The Rite of Spring: 100 Creepy Years

The radio informed me this morning that today is the 100th anniversary of the premier of Igor Stravinsky's famous Rite of Spring.  Sadly, I probably should have known this fact without the help of the radio, but I graduated two years ago now, which means that things like the dates of various compositions are no longer stored in my brain.  Instead I think about things like "Why is this grade not showing up on this kid's report card?  How do I fix it?"

That's beside the point, however.  The Rite of Spring is a unique piece that caused a legitimate riot at its first performance in Paris.  The music is frightening enough by itself, but when you realize that the whole thing is a ballet, you're liable to be terrified.  If you're not already familiar with the story, I'll give you a brief synopsis: a pagan tribe in Russia believes that in order to appease their tyrannical gods, a young girl must be sacrificed each year by way of dancing herself to death.  Fun stuff! 

On my way home this evening, the same radio station that announced the anniversary played a recording of the entire piece.  It was dark.  The rhythmic, uneven chords pulsated and dynamic changes happened suddenly and without warning.  Then rain started pouring down and thunder rolled menacingly.  All at once I could see the ballet in my head, and I pictured the pagan tribe emerging from the trees on either side of the road.  Never has music been quite so emotionally effective as this experience.

I reached over and made sure that my car doors were decidedly locked.

For your viewing pleasure, I'm adding links to a ballet performance that recreates the original choreography by Vaslav Nijinsky.  Please promise me that you won't watch it right before going to bed...

Part 1:


Part 2:

Part 3:

Rediscovery

I did something that would probably horrify every professional musician on the face of the earth. I took a 2.5 month break from practicing. I can hear the whispered muttering now: She did what? She's going to get so much worse. How could she give up so easily?

But the fact of the matter is ultimately this: I needed it.

I needed it after eleven years of working to get into orchestras, working to sit in a better seat, working to get into college, working to sound ok at the next recital, working to pass a jury, working to fulfill the required practice hours, working for the sake of working to prove that I could. Somewhere in the midst of all the work, music - with the sole exception of playing with an orchestra - ceased to be music. It became a requirement. Not only that, but it became something I could use to show myself that I had something worthwhile to offer society.

So I took 2.5 months off. Did I lose some ground? Yes. Does my embouchure get tired after ten minutes? Yes. Do I find this pathetic? Ha...you'd better believe it. But I think the benefits outweigh the consequences here, dire as they are. Suddenly, music has more meaning. All throughout my lengthy hiatus I felt like something was missing, and practicing today - however briefly - made me realize what it was. One cannot abandon a method of offering praise to one's Creator without recognizing a sense of loss.

But now, with renewed clarity and purpose, mere practicing can be a form of worship that it never was before. What could be more beneficial than that?

Flash Mob Glory!

You know that when a flash mob involves a professional orchestra, it's got to be good.



(You can read all about it here.)

Gleek out, y'all!

Confession: I love the Glee Project.

Dorky? Yes. Enjoyable? Absolutely.

That said, I have had this stuck in my head all day today, and as a result, I have watched the video at least three times since 4 pm.



They're good, right?

[Yes, I know it's not Christmas yet.]

Magical...historical performance?

In honor of the final installment of the Harry Potter film series, I present you with an orchestral recording of Monteverdi's L'Orfeo that anyone in the wizarding world would surely appreciate, due mostly to the presence of billowing robes.



Enjoy.

On Night Walks and Music

Taking walks at night has always been a thought-clearing experience for me. I think this phenomenon stemmed from taking "night walks" with my parents when I was very, very small. Vermont is beautiful all the time, but it's especially quiet and peaceful late at night, when the darkness is vast and open, the stars twinkle brightly in the distant heavens, and the stillness makes you feel wonderfully small and insignificant.

The stillness of the fields in Vermont translates very well to the beaches in Massachusetts. I love walking along, listening to the waves splash on the shore and watching boats' lights shine on the horizon. The feeling of freedom - no one watching, no one caring - is what allows me to really feel the presence of God. Because I know that while I feel small and insignificant, while no one is watching or caring, the God who created this amazing vastness is also the God that created my small, insignificant soul, and it doesn't feel so insignificant anymore.

Tonight I didn't go to the beach, but I did decide to walk around campus at night. Not quite the beach, but still. I initially just intended to walk around the quad once to feel productive or something, but I ended up walking all over campus because I was thinking so much. I didn't even know I had that much to think about. In the beginning, it was mostly asking questions with an undercurrent of a hymn stuck in my head. Does that ever happen to you? Background music to your thoughts? Maybe that's just me. Slowly, the background music started getting louder; it gradually overtook the questions, and I realized that I had Jesus Loves Me stuck in my head.

Why is it that a song that you normally just pass off as a simple children's song suddenly hits you with a message that nearly brings you to tears? It doesn't just have to be a kids' song either. Beethoven's 7th, Tchaikovsky's 5th, Saint-Saens' 3rd, Brahms' 1st symphonies have all had the same effect on me at one point or another. Without warning, a melody or specific lyrics unveils a brief glimpse of the heart of the Creator, and regardless of hopes and joys, fears and sorrows, you recognize for a few blissful moments that nothing matters more than his love for his creation. Nothing on earth can replicate that kind of beauty.

An Instrumentalist's Guide to the Wind Ensemble

It occurred to me this evening that a non-musician might have a hard time identifying with my more music-focused posts, so I've decided to give you the following: An Instrumentalist's Guide to the Wind Ensemble. Inspired, of course, by Benjamin Britten's "A Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra," which may be the only tonal thing Britten ever wrote.

[I feel it is appropriate here for me to mention how much I hate, loathe, detest, and/or abhor Britten's Metamophoses, which is a standard piece of oboe repertoire. Abnormal opinion: yes. Understandable opinion: abso-freakin'-lutely.]

So...for your education, a guide to the wind ensemble.


Instruction: "Please play from measures 24 - 58."

[The following are reactions elicited from various instruments.]

Flutes: OH MY GOOOOOOOOSH!! Our conductor is like, soooooo cute. Should we like, listen? Oh. By the way. I'm SO much better at playing fast notes than you are. Like, really. But seriously, he's like....heeheeheeheehee!

Oboes: Yes, sir. We will play those measures. Would you like them louder or softer? Where would be the best place to breathe? Can we tune again? Everything seems out of tune. We've noticed what you've been saying about the music, and, as oboists, we wish to continually strive for more perfect perfection.

Clarinets: Ok. [proceed to play, but no one can tell because it's too quiet.]

Saxophones: [blank stare.]

Horns: What's that? It's marked pianissimo? MAKE THAT TRIPLE FORTE.

Trumpets: I can play it better than YOU can. Yeah. Bring it. I'm principal.

Trombones: Oh, whatever. We still have five pages before we come in.

Tuba: TUUUUUUUU-BAAAAAAAAA. [plays low notes four octaves lower than written.]

Percussion: Dude....whaaaat? Music?

Conductor: I. AM. GOD.



So there you have it. Now you know everything there is to know about a wind ensemble, concert band, or your musician friends.

(Please note that this is all in jest. I love people from every instrument group.)

A Timeline

Since I've been commenting on the horrors of young pop stars and their incompetence in terms of music, I thought we should do a comparison.

Here's Justin Bieber. If you have to listen to it, only listen to a few seconds worth. As long as you listen long enough to note the amount of Autotune employed. (It's disgusting. Almost as bad as Rebecca Black.)



Now, we're going to go back in time to the 90s.



The difference between Autotune and non-Autotune ALMOST makes Aaron Carter sound legit. Almost.

Let's go back even further.



Definitely legit! Are we seeing a trend yet?

And...even further.



This is a pretty simple piece until you realize that Mozart wrote it at age 8.



I think it's safe to say that musical taste has disintegrated over the course of time. If that's not a strong argument for the legitimacy of classical music, I'm not sure what is.

Recital Completion FOREVER!

Our apartment has gone through the recital process several times this year. It started with Diana's junior recital first semester. (Yes, it was during our senior year. Long, unnecessary story.)


Then was my senior recital.


After that was Meghanne's senior recital.


But today, we ran out of apartment recitals. Diana performed her senior recital, marking the last time any one of the the apartment members has to perform a required recital before we graduate.

As it turns out, singing lends itself to excellent facial expressions. Diana's are, of course, entirely realistic. Ours? Simply dramatic.

Face number 1:






Face number 2:






Face number 3:






Finally, in honor of singers everywhere, Meghanne, Michelle, Lauren, and I decided to show our most intense singing expressions of all time:





Wonderful, wonderful job, Diana! We love you!

We had some church this morning.

We sang some Mendelssohn:



But the best part was during a hymn that brought the entire church to its feet, most of us having difficulty remaining dry-eyed. I can't describe something like that, except to say, yet again, that I love this church.

Stuck

I know it's been awhile since I played in the pit for this, but it's stuck in my head...




(This is from Throughly Modern Millie, if you were wondering.)

All-State, the Reprise

So remember last year when I went to All-States? I said, "The highlight of the entire conference by far was the opportunity to see a good friend (and the chorus accompanist) conduct his own arrangement of the Star Spangled Banner with the chorus at Symphony Hall. The arrangement was absolutely fantastic, the students and the audience loved it, and the cheering squad of several Gordon students backstage was thrilled to be able to witness his accomplishment."

Well guess what?!? He conducted it again this year, and instead of being backstage, I made a point to sit in the audience in the best possible seat I could find and record it so y'all can witness the fantasticness of it as well.



Ladies and gentlemen, I predict that this man is going places. I mean, let's be honest. Not that many people get to conduct their own music in the most prestigious music hall in New England for an audience of...huge. Plus the students in the chorus created a Facebook group in his honor. Then we ran into a student at Uno's later in the day, and, after she acted like she'd just run into George Clooney, she asked him to autograph her program. I don't think you can get much sweeter than that in the field of classical music until you're Michael Tilson Thomas.




(P.S. If you really want to, you can watch it on Youtube too. Just so it's official.)

Unholy Bruckner

Remember how I mentioned that "Locus Iste" from Bruckner's second mass was lovely? Well...then I found this version. Horrible or amazing. You get to pick.



Ok, I lied. You don't get to pick. It's an outright abomination, but it's so amazingly bad that it's almost funny.

To Our Neighbors...

There's a guy who has become rather internet-famous by creating a website about notes he wishes to write to the girls who live above him. It's a little scandalous, so I'm not going to recommend it. But I feel a connection with him, because I owe the girls who live BELOW me a letter - though mine is a letter of apology. So here it is.


Dear Girls Who Live Below Us,

You've had to deal with a lot this year. I mean, we've practiced our major instruments in our rooms for over an hour during the day; we've laughed hysterically in the wee hours of the morning; we've had dance parties that have undoubtedly left you wondering how you managed to reside below a herd of elephants; we've walked on our tile kitchen floor in heels before 7:00 in the morning (over the weekend, no less!); and we've occasionally been known to scream in registers that might deafen dogs who live in Virginia. You've handled it with fortitude, bravery, and admirable patience, and I'm dreadfully sorry that I am personally responsible for annoying you to the point of no return.

Let me explain myself. I am a music ed major - sometimes a regrettable decision, but mostly a good one - which means that I often experiment with playing a variety of instruments that I don't normally play. In fact, our whole apartment has done this in our room before. While taking Instrumental Methods, we played saxophone, violin, bassoon (spare us!), clarinet, flute, oboe, trumpet, and trombone, and you even put up with that. But today I decided to play horn. I really needed to practice here, because I'm not good enough at it to play in the music building. I would have lost all of my dignity, I think, like I almost did while practicing at the high school where I student teach. In self defense, I did conquer the A major and F major scales as well as 7th grade band music, and I was working on the F major scale in thirds when I heard - and felt - you banging a broomstick or a chair or something on your ceiling/our floor.

I seriously contemplated going downstairs and apologizing, baking you cookies, or even just handing you the bag of chocolate chips that I bought just before deciding to give up dessert for Lent. My roommate talked me out of that, which is why they aren't sitting on your kitchen counter right now. Instead, I'm writing you this letter as both an explanation and an apology. Please forgive me, and if I ever learn who you are, I will apologize in person.

Your sincere upstairs neighbor,

Jillian

Eek!

I have my first grad school audition tomorrow....

Yesterday at church, a song was performed during the Offertory that was truly beautiful. These are the lyrics:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hear their songs,
Their words of beauty reaching deep
Within cathedrals of my heart.
Angelic choirs reverberate
The stained glass windows
Of saints and sinners in their place
Singing out "Amazing Grace"
While in the glory of their faith
I'm drawn to find my part
And sing with all my heart.

I know their words,
Their thoughts reflecting simple truth
Of testimonies rich in love.
Their eyes can see
The mystery of loving kindness,
Of chains and blindness torn away,
Power found in each new day,
The Lord's compassion on display.
His touch from Heaven above
Gave words to speak their love.

Composer of my soul,
Show me all You show them.
The hymnwriter, hymnsinger,
Let me know their eloquence;
Let me share their offering.
Put the notes in my heart,
The lyrics on my lips,
And let the essence of my life
Be a song that others will want to sing.

I see their lives
Like tears that fall upon a page -
A mark indelible in time.
What sacrifice!
Their hearts poured out like ragin water
For sons and daughters to believe
And generations to receive
The harvest white from all their seeds.
No greater love sublime
Could change this heart of mine.

Composer of my soul,
Show me all You show them.
The hymnwriter, hymnsinger,
Let me know their eloquence;
Let me share their offering.
Put the notes in my heart,
The lyrics on my lips,
And let the essence of my life
Be a song that others will want to sing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think that every musician in the choir, sitting in pews, and performing would agree that this is the prayer of our lives, which can really be boiled down to a musical version of the beginning of the Westminster Catechism:

What is the chief and highest end of man?

Man's chief and highest end is to glorify God, and fully to enjoy him forever.

Super Bowl?

Normally, the highlight and perhaps only benefit of watching the Super Bowl every year (for me, at least) is watching the commercials. I liked this one in particular:




And I also thought this one was kinda funny, especially with the re-orchestration of the 1812 Overture:




But honestly, I would be remiss if I neglected the absolute BEST part of the Super Bowl this year:



That's right. Christina Aguilera sang the wrong words to the national anthem. I love American pop culture.

(Which is why we spent most of the Super Bowl time frame listening to recordings of church music, sorting sheet music, and singing the Te Deum. We're cool kids.)

Music Philosophy

Evensong at Church of the Advent only happens once a month. I guess that means that I'll be making the trek to Boston one time more frequently every month than I have in the past. In case you were wondering, Evensong is the evening prayer in the Anglican tradition where the liturgy is sung rather than spoken or chanted. It's truly beautiful. I'm really beginning to love the Anglican church. I love the emphasis on engaging all the senses, the connection to the rich history of the Church that stretches beyond denominational boundaries, the reverence given to all things holy, and the emphasis on very high quality music and repertoire.

How do you explain your deepest joy and passion with a world that doesn't share your worldview? How do I describe to my younger brothers - pop music lovers - that listening to the Best Loved Hymns cd on my drive to school in the morning is like having the Choir of King's College sitting in my back seat? How can I teach an orchestra full of middle school intermediate instrumentalists to play music without explaining to them that for me, sitting in the middle of the wind section, being enveloped in the glorious harmonies of Brahms Symphony No. 1, is a worship experience that can in no way be replicated elsewhere? The way I see it, music is a gift from God. This definitely doesn't mean that I have impeccable musical instincts, nor does it mean that I am particularly good at playing an instrument or singing, but it does mean that music speaks to me in a way that other things don't. Therefore, my life calling is to become the best musician I can be by practicing, by seeking good instruction, and by being involved in music for the rest of my life. To do less than that would be compromising a God-given gift.

Bach once said, "The aim and final end of music should be none other than the glory of God and the refreshment of the soul." Bach was a very wise man, if you ask me.

Umm....

This video is so weird that it had me laughing out loud to myself at 7:30 in the morning, sitting in my chair at school before 7th grade band started. And here I was thinking jazz oboe was a strange idea. What about one-man-band-plus-piano-and-blow-organ-accompaniment oboe?

The 12 Composers of Christmas

I just discovered this today - a very creative video by one of my professors here at school.



His blog is very, very musical, and he's a fan of mixing various pieces together. This is a humorous, Christmas-y example of his hard work!