your first reaction is not to donate to your local orchestra. You get a little scared, and rightfully so. Maybe you start saving more money and cut out non-essentials. And art is right up there at the top. But why do I assume this, when I don't actually see it happening? I am still going to Beethoven's ninth this weekend, my friends are still going to the ballet, so why should other people change? Situation must be taken into account; a college student living off her parent's generosity and summer savings is far different from someone who must support her family. Art depends on money, and who knows what will happen to the institutions we love.

Concert Review

It is not often that one gets to here a concert featuring primarily Finnish composers, and even less often does that night include an accordion concerto.
The Vaasa City Orchestra came to Evans Auditorium at Lewis and Clark College Friday as part of their Pacific Northwest Tour, a four day event that included concerts in Seattle, Bellingham and Astoria. For a small orchestra of roughly 30 player, their sound was full and well-shaped by conductor Hannu Koivula. Koivula, a trumpeter and established conudctor in his home nation, had no trouble evoking controlled expression from his group, with the focus and energy to make the silences and meaningful as the sounds.
The program was entirely composed in the twentieth and twentyfirst century by one Brazillian and four Finnish composers, but that by no means implied harmonic homogeny.
The orchestra opened with Pelleas et Melisande by Jean Sibelius, the only household name on the program and Finland’s Romantic pride and joy. The higly programmatic and lusciously tonal piece was soon forgotten in the wake of D’n’A, a concerto for orchestra and accordion written only a year ago by the orchestra’s composer in residence Markus Fagerudd. Highly accomplished accordion player Veli Kujala joined the orchestra, the same soloist who premiered the piece in 2007 with Vaasa. The piece opened in chaos, Mr Kujala pounding uncerimonsiously on the keys while accompanied by arhythmic riffs in the orchestra. Eerie atonalism on this unusual and wheezy instrument made it difficult to listen to at points, but I can now say I have seen someone “shred” an accordion. While the music must be judged on a personal basis based on tolerance and enjoyment of the erractic and bizarre tendencies of modern compositions, neither the execution, nor the clear talent of young Mr Kujala, were questionable. When the piece ended on repeated, jolting fortissimo chords, I had to admit it was an experience, but one I would not like to repeat.
The second half of the program had as much, if far less severe, contrast. It began with a movement from Toivo Kuula’s South Ostrobothnian Suite 1, an intense and densely orchestrated piece born out of the Sibelius tradition, with rich harmonies and pastoral beauty. Mr Kuula, explained Mr Koivula ,was a native of Vaasa and died very young (he was shot and died of complications at the age of 35), and this piece was one of the “beautiful treasures” he left behind. Three pieces by another Finnish composer Vaino Raitio followed, reminiscent of the dances from The Nutcracker and full of rhythmic, interweaving lines. Mr Kujala came back for the final stage in a wonderful redemption of the enjoyablility of his instrument. Egberto Gismonti’s Suite de Gismonti deomstrated the appropriateness of an accordian in combination with an orchestra, both highlighting and integrating the instrument into the group’s sound. The groovy, dance-like rhythms were supported by an appealing combination of consonance and disonance. The musical interest, along with the undeniable virtuosity of Mr Kujala, who fell to his knees at one point, so moved was he by the intensity of a cadenza, made it a memorable finale.
The intimate crowd, noticeably few of which were LC students, rose to their feet in appreciation, but sat again as more troops in the personage of brass players were brought onstage for the encore. Knowing twitters arose from the audience as the familiar and somewhat overzealous chorale rose from the beefy brass section marking the beginning of Sibelius’ Finlandia. We were prompted to rise for the hymn, now a melody of nationalistic importance. It was a fitting end to an enjoyable and musically educational night, with Finnish music presented by a talented orchestra who understand the musical traditions of their native land.

We brought down the walls of Jericho

I have been playing so much trumpet lately that I have not been focusing on this blog. And I haven't even been practicing that much. In fact, I barely feel like I practice at all. I hear of these music majors practicing 4, 6, 8 hours a day, and I just do not get it. When do they go to class? Go to rehearsal? Eat? Sleep? Practice for hearings? But the biggest questions I have, especially when it comes to trumpeting, is how can they physically do it? I know, I'm fresh on the scene after having a lack-luster 9 months in the trumpet realm, but I still cannot understand this super-human endurance they must have. Of course, I want to take things slow, build up to being able to practice a good, solid 2 hours a day and feel fine and strong afterward, but I have been thrown back into it, with demanding rehearsals 3 days a week and the attention span of a goldfish. I know I can't beat myself up over not being, to put it bluntly, any good right now, but I just want some easy, 12-step path to being a kick-ass trumpeter. That's what I need to be in order to play all the first parts, all the C and Eb trumpet, all the soprano sax parts (not even written for me!). And I'm not even a performance major!! I don't have time to read or study musicology. I think I should change that. I just need to be incredibly time efficient and focused whenever I'm working. Work hard, play hard, right? An it could be a lot more boring or unrewarding than music.

I suppose I should use this blog as an outlet for writing intelligently, not emotionally, about music.

Maybe next time.

Kronos goes to Bollywood

Kronos goes to Bollywood

The dynamic Kronos Quartet, keeping with their whole-hearted embrace of contemporary music, has turned their attentions to the musical world of Bollywood on their 2005 album You’ve Stolen My Heart (Nonesuch). Since the group was formed in 1973, Kronos has been on the cutting edge of the music scene, reconceiving, even doing away with, the traditional role of the string quartet. They have collaborated with Terry Riley in a 2002 multimedia performance commissioned by NASA, worked with artists from Dave Matthews to Darren Aronofsky to Twyla Tharp, and recorded much of the great twentieth century chamber music repertoire. Now they have turned their attentions across the globe to the hugely popular Bollywood, a name given to the largest part of the Indian film industry. This album was made as a tribute to the late, great R.D. Burman. Burman is considered by many to be the greatest Bollywood film composer of all time, which is quite a feat bearing in mind that by the time of his death in 1994, Bollywood was producing 700 movies a year, almost all of them musicals. He composed for 331 released movies, and not minimalist or subtlely artsy films. Bollywood movies have a distinct reputation for the melodramatic, with love, action, and comedy all sung and danced exuberantly.
The featured singer and Burman’s wife, Asha Bhosle, is equally as accomplished. David Harrington, first violinist for Kronos and producer of the record (a first for him), describes her as “the Queen of Bollywood,” a certainly deserved title. The soundtracks for Bollywood movies are recorded by “playback singers,” Bhosle being one of the foremost and prolific with over 13,000 tracks recorded in her career. In fact, she is believed by many to be the most recorded singer ever.
And you would never guess she was seventy two when she made You’ve Stolen My Heart. This is the first Kronos album to feature a lead singer, with Bhosle performing on eight of the twelve tracks. Part of the effectiveness of both vocal and instrumental melodies comes from the fact that Bhosle is singing in Hindi. Much like Italian opera, it is her sounds and music, not her words, which have to express her meaning to us English speakers. Take the groovy fourth track on the album, “Ekta Deshlai Kathi Jwalao (Light A Match).” The laid-back rhythms, lively vocals, and interspersed sing/talk give it all the significance it needs to be enjoyed, even if we have no idea why or who is lighting a match. Vintage sounds and exotic percussion and even strains of the James Bond theme accompany spirited singing on “Saiyan Re Saiyan (My Lover Came Silently),” another rhythmically vibrant track that ends the album.
The fluid and undulating Bollywood style of singing also translates well to stringed instruments, especially those in the skilled hands of Kronos. “Nodir Pare Utthchhe Dhnoa (Smoke Rises Across The River)” shows off Jennifer Culp’s melodious cello, accompanied by tabla and sounds evocative of an Indian landscape. It was fun to hear the Quartet essentially take on cinematic roles as soloists on the instrumental tracks. Too bad they didn’t dance too.
Kronos forays into film music have been highly successful, having recorded soundtracks for such films as 21 Grams and Requiem for a Dream, and this is no exception. They embrace this fun and energetic style with unique arrangements and collaborations that just make for a good time, especially if you appreciate the sounds of Bollywood.

Monk-ey Business

A brief and rough review of Meredith Monk's Dolmen Music




Meredith Monk has been singing, shrieking, moaning and chanting her way to compositional and performance stardom since she entered the New York arts scene in the 1960’s. The interdisciplinary artist (Monk choreographs, directs and makes films)as well as music) has made a name for herself in the music world by composing for such personalities as Michael Tilson Thomas and earning recognition by pioneering a very different approach to vocal music. Her third album Dolmen Music, released in 1981, shows off her talents as composer, vocalist and innovator. As Beckett reinvented the components of theater to create recognizable but distinctly unique plays, so Monk takes the essence of minimalism and vocalization and creates her own music. The album opens with “Gotham Lullaby,” a wordless but uniquely expressive piece for voice and piano, simple melodies sung on syllables interspersed with what I can only describe as yelping. The entire album highlights Monk’s use of extended vocal techniques, using the voice as an instrument beyond its traditional association with words. The last and longest track, a combination of four pieces under the title of “Dolmen Music,” shifts from beautiful chant to bizarre wavering in the course of twenty three minutes. I am sympathetic with those wary of twentieth century “innovators.” Sometimes modern composers “fresh and different” uses of instruments can become overwhelming and abrasive, but Monk avoids this with comfortingly tonal accompaniments and steady tempos. Her style effectively combines minimalism with experimental music and the output, if peculiar at times, is both challenging and enjoyable.

All That Jazz

I do not understand classical musicians who look down on jazz. I just don't. I bet they don't dance, which is really too bad for them. I haven't sat down and really talked with one of these people, had them explain their point of view, listen and assessed it. But I know they're out there, and I just don't understand. I love classical music as much as the next girl, but if I want to groove or dance cheek to cheek, as Frank sang, I would not turn on Haydn or Wagner. Jazz has the same transcendent and expressive quality as classical music, and you could argue the improvisational emphasis gives it even more. I get lost in solos as easily as piano concertos. So much soul, so much fun! It's these people that give classical music its elitist, stuffy reputation.

Zorn Again

Though I am not a fan of John Zorn’s experimental jazz saxophone, I put aside my bias and listened to his Quartet no. 2 from Short Stories with an open mind. I was well rewarded. The Quartet follows in the footsteps of Lyric Suite, lacking traditional form or melody but still connected through rhythmic and harmonic movement. The detache bowing, percussive use of the instruments and other effects effectively add intrigue and texture without pretention, a much appreciated quality when compared to many other modern string pieces. Just like a good written story, the piece had an exposition, development and beginning, holding your attention and exciting your interest in the progress of the plot and growth of the characters. Supremely executed by the Kronos Quartet, Quartet no. 2 proved Zorn’s talents translate well into the classical medium.

LATER: Want to know why I liked this Zorn so much? Because it wasn't Zorn. I thought the whole album was by him, but no, just one track and not the track I selected. This piece was by Sofia Gubaidalina, a composer I have heard of and like much better than zorn. Ironic looking back on this now that i know my mistake...

A very good place to start

Julie Andrews taught us that when you sing you begin with Do Re Mi. If only it was simple with writing. I never quite know how to start, so forgive me if this is disjointed.

Inspired by his article about blogging, I just began to explore the journalist and author Alex Ross's own blog, therestisnoise.com. His posts go back years and he seems to have an entire catalog of his written works available, but in an effort to stay hip with the times, I read his most recent article. What a good choice. In this piece, published in the New Yorker, Ross explores the practice of the modern concert, discussing two recently published books on the subject that contrast the informality of pre-20th century concerts to the structure of contemporary performances. I have always thought that the rigidity of classical performances has greatly contributed to its reputation as elite. In blatant contrast to rock or rap concerts, you are not allowed to talk or sing along, wear your orchestra's t-shirt coupled with your filthiest, trendiest jeans, and most concert goers would be more than a little surprised if plumes of pot smoke arose from the audience. Isn't that a fun idea, though? I know, even in the 18th century people didn't act as crazy as they do at modern pop concerts, but just think about it. You go to Davies with a huge picture of MTT on your shirt, ready to belt out "Pierrot Lunaire" and hit on the totally wasted corporate banker sitting next to you. >
as fun as that sounds, let’s not get carried away. I greatly appreciate and respect the sanctity of the concert hall. There are some performances that have so moved me that I honestly thought about extreme and probably lawsuit-worthy measures to convince those next to me to shut the hell up. As the Romantics loved to say, there is a spiritual quality to classical music that is so personal due to the abstract medium. And really, you have to respect that. You have to respect that a piece boring you to tears might be moving your neighbor to tears, and you have no right to at all belittle or interupt that experience. Ross also speaks of the subtleties that have emerged in compositions as the audience has demured, something I certainly appreciate in many modern works.Also addressed in the article is the lack of modern works in the programming of contemporary orchestral seasons. Observing reactions in the marketing department of the LPO, it seemed that unknown or ill-reputed composers were always the bane of their existence. Give them a nice Tchaik 4 or Beethoven 9 and it was a breeze, but come Schoenberg, who was writing one hundred years ago, and they got quite flustered. I understand that people who like classical music and have a night to go would choose something they know they like over something that could potentially suck. And let’s face it, modern music has a pretty, er, inaccessible reputation. But I would love to get into what’s happening now, just like in the indie or pop scene, to be excited about new compositions and modern (not a century old) trends. But it takes a full wallet, a supreme sense of adventure and a whole lot of patience to seek out and find contemporary composers that suite your fancy. It's a commitment I need to make, even though I'm quite snug nestled in my Romantic adoration. It would be well rewarded, I know; just listening to these pieces John Zorn wrote for string quartet has sparked my interest. My friend gave an album by his experimental jazz/rock/awful noise group Naked City in high school, and I evnetually just deleted it off my library as whenever a piece came up in shuffle, I immediately lunged to the computer to change it. The music was so unpleasant that it lost all appeal. I should not have gotten rid of it, though. My tastes have changed dramatically in the past year- I would have never thought I would love Schoenberg (though not sprechstima, sorry) and Berg when I could barely stand to listen to them before. Maybe it's a sign of maturity, maybe I'm just more open minded. I think this will be a continuos theme in this blog of mine.