My journey down a wonderful rabbit hole - discovering music composed by women

It all started several years ago, in the summer of 2017. I had been asked by a flute player, Sarah Wardle Jones, if I would play piano for a recital she had put together of music composed by women, a particular interest of hers. I of course said yes, not because of the program itself, but simply because I rarely turn down an opportunity to perform. I very quickly realized after saying yes, much to my puzzlement and embarrassment, that I had never, in my entire schooling and career covering 39 years (!) performed anything written by a woman. I couldn't even name on one hand the names of female composers. Fanny Hensel, Clara Schumann, and Cécile Chaminade. That was it. 

The recital was a joy. It was refreshing to peer into a world I hadn't previously known and Sarah's enthusiasm for the composers (Anna Bon, Cécile Chaminade, Lili Boulanger, Sofia Gubaidulina, and Jennifer Higdon), was inspiring. I found myself feeling like Alice by the end of the experience, standing at the very top of a very deep but thrilling hole that contains a new musical cornucopia of creativity and expression I had yet to discover. 

I jumped in. 

I'm still on my long journey down. 

I'm constantly discovering new wonders along the way. 

At the end of 2018, Sarah and a friend of hers, clarinetist Michelle Smith Johnson, and I put together a fun Halloween concert. I don't believe in that particular performance we performed anything written by a woman, but that project brought the three of us together. Over wine and appetizers one evening we found ourselves chatting about the possibility of forming an ensemble and we all decided that what we wanted was to focus on shining a light on works written by women and commissioning new works. It was shortly thereafter that our trio, at the beginning of 2019, The Alma Ensemble, was born, named in honor of Alma Mahler.

Farther down the rabbit hole, at the beginning of 2020, I was thrilled to be able to finally meet in person Sandra Mogensen, a pianist who had long been a friend of mine on Twitter. She was in the United States to present some recitals and presentations to celebrate and announce the release of her first recordings in a series she's doing called "En pleine lumière" which features all works composed by women. In talking with her during her visit I think we both realized that we shared many of the same frustrations, especially in terms of finding scores for these composers whose voices really need to be heard. When they can be found they are often significantly more expensive, sometimes prohibitively so. Another point we also found ourselves frustrated by is that many anthologies and method books for pianists just beginning their journey don't feature female composers. At that point in our discussion we started trying to figure out what we could do and it dawned on us that both of us had regularly been looking to the online resource, IMSLP to find scores. We decided that perhaps we could both comb through the listings and create a shareable spreadsheet that would list all of the piano pieces composed by women on the site. With IMSLP being a free resource, this would ensure that anyone who had access to a computer could also have access to the music that's there. Sandra agreed to start at "A," I started at "Z" working backwards, and we eventually met in the middle. By the summer we had our spreadsheet roughly put together.  Part I was complete.

Part II of our project started at the end of the summer. We created a YouTube channel, Piano Music, She Wrote, and started posting our own recording of works we've discovered in our IMSLP quest. So far we've faithfully posted 2 every week. We now stand at over 40 videos and have many, many more to go! 

We now find ourselves in Part III. We set ourselves the goal of releasing our spreadsheet publicly once our YouTube channel reached 300 subscribers. Last weekend our goal was achieved! So now, if people want an easy, quick way to discover the piano pieces written by women that have scores on IMSLP available to download for free, folks can head to our Ko-Fi store. We are asking for a minimum donation of $10.00 US to get the url for our spreadsheet. That is to cover the hundreds of hours we've already put into this project and will continue to put into it. This spreadsheet is a living, breathing one. We'll regularly be updating it as new works are added to the score database. We are also donating 10% of every donation back to IMSLP since without them, none of this would have been possible.  

We've had several people mention that purchasing access to the spreadsheet on behalf of others, like piano students or teachers, would make a great virtual stocking stuffer, holiday gift, or graduation gift and we couldn't agree more. To make that possible, when purchasing access, any quantity can be selected. If people have 10 pianists they'd like to send the url to, they can simply select "10" as the quantity and then voilá, they'll be all set. 

Here's our video announcement about our spreadsheet in case you want to learn more: 

And here's a shorter, 2 minute version of the same video if you're short on time:

Sandra and I have many more stages forthcoming so stay tuned! We'd also like to start planning a world tour once this pandemic is all said and done so if anyone wants us to come share what we've learned, both through recitals and presentations, let us know! 

Back to the rabbit hole analogy. I feel like I'm still only a fraction of the way down this hole and I couldn't be more thrilled about that. There is clearly much more to discover. Often I find myself researching one composition and am led to another fantastic one...and then another...and another. It never seems to end. So much music I've never heard, so many composers I've never heard of but should have!  Thankfully there are many others out there who are also on this same journey. I encourage anyone else who's interested to join in the fun and to share what you find. Let's get more of this fantastic music accessible and available to all. I think Für Elise and The Happy Farmer would be happy to step aside for a while. 

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Solving a frustrating memory mystery - eyes and brain required

"Mommy, I can't find my book!"

"Mommy, my shoes are gone!"

I hear phrases like this practically every day and  more often than not, whatever it is my daughter is looking for ends up being right in front of her eyes.  If only she would use her beautiful eyes.  If only she would learn to truly look, observe, and to process information instead of just panicking and going through the motions.

But I know she's not alone in this phenomenon - of looking without seeing.  It happens to all of us and to just about every young musician with whom I work.  Consequently, one of the skills I teach most is the skill of observation and connecting what we see with information that can help us learn and perform our music more easily and securely.  I touched on this concept in one of my most recent posts, "Berry picking in the practice room" and today I wanted to apply it to music using a scenario that came up recently at a music camp where I was teaching.

A few weeks into the camp I was working with a young tenor who was trying to memorize Edward Rubbra's setting of Shakespeare's, "It was a Lover and his Lass."   First, here's the text:

It was a Lover and his Lass 

It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that life was but a flower
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

And, therefore, take the present time
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino.
For love is crown'd with the prime
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

The singer had learned all the notes and rhythms so he was well on his way to being ready to perform it but he said that he just couldn't memorize the words for some reason.  He was extraordinarily frustrated, that was very clear to me.  It's situations like this that are like invitations outlined in flashing neon lights - "Help me! Help me?" so I instantly began asking him questions.  This is just an approximation of the conversation but I think it will give you an idea of the strategy the unfolded.

Me:  What's the song about?

Him: I don't know.  A guy?

Me:  Um, yes...there is a guy involved.  Who else?

Him:  There's a girl too.

Me:  Right.  That's always nice.  What about them?

Him: I don't know.  I'm kind of confused by the song and don't really know that it's about anything.

Me: Hmmm...interesting comment.  I think I know why you feel that way - it's not your fault.  I think Shakespeare isn't helping you out much.  Let's take a different approach for a second and trust me, we'll get to the memory issue eventually.  Do you have a separate copy of just the words, without any music?

Him: Yep.  Here it is.

Me:  OK.  First I want you to tell me if there are any lines of text that are repeated in the song?

Him:  Yes, there are.  The "hey nonino" lines.  They are in every verse.

Me:  Right, good.  Any others?

Him:  Also the last three lines of every stanza.

Me:  Yes!  So right now I want you to read all the lines that are unique, all the other ones that aren't repeated anywhere else.

Him:  OK.

It was a lover and his lass,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass. 

Between the acres of the rye
These pretty country folks would lie. 

This carol they began that hour,
How that life was but a flower. 

And, therefore, take the present time
For love is crown'd with the prime.

Me:  Ah.  You said earlier that you didn't think the song was really about anything.  Read those 8 unique lines again and tell me if you are getting any more of a sense of a story or a message.

Him: Well, I guess it kind of makes more sense now.

Me:  Tell me about it.

Him: In the first stanza it introduces this lover and his girlfriend.

Me:  Right.  And where are they?

Him:  Walking through a green corn-field.

Me:  Right.  That's it for the first stanza.  Now close your eyes and picture that in your head.  (After 30 seconds or so...) Second stanza, now what happens?

Him:  Well, they both lie down together in fields of rye.

Me:  That's all?

Him:  Yeah, that's all.

Me:  Great.  Now picture the lover and his lass, walking over the green cornfields, coming to a field of rye and lying down together.  Third stanza?

Him: They sing a song or something...about life being like a flower.

Me: Interesting.  What's that all about?

Him: I don't know, but maybe that's what the fourth stanza is doing...answering that question.  Maybe that last stanza is saying that since life is like a flower and is going to only last so long we should really live for the moment, especially when we're talking about love.

Me: Cool!  So now let me ask you, is there a point to this song or is it just a story about a guy and a girl?

Him:  No, there's a point!  It's like there's a moral in the end.

After this little conversation I had him sing through the song, only singing the lines that truly tell the story, not the lines that are repeated every verse.  We did this acapella, giving him plenty of time to think ahead.  I also asked him to keep trying to picture the scene in his head while he was singing so that he was also building a visual cue to which he could refer.  As soon as he felt comfortable doing this I asked him to tell me the lines that are repeated every stanza.  It turns out he already knew these by heart.  Next we put the song back together with him focusing on following the storyline and visual storyboard he had created in his head so that when he came to the repeated lines he could go on automatic while thinking ahead to what came next.  He nailed the memory on the first try.  It took us about 20 minutes total to go from frustration to comfort and security!  And at his performance?  Because he had decided there was a moral at the end of the song, he craftily performed the song to lead up to the punchline and he did so with the biggest look of knowing on his face...perfect for delivering such an important message, don't you think?

See why I love my job?

So what was so tricky about this song?  I had figured out that all the repeated lines kept getting in the way of him getting a clear idea of what he was singing about - it's definitely not helpful in memory work to feel like you're just memorizing random words.  And all those repeated words made him feel as though this song was terribly long when in reality the song was made up of only 85 different words, not 184 words; 12 different lines of text, not 24.  It was like my daughter "looking" for her shoes without really looking - getting more wrapped up in being overwhelmed by the process of looking instead of using her eyes and her brain at the same time.

So next time you find yourself banging your head against a wall, take a deep breath, put on some glasses, grab a microscope or a telescope, open your eyes and your mind, and really, truly look!  Look at what's troubling you from every angle possible, look until you make sense of what you see and hear.  You'll be surprised what you can find and where it will lead you!


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Creativity Discovered: The Norwegian Chamber Orchestra's choreographed "Holberg Suite"

It's been 4 years since I last posted a "Creativity Discovered" post.  That's not to say that nothing creative has happened during this time - quite the opposite really!  But recently I came across a series of YouTube videos that has made me realize that I should get back to posting about some of the inspiring performances I've been hearing about and seeing.

© laufer - Fotolia.com

To kick off this series again, I want to share the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra's partially choreographed performance of Edvard Grieg's Holberg Suite, Op. 40.  Written in 1884, the composer based the 5 movements on 18th century dance forms.  I think it can be tempting as musicians to perform these older dances in a somewhat restrained fashion which might befit some dances but when we consider that many of them originated from folk dances it makes me wonder if we could stand to loosen up and to treat the music in a more carefree way.

That's what the Norwegian Chamber Orchestra did with their performance.  Their choice of clothing, their approach to the music and each other, along with the choreography, work together to give me the impression that I'm at a country fair, sitting on a fence to take in or even join in the festivities.  I just love it!  And I have a sneaking suspicion the musicians enjoyed it too.  That is evident from their body language and the expressions on their faces throughout.

But enough of me jabbering on about them, here they are.  My favorite, in case you're interested or if you only have a little time to watch, is the last movement, the Rigaudon.  If nothing else, watch that one!   And if you want a link to my playlist of all of them, click here.

Enjoy!

And if anyone knows of any other inspiring, creative performances I should watch, please do let me know by leaving a comment.

Praeludium



Sarabande



Gavotte



Air



Rigaudon





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Impressions from the stage: University of Maryland's choreographed production of "Appalachian Spring"

About a month ago I saw a post on a young friend's Facebook page about participating in an event at the University of Maryland that immediately grabbed my attention.  A violinist and a dancer attending the school, Lillian Cannon, performed in a memorized, conductor-less, and here's the clincher, choreographed version of Aaron Copland's Appalachian Spring.  After reading the brief but ecstatic post on Cannon's page as well as Anne Midgette's wonderful article for the Washington Post  I was eager to see it for myself.  Only a few weeks after the performance the YouTube video was up and I watched, moved the entire time by the intimacy of the rendition but also by the incredible bravery of the students who challenged themselves in so many ways in order to present something unique and powerful.

If you haven't yet watched it, here it is.  I would recommend watching it before reading the rest of this post.




I was so excited to know someone who had participated I decided that I wanted to find out more from her about what the experience was like for the students.  Lillian graciously accepted my request to answer some questions so that we could all soak in the experience and perhaps gain courage and ideas from this project.  Many thanks to her for taking the time to answer so thoughtfully.

ES:  Were you at the University’s first performance like this where they performed a choreographed version of Debussy’s “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun?” or had you watched it prior to working on “Appalachian Spring?”   If you did, what were your thoughts, reservations, reactions? 

LC: UMSO performed the choreographed Debussy the year before I was there so I never saw the live performance but I watched the video on YouTube before beginning Appalachian Spring. I thought it was beautifully done and they sounded very good but (maybe because I’m biased) but I thought Appalachian Spring was at a whole other level than the Debussy. I think we took many more risks because the Debussy was such a success and both James Ross and Liz Lerman thought our orchestra was capable of doing so. Appalachian Spring was also almost twice as long as Debussy which was a project all on its own.

ES: What was the process for getting involved with this particular production?  Was it required participation or did you audition, sign up, etc.?  If you had a choice about whether or not to be involved, why did you choose to be a part of it? 
 

LC:  If you watch the video of Appalachian Spring, you will probably notice that it is not a full orchestra performing it. Our orchestra was split up for this past semester, with half of us working on Appalachian Spring and the other half working with opera students to perform “Die Fledermaus “. We came back together as a whole to perform the second half of the spring concert. Back in August at the beginning of the school year, we got our orchestra audition music, and with that, we got a survey sheet that asked if we would be willing to participate in a Copland music/movement collaboration and we could either put our interest in for the project or decline. I chose to put my interest in for it because it was something I have never done before and it was extremely out of my playing comfort zone.

ES:  How many months were spent preparing for this event?   What was the process like for putting it together?   How much of the choreography was given to you?  Did the orchestra members have a say in what you did? 

LC: We started rehearsals almost right after we got back from winter break, so probably the first week of February. The first rehearsals were definitely the hardest because we were looking at the music for the first time and it was just all very overwhelming for everyone I think. I think what helped a lot was having a chamber group of 13 people (4 violins, 2 violas, 2 celli, 1 double bass, a flute, clarinet, bassoon, and pianist) who were basically the leaders of this project. They met for extra rehearsals every week and began learning and memorizing the music before the rest of us did (in the video, they are the first and last players to play). This group helped guide the rest of us and kind of grounded the whole process I think. I know one of the biggest problems we had as a group (that the chamber group definitely helped with), was the amount of times we had to switch time signatures in that piece. Switching meters conductor-less was not easy to say the least. It forced us all to listen and feel the music much more than simply memorizing it. Most of the choreography was a collaboration of the idea Liz Lerman and our conductor, James Ross had envisioned, with the some of the ideas from the orchestra members thrown in. I think a lot of our ideas though, were more geared towards restrictions that we had with some of the movements and also having to play our instruments. A lot of the original ideas for this piece were modified so that we could also still play while doing them. 

ES: I am so impressed that this was done all by memory.  Were you given guidance as to how to go about memorizing such a large work?  Did you feel that having the choreography helped or hindered with the process of memorizing?

LC: At the first rehearsal we all had together, Professor Ross gave us all a little guide on tips for memorizing such a big work. It included things such as turning in a circle while you had your music in front of you, closing your eyes at more familiar sections, etc. At every rehearsal, we also had a huge projector up with the score so that we could get out of our own parts more and look at the score for guidance (I personally don’t think the projected score helped much though). We basically memorized the entire piece in sections, starting with the easier ones such as “Simple Gifts”. We would kind of start by memorizing one section, learning the section before or after it, then trying to put the two together until we had the whole thing memorized. I think at first, the choreography hindered the process of memorizing the piece, because we were so focused on learning that particular choreography, that we couldn’t remember the notes. Once we started getting real chunks of things choreographed and pieced together is when it began aiding the memorization process.

ES: Since you also had the choreography to deal with in this performance did you find performing a different experience than a typical orchestra or solo performance?   If so, how was it different?

LC: This performance was so beyond any other orchestra or solo playing experience. We were trying to tell a story with this piece and it not only had to come through in our music, but also our movement. It became so much more breathtaking to me when we all got out of our heads and committed to getting our story across to an audience. Ms. Lerman and Professor Ross wanted a lot of our emotion to come from the inside, so I think what made this piece so amazing is the fact that the audience wasn’t seeing the same emotions and the same story from every person performing. We were all performing from an emotion that was personal to us.

ES: Since you have had a lot of experience dancing yourself, do you think that helped you in this situation? 

LC:  Definitely. Memorizing choreography is something I’ve been doing my whole life so that part came so easily to me. It gave me more time to work on memorizing the music (which was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be). I think a lot of people struggled because memorizing a large chunk of choreography in a short amount of time is something they’ve never had to do before, let alone play music at the same time.

ES:  What was the dynamic of the orchestra as a whole as a result of being a part of such a unique performance?  Do you think you were more eager to promote others to come to the event?  Why or why not?

LC:  I think at first we were all really apprehensive about the whole thing, and I know none of us thought this was actually all going to come together (we were still having these doubts in April). At the same time, I think we were able to connect much more as an orchestra because we were forced to interact with every person on stage, whether they played the same instrument as you or not. You couldn’t rely on the rest of your section for guidance or to help you out on a section that maybe you weren’t as comfortable with because chances are, you were not standing around any of them for the majority of the performance. It took me a long time to really feel like this was going to be a worthwhile performance for people to see, but when it finally came together, I was so excited to be able to share it with an audience because I knew it was going to be beautiful.

ES:  What did you enjoy most about the experience?

LC:  My favorite part of the whole thing was seeing the audience at the very end when we were all laying our instruments down at the front of the stage as our “final offering”. I had always thought that was such a neat idea but I had no idea it was going to make such an impact on people. Seeing people moved to tears is really a powerful moment.

ES:  What did you not like as much or what did you struggle with, if anything?

LC:  Like I said before, I really did not enjoy the first month or so of rehearsals. We didn’t have it memorized enough to start learning solid choreography so there wasn’t much we could really do in terms of bringing this piece to life. I think it was pretty disorganized for a while because we were all trying to figure out how we were going to pull the entire thing off.

ES:  Would you do an event like this again?  Why or why not?

LC:  I would do it again in a heartbeat. It turned out to be such a neat experience and being able to pull off a performance like that is unforgettable. I think we were all able to connect with the music on a much deeper level and play together as a group better than we ever have.

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Digging deeper to facilitate learning thorny passages

© PLen - Fotolia.com

I feel I need to start with a warning - my husband, upon hearing my excitement about the contents of this post, declared to me, "You know you're a big nerd, right?"  If you're a music nerd like I am, feel free to continue reading.  But if you're not, you may want to reconsider.  I have a feeling my husband won't be adding this post to his reading list.

The piece in question for this little musical investigation is the last movement of Mozart's F major piano sonata, K. 332.  In the development section there is a passage that is thoroughly entertaining - a whirlwind of sixteenths and winding, chromatic eighths that I had a sneaking suspicion might be a bit tricky to memorize because of the tiny differences between each of the repetitions.  

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with passages like this; I can get overwhelmed with all the details but at the same time I take great interest in tackling a challenge such as this one as if it were a puzzle or a game.  I thought it might be interesting for some to see my process.  Keep in mind no two minds are alike so what I see in this passage may not resonate with or make sense to anyone else.  I do believe, however, that it's the process that is most important.  It gets us one step closer to being in the mind of the composer and that can be a very exciting place to be.  

One of the first things I noticed is that in measures 98 and 110 the figuration in the left hand on the first beat is a triad in the first inversion.  If you look at the excerpt above, all figurations that are in the first position are marked with a green line.   All of the other figurations that are similar throughout this passage are in root position and marked with a red line .  It is a discrepancy like this that can often irritate me, making me want to scream at the composer saying something like, "Why must you do that to me?!"  Actually, I do end up asking that question, only a bit more politely, which then leads me to asking other questions that help me make some sense of what the composer was doing.  In this case, I noticed that in the preceding two measures in both cases, the left hand's eighth-note chromatic figuration also starts on the same note - the third of the root position triad.  My next question is, "So what would it have been like if Mozart had chosen to start those initial figurations on the root of each triad, just as he has the right hand in the next beat?"  First of all, if he had done that, the right hand and the left hand at the beginning of measures 98 and 110, would be playing the same note - "D" in measure 98 and "F" in measure 110.  I played it that way a couple of times and to be honest, it's pretty thin and uninteresting, at least to my ear.  Now I get it!  Now I don't feel like throwing the music across the room.  

This prior experimentation led to another observation and question.  In measures 96 and 108 the left hand starts on the 3rd while the right hand starts on the root.  In measures 100 and 104 the left hand starts on the root while the right hands starts on the 3rd.  After experimenting a bit with the alternative, making the left hand consistently starting on the 3rd and the right hand on the root and vice versa, I realized that alternating it creates much more interest for the ear.  The voices take on much more of a conversational nature.  Again, Mozart seems to have known what he was doing.  Fancy that!

With two annoyances transformed into "aha" moments, there was only one irritation left to soothe.  I noticed that the figurations in the right hand in measures 107 and 111 are the same yet the ones in 99 and 103 are both different in the middle.  You have to look carefully to detect the difference but it's there.  Did he really have to do that?  Couldn't he have used the exact same figuration for both?  I believe so.  And it sounds ok.  Time to dig deeper again.  I noticed that both of these figurations, unlike the other two, are in harmonic minor so there's that interesting augmented second to play around with.  By changing the figuration Mozart seems to be playing around with this fact.  In measure 99 he places the augmented second at the end of the figuration which to my ear helps propel the ear forward to the downbeat of measure 100.  In measure 103 the second is right before the second beat which serves to emphasize the middle of the measure, not propelling us forward as much as he did in the previous instance.  Hmmm...interesting!  

At this point I want to re-emphasize that I have no idea why Mozart did what he did.  I don't know if he even knew.  But going through this little dialogue with him, experimenting with what could have been versus what is actually there and coming to the conclusion that what I need to play is really pretty cool makes it a lot easier for me to face the passage over and over again.  

So the next time you find yourself growling at a composer, I encourage you to grab a trowel and try this exercise.  Digging deeper can get you much more than just a handful of worms.   


Happy digging!


PS - Feel free to leave your own thoughts in the comment section.  And if you want to just let me know that you too are a music nerd, I'd love to know that I'm not alone!



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Looking through a Russian musical window - Shostakovich's E minor Prelude & Fugue

The other day I happened upon this video of Shostakovich performing his own Prelude and Fugue in E Minor:  

It's a piece I have been wanting to pull out of the closet again because it's one that, through the years, has given me an incredible glimpse of another culture through the window of music. When I hear or play it I am instantly transported back about 20 years, when I was fortunate enough to accompany a boy's choir to St. Petersburg, Russia, not long after the fall of communism in their country.  It was quite a trip - one that opened my eyes, not only through what I myself saw and experienced, but also from watching a group of young American boys take in and process this completely different culture.  When we were there we were housed in what seemed to be an abandoned, run-down estate on the gulf of Finland; boys were having a difficult time finding anything they were willing to eat and lived for the moments when we discovered a Coca-Cola vendor on the street; fruit was scarce and purchased from the black market for us by security agents assigned to our choir who realized the boys weren't eating; meals for the entire choir in good restaurants could be paid for using what amounted to only a few American dollars.

Yet in spite of what seemed like hard times to us, the people, landscape, architecture, churches - all had hope and beauty in addition to a sense of history that I don't think we Americans understand in the same way.  It was tangible everywhere we went.  There was a pride in culture and in who they were as a people.  From the security agents, to the babushka docents in the museums who were unabashedly protecting their country's treasures from a flock of young boys, to the singers in the Russian Orthodox churches, they all made it clear to us that they wanted us there, wanted to hear our music, and wanted to share whatever they had to offer with us, including their love of music.

Their incredible love of music.

Photo from Wikimedia Commons

Most of the festival was held in the St. Petersburg Philharmonia, pictured here.  It is a hall whose walls have absorbed the magic of Liszt, Berlioz, Mahler, Wagner, Rubinstein, and Shostakovich just to name a few.  It is a stunning a hall that was completely filled every performance.  And afterward we would leave in a post-concert daze to be greeted at the stage entrance by a mob of enthusiastic fans wanting autographs and handshakes from us all.  There was one woman in particular that made a point of always finding us and greeting us.  She was a choir director herself in St. Petersburg and was always wanting to know more about the pieces we had sung, and in particular, Mozart's "Ave Verum."  She told us through our translator  one evening that it was very difficult to obtain sheet music so she had little exposure to pieces like that and regretted that she couldn't share them with her choir.  The next day she appeared at the stage door yet again, full of tears, handshakes and compliments.  Our choir director quickly gathered up the boys, retrieved their folders from them, and pulled out each copy of "Ave Verum," handing them all over to her.  The look on her face is permanently embedded in my memory.  It was a look of shock, disbelief, and gratitude.  The scenario threw me, and a I think the boys in our choir, for a bit of a loop.  It was difficult for me to fully comprehend the situation in Russia at that time which made it virtually, if not completely impossible for the people to obtain scores for some of the most loved pieces - scores that in the United States could be found in practically every choral library and that could be purchased fairly easily.  Needless to say it made me appreciate our local music store.  (And yes, those used to exist.)

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So what does this story have to do with Shostakovich's Prelude and Fugue?  What I hear in this music is something that might have been incomprehensible in the same way had I not had those experiences in Russia.  At first listening this set might seem dark, desolate, and hopeless but what I sense is the light, warmth, and hope I sensed inlaid in everyday life, creating a complex beauty that I see in the beautiful inlaid woodwork that we saw everywhere in St. Petersburg.  I sensed this throughout the tour and since then, through reading Russian literature and taking in their history and culture.  And in this most incredible fugue, a double fugue, in which two themes and their countersubjects intertwine to create a complex, musical design, the Russian sentiment is poured on top of me in an undeniable way.  It never fails to make me want to weep and cheer, all at the same time.

And one final note about this particular performance.  I simply love listening to composers playing their own compositions and this example is no exception.  Is it note perfect?  Far from it.  Is it still effective?  In my mind, definitely, if not more so!  

Something for me to keep in mind.

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Finding Don Giovanni in a high-school boy

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How do you get high-school vocalists to sing opera with enthusiasm when they don't even like opera...or classical music?  It's the type of challenge I thrive on, even if it is exhausting and frustrating at times.  The moments when it actually clicks, even if just for a few minutes, makes all the brain gymnastics, prodding, and cheerleading worth it. 

Last Friday I had one of those moments...and this time it was also hilarious for everyone involved.

The opera scene in question: the duet, "La ci darem la mano," from Mozart's opera, Don Giovanni

The victims with whom I was working: 4 high-school vocalists

The attitude: Not good

I knew I had an uphill, but tantalizing battle to fight.  They walked into my studio in a cloud of negative comments:

"Awwwww, I really don't like this piece." 

"I don't like singing in Italian."

"This is not my type of music."   

With those words I was ready to take up the challenge.  Picking two of the kids, I had them begin the famous duet in which Don Giovanni attempts to seduce a woman engaged to another man,  Zerlina.  Their performance was, not surprisingly, completely uninspired.  There was no inflection in their voices, no emphasis on important words...I wasn't even sure they had a clue about what was supposed to be going on in the scene.  When we stopped I looked at the other two singers who had been listening and asked them, "Well, were you convinced?"  They shook their heads and gave the thumbs-down sign.  After a few questions that didn't really lead anywhere I finally said, "Don Giovanni is pompous ass!  I know this is going to be a stretch for you but..."

All four kids broke into laughter and shook their heads.  

"What?" I innocently (or not so innocently) asked.

"He IS a pompous ass!"  they chorused.

I looked at the Don-Giovanni-don't-wanna-be-at-the-moment and he had this smirk on his face.  It was really quite stunning.  He then nodded his head in agreement with the others.  

"Well then..." I said.

We tried the beginning of the duet again.  This time our young Don Giovanni had this unbelievable look in his eyes, and with transformed body language he literally made our Zerlina blush and squirm.  He even made me squirm and I was supposed to be busy playing the piano!  Don Giovanni and Zerlina began improvising some basic staging in a very natural way, their words sounded like Italian, and there was life in their words.  When I looked over at the other two singers they were grinning from ear to ear and when we stopped where we had stopped previously we all erupted into cheers and thumb-ups.  Our transformed Don Giovanni looked, well, very much like his character - he knew he had nailed it.  When asked what he thought he responded, "It felt great knowing I could just be me!"

There you have it!  I have to admit  it does make me raise an eyebrow to think that this young man's natural character fits Don Giovanni's all-too-well but it certainly serves him well while playing a character like this one! 

As for me, is it any wonder I love my job so much?  In 15 minutes my studio was transformed from grumbles to their parting statement - "That was really fun - thanks!"  With the prospect that these kids, who don't find themselves regularly selecting opera tracks on their iTouches, might actually start to have fun with opera, I certainly can't complain about my time spent on this musical battlefield.

So who's next?  I'll gladly take on another challenge!

PS - Please understand I don't usually talk to students the way I did in this coaching.  I did so only to shock the kids a bit and to get them listening to what I had to say.  

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A tale of surrender in Gigland

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I could have performed on the same stage as the incredible Bernadette Peters tonight.  But here I am, sitting at home instead, writing a blog post.  Before you start feeling sorry for me, let me tell you my little tale of surrender in gigland.  I think you'll quickly see that I'm pretty content and relieved about how everything turned out.  

It all started at the end of January.  I received an e-mail from the personnel contractor of our regional orchestra with the subject line, 

Bernadette Peters needs piano!!

At first I literally thought it was spam, I mean really.  But after rereading the e-mail several times and gathering that it was indeed real, I was terribly excited, first of all because this was my first call to sub for this particular orchestra and second of all because we're talking Bernadette Peters!!  The Bernadette Peters!!!

A private conversation with myself ensued:
"Yes!"

"No, I'm too busy!"  

"But it's Bernadette Peters!"

"It's the last day of school before spring break...nothing on the calendar...it could be fun..."

Which led to, "What on earth am I thinking?!?  What kind of music am I going to be expected to play?"

I called up a colleague of mine who is the symphony's regular pianist and consulted with her.  Based on that conversation I decided I could do it.   I accepted the gig.

Pretty soon I received music for the first half of the concert - "Seventy Six Trombones," a medley from A Chorus Line...no problem!  But then I came across a lead sheet for the song, "Sing, Sing, Sing."  Oh my.  I was informed at this point that the music for the Peter's portion of the concert wouldn't be arriving until a few days before the rehearsal and performance.  

[Insert tiny niggling of doubt.]

For some reason in spite of my increased blood pressure, I managed to convince myself that I could do this in spite of being a classical nerd with lots of love for jazz but virtually no experience with chord charts in a high pressure situation.  I talked to the jazz teacher across the hall from me at work, I practiced some recommended voicings, I talked with friends on twitter, I listened to recordings of the song, I even bought two books on playing jazz piano.  After a few days of working at it I still sounded like a classical pianist attempting to sound hip.  It wasn't pretty.  I e-mailed the conductor of the orchestra to ask what he wanted from me for that particular number, admitting that I'm not comfortable reading chord charts.  No response.

[Tiny niggling of doubt starts to propogate.]

Fast forward through some nail-biting weeks until Tuesday of this week, the week of the performance.  As I'm leaving work I see that an e-mail has arrived from the symphony with a portion of the Peters' music.  I got a bit nauseated.  They were mostly chord charts with directions I'm not exactly used to like, "A la stripper," "Charleston tempo," and "STRIDE ARP. FEEL."  I'm no stripper, I've never danced the Charleston, and well, who knows what the last one means?  

[Out-of-control doubt now turns into full-blown panic.]

I had absolutely no idea what to do.  It was three days before the performance but I knew that I was not the person for the job.  But how could I pull out so last minute?  I would feel like such a failure and I would be jeopardizing any hope of subbing with the symphony again!  

But then I closed my eyes and pictured the day of the concert.  The more I thought about it the more I realized that this event had the potential to match some of the nightmares that I've had that have involved stages and pianos - and now Bernadette Peters.

I e-mailed the personnel contractor and asked when I might receive the rest of the Peters' music.  Upon being told that I might not get it until an hour before rehearsal (7 hours before showtime) I waved the white flag.  I admitted that I was uncomfortable with the situation and that I wasn't sure I was the right person for the gig.  I truly wanted to die at this point!  This felt a bit like professional suicide.  She e-mailed back saying that she thought it was too late to find another pianist but that she could ask a colleague of mine.  Knowing that this individual is incredible at this kind of playing, I asked her to please give it a try.  A few hours later I got a call.  He had agreed to cover for me.  

[Insert overt tears and expressions of gratitude.]

I realize I am incredibly lucky.  I also realize I should have never accepted the gig in the first place. I am a classically trained pianist and at least for now, that's where I belong.  I've always wanted to learn how to play jazz and to read chord charts and perhaps I'll learn one of these days but for now I need to keep my feet in the land I know best, regardless of how tempting it might be to accept a gig like this one.  I'd rather not turn my nightmares into reality.

So here I am finishing this blog post instead of pretending I'm someone I'm not.  

And you know what?  I feel great!

P.S. - Ms. Peters, stay tuned.  The next time you come through town I may fit the bill.  Or perhaps we could do some lieder or arias...that would be right down my alley!

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Visions of sugarplums and synethizers dancing in my head?

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A while back our little family witnessed a musical crime that ended in us leaving the scene before the performance was done.  Unfortunately we were privy to another a few weeks ago, this time in New York City.  

The scene of the crime?  The New York City Ballet's production of Tchaikovsky's "The Nutcracker."  

I'm not talking about the murder of the hideous mouse king...on stage...with a shoe and a sword. And no, I'm not talking about the abduction of Marie from her cozy home to the world of the Sugarplum Fairy.  The crime I'm talking about wasn't a fictional crime, it was a work of non-fiction.  Get out your notebook and take notes.  Here's what happened:

The first act was magical - the beautiful hall, the excited children all dressed in their fancy holiday dresses taking it all in with wide eyes, the costumes, the sets, the magical growing Christmas tree, and the wonderful orchestra.  I was on cloud nine as I alternated between watching what was happening onstage and watching my daughter's radiant face.  We got through the battle scene, breathless but triumphant, and found ourselves on the verge of being swept off to the snow-laced forest along with the Nutcracker and Marie when all of a sudden my head couldn't help but stare in confusion at the orchestra pit.  At one of the most magical moments of the entire ballet, at least in my opinion, where a childrens' choir typically sings a simple but glorious line repeatedly, the New York City Ballet had for some reason swapped out the live singers and replaced them with a synthesizer player!  Normally it's hard to upset me when it comes to performances and I don't like to be critical of anyone making music but this particular infraction completely pulled me out of my happily transfixed state.  

Now I admit that a few weeks earlier I had played the celesta and harp part on a synthesizer at a local production in southwest Virginia and there was no choir used then either.  I wasn't really content about that either but I realized the challenges that come with pulling that off in such a small community.  But in New York City?  Really?  In the famous Balanchine production that is done year after year to sold out audiences and that is available on DVD and that we've watched time and time again with our daughter?  

I understand that the economy isn't in great shape right now and that everyone is struggling.  Perhaps a children's choir seems frivolous in light of where we are as a country right now.  Maybe there's an issue with the unions or perhaps something fell through at the last minute.  What I do know is that everyone in my family was shocked when we got to that spot and didn't hear that unreproducible sound of children's voices.  I imagine that there were others in attendance that also noticed the difference.  And although I wouldn't say it ruined the whole performance because it is, after all, an incredibly stunning production, it certainly hasn't left my mind.

So what are some possible solutions?

• Donors could be asked to sponsor a children's choir?
• The audience could be taught before the show how to sing the part.  (It's not that hard!)
• The orchestra could sing while playing? 
• A recording of a children's choir could be used?
• Music students, amateurs, or professional musicians that are looking for things to do could volunteer their time?

I have to imagine that there is a better solution than having someone dress in a tux and come to each and every performance to play that one part on the synthesizer.  As a synthesizer colleague I venture to guess that playing that part was just as painful for the player as it was for us in the audience.  So why do that to everyone?  Why not splurge in the name of the holidays, New York City, and great ballet?   Then I we wouldn't all have sugarplums and synthesizers dancing in our heads.  

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