oboeinsight

So here I am in the exciting (not) city of Irvine! What got me here? Let’s see … Tuck & Patti to begin with. Nice latté and lemon-zucchini muffin music. Then I decided it was time for Flying Dutchman. Since rehearsals begin next Tuesday, and I’ve never played the thing before, I thought yet another listen couldn’t hurt. I’m looking forward to the opera! I have some good lines in it, and it’s beautiful music. Next I moved on to Mahler 9. (Yes, Dan, I did bring it with me!) Now listening to both the opera and the Mahler in our little Mazda Protege isn’t exactly the wisest thing to do, but I did it anyway. (No one ever accuses me of being wise.) Our car is far too noisy, and our speakers are too cheap. But that’s life.

The Mahler is really something else. Funny thing is, I remember the last movement so well, but the rest is sort of “in and out” of my memory. I honestly don’t know if I’ve actually performed it or not, but the English horn solo in the last movement makes me think I did. If so, I’m embarrassed by my memory and I’m hoping I played it a LONG time ago so I won’t feel so bad! I guess I’ll have to ask some San Jose Symphony (RIP) members if they have a list of all our repertoire (from 1975 on). I’d like to get that list anyway. I’m sorry now that I never saved programs. Rats.

Anyway, it was all good music for the trip.

Once Mahler ended (it finished prior to arriving in LA, thank goodness; driving up the grapevine to Mahler is great, but I don’t think I’d care for it as I drove through the traffic of the LA basin). So the radio station went on and for a while I put up with the classical station, and then switched to jazz. That worked for me.

And then I arrived. Just in time to see the end of Othello (with Fishburne and Branagh … never actually heard of this one). What a happy little thing to happen upon, eh? Lots of blood. Oh well. Makes me want to see the whole thing.

Oh, and one other little note about the Mahler. There’s this one snippet that occurs frequently that makes me think a particular musical composer must have heard this prior to his writing music for his rather popular Disney flick. I wonder. But I won’t tell you what it is because it may spoil Mahler 9 for you. (Or your favorite Disney musical! Heh.)

My favorite musical/opera (you choose … no one quite knows what to do with him!) composer is having a birthday today. He is 75.

Let’s see. Favorite musical? Hmmm. Hard to say. I love the first act of Sunday in the Park with George but I think the second act could use tweaking. Into the Woods is great. I think A Little Night Music is wonderful.

But maybe as a whole … as a complete with nary a problem … would have to be that delightful, light, happy little number, Sweeney Todd.

Okay, so maybe I’m kidding about it being light and happy! But it works. It does what it should do.

And I wish I could play it again. It’s been an awfully long time.

Sondheim is a master with words. And he’s a master putting those words to music.

So I humbly wish him a very happy birthday.

(Tomorrow all my “classical colleagues”, my musical-hating pals, can return to this site. Today you may as well just ignore me. I know you wonder about my sanity for enjoying and, yes, even appreciating and admiring musical theater. What can I say? It works for me. So there.)
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I visit quite a few blogs each day. Today one of the writers was bemoaning the fact that a blog visit had brought up a meme that includes the great “desert island” question. You know the one … it can be about recordings or books or even beers (I suppose) … and you have to name five “whatevers” you want on your poor desert island.

Since I was going through my entire list of blog visits right then (it’s become a rather long list!), I also located the blog that included the meme. But you don’t need to know where it is. Do you?

Anyway, I don’t participate in these things any more. I realized that every time I did I was attempting to impress anyone who might come across my list. And I would worry that I wasn’t impressing a soul. And I wasn’t being entirely honest, either, with my list. I do like being honest.

So why bother?

Besides, when the heck will I be stuck on a desert island? I barely get out of my house.

Well, okay, if I did participate I know I could say that if I would bring Bach. Is that uncreative and old fashioned? Probably. But hey, it’s his birthday today, so I think I can admit this at least on this one day! Basking in the B Minor Mass is a good thing!

But I’m not going to say that I would take Bach. Because I’m not going to participate.

Nope. Not I.
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I’ve asked before why certain works are considered “classical” and others are not. Recently I guess there’s been a bit of hoopla because an opera company (English National Opera) is doing Bernstein’s On The Town. (I’ve played it; great fun and wonderful book! The movie, by the way, is not at all like the musical.)

So anyway, Greg Sandow is talking about this in his blog. At the end he writes:

I’ll say again that most of it, and especially the beginning, is better composition than anything in any American opera. In fact, I think I’ll take it to my Juilliard class (a graduate course on the future of classical music) and ask the students why we don’t call it classical music. The only reason, I suspect, is its style. It’s too catchy. Most classical composers, even tonal ones, can’t relax enough to write a real tune. Too bad for them! (And, of course, too bad for classical composers of the past, when this prissy restriction didn’t apply.)

Interesting.
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Some friends were discussing a performer I’m not at all familiar with. She must be some sort of “pop” artist … well … but that’s not the right term I suppose. Most of this group of friends listen to things that are a bit different. Not quite pop, definitely no classical. Maybe more on the folk end, but I suppose it’s not even that. But, anyway, they were discussing a singer. And one said she didn’t really care for her but that didn’t mean the person wasn’t any good. And it got me wondering about how you judge that sort of music.

I’m out of it when it comes to things other than classical. I know names. I like certain singers. But I never know how others judge the music. From what so many tell me, intonation doesn’t matter. So what is it that listeners judge with other kinds of music? The lyrics? The structure of the song? The harmony? The chord structure? The singer’s voice? Or just some sort of “it got to me” reaction.

Is it pretty much subjective? I’m just wondering here because I asked them and they didn’t ever respond to my post.

One of the conductors we had this year at Symphony Silicon Valley mentioned something about how we look. He said “The one complaint I get most of often is that orchestras look so sad.” He was trying to get us to look more lively … more like we were involved in the music. (I immediately wrote down his words so I wouldn’t misquote.)

Now I am involved when I play. I love what I do, and I get very into the music. But I don’t smile when I play. If the audience thinks we should smile, I would suggest they’ve been watching old Lawrence Welk shows too much.

It’s difficult to smile when playing the oboe. That’s not how our embouchures work. (Do you notice how seldom cameras focus on oboists embouchures on those PBS shows? I think there’s a reason: we look pretty odd.) But even if I were playing something else … playing an instrument takes concentration and control and great skill. But it doesn’t require smiling.

I do recall a minister’s wife asking me once if I could smile when I played. Aarrghh.

Do surgeons smile while they cut into someone? Do plumbers smile as they unplug that drain or install a faucet? Does a prima ballerina smile as she does a million pirouettes?

Oh. Nix that last one. She’ll probably smile as they cut off her fingers. I think ballet dancers don’t know how to not smile!

But anyway, not smiling doesn’t mean we aren’t enjoying what we do, or suggest that we aren’t “into” it. Trust me on this one.

And yes, you might catch me smiling now and then. (But not with a reed in my mouth!)
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I’m watching Moulin Rouge. This probably comes as a shock to a lot of my readers and colleagues, but I love this movie. I really do. (Yes, I’ve seen it before.)

Sometimes it’s good to confess things like this. Sometimes I just have to admit something that might make a lot of you think less of me.

I’m already a small person (well, in brain, not in body!). I can handle you thinking less of me! ;-)

I do wonder what’s happened to Baz Luhrmann. It seems like only a while ago we were doing La Boheme here. Now he seems to have disappeared. Where the heck is he?
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