It seems as if we’ve been deserted. Sigh.
I know Terminal Degree had talked about removing the blog, but now it’s been done and, well, I miss it. The site was insightful and very honest.
Rats.
I know that some have talked about the safety of these blogs. TD had posted anonymously and was able to vent about issues. I post publicly and, yes, there are certain things I won’t write about here. I am using this for a variety of reasons, but I have chosen not to vent here.
Besides, do any of my readers think I could eve be frustrated with anything about this career of mine? ;-)
Heh. Can’t often afford a vacation, I need a new oboe, and reed making drives me batty … but do you hear me complaining? Naw. I wouldn’t bring those things up now, would I?
Um. Okay … I do vent about my own personal oboe woes … I like to let everyone know that I don’t have it all figured out even after 30 years. Some may find that encouraging. Others may find it discouraging and to you I apologize!
But back to Terminal Degree … in case you read this blog: please know you are missed. You could always drop me a private note. I’d like that.
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Ilkka Talvi, of the Of Mice and Men blog, has a good write up on the audition process.
There are a whole lot of auditions coming up in OboeLand. You can check the US ones out on my current professional auditions page. It’s quite the audition fest.
But who will win?
Heh. Who knows?
I’ve been on audition committees. It isn’t fun to be in charge of so many oboists’ fates. I feel for every single oboist who is brave enough to show up. I can say that the oboe auditions I’ve been on have been run fair and square. There was never any “fixing”. Never any guessing as to who was behind the screen. And I’ve been very happy with the results.
But … many, many years ago I was attending an audition (not on the committee, but as librarian), and there was a whole lotta guessing goin’ on. The committee clearly wanted a particular player, and they were guessing who was playing when. They were upset when they felt they had to choose someone else who played the better audition (at least they chose the best player!). Much to their surprise the person they wanted actually was the one they chose; they had simply guessed wrong.
The screen that guarantees anonymity can also cause problems.
I actually think the whole anonymity thing cuts out something important that I suppose we like to deny. We musicians have to work closely together. We need to get along. At least a little! But we pretend that the only thing that matters is musicianship. I’m not sure any other job operates this way. I know in the business world they even wine and dine applicants sometimes, and an applicant simply doesn’t fit what they need, all the qualifications in the world might not get him or her in the door.
And yet we don’t want to be accused of discrimination. It’s a tough issue.
Mostly I’d just say auditions aren’t fair, and certainly don’t deal with what I call music in any real way.
But that’s the music biz.
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One more performance of The Flying Dutchman (Sunday at 3:00) and our opera season will be over. (Why, oh why, can’t we have a summer season? Sigh.)
Next on the agenda is Beethoven and Strauss, so the end isn’t really in sight … yet.
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Music – The one incorporeal entrance into the higher world of knowledge which comprehends mankind but which mankind cannot comprehend.
-Beethoven
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The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavor;
And to-night I long for rest.
Read from some humbler poet,
Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
Or tears from the eyelids start;
Who, through long days of labor,
And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
Of wonderful melodies.
Such songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.
Then read from the treasured volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
And as silently steal away.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
