Writing a New Year's greeting to a composer friend this morning I was reminded of the nerve it takes for a composer to put pen to paper - to imagine that anyone will want to even attempt to discern what prompted the work in the first place.
That applies to anyone who creates anything.
Make a point during 2013 of supporting not just one, but at least five people who are sticking their necks out without institutional or governmental monies/controls pulling the applicable string. Why not start by supporting this blog? www.tonalrefraction.net
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Animal Warmth
I was going to start this post with the word "music," but stopped when I realize that the word has been corrupted so that I can no longer trust that what I mean will have any relation to what the word connotes in modern usage. I learned this from attempting a search on "music." I was looking for scores; what came up were CDs and downloads.
Honesty compels me to reveal that my own definition of music had to undergo quite an evolution.
When a young child music meant certain specific sounds: My Cuban mother singing Cielito Lindo; a live string quartet playing right in front of me on a pre-dawn Christmas morning; the singing of the choir I joined at six; the magical sound of Mrs. Swenson's piano.
Sure that every musician shared such a specific sense of what it is, I looked forward to studying music in a conservatory. My disappointment began as I heard student after student playing like windup toys, and continued to grow as I sat through interminable hours of required Music Theory, learning rules that had nothing to do with the way my ear worked. I learned more about music as a Liberal Arts student hanging out with kids who loved literature so much that they read it aloud after dinner.
The essence of music is contained in the setting of the word by Henry Purcell (Music for a While): Both syllables sung on a single pitch, G; then repeated a fifth higher, on D, both times accompanied by differently voiced G major triads. Music is a voice responding to overtones, expressing the heart of its range and a deviation from that center; motion while standing still.
We perceive that motion, a function of nature, because we, too, are functions of nature. It is animal warmth.
Honesty compels me to reveal that my own definition of music had to undergo quite an evolution.
When a young child music meant certain specific sounds: My Cuban mother singing Cielito Lindo; a live string quartet playing right in front of me on a pre-dawn Christmas morning; the singing of the choir I joined at six; the magical sound of Mrs. Swenson's piano.
Sure that every musician shared such a specific sense of what it is, I looked forward to studying music in a conservatory. My disappointment began as I heard student after student playing like windup toys, and continued to grow as I sat through interminable hours of required Music Theory, learning rules that had nothing to do with the way my ear worked. I learned more about music as a Liberal Arts student hanging out with kids who loved literature so much that they read it aloud after dinner.
The essence of music is contained in the setting of the word by Henry Purcell (Music for a While): Both syllables sung on a single pitch, G; then repeated a fifth higher, on D, both times accompanied by differently voiced G major triads. Music is a voice responding to overtones, expressing the heart of its range and a deviation from that center; motion while standing still.
We perceive that motion, a function of nature, because we, too, are functions of nature. It is animal warmth.
Playing from Memory
A good article on the subject by Anthony Tommassini in today's NYTimes. A must read.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Faceless Book and Your Child
Observing recently the lack of facial affect on the part of young parents with their infant children, a friend told of reading that psychologists have noted that small children are showing poor facial recognition these days.
Take the face away. Hide it behind a screen whose glare blasts out a detached "presence" for all to see.
When taking your infant for a walk in the neighborhood keep your face disengaged from your surroundings by talking on your cell phone or listening to your iPod so that insulated isolation becomes familiar and will not disappoint the child when he or she is old enough to feel it.
A young family recently moved in across the hall from me. The three little children are both very active and very noisy. I commented to the mother how much I loved having them there. "Really?" She seemed incredulous. Let's hear it for noise, including crying.
Take the face away. Hide it behind a screen whose glare blasts out a detached "presence" for all to see.
When taking your infant for a walk in the neighborhood keep your face disengaged from your surroundings by talking on your cell phone or listening to your iPod so that insulated isolation becomes familiar and will not disappoint the child when he or she is old enough to feel it.
A young family recently moved in across the hall from me. The three little children are both very active and very noisy. I commented to the mother how much I loved having them there. "Really?" She seemed incredulous. Let's hear it for noise, including crying.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Who is to Judge?
In an unforgettable lesson a ten-year-old was working to refine a Haydn piece that she adored. This was a kid who does not practice, it seems clear to me, because her mother would be listening with an all-too-well-practiced judgmental ear. Responding to her progress I was about to tell her that it was much improved when I caught myself. Rather than say so, I asked her how she felt about it.
Replying that she could do better, she promptly set about doing so.
Her expectations of herself had clearly surpassed mine. An unforgettable example of how the child's motivation wins out over teacher's expectation.
Replying that she could do better, she promptly set about doing so.
Her expectations of herself had clearly surpassed mine. An unforgettable example of how the child's motivation wins out over teacher's expectation.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
"Icicle Bright"
Those very words were used to describe the singing of a choir that I heard recently. I agree completely with that description. Particularly apt is the image of chill associated with the timbre. Such a sound has a chilling effect on the listener--how could it not?
By contrast I heard a live broadcast of the Trinity Church Wall St. performance of the Messiah, under the direction of Julian Wachner. It came closer to sizzling than any reading of that masterwork that I have ever heard.
Fearless pacing supported by inventive rhythms, and by not insisting that every phrase, every motif, every piece resolve. The lines of All We like Sheep did truly go astray, vanishing into silence.
One of the great fallacies children are taught who learn theory too soon is that phrases resolve. Wrong.
By contrast I heard a live broadcast of the Trinity Church Wall St. performance of the Messiah, under the direction of Julian Wachner. It came closer to sizzling than any reading of that masterwork that I have ever heard.
Fearless pacing supported by inventive rhythms, and by not insisting that every phrase, every motif, every piece resolve. The lines of All We like Sheep did truly go astray, vanishing into silence.
One of the great fallacies children are taught who learn theory too soon is that phrases resolve. Wrong.
Friday, December 28, 2012
The Voice, The Individual
A fascinating conversation today with a fine voice teacher reinforced my feeling about how different the world appears when one's instrument is unique than when it is viewed as a product of the Industrial Revolution.
Sometimes I think that the public shows uncommon good sense in flocking to vocalists at a time when too frequently instrumental playing sounds standardized.
The image of the piano as the product of the Industrial Revolution was certainly vivid to me as a young player. It is a difficult image to shake, especially when so much training is devoted to denying the difference in the sound of each individual piano.
Sometimes I think that the public shows uncommon good sense in flocking to vocalists at a time when too frequently instrumental playing sounds standardized.
The image of the piano as the product of the Industrial Revolution was certainly vivid to me as a young player. It is a difficult image to shake, especially when so much training is devoted to denying the difference in the sound of each individual piano.
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