Archive for the ‘Music practice and rehearsal’ Category
2014 Racine Concert Band Season Continues Tomorrow . . .
Folks, I didn’t manage to get up a reminder about the Racine Concert Band summer concerts at the Racine Zoo in July . . . at least, I don’t remember doing so. But we have four more free concerts left out at the Zoo, and I figured I’d get over here and say a few brief words about tomorrow night’s 7:00 P.M. concert to whet your interest.
Tomorrow night’s concert features trumpet soloist Mark Eichner and xylophone soloist Nicholas Stainbrook — and if you’re a longtime reader of my blog, you’re probably going, “Mark Eichner? Isn’t he the conductor of the band? How can he play a solo?”
I could be sarcastic and say, “Very easily, thank you.” (Oops, I just was.) Because we have a guest conductor for two pieces, our regular euphonium player Paul Taylor (who led a high school band for many years in the Kenosha Unified School District — Bradford High, I think) will conduct two pieces — Eichner’s trumpet solo “Beautiful Colorado,” which is a virtuosic waltz for trumpet and concert band, and “The Florentiner” march directly before the solo.
This concert interests me more than most of the others because I’m playing the first clarinet parts instead of the second alto saxophone parts. I even have a solo on Chaminade’s “Scarf Dance,” which is a piece of French band music with the characteristic French harmonies (love that stuff, truly), and have a number of very good and very melodic parts. (We haven’t seen much of that in the saxophone section so far this summer. Depends on the year what we get, of course.)
Other things that may interest you: My usual stand-mate, Vivian Krenzke, will have an extended alto saxophone solo on “Spiritual,” and Vera Olguin will have several solos on both flute and piccolo among the woodwinds. Dave Kapralian and others in the cornet and trumpet section have some interesting parts, and our substitute first horn player (sorry, I don’t know her name; she’s a dark-haired woman with a robust sound and exquisite musicianship) will have a lengthy solo in one of the French pieces also.
Mind, there’s a good amount of music people who usually go to band concerts will recognize — Percy Grainger’s “Country Gardens,” several marches, including John Philip Sousa’s “King Cotton,” and a waltz from the ballet “Coppelia.” (This last is something you often hear on television commercials in vastly shortened form.) And did I mention this concert is absolutely free yet?
All you have to do, if you want to come out and see it, is go to one of the two side entrances to the Racine Zoo. (That way, you’re getting in for nothing. Besides, the front entrances should be closed by the time you get there at six-thirty or so to grab a spot on the lawn.) Bring a blanket or a lawn chair, and prepare to be captivated by sound.
See you tomorrow evening at 7:00!
——
P.S. After the concert, please make sure to tell your local alderman and/or Racine Mayor John Dickert how much you enjoy our absolutely free Zoo concerts. Because we still need your support — badly.
Practice Tonight, Concert Tomorrow
This week, I obviously haven’t blogged very much, and there’s a reason for that.
You see, even though I’m still far more “off” than “on” and have little energy due to being sick for nearly three months in a row, I was asked months ago to play a concert tomorrow evening at the Case High School theatre in Racine, Wisconsin with the Racine Concert Band. (I regularly play with the RCB, but mostly in the summer months.)
And of course, at the time, I said yes.
When this concert’s first rehearsal came up a few weeks ago, I told them that I was still recovering from bronchitis and that a new therapy had been started. (True.) I had hopes the new therapy would help, but I didn’t know how long that it would take to restore my energy level to the point where I could play. So I said at that point that I’d prefer not to play this concert — not because I didn’t want to play, but because I feared I would be completely and totally unable to play.
An aside: My degrees are in music performance, mostly. (My Bachelor’s of Arts from the University of Wisconsin-Parkside had enough credits that I could’ve taken a degree beyond music, had I wished, and I certainly had enough credits for both an English and history minor, if Parkside did minors. But I didn’t.) So performing music in front of people, no matter how terribly I feel at the time, is what I’ve trained for my entire life.
This is why, when the RCB wasn’t able to get a substitute clarinet player — they thought they had one, but that person backed out — I decided to play the concert and the subsequent rehearsals, even knowing that the rehearsals would take a good deal of my available energy along with my available concentration, and also would keep me from blogging very much or doing much in the way of editing, either.
Of course, there’s no guarantee even without playing this concert, as lousy as I’ve felt, that I’d have been able to do that much more. I’ve been told that I’m exhausted for the past five or six months, including before I was diagnosed in mid-April with acute bronchitis. And while for a time I was able to keep “bulling through” and accomplishing what I needed to accomplish as a writer, editor and musician, after that bronchitis hit me I had nothing left to “bull through” with.
What I’m trying to do now is to manage the exhaustion, get as much rest as I possibly can, and to limit stress. These are not easy things for me to do at all, but because I was able to do some of them, plus that medical therapy I discussed before (basically I’m taking twice as much of one type of medicine as before in order to limit acid reflux, as reflux plays into both bronchitis and asthma), I’ve been able to play the rehearsals and will play tomorrow’s concert. (Well, tonight‘s concert, as it’s clicked over past midnight as I’ve been editing this.)
Now, am I playing very well right now? In my own personal (and professional) estimation, no, I’m not. I’m at about fifty, maybe sixty percent of what I’m capable of when I’m healthy. (And that’s not what I’m capable of when I’m at the top of my game, mind you — that’s just when I’m healthy and able to play.) So I’ve been able to completely learn the parts, which is good, but I’m not able to fully play them, which isn’t.
What I’m doing to compensate for the areas I can’t play is to take longer breathing breaks than normal, so I don’t get too tired out to play. (I’ve also been smart about taking my asthma inhaler and such, as there’s no need to be any more stupid than I must.) And if I have to, I take things in two- or four-measure chunks . . . whatever it takes in order to play the music as written, at least as much of it as I’m able to play at this time.
But the band knew this. The conductor knew this. And they still wanted me to play.
Which is why I will take the stage and do my best on May 16, 2013, at 7:30 p.m. out at Case High School in Racine. The RCB has one “combined piece” with the Case High School’s best and/or senior class musicians, plus four other pieces by Robert Ward, Germaine Tailleferre, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Percy Grainger. The “big piece” is Tailleferre’s “Suite Divertimento,” written in 1977. It’s a mixture of 20th century French and Renaissance idioms, and if we play it as well as we’re capable of, it should be most impressive.
However, the piece I actually enjoy the most is “Prairie Overture” by Robert Ward. Ward is an underrated American composer who died in April at the age of 95, and his piece was written in 1957 for concert band and was only later transcribed by Ward for the orchestra. (Usually a composer writes for orchestra first and band later, if at all, which is why the concert band repertoire consists of so many arrangements.) This piece sounds both American and Western in flavor and style, but has some unique orchestration throughout that was Ward’s trademark.
I’m uncertain how many people in Racine even know about my blog, much less read it regularly. But if you live in Racine and you enjoy real, live music played by real, live musicians, you owe it to yourself to get yourself out to Case High School on Thursday night and hear these pieces for yourself.
As for my plans for after the concert, I plan to take it very slowly until I regain some more energy or strength, even though I really hate having to do so. The medical people I’ve consulted have all told me that since it took months to wreck my health, it’ll take months for me to regain the energy I no longer have. And the only way to regain that energy is to be smart, stay within myself, and try not to push myself overmuch.
All I can do right now is promise that I’ll do things as I’m able, as my health allows. This wasn’t a situation I’d expected to get into by any means, so I have no “playbook” in order to help me get back out of it.
That’s why you may, or may not, see regular blogs from me over the summer months as I do my best to slowly regain my health, strength and stamina. But if I’m able, I’ll continue to comment on whatever strikes my fancy, just as I’ve always done, in the hopes that it’ll intrigue you. Inflame you.
Or at least keep you amused. (Whatever works.)
Ill Here . . . but Getting Better
Folks, the last week has been quite interesting — at least in the Chinese curse sense of, “May you live in interesting times” — which is why I haven’t blogged in several days.
To be blunt, I’ve been quite ill with the flu and a sinus infection and a number of other things that got kicked up because of that. No new writing has gotten done, and my edits are behind (now three edits are in progress, the two longer-term ones plus a short-term job). And I had to take three days away from my editorial internship, too, which of course doesn’t help anything.
Some days, the minuses definitely seem like more than the pluses, but I have to keep getting up and get whatever done that I possibly can. And if the best I can do is rest? Well, then, I guess I’ll rest with the best of ’em.
At least, as much as I can.
There are some positives to report in the past week, though not a whole lot. I edited a few more chapters of AN ELFY ABROAD (the direct sequel to ELFY). I was able to do my three-hour shift for my internship tonight. I attended the most recent Racine Concert Band rehearsal (for our December 13, 2012 concert at Park High School), and while I didn’t play really well, I also didn’t perform horribly. And I’ve sketched out a few possible scenes for another of my works-in-progress (WIPs for short), while reading at least fifteen books in the past week. (If I had a Kindle or something akin to it, I’d probably have read even more.)
The other things that I’ve noted in the past week or two that I haven’t blogged about:
The Milwaukee Brewers have parted with pitchers Kameron Loe and José Veras, who weren’t the worst relievers on the roster by a mile. I’m waiting to see if the Brewers re-sign either of these pitchers at lower salaries.
Politics is in a holding pattern; everyone’s wondering if the United States Congress will ever learn the meaning of the word “compromise” (much less the words “fiscal restraint”), while the term “fiscal cliff” has dominated the headlines along with the stalwart refusal of Congress to do any work whatsoever.
Wisconsin politics is also in a holding pattern. State Senator Jessica King (D-Oshkosh) has conceded to Republican Rick Gudex of Fond du Lac, and is now an outgoing Senator after losing by only 590 votes. The Republicans regained control of the state Senate; currently, with one seat vacant, the state Senate stands at 17-15.
And there’s no news regarding the “John Doe” probe of Gov. Scott Walker (R) and his aides, except the fact that the probe is continuing. (This wouldn’t even be news except that Walker himself believed that the probe was in its final days.)
Anyway, as I start to feel better, I should be able to do more writing, on this blog and for Shiny Book Review and of course for my works-in-progress. The hope now is to get a book review done for tomorrow night for John Amen and Daniel Y. Harris’s poetry extravaganza THE NEW ARCANA, and another review on Saturday (possibly one of the three-book set by K.E. Kimbriel, as all of them are good, enjoyable novels; if I wait, though, it’s only to do a “two-for-one SBR special”).
So my intentions are to get better, keep writing and editing, and keep posting updates as I have ’em.
Business as usual, no matter how long it takes. (Right?)
Performance, Music, and Nerves
Folks, I started thinking about one of the sentences I’ve thrown into several of my articles about sports stars, but mostly with regards to figure skating stars as often, only one or at most two people are on the ice at the same time. That sentence is, “(X) can really be something, if (he/she) can learn to control (his/her) nerves.”
Now, why is it that I keep saying this?
I’m a musician, and have been since I was eleven years old. So I know a great deal about performance anxiety. I’ve also played many solos in front of bands and orchestras, as well as within the band and orchestra as a featured performer; that’s why I do know how it feels to be out there, all by yourself, wondering if everything’s going to work right today and waiting to see how well the performance comes off.
Consider that in music, we have many things that aren’t under our control. How fast is the conductor taking the music? Will one of the saxophone’s pads fall off? (Brass players worry about similar things related to pistons sticking or the like.) Will my reed continue to work, or will it do something idiosyncratic at the last possible minute after I’ve committed to the solo and can’t change it?
Well, figure skaters have to worry about their skates; not just their skate blades, but whether or not their laces will break. (This happened to Nobunari Oda at the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver.) Will there be ruts in the ice that can’t be avoided? (This happened to Johnny Weir during his second combination spin at the 2010 Olympics and stopped his spin dead.) How well did the competitor do beforehand? (This is important because people throw stuffed animals on the ice and it can take a while to clear them off, plus as the next competitor, you have to stay away from them before they’re all cleared.)
So all you can do, as a performer in whatever discipline, is control what you can control. That’s tough to learn. (I know I didn’t really learn it until I was close to thirty.) And worrying about it beforehand is counterproductive, yet if you’ve had past difficulties, it’s very human. (We all do it.)
The solution, if there is one, is to not take it all so seriously. (This can be very tough to do in a business where how well you audition is vital, but it’s necessary.) And to remember that no matter how badly you may play today, you’ll play well tomorrow and the next day and the day after that — because you’ve done everything you can do by rehearsing for untold, uncounted hours beforehand.
That’s why, despite how casual it may seem when I throw that one sentence in there about such-and-such “controlling his (or her) nerves,” it’s not a casual thing at all. It’s a long-held belief that’s been borne out by many things I’ve lived through as a performer. And it’s why I have empathy for someone who really has talent, like Jeremy Abbott, who uncharacteristically falters (as Abbott did during his 2010 Olympic short program; Abbott performed much better in the long program to finish in ninth place overall, but even his long program wasn’t really up to his best), because I know he (or she) can do much better if he’ll only learn to trust himself along the way.
One more thing to consider is this: when you perform for a living (or for even part of your living), you start thinking you’re only as good as your last performance. I’d like to tell all performers of all types one, simple thing: Please, do not do this.
Instead, what you as a performer need to do is to remember that you have prepared well for whatever it is you’re about to do. That you’ve dedicated yourself to learn your craft. And that you’re going to do your level best; that’s all anyone can expect of you, and it’s all you should expect out of yourself.
You also should try — and I know this is very, very hard — not to let the dictates of how you perform take over your life. Who you are as a person has very little to do with how you may perform any given day, though how you prepare for the performance, and what you put into the performance — your “sweat equity” — has a great deal to do with you and your perseverance and your personal character.
That’s why I write blog posts about perseverance, because I feel that’s the main difference between a person who ultimately succeeds and one who doesn’t. You must refuse to give up on yourself and your talents, because that’s literally the only way to lose in the game of life — no matter how well, or how badly, you may perform on any given day.
My late husband Michael used to tell me, “If you can’t do it today, you will assuredly do it tomorrow. I know you; I know you don’t give up. ‘Quit’ is not part of your vocabulary.” And then I get back after it tomorrow, because I know he was — and still is (wherever he is now in Eternity) — right.
Or to distill this message down to its essence: your only true competition is yourself. So do yourself a favor, and keep utilizing your talents as long as humanly possible. Don’t give up.
Music, Remembrance, and Observations
Folks, this is a difficult blog to write, mostly because I’ve been struggling with my grief process over the loss of my good friend, Jeff Wilson, all week long. (Well, really since he died, but this week it hit hard and fast, and just hasn’t really let up for very long.) Couple that with the holidays, and with missing my late husband Michael something fierce, well . . . let’s just say that I haven’t really had an enjoyable few weeks and save steps, shall we? (The sinus infection I’ve been dealing with hasn’t helped, either.)
What keeps me going despite these difficult and frustrating times? My music, that’s what. Music has a profound resonance for me, partly because I’ve spent most of my life studying it, and partly because I think better in music than words. (Strange, but true.)
Next Tuesday, I’ll play the first concert since making a bit of a comeback as a musician out at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside in Kenosha. The UW-Parkside Wind Ensemble and Community Band will perform, both singly and together; as first chair alto saxophone in the Community Band, I will be playing an extended solo in a piece called “Roma.” I’m looking forward to the concert, and I hope those of my friends and family who attend will enjoy it.
That being said, it feels very strange to me to be playing a concert at this time. I’m not one hundred percent right, not physically (even without the sinus infection, my hands continue to give me fits due to my carpal tunnel syndrome), and certainly not emotionally due to the recent loss of my friend Jeff. But that’s not any sort of excuse to keep me from doing whatever I can; I refuse to sit on the sidelines just because I am not in the musical shape I’d rather be in, or the physical shape, either.
The last time I played a concert, it was before I had met my late husband Michael — while Michael heard me practice many times, he never got a chance to hear me play in a concert, something I will always regret. Now, Jeff is also gone; while he was there encouraging me through both rounds of occupational therapy in the last year, which helped me regain enough of my abilities to again be able to play my saxophone (and play reasonably well), he is no longer able to hear me tell him how things are going, much less get a chance to hear a recording of the concert itself. (With his health issues the last five weeks of his life, that would’ve been the only way for him to hear me play unless I’d been able to get out there and play for him in person. Which of course I also wanted to do.)
So the two people who were the most important to me in this life are gone. I can’t do anything about that, other than wish with all my heart and soul that they were still here . . . and that’s not enough. (I’m sorry. I wish it was, but it really isn’t.)
What I’m going to try to do, therefore, is play and hope that wherever they are, they’ll hear it and know I’m doing everything in my power to regain my musical abilities. That meant a lot to them, and I’m sure that wherever they are now, it still does — so for the moment, all I can do is save up my experiences and hope that down the line, I’ll again be able to share with them how I felt about what I was doing in some sort of meaningful way (even if it has to be in the positive afterlife, not here).
Music, ’tis said, is a great healer. All I know is, it helps me to be able to play right now, even though nothing is going to be able to take this pain away because I miss my husband. I miss my good friend. And I wish very much that they were still with me in this life, because I really would’ve liked to see their faces after I finished, triumphantly, playing my solo in “Roma.”
Performances, Chaz Bono, and DWTS
This week on “Dancing with the Stars,” it was Broadway Week — meaning every star had to do a ballroom dance of some sort to a Broadway song and also put some “Broadway inflection” into his or her routine. Chaz Bono and his professional partner, Lacey Schwimmer, drew the tango — not an easy thing to dance to a Broadway tune — and the theme to Phantom of the Opera.
Now, I’ve written before about my liking for Chaz Bono before; I believe what he’s doing, in being open about his past gender identity struggles and being the first transsexual contestant ever on DWTS, is a very good and empowering thing. I also think that as a heavier person, he dances well and shows that it’s a complete myth that “big people can’t dance.”
His routine tonight to “Phantom” was a tough one; his partner, Lacey Schwimmer, told him early on that he’d have to “step it up” and do more difficult choreography — that the “super-basic” routines he had learned up until now wouldn’t work. (Note that last week’s samba routine was not all that easy; what I think Schwimmer was referring to was the rhumba routine and some of the routines before that, which were at the most basic level.) I think this was difficult for Bono to hear, but he handled it, learned his routine, and performed it well.
Then came the judges, who were more critical than Bono had anticipated (they were about what Lacey Schwimmer expected, though of course I’m sure she’d hoped for better); they said that the role of the Phantom “did not suit” Bono (both head judge Len Goodman and judge Bruno Tonioli said this pretty much word-for-word, while judge Carrie-Ann Inaba said it in a slightly kinder way, referring to the “challenge” of acting a character that is not your own), that the dance of the tango wasn’t fiery enough or precise enough, and that Bono altogether “lacked the sense of menace” that a dance like this requires (Goodman, again). No mention was made of the fact that Bono danced most of the dance in the half-mask of the Phantom; no mention was made that Bono’s movements were sharper and crisper than they’ve ever been, and that the form of the dance was preserved throughout.
As a performer myself (though not a dancer or actor), I’ve been there. So I have some words for Chaz Bono that I hope he’ll heed tonight: “Mr. Bono, please, do not listen to the harshness of these critics. You have to understand that as a performer, not everyone is going to appreciate what you do, and you can’t do anything about that. You can only control what you can do — which you did, as you danced the best I have ever seen you on the entire season of ‘Dancing with the Stars.'”
Or, in other words — I think the critics, while they’re certainly correct about the forms of the dance and maybe had a point about being more emphatic in your movements (the only way you could possibly have been more “menacing,” it seems to me, behind the Phantom’s half-mask, is to be very direct, cutting, and emphatic), are flat wrong about how you danced.
Look. Your partner, Ms. Schwimmer, is correct about the way the judges will act. This is just what they do; some of it is for effect, because they want to make a better show — and some of it is just how they are overall.
Schwimmer knows this; she’s been dealing with these same judges now for several years. All of her training is meant to help you withstand their criticism; she is an exacting teacher, yes, but also a kind and honest one. She isn’t known for cursing or being upset with her pupils, in the main; she’s known for being able to teach anyone — including Steve-O of “Jackass” fame while he was just “getting clean” after finishing up some rehab for alcohol and drug addiction — to the point that her partners actually learn the dances, rather than just the routines.
Do you know what that means? You’ll remember how to rhumba years from now. You’ll know how to do the cha cha cha. You’ll understand the tango, and be able to do it again once you’re off the show — that’s because she does teach the “super-basics” as well as the flourishes a show like “Dancing” requires, because she wants you to understand the dance as well as perform it.
The upshot of all of this, Mr. Bono, is this — it was very hard for me, as a viewer, to watch your face fall once you’d performed your routine to “Phantom of the Opera.” I didn’t like seeing that, because that made me think that you’ve forgotten the most important person in the equation — you — and are basing your opinion of yourself on what other people think rather than what you think about yourself.
Granted, this can be very tough to do as a performing artist. I have been there (I once had someone criticize my oboe playing who had listened to three hundred clarinets in a solo-ensemble music contest; it was the one and only year I didn’t go to the state contest in high school — I was the only oboist this judge heard all day, too, which made it all the more unfair) and I know how difficult it is.
Here’s another example for you: I once had a saxophone lesson when I was going for my Master’s degree where I asked my professor, “Did I do anything right today?”
His answer was, “Of course! But if I don’t tell you what you did wrong, how will you ever improve?” (Note that I was an “older” Master’s candidate, going for my Master’s past age thirty because I believed in myself and felt I still had a chance to improve my playing and perhaps work in my field. I still believe that if my hands co-operate, I will be able to once again get back to where I should be and I really wish to work in my field, which is performing, teaching, and composing music.)
This is why I have great sympathy for you doing something so far out of your “comfort zone,” because you obviously believe it’s the right thing to do.
I think what Lacey Schwimmer is doing by giving you criticism about how to improve your dancing and your overall performance is meant so you can take the criticism, incorporate it into your performance, and become a better dancer. It certainly is not meant to wound you (even though it hurts, and badly, at the time).
As a performing artist (no matter how long I’ve had to be idle due to my carpal tunnel syndrome and other issues), I know that when fifty people compliment you, but one is highly critical, you tend to remember the one person who was so critical like it’s a burr under your skin. I can only imagine what it must be like to hear yourself be criticized like that by three judges on national TV.
I know that I, as a viewer, saw both improvement and personality in your dance. And I believe that as a performer, you did your job, because you did the very best you possibly could — you lived up to everything your teacher asked of you — in the best way you possibly could do it.
So what I’d like most to tell you is this: keep on dancing, Mr. Bono. You’re doing a fine job; you’ve learned a lot; you’ve hung in there and you’ve done everything in your power to improve and you have, indeed, shown improvement. And while your overall likeability is one of your greatest strengths, do you know what your best strength is? Your perseverance.
So keep on keepin’ on, and non illegitimi carborundum.
———
Oh, one other thing: if I listened to “the critics” regarding my saxophone playing (now that I can’t do as much as before, or at least as quickly as before), I’d not even be making the attempt to play. So yes, improvement must be taken into consideration here — which is why every single week, I’ve voted for Chaz Bono and Lacey Schwimmer and it’s why I plan to keep doing so.