Archive for the 'Performances' Category

Surfboards ready?

Published
by
dtclarinet
on May 16, 2008
in Off the Record, Our Supporters, Performances and The Music
. 4 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?

I feel a Tsunami growing…

Published
by
dtclarinet
on May 14, 2008
in Behind the Scenes, Our Supporters and Performances
. 2 Comments

Something about the enthusiastic crowd last Saturday brought it on. Maybe it was the loud and sustained applause which greeted Junichi Hirokami when he first came on stage, even before the music had begun. Maybe it was the intensity with which he conducted the opening chords of fate by the strings in Beethoven’s passionate and dramatic Egmont overture. Maybe it was the supernaturally powerful sound which emanated from the strings and then the whole orchestra as we played.

The energy never stopped. Junichi never stopped asking for more, more beauty, more passion, more depth, from us. Our audience followed every note, every whisper, as we played.

Maybe it was the four, or was it five (?) curtain calls for our Maestro, and for us, at the end of that momentous concert. Maybe it was the throng of vibrant students, who had pulled together as a group to attend that concert and support us, led by a few die hard leaders, Matthew Brahms and Julianne Akins.

I felt it all, and didn’t believe it. Was it because it was too good to be true? Did Columbus love us that much? After all, we had heard almost nothing but dismal news from those in whom we entrusted our fate. We heard that we weren’t worth what we were paid, we were replaceable, we were a nuisance, a thorn in their side, a delay in their day. At least that’s the way we had felt. Until that night.

Something happened. I am always skeptical about such “energy” forces and such unproveable phenomena. Though I love mythology, I am a scientist at heart. Show me the graphs the facts, and I’ll believe it. But something hit me that night which I had never felt. I think we all felt it, those who were there, in the orchestra, in the audience.

At the wonderful party afterwards, I met several of the incredible people who had attended several recent recitals at my home. One of them bought me a drink, to celebrate. They had felt it too.

Pieces fell into place that night. I met and spoke with people whom I wasn’t quite sure I trusted, but who now gave me big hugs and clicked with me, and I with them. Conversations happened, words and ideas flowed. I seemed to meet the very person I had wanted to speak to just as I need to say what I had to say.

I kept feeling it, that energy I claim to be suspicious of. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t anyone else in particular. It came from everyone there, from the sidewalk, from the air, from the high quality jazz band playing their hearts out. (I spoke to them later; they’re OSU students; I plan to have them play at my home this Summer)

I came home feeling a rush of optimism I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. Yet the question gnawed at me: What was there to be optimistic about?

The next morning I read the Dispatch editorial about the Symphony, and reality came rushing back; we were not important, we were a huge annoyance, we were entirely replaceable. It couldn’t be. Not after the night before. But there it was, in print; do or die.

What was I feeling the night before? Was it valid? I can’t say no, unless the blood running through my veins is cold. But it’s hard to say “YES, I believe it!”.

Yet, I KNOW what I felt, and I know everyone else there felt it. Did you?

Tonight, I played a few small things with a dozen or so other musicians at another Symphony Strong event at the Worthington Hill Country Club. And it happened again! I saw how the audience listened intently as each musician told their personal stories about where they grew up and how they got into music.

I was a bit nervous playing some pretty modern jazzy pieces for clarinet and bass, after hearing the preceding wonderful string pieces which had a popular appeal and had the audience on their feet. But I introduced each piece with humor and played it with gusto. Afterwards, many people came up to tell me how refreshing those little modern jazz ditty’s were, how much they enjoyed me enjoying the music.

And I began to feel it again, that feeling of being on top of a BIG wave, and knowing it’s REALLY happening, and you just have to trust the wave and let it take you along with it.

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.

Pops Concerts

Published
by
dtclarinet
on November 30, 2006
in Behind the Scenes and Performances
. 0 Comments

We play a lot of pops concerts. If classical concerts are the meat, pops are the carbohydrates of our diet. They keep us going financially.

The orchestra usually plays some light classical pieces on the first half, then a famous pop or rock act plays with us on the second. We only hire acts which use us in their accompaniment. In fact, we’ve played orchestral accompaniments to such bands as Led Zeppelin and Tammy Wynette. Now that’s entertainment.

We don’t rehearse the first half much. And it often has some challenging works on it. Light doesn’t always mean easy. In fact bad arrangements can be extremely difficult and awkward. Those are the weeks I build my “close your eyes and dive in” chops!

When I first got an orchestral job in 1983, it was with a ballet orchestra. Ballet music is often some of the hardest to play. It goes on and on, with thick orchestrations in odd keys and no breaks. After six years of that I had developed some reading chops!

So, during pops weeks, I try new equipment, try new reeds. I show up, sit down, open my folder and dive in!

This week the pops is all about the celebrations of the season. Though it’s mostly about Christmas, it includes some music for Hanuka. It’s a variety show. Our choral director runs it, and it features our excellent all volunteer chorus. But he also includes our top notch local ballet company, BalletMet. The first half is a bit more classical, with selections from Handel’s Messiah, Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms and Respighi’s Adoration of the Magi. The second half has a carol sing along for the audience and lots of traditional Christmas music and finally, a visit from Santa. Though I’ve played it for 17 years here, I still enjoy the spirit of it.