oboeinsight

I’m just home from UCSC, where I met with potential oboe students. While working with one, another student poked her head in the door, and I suggested she return in ten minutes. She didn’t come back. Oh dear! I hope I didn’t just lose someone. Maybe she realized she came to the wrong room and instructor, but I wonder. I would love to add to the oboe studio there. (If you happen to read this, whoever you are, please feel free to email me at pmitchel (at) ucsc (dot) edu. I had to leave UCSC and get home to teach my private students.)

It was great to get back to the campus, see some colleagues, and get things rolling lesson-wise. For me, the beginning of the school year always feels like a beginning of all things new. Or somethings new, anyway. I like that.
—–

Even now, hours later, I am close to tears thinking about it. Every now and then I’m reminded that the healing and transformative powers of music go so far beyond what I can imagine, and that’s why I teach and perform. A good thing to be reminded of at the start of a new year.

I just finished reading this blog entry by Melissa, and it really did make me teary. Of course reading things causes me to tear up even more than some sad (often manipulative) movies. Words and music—two very powerful things! But in any case, I think this one hit me because I really understand.

When I was younger I really didn’t enjoy teaching. The big problem for me was that I made the very foolish assumption that all of my students wanted to become professional musicians. That was not only incorrect, but incredibly foolish; there would be no way that all my students, along with all the other oboe students of the world, could all succeed in music at a professional level. Not because of their abilities (although of course that’s important), but because there’s only so many positions for oboists.

But now? These days I absolutely love to teach. I love introducing oboe to students. I love seeing and hearing them improve. And, with my younger ones, I absolutely adore watching them grow up.

Some years ago I had a student who, at her first few lessons, just seemed sad to me. I’m not sure what was going on in her life, and I never pry, but it just seemed as if something was wrong. My goal with her had very little to do with oboe at first; I merely wanted to get her to smile. By the time she left she had matured and become an accomplished oboist. But I must admit I was happiest about the laughter I heard from her. I don’t take credit for her laughter—I’m guessing there were a lot of changes going on outside of OboeLife™ and I doubt I had much to do with her altered demeanor. But what I didn’t do was make her cry, and I do know that we did a lot of joking around that I hadn’t thought we’d be able to do when I first met her. In my early years of teaching I managed to cause a lot of tears. I don’t go there any more.

Not that students don’t cry at lessons on occasion, but it’s not because I’ve pushed them there. I hope. Sometimes they just go there on their own. And that’s okay too. I can handle tears. I just don’t want to be the one who turned the faucet on!

If my students leave my studio understanding what the oboe is about, and appreciating music, and maybe enter a concert hall on occasion to listen to live music, I’m very content.

So … what a disjointed ramble this is becoming, eh? … mostly I just wanted to encourage readers to enjoy the blog I linked to above. :-)
—–

I hope you’ve checked out the NPR snippet on Liang Wang. Even more, though, I hope that when you checked it out you also listened to what he had to say about reeds. Click on that link. Really! He talks about the process and about why we are so darn neurotic! :-)

(I cracked up at the mispronunciation of “staple”—the tube that we attach our cane to—instead the person narrating calls it a “stable”. Hah!)
—–

When San Jose Symphony (RIP) was alive I was the English hornist of the orchestra. For a number of years I had a lot of playing to do; I think I did most of the major works for the instrument and I feel very fortunate about that. I used to play English horn in most of the Opera San José productions that called for it as well, because we used reduced orchestrations due to a very small pit. Most of their time I was the only oboe/EH player there. But now we have a second oboist who plays the EH most of the time; it’s either in her book or they write that third part into her book. (There is one opera we played a while back that had the EH part in the first part … I just can’t remember what opera it was!) When the Symphony Silicon Valley was formed the orchestra was reduced from the old SJS size, and there are only two “full time” (in a part time group) oboes. I play second and when we need three I may or may not (mostly may) move to English horn.

For next week’s set I’m moving to English horn to play Borodin’s In the Steppes of Central Asia, and I’ll also play third oboe in the Jennifer Higdon work, Concerto For Orchestra. Believe it or not, one work I have never played is the Borodin. So I’m enjoying pulling out the horn and working on the piece. The first entrance I have is a solo, in case you aren’t familiar with the work.

I’m happy to get back to the English horn. It’s really a voice I love. And I sort of feel like I’ve come home when I play it.

We have three more opera performances, and then it’s “hello Symphony!”
—–

I’ve been scheduled to play for church today for about a month. When I say yes it’s never a big deal. It only becomes a big deal the week before. Suddenly I feel as if I have no stamina, and my nerves are bad.

Is this silly or what? It’s church. You won’t find professional musicians at the church. Everyone is kind and many wouldn’t hear a wrong note if I played one. Maybe it’s that I’m more aware of God’s presence. Or of being in a church building. I don’t know. But I sure don’t enjoy the stress.

But I played today, and it went just fine. And now I think, “That was fun. I’d like to do it again.”

I’ll probably get another call asking me to play in a month or so. Then I’ll go through this whole thing again of saying yes, feeling good about it, stressing out, getting nervous, playing, and then deciding it was a good experience.

That’s me in a nutshell.

Now it’s off to opera. 3:00 Sunday operas are the most difficult for me; Sunday afternoon is, after all, nap time.

This coming week I’m back to UCSC and Symphony Silicon Valley is having a little get-together prior to our start of the season. The Santa Clara University music department has a get-together as well, but I can’t attend; I have private students at the event time. I feel as if I’m entirely back to work as of this week. This is all good news. Work is good.

The average Narcissism Personality Inventory score of Americans &mdash as demonstrated in a previous study &mdash is 15.3 out of a possible 40. Celebrities averaged 17.8. Contrary to what occurs in the general population, women celebrities, across the board, were more narcissistic than males (19.26 versus 17.27). Musicians &mdash who have the highest skill level &mdash are the least narcissistic celebrity group, while reality television stars &mdash the least talented or skilled group &mdash are the most narcissistic.

Discovered here.

But then I took the Are You A Narcissist? test. And … sigh … I’m not a narcissist. But I think I might be dead. I scored 7 points. Double Sigh. I really did try to answer honestly. But I’m obviously doing something wrong. Or at least my insecurity is showing.

My Score:
7 points — Average American score: 15.3 out of 40.
All celebrities: 17.84
Musicians: 16.67
Actors: 18.54
Comedians: 18.89
Reality TV stars: 19.45

I do suspect that when they say “musicians” they are referring to those musicians who are famous. I doubt very much that they are including us little folk. But still … I don’t even qualify as an “average American”.
—–

The majestic glacier that is network television is very gradually melting. Many young viewers, particularly males in their 20?s, have been stolen away by such lures as the Internet, iPods, the Xbox and opera.

Opera?! Really? Why am I not seeing these guys leaning into the pit, staring at the oboe section? Huh? Where are they? What … am I too old to get any attention? They aren’t there for the … gasp! … singers. Are they?

I read this first on Joshua Kosman’s blog. He read it here, in the NY Times.

Mr. Kosman is right—it’s a bizarre article. (Well, he wrote “incomprehensible”. I guess I shouldn’t put (other) words in his mouth. Bad me. Bad me.)

But, well, I have to quote this from the same article:

The key demographic in the weekly Nielsen ratings report is 18-49. Anyone outside that range is undesirable. People over 49 do not buy interesting products.

So you wonder (you DO wonder, don’t you?), “Why is this an important, albeit slightly annoying, couple ‘o sentences?”

And I’ll tell you. With a drumroll, please.

Because it’s countdown time, folks! I have only two month and couple of days until I hit the big five-(uh-)oh.

So I’m going shopping. I’m going buy some interesting products. Before it’s too late.

QUICK … SOMEONE(S) SEND $$ ! ;-)

Hugh Sung blogs about metronomes and that reminds me to remind you that you can always go online for your metronome. It’s a handy little thing when I’m on a university campus and have forgotten to bring along one of my handy dandy little “bosses”. (I tell my students I call the metronome “the boss”. It’s an annoying little boss, but oh well.)

If I needed something new now I’d go for the Korg TM-40 which is both a metronome and a tuner. Both work simultaneously, which is handy for long tones, and of course only having to carry one device rather than two is mighty nice! But I don’t really need it … it’s only something I would like to have.

With students I often use my somewhat annoying but loud Sabine “Metro Tune” MT8000. (Stupid name, don’t you think?) It’s both a metronome and tuner, but you have to choose one or the other. I hate the display for intonation, and I find the way the little lights streak back and forth for the metronome quite annoying. But it’s loud. Loud is good for students.

For practice I usually use my little Quik Time QT3 metronome even though the company seems to think misspelling “quick” is cute or something and I cringe when I see the name. (Okay, I might not literally cringe, but I still think they could stop with the cuteness.) I also have an extremely small tuner that I can carry around easily and even wear around my neck—it’s like a large postage stamp size or so— but I tend to leave it at home because it goes on too easily; there’s nothing worse than hearing a little beep beep beep coming from somewhere inside my oboe bag during a performance or rehearsal!

And yes, I do use a metronome frequently. Some musicians are fairly anti-metronome, thinking it stifles musicality. I say play it perfectly with a metronome first. Then, if being expressive causes a little “taffy pulling” here and there, go for it. Don’t break the rules until you can keep them, is my motto.

Most of the time.
—–