Crash

"In any real city, you walk, you brush past people, and people bump into you. In L.A, nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other just so we can feel something."  Opening Monologue, Crash (2004)

Keeping things at a distance makes for a life half-lived. I often feel that avoidance is the logical antidote to messy. However - I'm coming to realize that mess isn't so bad if I'm part of it.  Just like hearing an argument in another room is often far more intimidating than actually arguing.

The same is true in music. Not all works are major keys and Hallmark happy. The Magnificat was in fact as terrifying as it was joyful.  I'll only experience that if I engage.  I have to get my hands dirty - or "crash" into the music - to feel something. 

It is in the crash that new - present today - music is created.

Seeing Things in New Light

I love the fall. Especially here on the Cape. The summer has has had months to heat up the surrounding water - so frosts are delayed, but the air is still crisp. The sky morphs to a steely blue which contrasts beautifully with the browning beach grass and the water on the bay. The light changes too. It feels sharper and full of contrasts - like the weather.  I noticed it this morning on the stone walls and the bright frescoes in the church.  Even the singing sounds different. Everything seems it's best self.

Cheerful Whistling Permitted

Music has an innate ability to lift the spirits. It's a default that courses through our very being. Think about it.  How often do you choose to set out singing as you work? I never do - It just happens. (and oftentimes I'm not even aware of it until a co-worker asks me to stop)  Why is that? What is it about music that causes even tone-deaf howlers to whistle, hum, or sing unknowingly?  Worth exploring.....

Playing the Rests

"Playing the Rests" is a term or tool musicians use to help keep an ensemble together. In theatre you might say "play the pause". Essentially it means to consciously give energy and life to those moments where no notes are being played, or no words sung or spoken. Silence can never be just "time off" - it needs to be filled. Otherwise the performer is left with the arduous task of re-energizing after every rest.

It dawned on me this morning - life is a little bit like that. 

We just finished a concert - our next performance isn't until November 1. 

Inertia is a killer. The longer I take time off in the"silence" the harder it is going to be to re-energize for the next event.

Note to Self:

Play the Rests!

Mathias 150 - Surprised by Joy

I'm on Timpani for the concerts this weekend. I love playing - the choir is great , the church is stunning (both visually and acoustically), I'm a percussionist at heart, and I get to dress up in a tux.  What's not to like?

By the time we hit dress rehearsal I like to be ready. I do my prep. I know my music - what the piece sounds like, who plays when, major themes, etc....  I want no surprises.

My prep for this concert - the Mathias' Psalm 150 in particular -  was a real challenge. I've been away (or otherwise overwhelmed) for the last few weeks. There are no known recordings of this piece, so the usual youtube/itunes listening sessions were unavailable. All that was left to me was score study. 

I'm a very aural person. I would rather watch a movie than read a book, and would choose a conversation over an e-mail. So score study is like reading braille for me.

I came to rehearsal last night totally out of my element. I'd never heard the piece - ever!  

I knew my part. On paper I was ready - but if scores are braille - I was blind. 

Not the way I like to play.

Well......

Mathias took me on an unexpected journey. Being physically present and actively participating in my first hearing was such an immediate experience. The music was fresh - and therefore Psalm 150 itself became new and alive. I was truly surprised by joy.

Life lessons come in unexpected ways.

Embrace surprises.

Bringing "The Twelve" to Life

William Walton and W.H. Auden, classmates in Oxford as boys and ultimately two of their country's most famous men - composer and poet! Walton's "The Twelve", composed on Auden's text - truly acts as a miniature "Pilgrim's Progress"! This text is so poignant and the music so wedded to it that, as I sat in the first orchestra rehearsal last evening, I found myself embraced and embroiled in a story which lives in the instruments themselves. Personally, I have never heard a more moving orchestration - can hardly wait until the choir comes in and puts "face" to music with this text!

Hard Act to Follow

We have two concerts, back-to-back, with very different repertoire, just two weeks apart.
It's hard to compete with the likes of Faure and Mozart. (A little bit like following the the reigning gold medalist in the olympic trials.) But, my experience with the last concert has opened the door for a whole new appreciation of the newer works.  Getting under the skin of the Requiem and the Mass have inspired me to explore the why's and how's of next week's program.  I find that if I can establish a relationship with the works they take on a new life of their own. So hello Hanson, Berger, Bach, and Finzi - I look forward to getting to know you.