On mastery and mindset

In addition to my continued studies to become a career orchestral conductor I am a vocalist. A tenor to be more exact. I am not a fantastic vocalist—I'm using my modest talents to get myself through my schooling and have no intent to pursue a career in singing—but my recent experiences have helped my musicianship to grow an immense amount in a relatively short period of time.

In December of 2008 I was still a baritone struggling with tension and resonance issues. My voice had evolved very little since even High School. I felt that this inability in an actual performing instrument was something that shouldn't impede my musical growth, but I was wrong. In January of 2009 I made the switch to tenor (though I remained a baritone in choir). My voice blossomed in just a few weeks. My tension and resonance issues were greatly diminished. I still struggled with notes above F4, but I had not yet made the greatest leap of all.

After a summer of disuse, my voice was thrown into a setting it had not yet attempted—that of the choral tenor. It was here that my mind finally changed. I was forced to experiment on a minute by minute basis to make my sound free and beautiful, but also constricted to the sound of the group. My choral sound surely wasn't the exact same sounds I would produce if left to my own devices, but suddenly the two were very close together, more so than they had ever been when I was a baritone.

With my mind finally free I found myself reaching A4 quite readily. In fact, just yesterday I sang my first C5. Tenors spend their entire careers building up the ability to sing a C5 and D5 in a performance setting. While I certainly am not ready for that, I was immensely pleased with myself. The look of surprise on my teacher's face was priceless.

This newfound confidence in my vocal abilities that started only a few short months ago has quickly translated into almost everything else that I do. Most importantly, it has translated into my conducting. It seems that with my change in thinking I can more objectively AND subjectively evaluate myself, especially in the moment. I'm beginning to find that both are objective and subjective evaluation are valuable, where in the past I always tried to force myself to be objective.

And all of this came from singing in a different range! I guess that suddenly having the ability to evaluate my vocal production during my singing has enabled me to evaluate my thought processes as they are occurring. I think it really takes this freeness of mind to master something.

I'm always surprised at how much there is to learn about oneself. No matter how much we learn about our limits and strengths, we always continue to surprise ourselves with something new. It just goes to show that life isn't a set of tasks that get us to a goal, but a never ending evolution of the individual. There is never a lack of "life tasks" and that there is no singular ultimate goal, but many along the way.

A wonderful turn of events

This weekend I'm visiting my friend Jason in the Utica area. Today began with the usual type of tourism. We visited Fly Creek Cider Mill and wandered around Cooperstown for a bit. On the way back, we passed the open gates of the Gelston Castle Estate, which had been closed off while Jason was growing up in the area. On a whim, we decided to take a look around.

When we made it up to the main mansion, we were greeted by an extremely nice PR woman. The estate is now owned by a green development company from NYC, the Safflyn Corporation. After a short conversation, she brought out one of the two owners and we started to discuss the history of the estate. As it turns out, Mstislav Rostropovich once owned the mansion and lived there, among other places, after he left the USSR. The co-owner, Jason Safford, gave us a spontaneous personal tour on account of our connection with its musical history.

The tour reached a peak when he showed us the parlor. There, right in front of me, was a piano that was gifted to Rostropovich by none other than Dmitri Shostakovich, my all-time favorite composer. Mr. Safford even let me take a shot at playing on this remarkable treasure of musical history. It may have been in extreme disrepair, but to know that my fingers were touching the keys of a piano that both Rostropovich and Shostakovich had once called their own made me positively giddy.

Jason and I exchanged cards with Mr. Safford and the property manager, Jeff Tew, before leaving. They both told us that they would be in contact—they want us to help them organize future events for the estate. It's amazing how changing one's plans on a random whim can lead to such amazing destinations. This is certainly a day I will never forget.

On the value of curiosity

"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing." —Albert Einstein

I've recently come to realize that curiosity is one of the most valuable traits a musician—nay, a human being—can have. It is that love of learning that keeps a person young. As a person grows older, the culmination of his or her life experiences creates wisdom. The problem is that one often becomes comfortable with that wisdom and does not make an effort to continue its growth.

As a musician, I am constantly looking for new music to listen to. When I find myself become contented with listening to the same things over and over again, I look for something new. If I've been listening to Wagner, I'll instead listen to Leahy. If I've been listening to Kansas or Joe Satriani, I'll switch over to Strauss or Shostakovich. (looking for new and obscure pieces by well known composers is something I really enjoy) I think it is important to listen to a broad spectrum of genres—to leave the world of western classical music often enough to hear what the popular musicians are doing. I'm not saying that we as classical musicians should emulate popular musicians, but we must be aware of them. Popular music can often be sophisticated and powerful; it isn't always plain and trite. I've been pondering this topic in particular for several months now.

As performing artists, this curiosity should expand, not only into our listening, but also our performing. We should know the history of every piece we perform. We should know its structure and purpose. We should constantly experiment with new interpretations. The sound must not simply be a faithful reproduction of the music written on the page; it must be alive and full of vigor. We need to ask the hard questions. We should ask "Why did Beethoven choose this tempo?" and "How did he choose this tempo?" rather than "What tempo did he really intend?" Of course these questions that we should be asking do not have true answers to be discovered; that is exactly what makes them difficult. The difficulty may scare us, but our curiosity should be so powerful that we can't help but wonder. When we start asking these 'questions without answers' we are forced to answer them ourselves. In that moment we truly understand our role as performer. The composer provides the framework. The performer brings a piece to life. So often the players of an ensemble default to what the conductor suggests, and in a way it is necessary and it is their job, but at the same time each player should try to answer the questions for themselves. They should ask themselves why the conductor made a decision. The problem is less prevalent as one looks at progressively better orchestras, but sometimes contentedness can infect even the best players. We all must remember that without wonder there cannot be awe and that wonderment is the basis of innovation.

Those who approach life through the eyes of a child enjoy a much more fulfilling experience than those who do not.

The Power of Asking

It isn't really news to anyone that you aren't going to get what you don't ask for. What is amazing is how much a simple request can actually do for someone.

Just a few days ago I asked a conductor I'm on good terms with if there were any opportunities for guest conducting with her choir in the coming months. Low and behold I'll be working with the choir in the Spring. One simple question, one wonderful answer.

Sometimes all you need to do is ask.

/Music Quickens Time/: The Discussion

Last week the much anticipated Music Quickens Time installment of the SUNY Potsdam Bregman Book Discussion series took place. I have taken the time to reflect on the proceedings and think that with all the time and energy I put into reviewing and preparing for this discussion I owe it to the readers my reaction essays at The Conductor's Musicology to provide some sort of reaction.

The discussion included 4 panelists. Each of us presented our overall views of the book. I spoke mostly about the chapters I reacted on in TCM, but also spent some time on the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra as it is presented in the book. After we had all presented our basic views, the audience began to ask questions. At first they were timid—explanations of a view or clarification of a quote from Barenboim—but as everyone began to settle into the atmosphere the discussion became much more deep.

The majority of our focus went into two categories. Political and social implications of music, as in the effect music has on government and the people, became the first major topic. We focused mostly on a chapter which I did not review "A Tale of Two Palestinians," in addition to touching on "The Orchestra." At this point our aim wasn't necessarily to speak about the book, but rather to use the materials in the book to formulate our own opinions. If Daniel Barenboim were present, he would have been proud of our penchant to ask "Why?" In fact, one of the panelists chose to read the chapters of part two of the book (an essay collection) out of order, mostly because she asked herself why it was necessary to read such a collection in a prescribed order.

The second focus was on music in the media. In this case, the group consensus leaned towards support of western classical music in any and all settings. Sure it may seem disgraceful to set a wonderful piece to the background of a toilet commercial, but such a practice exposes the public to an artistic tradition which they may never otherwise be exposed. We spoke briefly about other various incarnations of music in the media, but the general conclusion is the same. Exposure to the musical style is the first step. Without a foundation in the practice, there can never be a full degree of appreciation. One audience member stated that the full extent of their musical education was listening to the sound track of Star Wars. It is beyond my comprehension to think that someone didn't have some sort of music classes during their public school education. That isn't to say that the music from Star Wars isn't quality music.

That conveniently segues into a short lived discussion topic that piqued my interests. It is customary in film scoring to have several people collaborate on a project. John Williams, for instance, didn't write the "Imperial March" the way it sounds when Darth Vader walks across the screen. Williams likely wrote a short score with some notes about percussion before sending it to an orchestrator, who would then take care of instrumentation and the rest of the preparation. The reasoning for such a practice is usually attributed to the time frame in which a composer must complete their output—a normal time frame is about five weeks—but there is evidence of similar historical practices. In fact, many musicians posit that any piece requires both a composer and arranger/orchestrator. In most cases of current western classical music, the "composer" serves in both these capacities. During the discussion some argued that splitting the work amongst several people has an adverse effect on the artistic value of the music, but the majority agreed that no such effect is felt, citing the great majority of opera in which the composer, librettist, director, choreographer, and many other artists collaborate to create a completed work of art. It was from this idea that we saw that almost all classical concert music is a collaborative effort. The only exceptions that come to mind are solo works written by their performers.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable experience. All the time and effort I put into this project paid off, of course not in a monetary way, but that feeling of giving back to the community that has nurtured your professional development is priceless.

New Blog to Read!

I just added a wonderful new blog to my "regular reads" column—a column I will soon add to this blog.

Maura Lafferty (aka @mlaffs on twitter) is a PR expert in the music field. She writes very interesting posts pertaining to music and media, often incorporating humor into her entries.

Another new essay at /The Conductor's Musicology/

My final essay about /Music Quickens Time/. The third chapter addresses the nature of human thought and how we interpret art.

Read here: http://theconductorsmusicology.blogspot.com/2009/09/music-quickens-timefreedom-of-thought.html