Out with the Old, In with the New

This popular New Year's slogan is probably over-used but I still like its implications. Since returning from a week of busy travel, suitcase living, multiple holiday celebrations and gift exchanges, and more than enough food, Steve and I have happily put life back into relative orderliness. The Carriage House is clean, Christmas decorations have been wrapped and stored, books have been shelved, homemade edibles have been consumed, clothes and linens are freshly-laundered, and work is relatively organized. 1. Google Reader. I finally subscribed to all those blogs I've kept in disarray on my browser toolbar for the past few months. Now, they are in one easy-to-read pane. Life simplified.

2. Grooveshark. Besides offering freedom from Pandora, I'm enjoying this new way to organize my music playlists without advertisements, time limits, or unrelated songs being included. Bonus: There's an extensive classical library so I can explore the music of American song composers and contemporaries such as Arvo Pärt in the coming year.

3. Making Things Happen. I just came across this blog yesterday but I have a feeling I will be revisiting its pages in the days and weeks to come (via Google Reader, that is!) Its motivation and inspiration tied together with a few recent topics that particularly grabbed me - "learning how to say 'no'" and "goal setting in 2011."

I haven't made resolutions in several years, mostly because I tend to fail at them a few weeks in. I mean to say that I set myself up for failure by "resolving" to begin/change an element of my lifestyle cold-turkey on January 1st. Change takes time as does the cultivation of new habits. Like going to bed earlier. That's not a resolution, it's a goal I am setting for myself. Other goals include:

• be more active (walking to work and to the post office doesn't count!)
• cook more/trying new recipes more often
• improve my time management (more challenging when you set your own schedule!)
• schedule time for practicing
• keep better track of my projects so that things don't sit on the back burner for too long
• sing more
• complete academic paper submissions (sent my first off today - scary thought!)
• write more often
• pray more often

It's not an overwhelming list, just things that I want to keep in the forefront of my mind as I plan my days this year. Cheers to 2011!

Prelude and Dance

Have you heard our latest recording on YouTube? Here I am with Steve Danyew playing his piece, Prelude & Dance for saxophone and piano... [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e4cabd3ZqA]

Life on the other side of the fence

This week marks the end of my first semester of collegiate teaching.  I survived!  There were plenty of new experiences – leaving the room for course evaluations, grading tests, giving written feedback, and administering juries, just to name a few.  It’s life on the other side of the fence.  I am so thankful for the education I received at Eastman which prepared me for these situations. I saw the need for periodic “checkpoints” – making sure that the students are keeping up and able to master the new concepts during the course of the semester.  How can you grade piano performances by seven different students simultaneously and objectively?I developed a unique system using the technology resources in the lab.  Every few weeks, I chose four items for students to record via Garage Band.  They had 30 minutes to complete these items, which allowed them the opportunity to re-record, if needed.  I am more concerned about whether or not they can perform the selected items rather than how well they do on their first attempt.  At the conclusion of the test time, the students emailed me their files for grading.  This allowed me to use a rating scale to grade their performances on tonal and rhythmic accuracy and expression.  I generally listened to each item three times to focus individually on each of these criteria rather than having to take in everything the first time.  When the students get their tests back, they have a very clear measure of their tonal, rhythmic, and expressive performances across all four items.  It’s a great way to see areas of consistency (i.e., John is great with rhythm but could spend more time on his preparation of tonal patterns).

I graded my fourth and final quiz/exam on Tuesday (yes, I am the teacher that gives a final exam on the last day of class – two days prior to the final).  The final exam is a 15-minute jury.  Students were asked to prepare the following:

• Three 2-octave scales of choice
• Solo piece
• American Song
• Harmonization study
• Transposition study
• Improvisation study

My classes are held in the Music Technology Lab so many of my students are not used to playing on an acoustic piano.  There are four small practice rooms on the first floor of the Fine Arts building (all with Boston uprights) but I thought it might be nice to arrange the juries to be held in a space that had a nice instrument.  My students were enamored with the classroom Steinway – the touch, the sound, the pedals – I think it had a positive impact on their performances.

For the jury, I decided not to record the student performances, for time’s sake.  Rather, I developed a grading chart to be filled out while listening.  I included items such as fingering, characteristic tone, rhythmic consistency, tonal accuracy, hand position, posture, technique, pedaling, phrasing, and articulation, each worth no more than 5 points out of 100.  This proved to be a great tool.  I administered six juries on Wednesday (with grades: 94, 93, two 89s, 87 and 85) with six more to go on Monday.

Time to take what I have learned and prepare materials for my classes next semester!

Boys Will Be Boys

*Disclosure: I get commissions for purchases made through links in this post.

I am learning so much about the nature of boys from my piano lessons with seven-year-old Matthew. 

At first, it may seem to an observer that Matthew is easily distracted, often outspoken, and possibly disinterested in piano. However, after several weeks of lessons, I see the situation a little differently.

Tonight, I introduced the slur (Unit 3 of Time to Begin from the Music Tree Series).

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“Do you know what this curved line means?” I asked.

“No!” said Matthew, boldly.

“It means to play things smoothly – like this,” I said as I demonstrated a connected melody.

Wiggling on the bench next to me, Matthew instantly began playing loudly in the bass register of the piano, cutting off my more delicate melody.  Instead of stopping him or suggesting that his playing was loud or interruptive, I let him play. 

I recognized after just a second of hearing him play that he was experiencing this new concept of smooth playing.  He heard me define and demonstrate it – now he needed to experience it.  Imagine the learning that would not have taken place had I cut him off abruptly!

“Can you demonstrate something that is not smooth and connected?” I prodded.

Relating a new concept to what it is not is always helpful in the learning process.  Instantly, Matthew began playing – with both hands.

“What do you call that?” I asked.

I wanted to encourage him to name this opposite style himself rather than me enforcing a foreign name such as “staccato.”

“Crime,” he said with big eyes.

“I guess it might sound like crime,” I responded.  You can never expect the path that true imagination takes!

“We could call it disconnected or – popcorn!” I said, catching myself introducing a foreign word.

Seven-year-olds can relate to popcorn, though this analogy still required a demonstration before he agreed.  Once Matthew understood the concept of the slur and experienced what it felt like to play in a smooth and connected style, the next few pieces came easily.

I have also learned that Matthew loves rhythm and it comes very naturally to him.  To encourage rhythm study in lessons, I created a series of rhythm pattern cards in triple and duple meter.  I let Matthew choose 8-12 cards each week to arrange in any order. 

Tonight, he was confident enough in his rhythm reading that he performed a series of four patterns while I read a contrasting series of four patterns.  This is his favorite way to end our lessons each week!

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Spinning Plates

There’s a certain image associated with the great expression, “spinning plates.”  I often picture a wobbly cartoon character attempting to balance multiple spinning items on every body part until, with the climax of the classical music accompaniment, they all come crashing down on top of him.  Hopefully, that’s not how my life will unfold in the next few weeks.

It’s a great feeling to have lots going on, especially when they are all related to music.  In the next month, I will have everything from recording sessions and committee meetings to conference calls and grant applications; advisory board meetings and course preparation for the spring to choir planning and website development.  I love it!  I feel as if I am truly living every musician’s dream: to live, eat, and breathe music.  It’s more and more apparent to me that to survive in today’s music market, you must be diversified or skilled in different areas of the field.  It’s amazing how many opportunities are out there – I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.  As an example of this fact, here are few of my “spinning plates:”

• Leading a church music ministry
• Maintaining a private piano studio
• Preparing papers for journal submission
• Coordinating the Instrumental Lesson Program at FSU
• Teaching two sections of Class Piano at FSU
• Maintaining a private piano studio at FSU
• Creating a chamber music workshop for amateur musicians
• Developing a website for high school musicians and their parents
• Applying for grants
• Preparing multiple collaborative recital programs

Sometimes, this list seems a little out of control; but what a blessing it is to have so many ways in which to share music.  This week, I’m thankful for vision, I’m thankful for opportunities, and I’m thankful for music.

Image Credit: Lauren Chester

A Day with Alice Parker

Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a choral workshop in western Massachusetts with Alice Parker.  The soft-spoken, grey-haired woman dressed in bright colors had the room of 15 attendees mesmerized for two 3-hour sessions.  You’d never know she was in her mid-eighties.  In addition to reflecting on her experiences (her time at Juilliard and the opportunity to work with the great Robert Shaw), Alice spoke of the qualities that make music powerful and captivating.

We spent the morning singing and improvising folk songs with a focus on accents, melody, and text.  Never before have I paid such close attention to the melody!  In our Western culture, we place so much emphasis on harmony that the inherent value of the melody is often lost or obscured.  Alice states in her book (The Anatomy of Melody, p. xv):

Western music is the only society to list harmony right up there in the trinity of musical greats.  But I don’t think it belongs there.  If melody (tones) and rhythm (time) are intrinsic to human beings, then harmony is a subset of melody.  It is no more on the same level as melody than vertical combinations of rhythmic figures would be equal to rhythm itself.  Should we say melody, harmony, rhythm, and polyrhythms?

With this mindset in place, a room of music professionals enjoyed singing elementary-level music in unison.  There was freedom and flexibility in the music-making and almost no accompaniment.  What better way to teach choral music, especially for children?  In the afternoon, we observed a coaching session between Alice and a high school chorus from the area.  What incredible insight as to how to truly embody music and communicate its fullest potential.  Lastly, Alice focused on departure from the written score and greater reliance on the ear.  She also speaks about this in her book (The Anatomy of Melody, p. xxii):

I have come to realize over the years that a healthy mistrust of written music is the only proper starting point.  The page doesn’t mean what it seems.  It’s only a beginning (sight) not an ending (sound). . . .Does a song you know leap out at you with the immediacy of a remembered voice?  Or do the symbols lie obstinately flat on the page with the attendant words similarly meaningless?  To understand what I am attempting here, realize that I am trying to balance two antithetical worlds at once–those of eye and ear–and in this case, ear must always triumph not only in notes, but in the written text where a living voice must be sounding for you to begin to respond in kind.  And respond, aloud, you must!  Sing, argue, affirm, correct–the page does not live until you enter into its dialogue with your ear, voice, and mind.

Image Credit: personal

Making the Intangible Tangible

My piano studio is officially up and running and I have nine students enrolled for the fall.  I have quite a spread at the moment with students ranging from age 5 to retired adult.  I am also teaching seven students and staff members at Fitchburg State University.  It’s a wonderful opportunity to teach at so many different levels but I must confess, Kindergarten and 1st Grade is still my favorite age. Yesterday, I had a lesson with 5-year-old Lily.

With a head full of curls and always decked out in the latest fashion, Lily is bright-eyed and full of energy.  As such, we started our piano lesson with “warm-ups” a.k.a “get the wiggles out before you sit down on the bench.”  We wiggled our arms, we bobbed our wrists, and we wiggled all of our fingers (what a great way to promote large-body movements to fine motor skills and relaxation – something we all should practice!).

We spent the beginning of the lesson reviewing the pieces we started last week: chanting the texts while keeping a steady beat (for the following piece I used an imaginary oar as a variation of the arm swing), tapping the rhythm on the keyboard cover, singing, and looking for musical patterns.

Crossing the lake in a canoe, Paddling along enjoying the view!

“What do you see when you’re paddling across the lake?”  “Umm,” Lily said, cocking her head to one side.  “I see some trees, and a blue sky… and some clouds, and – this is silly.”  “What is it?”  I prodded.  “A bread-tree,” she replied, matter-of-factly.  What is a bread-tree, you might ask?  In Lily’s words, “It’s a tree with slices of bread on it!”  What an imagination!  If only we could look at the world through the eyes of a five-year-old every once in a while.

The second half of the lesson was spent on new material: We walked in place (keeping a steady beat while chanting the text), swung our arms, tapped our hands, and identified the starting hand position.  After demonstrating the beginning of the piece, I said, “Can you copy me?  Do you have it in your head?”

Immediately, Lily’s facial expression changed and I knew this was a concept difficult for her to grasp.  Think about the question literally – imagine the notes swirling around or maybe the printed page crumpled up in your head.  Quick – improvise!

“It’s not in your head?  Well, open it up (pretending to open a door into the top of my head) and put it in!”  She quickly copied my motions, smiling.  I knew she had heard me play the piece and we had spoken the text in rhythm several times as preparation.  Once we overcame this intangible gap, she played the piece just fine.

I learn so much about myself as a teacher in these kinds of lessons.  I can’t help but come home beside myself with excitement and eager to share my creative experiences with Steve – it’s the five-year-old in me.

The Adjunct: Lessons Learned

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Lesson #1: Never underestimate the power of networking.

Last spring, I applied for a part-time position at a small church in a small town another state away.  I knew no one and no one knew me.  I sent my resume, had a few conversations, and sent a recording of some of my recent performances.  A few days later, I received an email from a Humanities professor at a college in a town adjacent to where the church was located.  She, too was a musician (with three degrees in organ performance) and had received my resume from the search committee at the church.  “Want a job?” she said in one email.  “We have an opening for a part-time adjunct teaching class piano.  You’d be great.”

What a vote of confidence!  I haven’t even met the woman yet!  I went back and forth on whether this was something I really wanted to pursue.  In the end, my final semester of school caught up with me and I was soon fully immersed in the day-to-day once more.

A few months went by.  I got the job for which I had originally applied, performed a collaborative recital, graduated from Eastman, and began moving plans.  Around June 1st, I received another email from the music professor.  “Are you still interested in applying for the adjunct position?  We’re getting ready to make a decision.”  I scrambled to update my CV and resume, write a cover letter, and fill out the application.  Two days later, I was offered the position via email by the Humanities Chair.  “Is this real?” I asked Steve.  “They haven’t even met me!”

Lesson #2: Welcome to the world of guessing.

So I got the job.  Now what?  I was full of questions:

Do I pick the textbook? Do I have to write anything specific in my syllabus? Is there a standard grading policy for the college? How many students are registered for these classes? Do I have an email address? I need office hours? I have an office?! How much does this pay again?

August 1st rolled around.  I moved, I started my position at the church, I began plans for opening my piano studio.  The semester feels as if it’s looming around the corner (it is – September 1st!)  Finally, I received an email from Human Resources with an overwhelming number of attachments (14, to be exact).  Contract, health insurance, mandatory contributions, direct deposit, etc.  By the way, I had five days to submit everything.  I somehow managed to fill out every form correctly and turn it in on time.  This was also the first time I met anyone at the college face-to-face.  “So what do I need to do from here?” I asked.  “Just wait for us to contact you,” the woman replied.

Three weeks later, having not heard anything, I took it upon myself to email Human Resources.  Finally, I’m official!  Now the fun begins.  Before my first class, I need to get a college ID made (building A), pick up a parking pass (building B), pick up a key to my classroom (building C), access Blackboard, find my office (building D), make copies of my syllabus (building E), find my classroom (building D), and figure out how all the equipment in the music technology lab works.

Lesson #3: All freedom comes with a little responsibility.

I feel an enormous amount of freedom in this position.  My first class is in two weeks and I haven’t met any Humanities faculty members.  I haven’t had any type of new teacher orientation.  No one has told me about grading policies, measurement and evaluation standards, or final exams.  I have no idea how many students are in my two classes!  I have a great responsibility to the department and the school.  Despite the challenges of being left guessing, the unknowns give me the great opportunity for freedom in my teaching.  I set the pace, I choose the text, I choose the methods of evaluation.  I am confident in my education and preparation and therefore, I’m ready for the challenge.

Wish me luck!

Saudades Do Brasil

Spring weather, vivid colors, hospitality, time to explore, and best of all: moments where music overcame language barriers.

My time in São Paulo, Brazil was my first experience with international travel and as such, I have many vivid memories.  I traveled that week with a group of friends from school.  The purpose of our trip: to share music and ministry at a small United Methodist Church outside of the city.  With the aid of two translators, we met and conversed over large family-style meals, learned the songs the children sing in the streets, and participated in several Portuguese worship services.

Other highlights of the trip include sightseeing in São Paulo (including a trip to the observation deck of the tallest building in the city) and visiting the large, indoor farmer’s market.

In Brazil, music is an integral part of the culture - it is a part of everyday events.  In the cool night following a delicious supper, an impromptu dance/singing circle made up of children and adults alike formed out of an innocent game of “football.”  The combination of complex rhythm (compared to our traditional 4/4 in America) and a cappella harmony was incredible – moments I wish I had captured in a form other than memory.

Rehearsal Relationships

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon.

With a calm breeze and clouds drifting lazily across the sky, it was the perfect day to be outside enjoying the summer weather.  We, however, walked purposely towards our indoor destination; I found my mind preparing for what was to come that next hour.  Yes, it takes this mindset, this level of dedication to truly be successful in rehearsals.

As a younger musician, I dutifully set aside the time to practice but made every excuse possible to finish early, give myself more breaks, or take the lazy way out.  When the clock struck the magical number, my practice would immediately halt.  Often times, practice sessions like this kept me from ever really getting in touch with the musical depth of whatever I was studying.  I couldn’t immerse myself beyond the mere surface of the piece – for fear of who knows what… losing track of time, heaven forbid.  I struggled in performances to keep myself interested in what I was playing – imagine the poor audience!

I refuse to refer to myself now as an “older musician,” but as hopefully wiser, I’ve discovered how exciting and passionate rehearsals can be.  During my time at Eastman, I found myself with stacks of repertoire and not enough hours in the day.  Rehearsal time was precious and had to be productive.  I began practicing pieces in sections, studying and preparing my scores outside the practice room, and keeping a journal of what I practiced, time spent, and what I learned each day.  What a difference!  Practicing no longer felt like a chore and I had a very real way of charting my progress.  Suddenly, I became responsible for my own growth as a musician; I focused my time and energy on identifying problems and creating solutions.

So here we are on a beautiful Saturday making our way to a rehearsal of Brahms’ Sonntag.  This piece was originally written for voice and piano, though we transcribed it for tenor saxophone and piano.  The character is a young man pining after his “beloved,” a young woman in church who may or may not even know he exists.  We struggled with the interpretation of this piece – is he serious?  Is it sad?  How are the two verses different?  It often feels like you’re handed a stack of puzzle pieces and asked to make sense of them.  The text, the character, the composer’s intentions, the time period, the accompaniment, the musical phrases, the necessity for breath… which takes precedence and when?  There is no clear road map, unfortunately.  It’s a method of trial and error.

“Let’s try it again,” one of us encourages.  “This time, let’s bring out the subtext in the second verse a little more and see how that feels.”

Constant evaluation.  Passionate disagreements.  Music over text.  Text over music.  German translations.  Creating phrase shapes in perfect unison.  Breathing together.  Dialogue.  Setting the scene.  Sensing the text not spoken and learning to speak through the piano interlude.

“It’s laughter,” I said.

“What?”  Steve responded.  “What are you talking about?”

“The interlude - this measure that seems to come out of nowhere and is interrupted by your entrance – I think Brahms was writing in laughter.”

“Just because the word ‘laughter’ appears in the next line doesn’t mean that Brahms wrote ‘laughter’ into the musical interlude,” Steve said skeptically.

“This is just my interpretation, but I think this interlude represents the things the character won’t or can’t say aloud.  It’s his thought process.  He catches himself dreaming deeply about this beautiful girl and calling her his ‘beloved’ and maybe he realizes that she sees right past him and it’s impossible that they could ever be together.  Maybe he starts laughing at himself and then realizes that he was in the middle of telling a story – interrupting himself with verse 2.  It’s plausible, you have to admit,” I said, realizing how passionate I was about this revelation.

“Sure, it’s plausible, but who really knows?”  Steve said.  “Just playing the Devil’s Advocate here, what if Brahms just intended it to be nice music in between the verses?  Why can’t we just play this musically – why does everything have to represent something else?”

“For me, assigning ‘laughter’ to that musical figure helps me define it and it changes the way I play.  I need to think and feel something in that measure.  Playing and thinking have to by one in the same for me.  If I play without thinking, I won’t be communicating.  Listen,” I said.

I sat back down, having risen to my feet during my impassioned soap-box speech, and began the interlude again.  Version 1 was musical: carefully-shaped phrases, a decent amount of time at “the right musical moments,” and approaching the measure in question, I swelled and stretched the tempo, trying to fit it into the musical context of the preceding bars.  Version 2 was my attempt at communicating the character’s inner thoughts.  The first few bars were reflective, imaginative.  When I arrived at the measure in question, I played it substantially lighter, very little pedal, and with more forward motion, rather than pulling back.  As such, the entrance for verse 2 seemed to “interrupt” the musical figure rather than waiting for it to finish.

“Did you hear how my thought process changed the whole character of that interlude?  Music over text or text over music?”  I asked.

“I agree with you, I’m not saying I don’t.  I’m sure you could base a whole masterclass off this idea but who’s to say that there’s not another way of playing it out there that’s equally convincing?”

“I’m not saying there’s not but I am saying that we need to choose our interpretation and we both have to agree.”

Give and take.  Discussion.  Communication.  Alternatives.  Perspective.  Respect.  Willingness to try.  Aren’t these the great challenges of any working relationship?  It takes this and more to make a rehearsal work.  It’s mentally exhausting, it’s consumes you, and yet it drives you at the same time.  Did we ever reach an agreement, you ask?  Yes, for the sake of the music and being true to all the clues left to us by the composer, we opted to stay in character – speaking, sharing, thinking, mourning, and in the end, laughing.