Archive for the 'The Music' Category

Mozart’s Café Chamber festival a Success

Published
by
dtclarinet
on July 23, 2008
in Behind the Scenes, Clarinet, Our Supporters, Performances and The Music
. 0 Comments

I just arrived home after a stimulating and busy day. I have to thank Mozart’s Café and Bakery for hosting a delightful evening (5-9 PM) of music and food. Everyone had a great time. Luckily the hot weather let up a bit so people could spill out onto the patio and listen to the music from afar. But no one minded. They mingled in and out if they wanted to hear one piece close up.

All the musicians involved, David Niwa, Ariane Sletner, Ken Matsuda, Luis Biava, David Thomas, Betsy Sturdevant, Robert “Woody” Jones, and Mariko Kaneda seemed to have fun playing a great variety of chamber music, from duos to trios to solos with piano.

I enjoyed playing an early Divertimento, K 229, of Mozart, written originally for two clarinets and basset horn, but arranged for two clarinet and bassoon, with my colleagues, Betsy and Woody. There was a blend between the three of us which, on occasion, went beyond three instruments and became one instrument, like an organ. I have to admit, sheepishly, that we didn’t rehearse. But we have played those same pieces together in the past, thought it was 15 years ago. I guess we have good memories.

I also felt at ease playing the Paul Jeanjean Carnival of Venice variations with the steady and focused accompaniment of Mariko Kaneda.

The food and pastries donated by Anand Saha, owner of Mozart’s, were spectacular and complimented the European music beautifully.

I do not think I am presumptuous in saying that all those involved would love to do something like this again.

I know Columbus loves us.

Somehow the news that the CSO management has canceled more of next season’s scheduled concerts seems like a mouse roaring in a cave. It appears to me like a vindictive and desperate move. Perhaps Columbus would agree. And only God and those in power in Columbus, I mean those REALLY in power, know why they seem to be trying to kill music in our City. Yet, perhaps God knows a bit better, and perhaps he is watching very closely.

Carnival of Venice

Published
by
dtclarinet
on July 23, 2008
in Musician's Life, Performances and The Music
. 0 Comments

This evening at Mozart’s Café I will be performing a set of variations on the popular folk theme, Carnival of Venice, arranged by Paul Jeanjean, an early 20 century French clarinetist known for his difficult but beautiful études for clarinet and also for flute. Several other members of the Symphony will join me in a wonderful variety of great chamber music.

I am happy to say, the event is officially sold out. It is one of many fundraisers organized by grassroots supporters and the musicians themselves to support the beleaguered members of the Columbus Symphony, who were unfairly locked out of work June 1st, work legally contracted to them by CSO management, lead by Tony Beadle and Buzz Trafford. It continues to strike me as odd that the very people who should be leading the struggle to save the symphony are, to all public and private appearances, doing the opposite, destroying the soul of a great orchestra in Columbus.

The Venice song is probably familiar to most people, and has been made particularly famous more by the variations written on it than any original sources. I searched for some history of the melody and found only references to the numerous variations for any number of instruments, from flute to tuba. Wikipedia wasn’t much help, except to note that the song is associated with the words, “My hat, it has three corners”, not very Italian sounding. If anyone has further knowledge of the history of this tune, let me know. (someone forwarded more Wiki info on the piece-More than 150 years ago, French cornetist and teacher Jean Baptiste Arban created the method book, which became the standard manual for brass players all over the world. His playing of and compositions for the cornet helped to establish it as a serious classical instrument. He wrote this set of variations in the early 1860s, undoubtedly inspired by Niccolo Paganini’s 20 variations for violin on the same air, which has been attributed both to Paganini and to German opera composer Reinhard Keiser.)

Here is a fine recording of the Jeanjean variations I will play, performed by Duncan Prescott.

Carnival of Venice - Duncan Prescott (Clarinet)

Enjoy!

David Lundberg’s Wisdom, Urging Passion

Published
by
dtclarinet
on July 16, 2008
in Behind the Scenes, Clarinet, Columbus Cultural Politics, Mastery, Off the Record, Our Supporters, Personal, The Music, columbus symphony orchestra, symphony board and symphony management
. 1 Comment

David Lundberg was educated as a musician at the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago. In business in Dallas, he founded the Charter Group, a property and casualty insurance conglomerate whose customer friendly and principle-rather-than-policy driven practices were significant in changing the face of the industry for the better.

Mr. Lundberg’s deep love for people and his passion for music punctuated another long career, volunteering in the support functions of music – as board member with the Dallas Symphony and Dallas Opera, as board chair for Lyric Opera of Dallas, Arkansas Opera Theater, Hot Springs Music Festival, and others too many to list. He has seen orchestras and other arts organizations dip near death, then rise to world renown. In his recent move to Columbus, David has brought a wealth of experience, perspective, and wisdom to share, as you will read in this letter.

Dear Fellow Community Members,

It was my privilege as a student at the American Conservatory of Music in Chicago in the 50’s to watch Fritz Reiner bring discipline and inspiration to an orchestra that had become complacent and lethargic. At that same time Chicago had an arts critic who was convinced that nothing excellent could possibly happen outside of New York, Boston, or Philadelphia and her reviews of the Chicago Symphony (CSO) reflected this belief.

During that period, the CSO also had an extended tour of Europe. The reviews came flooding back to the States and the reviewers were ecstatic. Chicago was filled with pride and excitement for their orchestra. That pride continues to this day as the CSO remains in the Top Five in the Country, with many in the know feeling that the CSO ranks Number One.

In Dallas, as a singer in the Dallas Symphony (DSO) Chorus for 25 years and as a member of the DSO Board for several terms, I saw a very similar phenomenon happen. The DSO emerged from bankruptcy in 1974, at full strength, thanks to some farsighted people including Stanley Marcus (Neiman Marcus). During the 70’ s, the DSO had a series of short-term and guest conductors, who allowed the Orchestra to become uninspired and sloppy. Enter Maestro Eduardo Mata, a masterful technician like Reiner, who awakened the musicians’ desire to perform at a higher level. Same script - sour critic, European tour, great reviews, and wonderful community response. The whole situation in Dallas remains positive to this day – pride in and of the musicians, fiscal stability, great arts community, good endowment, a great new $130 Million venue and no debt.

In the ensuing years, many Fortune 500 companies relocated their headquarters to the Dallas area. Ones that quickly come to mind are American Airlines, JC Penney, Exxon Mobil, Kimberly Clark, Co—America Bank, Fluor, and Ericsson Telecommunications (North America). Is there a connection here? You bet there is. When major companies decide to relocate, they establish a profile of the qualities that they are seeking at the new location. Common to these profiles is the absolute requirement of a superb, vigorous cultural community (led most naturally by the symphony and opera). While this is not the only criterion, the importance of a vital classical art landscape is undeniable.

My wife Katherine and I moved to Columbus two years ago and, Eureka! what did we find but Junichi Hirokami and the Columbus Symphony, and a strong feeling of déjà vu from Dallas and Chicago. Hirokami, whom I had seen guest conduct several times in Dallas, has the same technical skills as Reiner and Mata. And the bonus is that he is highly respected and liked by the musicians. Junichi brings such infectious joy and love of the music to the podium that audiences and musicians alike are exhilarated and enchanted.

Sadly, we began to hear from some in the community that, “the CSO and the Opera don’t pull their own weight financially.” Most are unaware that American symphonies and operas earn considerably less than half of their budgets from ticket sales. The critical mass of support must come from farsighted and benevolent corporations, foundations and individuals who have a keen understanding of the tax benefits, the good will, and public relations benefits they derive from their generosity. Also, we hear questions such as, “Can Columbus support a major symphony orchestra?” Columbus - 15th largest city – state capital – home to the largest university – home to six Fortune 500 companies and fifteen Fortune 1,000 companies? The question is absurd on the face of it. If we fail to save the symphony, Columbus will be the largest city in America without one.

Traditionally, it has been the large corporations that the Symphony has turned to for regular, long-term support. Unfortunately, that is how a small group of corporate funders and board members have come to assume the power to speak for the entire community regarding the future of this rare community treasure. And amazingly, power that seems entirely disproportionate to their monetary contributions.

If given the support, Hirokami will bring fame to Columbus and challenge the Cleveland Orchestra as the best symphony in the state. This vision certainly does not appear to be shared by the Board and the current corporate funders. They are looking to the bare minimum level of funding rather than the challenging, exciting “quest for the best.” Will the community settle for mediocrity or will they step forward and fight for the very best.

Our symphony was on the cusp of a giant step forward in quality and professional respect, which would have brought incalculable rewards to Columbus, many in ways totally unrelated to the arts. Are we to let this treasure, which would take decades to rebuild, slip away because of several years of what appears to be gross mismanagement by the CSO Board and staff? (The musicians are not the problem; their wages — total artistic costs — have been at or below budget the last three years.)

In the bigger picture, if Columbus is to grow and keep pace with other major cities by attracting new business and industry, supporting the symphony right now is absolutely mandatory. This is purely a matter of civic and corporate will. Let’s just determine to do it! And generously, in ways that will ensure its long term excellence and survival.

An enormous outpouring of support is needed from community members and arts lovers from all walks of life. The emergency is real, and the consequences are enormous. Failure is not an option! I invite you to weigh in with your thoughts on this matter at www.symphonycolumbus.com.

David Lundberg

A comedy of musical omens

Published
by
dtclarinet
on June 4, 2008
in Clarinet, Equipment, Mastery, Musician's Life, Orchestra Auditions and The Music
. 3 Comments

This past Saturday and Monday I spent 7 hours recording a CD of 10 orchestral excerpts to be used as a preliminary round for a major US orchestra, the NY Philharmonic. The hours between were spent mostly practicing those excerpts.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. Playing in an orchestra is to skating in the Ice Capades what auditioning for an orchestral position is to winning the Olympics.

Olympic athletes don’t have lives; they have only their goal, to win the Olympics. They sleep, eat, play, love and breathe that goal. Nothing else matters. Nothing else can matter, for every electron of their being must be pointed in one direction consistently for years in order to achieve that goal. Or attempt to achieve it. Many do not even gain a medal.

I hired a professional technician to help me with the task of recording and then editing the CD. I’m glad I did. After 7 hours of recording, there were 2 hours of takes from which the best 10 had to be selected to comprise the final 15 minute CD. This guy was top notch. He took detailed notes of my random playing order for each excerpt. (I often gave up perfecting one and tried another, or several others, before returning to the first.)

To be able to play those 10 excerpts with the highest quality, I had tested 50 or 60 reeds and rejected most of them (at $2 a shot) to get one or two which would let my music making shine through. I had practiced those excerpts with numerous reeds, and each reed had to be played slightly differently to make it work. Each excerpt also tended to demand a different kind of reed. Now I sought the one reed to rule them all!

Recording those 10 excerpts is like performing a decathlon, the height of athletic performance for any human. One has to be nimble to play Mendelssohn’s sprightly Scherzo, powerful to lift the heavy drama of Verdi’s Tosca or Kodaly’s Dances of Galanta, rich and somber for the opening of Tchaikovsky’s 5th Symphony, sensual and luring for Ravel’s Bolero, and some of all of the above for Brahms 3rd symphony.

I also had to play parts one of the most deceptively difficult of concertos; Mozart’s. Mozart demands both the purity of expression of a child and the technical mastery of a great artist.

I recorded right up to the deadline, allowing several hours for my engineer to edit the CD. With the finished product in my hands, I dared not listen to it, fearing only the flaws would reach my ears, nothing else.

I reread the very specific directions for sending it, which said to clearly label the jacket with my name. I took out an indelible marker and wrote my name on the CD, instead of the jacket. Since this was to be a “blind” preliminary audition, they couldn’t see my name on the CD. I had to copy the CD to a fresh disk and follow the directions this time, labeling the outside. Not a big deal, but time was running out.

It was now 8:15 PM. It had to be sent 9 PM to have it in the NY Phil office by the next morning. To be sure it copied correctly, I put the CD in my stereo and listened to a bit of each track. My heart sank. In the first 16 bars of the Mozart Concert, I noticed a few slightly out of tune notes.

Musicians are both blessed and cursed with astoundingly powerful and uncompromisingly sharp self-criticism. Those few out of tune notes would be nothing in a live performance, nothing at all. They would be of little consequence in a recording with orchestra, when the listener is taking in the big picture and the shape of the phrase. But when there are hundreds of applicants vying for one of only a few hundred jobs in the country, those first 16 bars are CRITICAL.

I pushed aside the gloomy mood which encroached. I was exhausted, having barely eaten the past two days, surviving on nervous energy. I headed for FedEx Kinkos to send it off. I flipped on the radio, which was playing a recording of Strauss’ Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks. The music came to the part where Till is about to be executed, as the whole brass section plays the doomsday march to the scaffold. It was appropriate music for my current mood.

Till, played by the Eb clarinet in this section, screams out in fear and desperation at impending death. After squealing out an incredibly high note, the parts calls for a low one. In this performance, that low note was flat as all get out! I bellowed with frustrated laughter. Ah, the painful irony of it all.

After mailing off the tainted CD, I returned home to focus on finding the cause of the deathly smell which had permeated my house. After sniffing around a bit, I located the little corpse of a chipmunk under my piano, the room in which I had been recording. (undoubtedly brought in by my cats several days earlier) Another ominously ironic sign? Death inspired music making? No wonder it was out of tune!!

I decided I had to get out of the house. I phoned a friend to meet me at a restaurant for a bite to eat, my first real meal in two days. On the way I turned on the radio again. I immediately recognized the music which had pulsed through my veins since age 12; Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto.

I also noticed several out of tune notes.

Surfboards ready?

Published
by
dtclarinet
on May 16, 2008
in Off the Record, Our Supporters, Performances and The Music
. 7 Comments

(Addendum: the music critic who reviewed last night’s concert, Barbara Zuck, didn’t stay to hear our incredible performance of Bolero, in what may end up being the Columbus Symphony’s LAST classical concert. Players, whom she’s heard for 30 years give their lives to the music, may now be forced to fall silent. She barely mentioned the orchestra in what she did write. Deadline or not, I find the gesture irresponsible and uncaring. Yet, if Zuck is behaving against her best interests in supporting fellow artists in the orchestra, it begs the question, who is pulling her strings?)

You know how a Tsunami starts with a huge VOID? The water drops away from the shore before the wave rises. Well, the water has been pulling away from the shore of the Symphony for awhile, but now it’s rising into a huge wave of support for the orchestra.

Tonight’s concert, with the amazing Yo Yo Ma leading us to ever higher levels of music making, and our beloved Junichi picking up where Ma left off, was a surge even higher than last week, which was already substantial music making (and appreciation of it) from us all.

The crowd tonight filled the house to the brim, and even Buzz Trafford, board president, felt he deserved to bask in it a bit, announcing that if we were playing in Severance Hall (Cleveland’s concert hall, smaller than the Ohio Theater), 500 people would be without seats. Keep basking Buzz, but don’t forget to zip up your wet suit. The water may be a bit colder than you like it.

The delightful Rosamunde Overture by Schubert allowed us all to settle in and enjoy the anticipation of excitement ahead. Schubert’s airy melodies floated from the orchestra like feathers in a tropical breeze. The world of music knows no budget limits or recession. And the orchestra played like a million bucks. If only we knew how to translate that wealth into greenbacks.

I didn’t have a part to play in the Haydn cello concerto, so I heard it from back stage. Ma may earn a chunk of change for one performance, but he puts out the goods. I doubt Haydn could have ever imagined his perfect concerto played MORE than perfectly. Not only was the performance flawless, at least from back stage, but it had drama, delight, intimacy, excitement and joy among its colorful moods. I watched some of the rehearsal with Ma and found myself rapt not only with his playing, but the effortlessness of his body language as he played.

Needless to say, the crowd went wild. For Haydn? As I think about this a drone plays in my ear, like some kind of repetitive torture, telling me classical music is outdated, a dying art, insupportable by the market. The market seems to be changing its tune, and those who really should be listening are tone deaf.

After intermission, Ma played the Saint-Saëns cello concerto, one of my favorite pieces by a favorite composer. Perhaps it’s because I had a crush on someone who played it for me in High School. The main melody of the first movement exudes the wavy passion of a slightly tipsy man deeply in love. He loves everyone! Ma laid it out, easy to follow, especially for a tipsy theme. Junichi was right there with him. We all enjoyed the ride. The second and third movements alternate between moods of domestic childhood bliss and a wistful theme which conjures the sweet pathos of life in a way only Saint-Saëns can.

As we rollicked to the very end, we let lose (according to plan) in a way Junichi rarely lets us do. We are just beginning to understand the control with which we are capable of “letting lose”. After nearly two years of working with him, we are just beginning to tap into our potential for controlled passion and power, the energy tapped by the greatest orchestras, from Cleveland to Berlin.

For an encore, Ma joined members of Carpé Diem string quartet, sans orchestra, to play the slow and dramatically rich second movement of Schubert’s Cello Quintet. The quartet was buoyed by Ma’s powerful presence and outdid themselves. Though the piece was a bit long for an encore, the hall was stark silent with focus during the quietest moments of the music.

It was time for the final work of the night, Ravel’s Bolero. Ma pulled up a chair and sat in the back of the cellos. He wanted to join us, and we were honored. He had briefly lauded, in no uncertain terms, our quality as an orchestra and the greatness of our city of Columbus. Junichi also offered some words to our audience. His charm and appeal grow each time he speaks. Without a microphone it was hard to hear him, but the gist was clear; he loves us, he loves the city, and believes deeply in both.

I, along with my woodwind colleagues, was a bit nervous, having to play the ultra soft beginnings of Bolero “cold” after sitting there silent for more than ten minutes. Phil Shipley, who was placed right in front of Junichi, began playing the famous bolero rhythm: tum-tupata tum-tupata tup-tup, tum-tupata tum-tupata tupata-tupata tum.

Randy Hester, principal flute, began the famous theme, which Junichi had coached us to play sensuously, without inhibition. The tempo Junichi chose seemed slow to us at first, perhaps because it’s more difficult to perform the solos effectively and control them at that tempo. Randy held perfect rhythm and added just enough enticement to invite the next soloist, myself.

I had worked on this for a few hours last night, playing it with the metronome over and over to get the control and stability I wanted, from which I could then evoke just a touch of playful flirting. Not too much, however, because I knew there was a long way to go. I was happy with how it went, passing the theme on to my friend Betsy Sturdevant, bassoon.

The bassoon states the second of the two themes the whole piece is built on. It is far more provocative and alluring. Betsy added just the right amount of heat to boost it up a notch and pass it on to Robert (Woody) Jones, my section colleague, playing the highly temperamental Eb clarinet. He repeated the theme presented by Betsy, and notched it up a bit, adding his own style and just the right amount of freedom to the undulating line.

Next up was the Oboe D’amoré, another unusual instrument between an oboe and an English Horn, played by Steve Secan. His melody went back to the first one which Randy and I had played. He laid it down superbly, rhythmic and clean, with just a hint of sensuality, just like his teacher and mentor John Mack would have done.

Junichi knew exactly how to help each person play their best. He coaxed those who needed it, and left others alone, sensing which would work best. The melody, though repeated endlessly, built in volume and color with each statement.

Ravel’s purpose in writing the piece was to experiment with unique tonal color combinations, like Monet did in his paintings, where three painting of the same scene were rendered in completely different colors and moods.

As the piece built, the tempo remained a powerful reality, the clock ticking as we all played our souls out to lure the audience into joining us in our passion. Phil Shipley and Bill Lutz held the hypnotic rhythm in perfect balance between stability and tension, wanting to move but restricted by time. Here lies the key to this piece; picking the right tempo. Junichi had set it perfectly from the first note.

The various solos, all played gloriously, built on each other as bodies heat up each other and feed off that heat to heat up more. The passion rose and rose.

The tempo never budged. The drums were pounding now, with the timpani joining in on three, one…. three, one…. three, one…. three, one. The orchestra played as one large organism. I lost myself completely and just basked in the rich aura of sound.

At the orgasmic end, our audience JUMPED to their feet.

It doesn’t get any better than that!

Are you ready to ride the wave with us?

Muczynski, Times Pieces, Movts. 3 and 4

Published
by
dtclarinet
on May 8, 2008
in Clarinet, Programing, The Music and YouTube Perfromances
. 0 Comments

Robert Muczynski’s 1984 Time Pieces were written for Mitchell Lurie. Movt. 3 is a breezy, lilting a,b,a scherzando; the 4th movt. gives the clarinet center stage with a long opening cadenza, which then leads into a rollicking, jagged molto allegro, ending with yet another clarinet cadenza before the final race to the finish. David Thomas, clarinet; Dianne Frazer, piano, recorded April 13, 2008.

Muczynski, Times Pieces, Movements 1 and 2

Published
by
dtclarinet
on May 6, 2008
in Performances, Programing and The Music
. 0 Comments

Robert Muczynski’s 1984 Time Pieces, written for Mitchell Lurie, starts with a ragtime sounding theme built on large skips in the first movement; the second movement has a moody, Gregorian chant like melody, developed to very un-Gregorian passion. Muczynski’s music draws on jazz rhythms, but also resembles the musical vocabularies of Hindemith and Copland. David Thomas, clarinet; Dianne Frazer, piano, April 13, 2008.

May 4 Recital, photos and impressions

Published
by
dtclarinet
on May 5, 2008
in Behind the Scenes, Performances, Personal, Programing and The Music
. 3 Comments

Ready to PlayI had a blast playing an all Mozart recital at my home last night. Working with a mix of dear friends, talented colleagues and new-found talents in Columbus, I can’t imagine a better evening for a musician.

This was the second in what I hope will become a regular series of concerts. The program, “Mmiraculous Mmozart- The Deliciousness of Mozart’s Music” (inspired by chocolate truffles) came together as a combination of pieces we wanted to play and people I wanted to work with.

The Clarinet Trio of Mozart, K 498, is a piece I have wanted to play with Brett Allen, assistant principal viola with the Columbus Symphony, since we decided to do some recitals together a few years ago. The viola-clarinet-piano combination has several substantial works written for it. In March, 2007 we performed the romantic and brooding Max Bruch “Eight Pieces” for viola, clarinet and piano with Dianne Frazer. Another delightful work for that combination is the Schumann “Fairy Tales”, which we look forward to performing in the future.

Making Music with FriendsTonight we played the “Kegelstatt” (”bowling alley” nicknamed for where Mozart is said to have conceived the piece) Trio with pianist Ahlin Min, a talented new face in the Columbus music scene. Ahlin moved to Columbus with her husband, Noah, last year, after graduating from Indiana University, where she studied with Menahem Pressler, founding member of the Beaux Arts Trio. Ahlin came to my attention at the suggestion of pianist Nina Polansky, wife of Leonid, Assistant Concertmaster of the CSO. I have to say, Ahlin Min has earned my full respect as a musician after tonight’s concert, having performed an intricate and demanding part with impressive technical and musical alacrity. Along with Brett’s top notch viola playing, the synergy among the three of us led, in my opinion, to a convincing and detailed reading of Mozart’s lighthearted masterpiece.

Appreciating our Audience after the performanceFor the second part of the program, the famous Mozart Quintet, I was joined by Robert Firdman, violin, longtime friend, colleague and passionate musician from the CSO; Orieta Dado, a gifted violinist and amazing friend and Associate member of the our orchestra; Brett Allen, mentioned above; and Mark Kosmala, cello, another shining star among the Associate players of the orchestra. Let it be known that the Associates of the Columbus Symphony contribute to the brunt of serious music making by adding their expertise and passion to virtually all of our major classical series concerts. They may be part time by definition, but their music making is full time for our orchestra.

It was a revelation for me as a wind player to rehearse this piece with four string players who have never played together as a quartet. I learned a great deal about the intricacies of string playing. Primary among those techniques, the discussion of bowing, whether to bow up or down for a particular passage, continued through the last moment of rehearsal. I began to get a feel for the significance of each bow stroke, up or down, and how it contributed to the shape of the phrase. Up bow is more anticipatory in tone and phrasing; down bow more emphatic and directed.

Deep in Music MakingThe performance found us all coming together in spirit and technique. Some parts could have been better, as they always can, but the output of these players, from beginning to end of this intimately impromptu recital, was nothing short of 110%. Personally, I experienced moments of blissful music making which cannot be surpassed, and I have my friends to thank for joining in that collaboration. I am honored and pleased to have been able to make music with these fine artists. We are already talking about our next venture into the rich repertoire of chamber music available.

Our Audience Before the ConcertOur loving and enthusiastic audience, which numbered at least 35, filled the West Dunedin house with careful attention during the performance and a healthy applause after. Enjoying the MusicAll of us, audience and performers, maintained our focus even during the unexpected soliloquy by my kitchen smoke alarm. (the oven had to be turned on ahead of time to prepare the post concert h’ours dourves) Members of the audience promptly dismantled the noisy interloper while the music continued. However, we all agreed that a repeat of the ending of the Quintet sans piercing beeping was in order.

Learning about the Music MakingMy sincerest thanks goes out to all who participated in the music making and music appreciating during this lovely Sunday evening in early May. I was doing what I loved doing; making music with and for those who loved it. And despite all the hubbub in Columbus, Ohio about whether it can (or should) afford a good orchestra, I am convinced that the music is what really matters, at least to those who attended tonight.

Vivacious Discussion after the ConcertA bustling reception followed, with delicious h’ours dourves and lively conversation. The music is alive in Columbus. And more will follow. Let there be no doubt, more music will follow.

Many thanks to all those who helped with planning, invitations, food, underwriting and recording, including among many others: the Columbus Symphony Orchestra League, the Women’s Association of the Columbus Symphony Orchestra, Symphony Strong, John and Valerie Gibbs, Gayla and Robert Ebersole, Grace Sharp, Joseph Sarah, Jan Ryan, Phyllis and Randy Hester, Frank and Ann Hurd Thomas and Steve Bennett.

The Way It Shouldn’t Be

Published
by
dtclarinet
on March 14, 2007
in Behind the Scenes and The Music
. 6 Comments

We played a family oriented program this afternoon. It involved a quick rehearsal followed by an hour long pops concert. The conductor for this event is a long standing regular with us. He has established himself as our main pops conductor, with good reason. His amiable, energetic and lighthearted demeanor appeals to our pops audiences.

To give you perspective, our pops concerts usually feature a big name artist who plays with the orchestra on the second half. The first half features just the orchestra. Most of the audience comes to hear the big name act, not necessarily the orchestra. So, despite our being “featured” on the first half, most of the audience is patiently waiting for the big act. This conductor bridges that gap well. He has high energy and is comfortable chatting and joking with them between pieces.

He also has talent as a musician. He knows good phrasing, good sound and pitch when he hears it. He corrects valid problems during rehearsals. But he has a disconcerting tension in his body when he conducts. There’s an urgency about him, despite his affable exterior. His face is often contorted and impatient during performances, and his arms move in tight, insistent motions. All this contributes to a tense orchestra. Our demeanor reflects his.

The most frustrating expression of this tension and urgency are his tempos. He tends to take them too fast. Even after setting a tempo, he seems to want to “keep us on our toes” by constantly pushing the tempo forward. It’s as if it’s never fast enough. So we never settle into a rhythm, a beat. As a player, I feel like I’m being dragged on a short leash through a beautiful park, missing all the glorious scenery I am paid to notice and recreate. Perhaps he sees it as a way to keep the audience from being bored, but is that doing justice to the music or the audience?

Many musicians in my orchestra are as frustrated as I am. We don’t presume to know the best tempo for any piece. There are many valid possibilities for tempos for any particular music. That’s not the issue here. It’s whether the music is playable, and also about allowing a tempo to settle.

So, preparing for this short family concert we rehearsed a well known piece. It was very familiar, in fact. Which means we’ve also played it under some top notch conductors over the years. We know what the tempos should be. After we rehearsed is for a half hour or so, with tempos the upper edge of speed, he implored us to perform the music well despite such little rehearsal. (remember we know this music)

Then, during the concert, he pushed the tempos even more. When I tried to stabilize one accelerando to keep it sensible, he just ignored me and pushed ahead to an unplayable speed. It’s a shame he doesn’t have enough respect for us to give us the benefit of the doubt. He always says how much he loves us, but I don’t feel respect from the podium under him. I give my best, and he pushes it more.

I don’t know any conductor who would ignore the collective experience of 55 well trained, very experienced musicians. Does he remember that we have notes to play while he’s zipping away up there? Even if we get the notes at those tempos, they sound frantic with tension. I am happy to give my best, but when it’s never fast enough, I tend to give up and ignore him. I don’t think he would want that. The fact is, many big orchestras ignore their conductors to survive. The Columbus Symphony is unusual in that we really give our best and try to follow any conductor who leads us.

But we do so at a risk. The players are the ones blamed if the musical product is lacking, rarely the conductor. Who will be our advocate in this case if not we? No one. Again, I don’t question this person’s ability or validity as a musician. As I’ve said, he bridges a difficult gap with out pops audiences. But he insists on pushing us to play tempos beyond either tradition or reason. That affects our musical product.

Making music shouldn’t be a tug of war. A conductor can give urgency to a tempo without ignoring the musicians and without looking frantic. A balance of responsibility between conductor and musicians is crucial. It’s a group effort. Each knows what they’re doing. True, each may prefer differing tempos for good reasons. The musicians want playable tempos so the music sounds clear, the conductor wants to create excitement. The two meet in the middle. That’s the way music is made.

Music Making versus Playing

Published
by
dtclarinet
on November 13, 2006
in Mastery, Technique and The Music
. 2 Comments

Sometimes your heart is into it, and other times, well, you just go through the motions. We had a tough week for the orchestra last week. Our ex music director was engaged for a guest appearance. A few years ago the orchestra and board were deeply divided over whether to keep him on as music director. Ultimately, one faction won and he was “allowed to move on” in his career.

So when he came back last week, only a week after our new music director whom we LOVE, conducted us, it was an uphill struggle to keep our spirits up. The program consisted of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto and Brahms 3rd Symphony. Brahms 3rd is one of my favorites, not only because it has a gorgeous clarinet solo in the second movement, but it’s also a masterpiece of symphonic composing. So, our ex director, who always explores the limits of every phrase, is leading us through this incredible piece, and half of us are suffering through it while the other half are trying to get into it.

To credit the orchestra, everyone did their best to do make music. This guy, despite his passion, is known for his unpredictable interpretations. And that’s putting it lightly. To him, all music is Italian opera, full of drama. He can swoop down on phrase from the middle of nowhere and wallow in it like a girl in a bubble bath. Meanwhile, we’re turning blue or purple, his least favorite color, waiting for the next beat. And sometimes the next beat is really a beast, which swallows the bubble bath whole, girl and all, moving ahead to the prowl on the next unsuspecting phrase.

Now don’t get me wrong or anything…I like him. He’s a great cook and in love with life, something most Americans know little about. We are a culture of bean counters, note takers, fact checkers, time keepers, rule makers, and on. Making music is not about those things. It’s about being free of the structures which convey its language. It’s about letting time float. Occasionally, he creates a brilliant nuance I could never imagine, which shudders through me like a homogenization beam from another planet, and I realize what music is all about.

Each musician eventually finds a personal balance between subjective and objective interpretations of music. Subjective interpreters seeks the meaning through the emotions, the feeling of the music, while objective ones strive to recreate the composer’s intentions. Both are valid. In my opinion, George Szell maintained the perfect balance between the two.

I lean toward the subjective camp. There are times when I feel I’m only playing the music, not feeling it, not really making music of it. Freshness helps wake me from the blindness of familiarity, especially with pieces I’ve played many times. This week’s Brahms 3rd gave me a chance to see it new, as through a microscope.

Over the years of being under this guy as music director, he has shown me the wonderful nuances and magic which can be pulled from an ordinary phrase of music. Really there are infinite ways to play any piece. The objective camp believes there is one ideal way. I think there are numerous ideal ways. And often you don’t know what might work until you try it. Inspiration is critical to making music.

After the show I argued with some colleagues, many of them string players, about these issues. I have to concede, this guy stretched Brahms way beyond the traditional, North German, stoic interpretation which works best with his music: the latent passion struggling to be free of its shadows, the yearning Bohemian dreaming of a better world.

Yet, from my little island of music making within the group, I relished wallowing in the secret depths of Brahms’ introverted complexities, in the rich density of his tonal language, the Escheresque rhythmic structures. And many of my colleagues in the winds and brass felt similarly. We were “gellin”!

The strings, however, saw it completely differently. They are the sea sprawled around our little windy islands. Spread apart and in much greater numbers, they couldn’t rely on the intimate person to person connections to stay together like the winds and brass did. They were lost at sea, while the guy up front was busy getting signals from outer space. They were not happy. Nope. Not!

This brings me back to making music versus playing. The two are codependent. This week, while some of us were able to make beautiful music within the relative chaos coming from the podium, to flourish within it’s spontaneous freedom and compulsive freshness, others struggled just to play the notes together. Ultimately, if we can’t all enjoy the same spontaneity and freedom while playing together, it lacks the most important feature of a great performance: cohesiveness.

So, here’s to guzzling music raw when ever we can, whether it’s 60 or 100 proof. But the lasting impression comes in the richness of a balanced meal accompanied by an aged wine, when we can actually remember what we did the night before.