Will Play Weddings

I have been playing weddings for around 20 years within a 100-mile radius of my corner of the American Midwest. These days, and in these parts, wedding preludes offer many people their first chance to hear "classical music" played for them in a quiet place where everyone is listening to living and breathing human beings play it. When an ensemble (I can speak for a string quartet, which is my wedding ensemble of choice) tailors its tempo and mood in response to the tempo and mood of the wedding decor and the wedding party, and adjusts the timings (not to mention choice) of selections to the people getting married and their families, it makes the experience especially moving and memorable for everyone involved.

The quality of the group really does matter. Musicians who consider playing for weddings their performances miss the mark, in my opinion. Musicians who consider playing for weddings "just a gig" also miss the mark. Playing a wedding is about the people getting married, and about their families and their friends. For the bride and groom, this is the first most important day of their life together.

Wedding musicians are indeed humble servants. They are there to make everything sound as beautiful as it looks, allow everything to move properly, and to help people allow their feelings to come to the surface. This is what professional musicians do: they enhance the experience without dominating it.

Ensembles made of professionals do not come cheap, but the current internet-based way of finding ensembles for weddings cheapens musicians. It treats music as a commodity that can be bargained for, much the same way you would take a bid from a building contractor, compare it to another contractor, and hire the one that offers a lower price.

Internet shopping always involves comparing prices and opting for the lowest one, but most internet shopping transactions involve things, and music is not a thing. One organization dealing in the music-for-hire trade charges musicians a modest listing fee, and buys premium space (for its organization) so that its listings come up at the top of regional searches for musicians, thus demoting the ensembles' own internet listing to a place further down on any search engine's listings. Some organizations take a "finder's fee" from clients that is a percentage of the fee that the ensemble charges. Some encourage musicians to bid against one another for jobs, which means that in order to get a particular job, a musician is compelled to lower his or her usual (and often reasonable and modest) fee and/or travel expenses.

Musicians are encouraged to "sell themselves." Internet shoppers are encouraged to respond to musicians' "blurbs" the way they are encouraged to choose one piece of electronic equipment over another. I think that it is safer, for everyone involved, to hire musicians the old fashioned way: by personal recommendation.

People talk about "classical music" (as if it is an entity in itself) being in trouble. I would say that pitting one musician against another in order to get work, and making it possible for "buyers" who don't really know the difference between great and adequate (from what they can learn from the internets) to bargain for lower fees from musicians, is one way to eat away at the livelihoods of professional classical musicians.

Would you pick a doctor or a dentist based on the one who offers the lower fee?

I Remember Nothing

I buy Nora Ephron's books in hardcover at full price because I get tremendous pleasure from reading them. By writing this book of essays (as well as writing I Feel Bad About My Neck) she has become my very public friend. We share a great deal (even though we haven't met). So I'm offering a very public recommendation to all my other public friends (who I may know and may not know) who might be reading this blog. I was introduced by Nora Ephron's writing by a (private) friend who told me that she was "one of us." She is. If you happen to read this, Nora, here's a public hug and a great big thank you.

Janet Maslin's review in The New York Times describes the book extremely well.

If I had a Hammer

Kenneth Woods led me to this post by Gene De Lisa about Mahler's Sixth Symphony that has a bunch of videos depicting some of the fateful hammer strokes (and various hammers and boxes) used in different performances the piece.

Verklärte Nacht Einmal Anders

Perhaps the only good that Anna Karkowska has done for the musical world at large is to inspire parodies like this one. It is 15 minutes long, so if you don't have that kind of time, just let it load and watch the last few minutes, where you will hear the beginning of Verklärte Nacht using Karkowska's slow vibrato technique.

How Musical are You?

Here's an excerpt from the BBC Lab UK press release:

‘How Musical Are You?’ was designed by BBC Lab UK in collaboration with academics from the Music, Mind and Brain group at Goldsmiths, University of London. The scientific data will be analysed to establish whether people who are untrained but passionate about music can be just as musical as people who have been formally trained.

Take the BBC test. Perhaps we can give them a realistic sample.

Top Ten? Oh Really?

Anthony Tommasini seems to have forgotten all about the composers of the Renaissance (and the Middle Ages, for that matter) in his top ten list. Shame on him for omitting Palestrina, Josquin, or Monteverdi, even on a very short list.

Still Life

This four-minute-long film was posted (by the filmmaker) as a response to yesterday's Wall Street Journal article.

Happy 90th Birthday Seymour!

Seymour Barab is 90 today!

Is this what music is supposed to be about?

I could feel my blood run cold while reading this article. Here's a scenario where 7-year-old Lulu is having some trouble playing Ibert's Petit Ane Blanc.

Lulu couldn't do it. We worked on it nonstop for a week, drilling each of her hands separately, over and over. But whenever we tried putting the hands together, one always morphed into the other, and everything fell apart. Finally, the day before her lesson, Lulu announced in exasperation that she was giving up and stomped off.

"Get back to the piano now," I ordered.

"You can't make me."

"Oh yes, I can."

Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu's dollhouse to the car and told her I'd donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn't have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, "I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?" I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn't do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.

Please read the whole article, and leave your comments below. I'm speechless.

Indiana Time

INx = Indiana Time

Two members of my string quartet live in Indiana, so we always need to be concerned with the time of our various engagements. The other day I got an e-mail message from one of our Indiana members with the abbreviation INx for "Indiana Time."

I assumed that it was standard, but, thanks to a thorough search by my trusty researcher (who is postponing the real work he needs to do), I believe it is possible to suggest that this brilliant abbreviation might be singular.

He suggested I share this on my blog, so here it is.

It's Not Easy Being a Green Duck

I just happened upon this juxtaposition, and had to document it. Yes. We do have a green glow-in-the-dark duck in our bathroom.

The Right Tool for the Right Job

I don't quite understand why an ensemble that specializes in using techniques associated with non-acoustic playing would even be interested in using the Stradivarius instruments in the Whittall Collection. I think that Dan Visconti misses the mark when he makes a stab at making an analogy to new computer technology:

Just as when trying out a new MIDI keyboard controller or trackball, there's a period of learning and eventual calibration when confronting any new technology—by which I mean, technology that is new to us. Whether that technology is a rare one-off made of wood and varnish or one of Steve Jobs' mass-produced microchip wonders, the essential challenge is unchanged. Perhaps if we had more chances to see the technological wonders of yesteryear strut their stuff, we might come to develop a renewed awareness of our own role among the multitude of devices and innovations that we enjoy but rarely pause to appreciate.

Stradivarius was not creating a new technology. He and his other great contemporary makers made instruments that had the properties of the ideal human voice. Each stringed instrument is unique, in the way that each voice is unique. Stradivarius' goal was to continue (and perfect) a great local tradition of craftsmanship, and each of his instruments is perfect and unique in its own way. A great tool can only be great in the hands of a person who understands how to use it, and playing a Stradivarius through electronic equipment might not really be any better than playing a $1,000 student instrument through electronic equipment.

I remember years ago I was playing flute duets with Robert Dick, the Dean of extended flute techniques. When he tried my flute (a typical ritual), he played a few whistle tones and a couple of multiphonics on it, and then he handed it back to me saying, "Nice flute."

It wasn't a particularly nice instrument, by the way. They make 'em much better now.

Cake Art

I am amazed by the work of Smita Kasargod who goes by the "stage" name of Kassie. I suppose this is what happens when real artists get their hands on fondant.

A Study in Contrast

This song by Donikkl:



I lieg gern im Gras
Und schau zum Himmel hinauf
Schauen die ganzen Wolken
Ned lustig aus?
Und fliagt a Flieger vorbei,
Dann wink I zu eam nauf.
Hallo Flieger!
Und bist du a no dabei,
dann bin I super drauf

Refrain:

Und I fliag, fliag, fliag wia a Flieger,
Bin so stark, stark, stark wia a Tiger
Und so groß, groß, groß wia a Giraffe
So hoch (wo-o-o)
Und I spring, spring, spring immer wieder
Und I schwimm, schwimm, schwimm zu Dir nüber
Und I nimm, nimm, nimm Di bei da Hand,
Weil I Di mog
Und I sog

Heit is so a schöner Tag
la-la-la-la-la
Heit is so a schöner Tag
la-la-la-la-la
Heit is so a schöner Tag
la-la-la-la-la

. . . and Mahler's take on a similar experience (but with a pessimistic twist at the end).



Ging heut morgen übers Feld,
Tau noch auf den Gräsern hing;
Sprach zu mir der lust'ge Fink:
"Ei du! Gelt? Guten Morgen! Ei gelt?
Du! Wird's nicht eine schöne Welt?
Zink! Zink! Schön und flink!
Wie mir doch die Welt gefällt!"

Auch die Glockenblum' am Feld
Hat mir lustig, guter Ding',
Mit den Glöckchen, klinge, kling,
Ihren Morgengruß geschellt:
"Wird's nicht eine schöne Welt?
Kling, kling! Schönes Ding!
Wie mir doch die Welt gefällt! Heia!"

Und da fing im Sonnenschein
Gleich die Welt zu funkeln an;
Alles Ton und Farbe gewann
Im Sonnenschein!
Blum' und Vogel, groß und Klein!
"Guten Tag,
ist's nicht eine schöne Welt?
Ei du, gelt? Schöne Welt!"

Nun fängt auch mein Glück wohl an?
Nein, nein, das ich mein',
Mir nimmer blühen kann!

(Thanks to Jason for posting the video of Tobias Winhart and his little blue bass.)

New Year's Rant on the Simultaneous Rarity and Plentitude of Genius

Some of the benefits of being able to access on-line libraries like the WIMA or the Petrucci Library, sharing musical performances through YouTube, and having relatively few complications related to making recordings of new music or music in the public domain (aside from figuring out how to pay for making them), is that we are now able to understand that there have been a far greater number of people of what we like to call "genius" than we ever thought possible.

Most of us measure ourselves against people who can do and have done wonderful things. "I could never do that" is the usual response that someone might have after reading about or hearing about someone who "accomplished" something. There are exceptions, but the "never could" often turns itself into a "never will." Perhaps we spend so much energy measuring that it takes up too much of our time and our creative energy. My response is simply not to measure. It saves a great deal of time, and makes more room for creativity and the pleasure I get from seeing, hearing, and reading wonderful music and literature.

Success in music has become intertwined with the accepted capitalist view of success. It seems that we have to keep making more music in order to show any sort of cultural "profit," that is, if there is anybody who cares. Sometimes, when life circumstances make it difficult to keep accomplishing, a composer might not feel able to "produce." A composer without the regular stimulation from people who want to play and hear his or her music might not be as motivated to write as a composer who knows that the music he or she is writing will be played by people who want to play it, and heard by people who want to hear it.

I'm starting to believe that most music goes unheard.

At the beginning of my musical adulthood, the list of later 18th-century and early 19th-century composers (composers of the Classical Period, if you will) numbered in the scores. As of today, the Petrucci library lists 553, and these were 553 composers who had their music published. I imagine that number will double soon, since music from library collections all over the world is constantly being scanned into their on-line library.

A few composers, like Marianne Auenbrugger and Francesco Zappa (I couldn't resist that name) published only one piece (as far as we know), and some well-known composers were more prolific than anyone would have imagined, like Johann Nepomuk Hummel (this list reflects just a fraction of his total output). There were also prolific (and excellent) composers like Anton Ferdinand Titz who wrote music that didn't survive the consequences of time (as well as wars, revolutions, and natural enemies like fire, water, and decomposition).

A chunk of time spent in a library (of any kind--on line or physical) can show that creativity is part of the human spirit, but it also reveals how limited we all are. As a culture we have become a society of consumers of ready-made products. We have limited room in our virtual homes for all the treasures of the past (and the present) that we have at our fingertips, and we have proportionately limited time to enjoy them. Many of us lack to the skills, whether they be language skills or music reading skills, to evaluate what we find. This deficit exists within a greater popular culture that regularly asks opinions from "non-experts" on matters having to do with government and musical ability, and then accepts those opinions as being worthwhile data for measurement. Cable news reporters include audience surveys in their newscasts, newspapers regularly ask their readership to respond to on-line questionnaires, and then as "consumers" we are constantly urged to equate quantity of response with the quality of the product (performance, idea, candidate).

Perhaps it is a good thing that the world of "classical music" (or at least my world of "classical music") tends to function separately from "everything else."