Check it out: Inscape's debut CD ("sprung rhythm") will be released via Sono Luminus records in just a few weeks, and you can pre-order now. From Sono Luminus: This Pure Audio Blu-ray™ release was conceived for surround, giving the listener a fully immersive and unique experience that highlights all of the intricate textures of the album. With the instrumentation varying on every piece, this album offers a beautiful palette of sonic colors and extreme dynamic range that will excite the common listener and the most critical audiophile. Inscape Chamber Orchestra Sunday June 2, 2013, 6:30PM Igor Stravinsky: Renard Manuel de Falla: El corregidor y la molinera Inscape performs two rarely heard works at the National Gallery of Art to coincide with their exhibit "Diaghilev and the Ballets Russes, 1909-1929: When Art Danced with Music." After Diaghilev visited the premiere performance of de Falla's El corregidor y la molinera (The Magistrate and the Miller's Wife) in 1917, he asked the composer to revise the score for for the Ballet Russes. The new work, titled El sombrero de tres picos (The Three-Cornered Hat), was premiered in London in 1919 with sets and costumes by Pablo Picasso and choreography by Léonide Massine. Stravinsky's Renard was premiered by the Ballets Russes in 1922 with choreography by Bronislava Nijinska and costumes by Mikhail Larionov. Location/Directions/Tickets Yesterday afternoon, I took a deep breath and launched PFCM's Kickstarter Campaign. We now have 36 days to fill our budget gap. It's scary, but also exciting. Good news, though: We received our first few backers, and just like that... we're 3.25% to our $10,000 goal! Can you please help us keep notching toward that goal? This probably goes without saying, but any amount helps. (If each of my Facebook friends donated $10, we'd be WELL over the $10,000!) Of course, grass routes projects like this are a big part of what continue to propel the arts. PFCM has some awesome goals for the future, many of which are outlined on the Kickstarter page. But first, we have to fund our second season. Through generous donations of individuals and companies, we're raised more than $10,000 for this year's festival. But, in order to accomplish year 2 without going into the red, we need to raise another $10,000. Whether or not you feel like you can donate, you can also help by spreading the word about our campaign. Share it on Facebook or Twitter, pass it around via email, shout it from your rooftops, parade it around the streets... monetarily or otherwise, anything you can do is appreciated!
Sometimes, you are inside the music.
You're not playing notes or counting or even thinking about the direction of the phrase. Your instrument feels like an extension; it's no longer a tool, because it's part of you. You embody the piece. Time disappears; you can't quite hear yourself anymore, but in this case, that's okay. Somehow, the music is encompassing you. Moments like that can't happen every day, but when they do... that's when I know exactly who I am and who I want to eventually be. Kutztown University's 2013 Summer Chamber Music Festival: An amazing week of chamber music: students get coachings, lessons, and performances every day, as well as masterclasses by guest artists. The week is open to high school and college level musicians; students and faculty stay on KU's gorgeous campus. This will be the 3rd year I've taught at the camp, and I'm always impressed with both the enthusiasm and level of the campers. Email me with any questions.
[Warning: Sappy Post] I'm just back in Philly after a week in Manchester, VT, where I was playing as part of the Manchester Music Festival's School Residency Week. The schools take part in a "Dare to Compose" initiative, where young composers write a piece for the instrumentation given (this year: string quartet plus flute). Then, we rehearse the pieces with the students and play them for their schools. Interspersed with the student pieces, we performed Mozart, Haydn, Bach, Verdi, Porter, and Villa-Lobos... and also talked about the instruments and composers. It's kind of incredible; these kids get to tweak their pieces with live musicians, and then hear them performed alongside some of the best composers, ever. Over the course of the week, we performed 11 concerts in 8 different schools for over 800 students, and then gave a final concert on Saturday. It was wonderful to get a feel for the different personalities of the little schools in Southern Vermont. Everywhere we went, the kids were eager to both share and learn. As the week came to a close, I was left feeling alive again... re-inspired to teach, but also excited about the prospect of practicing much, much more. I sometimes end up scheduling myself to the brink of insanity, and then I'm not really giving anything the attention it deserves. I need to cut back so that I have time to do the things that matter. Practicing, teaching, performing... those things matter. And then of course, there was the MMF quintet... I loved getting to know them. They are kind, honest, hard working, fun, and not the least bit bitter... they're the the best kind of musicians. As a semi-freelance performer, I have lots of different types of musical experiences; some are good and some aren't so good. I meet many new people, some of whom I like, and some of whom I might rather forget. Then, once in a while (ie, last week), with the right combination of people and music, the experience is uniquely genuine... and that's when I start cheshire cat grinning/giggling with the knowledge that music still makes me happy. I've been sick this week, sicker than I care to admit... to admit to myself or to anyone else, really.
Defenses are down when you get sick. All the I'm tough. I can take care of myself. I can handle anything nonsense disappears and you just want someone else to take care of you. The hours in bed, spent lying there because you have no choice, are in turn boring, restful, painful, and then... at a certain point, you lose track of it all and you just... listen. Normally, I don't allow myself time to listen. My day is scheduled from alarm to nightcap and I admit I like it that way. Time off scares me, as it should; no one knows exactly what they'll find there. I was forced to listen this week... both body and mind needed time, it seems. We aren't supposed to live this way. It's too much, the constant gogogogogo and the drive to SUCCEED and the never being able to say 'no!' for fear of missing out... not of missing something fun per-say, but of losing some opportunity... I need a different measure of success, and that seems hard, if not impossible... because what narrative do we use when the entire script is something that feels completely crazy? How did I get to point where, on a Sunday afternoon, I feel like I don't have 10 minutes to stop in a coffee shop? "Hi. I'm human, and I have limitations." Why is that so hard to say? I should have time to read. I want to be able to watch a movie or go to a museum without guilt. It's certainly easier over the summer, but even the summer is pretty darn booked, and the months will quickly fly into years; time will escape. It's not just me, I know that (and I'm sure I have it pretty easy in comparison to many), but that doesn't make it any better. Success should feel peaceful, I think. I don't have the solution. In a perfect world, I'd be down in Louisiana, or up in Vermont, or... anywhere my friends are -- and we'd create the things we create, together. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but that was the idea behind starting the Pikes Falls Chamber Music Festival, and that little idea resulted in something really wonderful. Sometimes, things work out. It's this: A big part of life is about shared experiences; if we're all too busy to even make eye contact, well... what's the point? As always, we need the downs to feel the ups, and I don't think I would have it any other way. Now, rested and almost healthy... smiling at opportunities, but also trusting myself enough to know when to stop grinding the pepper mill. Today's Intro classes went particularly well. I gave a brief introduction to the Renaissance time period. (Printing press! Shakespeare! Queen Elizabeth!), had the class listen to madrigals from both Italian and English origin, and then had them break into groups to discuss creating their own madrigal based on Richard Blanco's poem presented at President Obama's 2012 inauguration. How would you use word painting to put the following section of a poem to music, as in a madrigal? Where would there be unusual chromatic harmonies? Where would the voices overlap into polyphony? Where would you use homophony? Would there be only voices, or would instruments join? Would it be more like the Italian or English madrigal? Have explanations for your decisions. The groups had great ideas, ranging from descending 8th notes to represent 'rain', a low whole note in the basses for 'weight,' chimes to represent 'stars,' and polyphony through the last 2 lines until the word 'together' ended in unison. It always takes a little prodding to get them going, but I know they now fully understand what a madrigal is, and how word painting was used in the 15th and 16th centuries.
I realize I'm treading on obnoxious optimism, but I feel like this really is a great way to teach this course; it's possible I'm actually piquing an interest, an appreciation... Also, I really love the imagery of a 'silent drum tapping.' It makes me think of yearning, and the concept of a moon yearning is one of the more beautiful ideas I've heard in a while. Survey courses get a bum rap. The kids tend to dread them; they're prerequisites for classes they actually want to take, or they're some sort of required elective. The professors try their best, but it's often difficult to motivate a large lecture hall full of half-asleep students. I tend to resent feeling like a tap-dancing clown. But you know, the courses actually have the possibility of being really interesting. Even though they're never going to be an in-depth look at any particular subject, they give exactly what they're supposed to provide: an overview of how a subject evolved. The hard part is avoiding the doldrums of the powerpoint/lecture hall passivity. Some professors do a good job at that type of teaching, I have no doubt; but, I need to get kids involved in the subject more tangibly. My strengths as a teacher lie in realm of interaction and engagement. So as I said a couple of months ago, this semester I'm making a big effort to change the format of the sections I teach. They still get the necessary information, but at least half of the class each period is dedicated to their own compositions that are based in the style of the music we're currently discovering. For example, here was today's assignment (after a brief question/answer/listening session about the development of Gregorian Chant from years 700-900): Using the ternary form cantus firmus (original chant) you wrote on Monday, first add some sort of written rhythm to your chant (instead of using spatial rhythmic notation). The long notes should be notated with a whole note, medium length notes with a half note, and short notes with a quarter note. Friday, we'll talk about Leonin and Perotin and the School of Notre Dame. They'll add triplet-based rhythms to their second line, while still keeping their cantus firmus intact. Next Monday we'll talk about Ars Nova and Machaut, and perhaps create some sort of secular song based on the proper church modes (or else maybe part of a Mass?); they'll be able to perform their pieces on the recorder, or sing/hum the words.
My hope is that before long everyone be completely comfortable with their groups and the class, and will be able to experiment with music without feeling scared. I believe this style of teaching has been effective so far this semester. Certainly, my classes were a little thrown off at first; they expected a lecture course, but all in all, it's working. And you know, before long, word will get out about how I teach the course and so if any student doesn't think it's for them, they'll simply sign up for a different teacher. These lesson plans actually take longer to figure out, since I'm not just stuffing facts in my head that I will regurgitate into a lecture and then promptly forget. Applicable activities are not easy to create, but I have to say -- even from a purely selfish point of view, it's completely worth the extra time. I really think the learning curve is much higher than it has been for me in semesters past, and so I feel like I'm actually helping to educate these students. And, that's the idea, right? Changing routine can be scary, but I think I made the right choice this time. |
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