The Merc has an article (by Richard Scheinin) about our 2005-06 season.
—–
I read the comments at Lynn’s site and of course that causes me to think more on this whole topic of symphonies and what sort of changes we’ll be seeing.
Some have said we should nix our black clothes. I wouldn’t mind seeing the guys in something other than tails. I just don’t want my black taken away! I love wearing black because it’s easy; I don’t have to think long and hard about what I’m going to wear, it doesn’t cost a lot, and I can “mix and match”. And it doesn’t make the stage look cluttered and distracting. So please let me hang on to my black!
Some think we should be less formal. There does seem to be a wall between the audience and performer. We used to be told we weren’t allowed to go to the edge of the stage and converse with audience members; that was considered tacky or some such thing. I think talking to audience members can be a gas, and it’s good for them to know we are “just folks”. They don’t always get that … but maybe they don’t want to. But what if we had little informal chats by those of us who are willing to do that? I’d be happy to talk to audience members on occasion. (Yes, I’m an introvert, but that doesn’t mean I don’t start to talk if you hand me a microphone — just try and stop me!) But would that ruin some audience members images of us?
Sidebar: Once a woman came up to me at a reception and said “Oh, I just can’t imagine what you were thinking when you were playing that symphony! You must be in another world. It must seem like heaven!” — or words similar anyway — and then she proceeded to tell me where she was and if I’m recalling correctly she was taken to a desert somewhere. I’m not sure why. I wanted to tell her I was trying to decide if I would have my typical bowl of Cheerios when I got home, or if I felt more like a beer. I didn’t say that though; some audience members want to hang on to their illusions and I’m not one to destroy them. Although by writing this I’ve probably ruined so many readers’ images of me.
But I ramble. (Duh.)
The other thing I wonder … and maybe this is a foolish wondering … is what will happen to my performance if things are changed. If we have a different “feel” and things are less formal, will I relax too much? Will my performance become less that it has been? Sometimes being relaxed can do me harm. I need a bit of the stress I guess. Not TOO much, of course, but I need something … it gives me energy and edge.
There’s so much to think about when it comes to concerts and how to improve them without losing something special or diminishing the music.
Now as to the audience dressing up: I honestly don’t care. I enjoy opera opening nights because we pit folk ooh and aah over all the clothing (and we may laugh a bit too), but I really don’t care what someone wears. I’d prefer that everyone be comfortable. It’s a long sit sometimes. Come in your robe and slippers, for all I care! Shoot … maybe that’s what our new dress code should be: a black robe and furry black slippers. Hmmmm.
What a long ramble. Can anyone spot a procrastinator in the room? Reeds, they be a’callin’. Me? I be ignorin’.
… and, if I like what you write or say, it can be good for me too!
I liked this rant of Lynn’s.
This part cracked me up:
Tell me, why is it that only classical music is expected to change in order to please people who only might be interested in it if it was more “friendly”? Maybe more city people would like country music if they would ban cowboy hats and quit singing about divorce and cheating and old dogs and pickup trucks. How come no one’s pushing for that? Because if they did all that it wouldn’t be country music anymore. DUH! But I guess country music has no lack of fans especially the modern pop-country stuff.
At the same time, though, we have to think about survival! Our audience is looking a bit … well … old. So we need to get some new audience members. Some young’uns. I honestly think that if a lot of younger people would just listen to a concert or two they just might find they can get hooked on the “stuff”. Sometimes, when I hear a high schooler say “I hate classical music” I start naming a good number of soundtracks. When I went to play for an elementary school once I asked how many had hear the kind of music I played. No one. Then I asked how many watched Bugs Bunny cartoons. They all giggled and raised their hands. I told them “Then you have heard the kind of music I play!” A few days later they came to one of our “kiddie concerts”. They all had to wave to me and I could tell that they were enjoying themselves, since I’d told them what to listen for. They also knew about the most important section in the orchestra so they knew where to look too!
Okay … I’m kidding about that last thing. We aren’t always the most important section in the orchestra. Take, for instance, Mozart’s Requiem or his 39th symphony.
—–
The basic sound of my instrument, my voice, was that of a gentle oboe. it
had to be gradually amplified. I had to find more resonance to make it broader.
And this can of course, only be the result of long, painstaking work because
the instrument of the voice is invisible. One has to discover the correct
feelings to solve the technical problems and assimilate the process.
-Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau
—–
For now, the only way to use the discussion option below a post is to become a member. I’m not sure if I can change that, but please know that if you do choose to sign up I will never give out your email address, nor will you ever receive much email from me, if at all. (The only possible email I would send would be something so timely I wouldn’t want you to miss it.)
Click here to join.
—–
I have always adored Mahler, and Mahler was a major influence on the music of the Beatles. John and me used to sit and do the Kindertotenlieder and Wunderhorn for hours, we’d take turns singing and playing the piano. We thought Mahler was gear.
-Paul McCartney (1942) British musician, “The “Beatles”
(My note: I have to say that I’ve only found one site online that includes this quote, so I am wondering if it’s real. Anyone know? Fill me in!)
—–
These, from Steven Hicken of Listen:
I found that putting app. timings of works on the program when I directed a new music ensemble was very helpful to the audience. If the style is unfamiliar, an idea of the scale of a piece can help an audience get in to the piece. The intro to Mahler 1 lets the audience know they are in for a long piece. In a Modern style, that pace might apply to a short piece. I’m all about helping an audience get into a piece any way I can, short of compromising the piece itself.
So there you go. A good explanation. Thanks, Steve, for IMing me and taking the time to chat!
Steve also commented on not being able to leave comments. Hmmm. I guess that you have to be a “member” to do so. I’ll see if I can get that changed. (Which means I’ll see if my husband can get that changed!)
—–
This may take a while to load, but I thought it was worth the time. Very humorous. At least to me. I found the link at Scott Spiegelberg’s site … so thanks, Scott!
—–
If you read this you’ll get more information about the oboist, Diane Doherty, and the work she’ll be performing. Turns out that she has had ballet training. Well, okay then. That makes this whole thing a bit more believable.
And here’s the end of the article, in case you are too lazy to click on something:
In Sydney, where Mr. Maazel led the Oboe Concerto’s world premiere in 2002, Ms. Doherty “ended up blowing into the ear of her husband, who plays the English horn there,” recalls Mr. Maazel. What will happen here at the Philharmonic? Wait and see.
TWO double reeds in one family? And in the same section? Scary.
Unlike painters, who work with space, musicians work with time, with note following note as second follows second. Listen! says Vivaldi, Brahms, Stravinsky. Listen to this time that I have framed between the first note and the last and to these sounds in time. Listen to the way the silence is broken into uneven lengths between the sounds and to the silences themselves. Listen to the scrape of bow against gut, the rap of stick against drumhead, the rush of breath through reed and wood. The sounds of the earth are like music, the old song goes, and the sounds of music are also like the sounds of the earth, which is of course where music comes from. Listen to the voices outside the window, the rumble of the furnace, the creak of your chair, the water running in the kitchen sink. Learn to listen to the music of your own lengths of time, your own silences.
-Frederik Buechner (from the book Listening to Your Life)
(My note: This is merely a snippet. In case you aren’t familiar with him, I will tell you that Buechner is a writer who is a Christian. I enjoy his writing a great deal. He makes me think. That’s a good thing.)
—–
I was just IMing with “Paul of New Jersey” (look here for the reference). I was telling him about the Dear Friends, music from Final Fantasy concert I’ll be playing next week and how it may be a room full of nerds. And of course we oboe players are thought of as nerds. So he was suggesting that this would be kind of nice for me … that there would be nerdier nerds than oboe nerds there. So I’ve decided to add this to my bio:
Cool, eh?
—–
Read this one from twang twang twang.
I know there are more CAM stories out there … I’ll keep looking. You keep writing!
—–