oboeinsight

Tuesday was the start of a very short run of a musical. So short, in fact, that it’ll be over before I can even imagine. I can’t remember the last time I did such a quick one. We had two rehearsals, and the same day as the second rehearsal we had our sound check and first performance. We have seven more shows to go. Monday it’ll all be over.

I’m not happy with my reeds, but I’m never comfortable using new reeds once I begin a show. Oh shoot … let me be honest and say I’m never comfortable using new reeds! I like reeds that have been played a bit. I like reeds that I am familiar with. So there you go. Older reeds it is, and I’ll deal. Besides, when you are the World’s World (thanks, dk!) Worst Reed Maker™ you just learn to live this way.

The performance last night went well. Sure, everyone had a few problems: first shows can be like that, since we are all still figuring things out. Fortunately I’d played it before, but it was still a wee bit of a challenge. The show moves quite fast, and it’s a whole lot of playing so we are constantly on our toes. (Figuratively speaking.) The concentration level is high, and when we are done we are all pretty weary. I have some sweet little solos and they are my cup of tea so I enjoy those.

But there was ONE NOTE.

I think I should start calling myself One Note Patty™. That is, after all, all it takes to mess with my head. One note that didn’t respond the way I wanted. One note that I felt was then tattooed on my head with the words, “I’m not a musician. I only pretend to be one in the pit!”

I hate when that happens. This morning I have to work on distracting myself so I don’t obsess. And in a few hours I have to get back on that bike and attempt that silly little (and mostly insignificant) note again. Will it work? Who knows? That’s really the life of a double reed player. But I have to believe it will work. I have to lie to myself and say, “This is easy. This is not a huge deal. No one hears you anyway. It doesn’t matter!” even while I usually am pretty aware that I’m lying to myself. But really, it’s what we have to do. If we go in with the “You’re gonna miss this again,” you can really sink yourself. So here’s to positive thinking, preparation, and bravery!

I have the same book I had last time. Some of the things I erased are back in the book! Really? Someone has to write “D” (his/her quotation marks, not mine) for an E double flat and a B for a C flat? Honest? My students know I’m a stickler about this. Less is more when it comes to markings. Some other markings could really throw me had I not already done this show. It’s interesting to see how other people think. (So sorry if some readers are ones who put these in. I don’t mean to offend, but this is just a big deal for me and my students and I am sticking to my story here.) I realize we all have our little ways with markings. I did notice some of mine had been erased too!

And then there are the ear worms…

Yep. This show is a big one for the worms. They crawl into the ear and they refuse to leave. So music has to be blasted as I sit here at the computer or I go bonkers. Come Monday I’m sure I’ll have to listen to something before heading out on my walk so I don’t continue the musical for longer than I was hired to play it! Heck, if I don’t replace it I just might end up with the tap dance part of it and no one wants to see me tap dance while I’m on a walk.

Have you missed the TQODs and FBQDs? I have forgotten to post any. I’m not sure folks are really interested, though. Thoughts?

I’ll keep ‘em up if you enjoy them, but otherwise it might be time to say goodbye to those. I wonder!

Some friends of mine are dealing with tough times. Cooper and Namju, I pray for you daily, and I think of you so frequently.

This is from another oboe playing pal, Anne Krabill:

Cooper and Namju Wright live in Arizona where Cooper, a talented oboist, is finishing his doctoral degree at ASU. They have been married for seven years.

In October, 2012, during a visit to her family in Korea, Namju was diagnosed with breast cancer just a few days before Cooper was scheduled to play an important doctoral recital. Namju is still in Korea, having endured surgery and chemo, and then more surgery. Her doctors have advised a course of treatment which will require Namju to remain in Korea for at least another six months.

There is no convenient time for cancer to strike, but for this young couple the timing could not be worse. Namju has not been able to return to her job in Arizona, Cooper has been studying and teaching while his wife is in Korea and the separation has been extremely difficult for them.

Expenses have been mounting – medical bills, mortgage payments, student loans, and general living expenses. Cooper spent a couple of months in Korea immediately after Namju’s diagnosis, but had to return to Arizona in December. He will go back to Korea in May to be with Namju until October.

It is always difficult to ask for help but it is time for friends and family, and even those who have not met this lovely couple, to help in any way they can. No amount is too small or too large.

Any amount which you could contribute would be gratefully received.

Every amount counts, as it all adds up. If you can help, just click here. Thank you so much!

I just received a note from someone on Facebook (Hi Synde!):

We’re playing Die Fledermaus at the conservatory this week and our parts have the San Jose Opera stamp on them. Am I playing on a part you marked up??

Ah-hah! I’ve wondered about this. Sometimes I find marks in my Opera San José book that are clearly not mine.

Update
… but maybe not! They are using only one oboe, so they might be using the combo part we used to use. Now that we have a second oboe I don’t use that book. Hmmm. I wonder!

I received a surprising email this morning. I was asked if I’d like to join the tour of a rather large musical in two cities while their usual oboist took a holiday. It might have been quite fun, since I’ve worked with “the band” before and I loved doing so. When I first received the email I pondered, but in figuring out the finances of it I realized I’d take a loss: I would have had to cancel the two weeks of students and skip out on a symphony set. I’d also have to buy a new double case since the one I have is definitely not one I’d want to take as carry on, nor is it a size that would have been allowed. Even breaking even would make me question taking the job, but losing close to $600 dollars (or more if I got the case I would prefer) means it doesn’t make sense. Ah well. It might have been great fun, and I would have been able to get some fun photos.

Someone else who needs the money will get the job, I’m sure, and be grateful, and I won’t have to worry about how reeds will behave in completely different environments.

Still, I wonder what kind of fun I would have had!

Meanwhile, Opera San José rehearsals begin tomorrow. I’m looking forward to the Puccini double bill!

I don’t think our O mio babbino caro will look like this one:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYAquIagsq8

Here are just some quick, “spit out” thoughts about the San Francisco Symphony and why people comment angrily about the musicians …

A good number of people played instruments when they were kids. In fact, just last night on Jeopardy a contestant was introduced and Mr. Trebak said something about her being a harpist. She said yes and went on to tell him she fell in love with the harp when she was seven, that she didn’t play it any longer, and when he asked if she ever owned a harp she said “no”.

But still she was introduced as a harpist.

When we are children we have toys that could allow us to call ourselves doctors, bus drivers, architects, mothers, artists … the list could go on and on. We study math. We study biology, chemistry and, for some, physics (I avoided the sciences whenever possible: my brain just switch off with them). We take history classes and language classes. None of those means we would call ourselves doctors, parents, mathematicians, bioligists, chemists, physicists, historians, or linguists.

But if you took music lessons you are suddenly a musician? For life?!

When one of our kids was in kindergarten another mom and I ended up chatting. When I told her I was a musician and played in the San Jose Symphony (RIP) she asked if I was paid for to do that. When she learned that I did, she actually got angry and said, “I should join the symphony too. I played clarinet in high school!” I was shocked enough I didn’t even respond. Her assumption — and I think the assumption of many — was probably threefold (at least). 1: She played an instrument in high school and, because of that, was just as qualified to play in an orchestra as I was 2: The arts are frivolous and don’t have meaning (she was a realtor and I suppose she saw that as quite meaningful and I know she made good money I would have liked to have said, “So you sell other people’s things and make a bundle, eh? I could do that!”). 3: What I did was “fun”. After all, I “only” played for a living … I didn’t work!

When I had a hand injury I went to the doctor to have it checked out. I explained that my hands were rather important in my profession — that I was an oboist and if I couldn’t play I’d be in trouble. He smiled, checked my hand out, and then asked, “What do you really do for work?” I replied again that I was a musician. He looked at me, smiled, and said, “Yes, but what do you do for your real, daytime job?” He never did accept that music was my real job.

How does one get people like those two to see things differently? How does one explain that what we do takes a skill they, most likely, didn’t and couldn’t have? How to explain that the arts have value and can be quite beneficial to a society, when that realtor had never even heard a professional symphony performance and probably never would? How do I explain that that verb “play” isn’t saying that we don’t also work, and that it’s hard work as well as extremely stressful? How do I explain that every time we get up on that stage we pretty much bare our souls and then we get home and read a newspaper that tells us, sometimes, about our failures and weaknesses? How can I get them to understand that a musician does have a real job?!

I guess I don’t. People who say, “I could do that!” and think that being a musician means I don’t have a “real job” just don’t get it. I’m guessing they never will. But I know that there are others who do get it, and do know that those at the top of their game, like the Big Guys up in San Francisco, are earning much less than the Big Guys at the top of their game in any other profession. If you want to argue about salaries, why don’t you complain about those who make much, much more instead?

Okay. Rant over ‘n out. And yes, I will screen comments here. It’s my blog, so I get to do that! :-)

I had a dentist appointment today to fill a very small cavity. I was in and out of the office in less than 30 minutes which is, for me, a record. My mouth was numb for much longer than 30 minutes, of course. They had told me it would be about an hour but it was actually closer to three. I have symphony this week, and I had planned on working more on the Verdi prior to teaching students, but aside from a few minutes this evening I didn’t do much. The trouble is my mouth is still weak. Funny what a little deadening of the mouth can do to a wind player! Even this evening as I played I got a bubble of air in the area where the numbing took place.

This is one of the several reasons I never go to the dentist on a rehearsal day, and I try to go on weeks when I have no work at all. I won’t bore everyone with my “tongue numbing for four months” experience again, but I have been very cautious ever since that event. (Has your dentist ever warned you that things can go wrong and you might have issues with your tongue? Mine sure hadn’t!) That was sixteen years ago now. I’m over it.

Sort of.

I’m really looking forward to this week of music. I love a good Requiem now and then.

… and it also equals no pay, of course.

I’ve not had any playing work for quite a while. Trovatore ended on February 24 and there’s been nothing since then. Part of this is due to the Cinequest Film Festival: they use the California Theatre so opera and symphony can’t be there. Part might be due to the demise of American Music Theatre of San Jose, as I used to get work there now and then, but who knows if they would have had a show for these past few weeks. When San Jose Symphony existed we had a lot more work than we have with Symphony Silicon Valley, but of course we also crashed and burned, so there’s that.

Of course I still teach, although I’m on leave at UCSC, but this year has been less than stellar for student attendance for some reason. Perhaps I’m just too lax. Some suggest I charge by the month, but I like to keep things flexible not only for my students’ convenience but because of me: I want to be able to cancel without owing a student a lesson and with as little guilt as possible. I’m silly that way.

But of course if there’s no playing work, no UCSC, and students aren’t attending as many lessons my salary is lower than it has been. Still, our children are grown so we don’t have school expenses. I need to be grateful for that, as well as the fact that I have work at all! Too many orchestras are failing. Some are locked out or on strike. I am a member of several groups. I have students and jobs. It’s all good work. Grateful again.

This week, though, I’m back on stage with Symphony Silicon Valley. I’m really looking forward to it. We are doing Verdi’s Requiem and because our principal oboist, Pamela Hakl, is soloing for Ballet San Jose this same week I’ll be playing principal oboe. I need to get my “principal hat” out for this! Playing principal on stage is quite different than playing second. At least for me. I’ve been practicing, of course, and the work is great fun to play. I won’t really get a good idea of how it’s going to feel, though, until I get on that stage.

Do you have your tickets yet?

Here’s a happy little section of the Requiem:

I recently was sent a Barbra Steisand CD. Yes. Really. I agreed to get it, actually. As I always tell the people who offer me these, I only review if I feel like it and I never (okay … rarely!) do a negative review, so most likely things get mentioned only if I like ‘em. I will admit I like Barbra Streisand now and again, and I’ve heard, from colleagues no less, that she is extremely critical during rehearsals … of herself, mind you! I like that.

But why would a company want to send me, a classical musician, a Barbra Streisand album? (I think I’ve covered the legality of it all by telling you I received this for free. It’s a rule that we do that, I believe.) Well, that’s easy. It’s her old recording that’s been reissued, and it’s called Classical Barbra. Sometimes she’s a bit “slurpy” on it (my way of saying sliding up or down rather than nailing a note), but that’s just so her, so I think she’s being true to what she is and does. Truth be told, I think this recording really does work. I’m impressed, too, with the variety. I also must say, though, that I can’t get past … well … it’s Barbra! I “see” her … I see her in her cat’s eye makeup (if that’s what you call it). I see her in “that” Academy Awards outfit from way back when. I see her in the movies I have seen (and I think I’ve seen most, if not all, of her movies. She is such a strong presence, and for some reason which is probably inexplicable and silly, really, I can’t get past that. I don’t even know how to explain it. So I find that a wee bit distracting. Weird, since of course there are plenty of classical musicians who have (or had) a strong presence. Some I’ve even worked with. (I can only think of one that I really can’t listen to because I see that performer in my mind’s eye as I listen and it’s so darn negative I can’t handle it!)

That being said, she can do crossover much better than most, I think. I will enjoy the CD.

But at the moment I’m listening to Simone Dinnerstein and Tift Merritt (no, I’d not heard of her) and the recording Night. You can too, if you just go here. In this one Simone moves one direction on a number of pieces and on one track Tift moves the classical direction. I really really like this recording! Honest. It just works for me. Maybe it’s because neither tries to be something they aren’t. Dinnerstein seems to be true to her playing, and Tift doesn’t sing Dido’s Lament as a classical singer.

So maybe with these confessions you think less of me.

But wait … is it even possible for you to think even less of me!? ;-)

And hey, do you have any crossover recordings that really work for you? Do tell!

I’m home from the showing of Idomeneo. I’m trying _very_ hard not to grumble about my playing. That’s all I’m going to say about it … and I think that’s pretty darn amazing since I know I could spend paragraphs on it. So there you go.

What fantastic sets and staging and dancing … and singing, of course! I’m so glad I’m in the pit for these things: I could never do what those people on stage do, and my acting skills are nil so I would just cause laughter or anger if people saw me up there!

I hope we can do something at that level again someday, but I wonder if that will ever be possible. It takes a great deal of money to pull something like that off. (Thank you, Mr. Packard!) It also takes determination and creativity and someone who is willing to go for it.

In chatting with a certain someone at the theatre my blog came up. As I said to him, “It’s just boring these days.” (Or something like that, in any case … I could very well be misquoting myself!) And really, this blog is boring. For some reason my photography interests have taken over my time (see the the pattyo to see what I’m talking about). In addition, I’ve learned that I can’t just write about anything here: I don’t like to get reprimanded, I don’t like to hurt feelings, and I know I have to be cautious. Cautious can equal boring, I guess.

Anyone have anything they wish I’d blog about? Do tell!

Okay … this is a total pattyramble™ of the worst sort, but here goes …

I am not good at being kind. In this music business I’m in we can often be quite critical. We also can gossip. A lot. I’m guilty of both.

The other night I vegged out by watching the Oscars. As I watched, I was reading Twitter and Facebook entries. My but we all love to bash people, and if they are famous we like to do it even more. I do it too, but watching the show and reading hateful remarks made me think about how it must look to others when I’m that way. And I don’t think I want to be seen that way. Ever.

A lot of us classical folk tend to pick on anyone outside of our field with a vengeance, too. We really want to dump the snob label, but at the same time we (and yes, I include myself in this) want to have at it with people we deem unworthy. Go figure. I guess it’s just this whole being human thing.

But you know what? Life is short. People are … well … people! I should treat them the way I hope they treat me. It’s the least I can do.

Recently tragedies have struck close by. Picking on other people seems even more ridiculous, stupid, and rotten in light of things that have happened. I’m going to attempt to be kinder. I’m going to attempt to take care in what I say, and how I treat others both in person and in writing.

Like I said, life is short. Surely I can be kind during this brief stay on planet earth. I’m hoping so, anyway!

Yesterday as I was teaching my oboe suddenly made some rather odd sounds. I thought I had water in a key, but when I investigated I saw that the cork on my F key had come loose. Thankfully I have a second oboe and I pulled that out. It’s a bit of a nuisance because most staples are a bit too big for it and I hate shaving them down because then they are too loose for my main oboe, but at least I have a second instrument to carry me through.

As my last student was leaving I mentioned that I’d probably see if I could glue the pad back in place. Sometimes there is glue on the pad that, with a bit of heat, can soften. The pad can then be re-glued easily enough. If not, as I told him, there’s always superglue. My student (an adult) had played clarinet and sax in the past and mentioned that one had to be careful because if the pad isn’t seated correctly it won’t be fixed properly and can leak. I flippantly said, “Oh I think I can do this one, no problem!”

PROBLEM.

The heating method didn’t take, so the superglue came out. In a jiffy the pad was cemented back in place. Firmly. But yeah, my student was right … and I should have known this would happen! I thought I hadn’t turned the cork at all and it would seat just fine, but it did turn and it most certainly wasn’t seated properly, so there was a major leak and the oboe was obviously not going to work.

For the first time, though, I can truly be thankful for Facebook. I quickly wrote about my stupidity and a friend who saw it called. As he said, “Patty, Patty, Patty, why didn’t you call me?!” He’s right. I should have gotten on the phone and called him immediately (even though I hate phones). Sigh. He does oboe repairs. He lives about 15 minutes away. And he’s a friend so seeing him is great fun, too. (Oh … and if you go to his website you’ll see me. Or at least a little bit of me! Can you figure out what I mean?)

This morning I was at his house (hi Bob!). He now has my baby. I played the quintet rehearsal I had on oboe #2 (and it actually did quite well with the reed I found that fit).

Lesson learned?

Oh who knows … I’m a slow learner!