Quantcast
Channel: Violinist.com
Viewing all 3157 articles
Browse latest View live

V.com weekend vote: Should audience members be permitted to clap between movements?

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: Most of us classical music insiders know that you're "not supposed" to clap in between movements of a symphony, concerto or similar work with movements.
clapping
It's one of those unspoken rules that perhaps make us seem a little snobby and could be unnerving to the newcomer who innocently claps with enthusiasm --and then feels like a dummy for doing so. This has been a topic of debate on our discussion page this week. Well, nobody wants to make people feel uncomfortable about showing their enthusiasm. At the same time, since we go to so much trouble to create these musical moments of acoustic perfection, a lot of people would like to savor them. When a middle movement in a symphony ends in a mesmerizing hush, and the following movement is meant to build on that quiet -- well it just seems weird to have a burst of applause interrupting it. Yes, it can even be annoying! Of course, some movements end with such bombast, they seem to beg for an ovation. I'm not bothered in the least by applause at the end of the marathon first movement of the Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto, for example. So should we permit applause sometimes, and not other times? Should we give up and just permit it always? Or should we always plan to instruct an audience from the podium, "With this piece, we'd like to you not to applaud," or "It's okay, clap away"? Please share your opinion in the vote, and then tell us about your thoughts and experiences in the comments. You might also like:

Music as Conversation

$
0
0
By Paul Stein: I’m a big proponent of metronomes, tape on violin bows to show the line between the upper half and lower half, and especially tape to indicate where the four fingers find first position. Take away the frets that guitarists cherish, and you have nothing left. I don’t consider these spatial aids unnecessary crutches, but a great way to mark the territory set up by the violin. While we admire the remarkable qualities of the violin, there’s no limit to how confused young players get. Imagine four strings that are parallel to each other, but unlike the strings in a piano, they are laid out in an arc. It would be helpful if an aid were invented to show the angles of the bow for each string. So far, we only have our visual imagination: The G string is at the 40 minute mark on the clock, D string at 45 minute, A string at 50 minute and the E string at 55 minute. I bring these aids up because they have their pluses and their minuses. We can all agree that it’s nice to be in the general ballpark when it comes to rhythm, intonation and set up. However, tape on the fingerboard is never 100% accurate, and, as Debussy once said, anyone who thinks that one metronome marking will work from one measure to the next just isn’t listening. All that training can box a person in. What’s Outside the Box? Yet the road from tape and metronomes intersects constantly with the road that brought us to music in the first place. Somehow, at a very early age, we connected to the different elements of music: beauty, dance, excitement, pace and cadence, harmonic relaxation, etc. How we managed to balance the sublime, the rote and the eye-hand-ear nerve center is a miracle. It’s our own personal pyramid, with a huge amount of knowledge and details at the bottom seeking the most important principles at the top to guide and manage it. It takes an active mind to coordinate all these things, but we’re conditioned from an early age not to think while we’re performing. Maybe we were actually taught not to over-think, but nevertheless we received the wrong message. To breach the walls that hold us to only one type of thinking, we need to recognize the fluidity of musical thinking. It helps to acknowledge that our playing is always trying to catch up with our ear.
violin no walls
We are so consumed with our way of doing things, in ways that satisfy both ourselves and our teachers, that the box we’re in doesn’t leave much room for free-associating. What would the musical landscape look like if it were free of dogmatic thinking? Beat Bullies Do our melodies feel haphazard or well thought-out? While it’s easy to settle into a routine and exaggerate the usual highs and lows, a more eloquent interpretation might demand a completely different technique. A slight change of pace will bring out something never heard before. Melodies should be part of a musical conversation, not the tonal version of the Tower of Babel. They don’t thrive well outside of a phrase, yet we play them all the time in a somewhat makeshift fashion. Artists can achieve a pace that is natural and flowing, while technicians are conveniently satisfied to shove the notes within compressing beats. The main obstacle to melodic phrasing is the unrelenting drive to the next beat. Unfortunately, given the nature of music as a momentum driven art form, much of the time it can’t be helped. The beat bully is everywhere around us; it’s rarely intentional. The only thing that stands between us and it is a conductor or quartet leader who takes the time to let each beat breathe. The greatest gift music gives us is the ability to experience such musical freedom in our own space and in our own time. The privacy of our practicing moments give us ample opportunity to alter the metronomic straight jacket and replace it with supple, flexible beats. Not Kreutzer Doris Gazda published a wonderful book called Melodious Etudes. These are vocalizes composed by Marco Bordogni. If you try to play them in a stiff and robotic way, you will meet resistance at every turn. Don’t make Marco mad!! With intermediate players, beats tends to truncate and close in on themselves. Advanced players notice the way 16th notes and all other values retain their unique properties, they flow easily, and they transform the beat, rather than the other way around. The music should tell you what the beat feels like. Teachers have limited input, because putting things in words can never replace what is infinitely more important, which is the art of watching and analyzing how great musicians perform. In the case of working with a highly gifted child, the teacher may simply codify and quantify a technique that the student already does naturally. This teaches the student to be verbal about their art, but when one articulates only with words, the unspoken truth becomes only a little less obscure. There is a quality about music that emerges when spontaneity and free-thinking merge.You might also like:

Sibelius, Finlandia & the cry of freedom

$
0
0
By Terez Mertes: Jean Sibelius’ tone-poem, Finlandia, wasn’t supposed to be the program headliner last Saturday night at the San Francisco Symphony. The main draw was the Sibelius Violin Concerto, gracefully and sensitively rendered by Latvian violinist Baiba Skride, with Finnish guest conductor Osmö Vänskä leading the orchestra. Vänskä, music director of the Minnesota Orchestra—they of the Great Lockout of 2012-14 infamy—literally staked his position on turning said orchestra into one of the country’s finest, resigning in protest in the later months of the lockout, only to be rehired the following April (good call), where he now continues, with the Minnesota Orchestra, to excel and produce world-class music. Particularly impressive are Vänskä’s Sibelius interpretations. No surprise, perhaps, as both hail from Finland and both have captured, in the music, the nuance, proud spirit and dignity of this Nordic country. And no piece conjures a sense of Finnish national pride more so than Sibelius’ Finlandia, a patriotic tone-poem, the seventh of seven tableaux written in 1899 and revised a year later. Coming in at eight-ish minutes (can be up to nine), it’s short, but amazingly effective. The first part delivers a brooding fanfare of horns, rumbling timpani, depicting menace, oppression that, indeed, was part of Finland’s history, through occupations by Sweden and then Russia, into the early 20th century. The middle part of Finlandia calls in strings and woodwinds, a gentler but no less affecting sound, before the piece really ramps into high gear. It becomes propulsive and spirited, with plenty of crashing cymbals and an increase in speed and intensity from the entire orchestra. And then, at its peak, comes the melody, slow and majestic, instantly timeless and memorable. Strings, woodwinds, brass all play in tandem, contributing different textures that meld perfectly. When the horns sustain one of their notes against the melody, it’s so beautiful—one of the most vivid aural depiction of love, fealty and longing I’ve ever heard. It never fails to make my throat contract, my eyes sting. Saturday night at Davies Symphony Hall, Vänskä conducting, was no exception.
Sibelius
Sibelius had written the piece, initially entitled “Finland Awakes,” part of his Press Celebration Music suite, for an event, a covert political rally of sorts to protest Russia’s increasing censorship and other punitive measures against Finland, an “autonomous” region of the Empire. It was an instant hit. In 1900 he revised, making the seventh piece stand alone and renaming it Finlandia. Its popularity grew in leaps and bounds, particularly when the fledgling Helsinki Philharmonic, eighteen months old, took it with them on their first European tour. Suddenly the world knew about Sibelius, Finlandia, and Finnish national pride. The Russians, of course, hated this, and did their best to censor performances of Finlandia. Story has it, the Finns got sneaky and gave the piece alternative names at future performances, like, “Happy Feelings at the Awakening of Finnish Spring,” and “A Scandinavian Choral March." The correlating hymn, too, had become a big deal. Huge. Sibelius had taken the piece’s slower melody and made it a choral hymn — although the more popular words were written in 1941 by Veikko Antero Koskenniemi. It became the patriotic cry of a nation. It defined the voice of Finland that emerged in December, 1917, when the Finnish parliament finally declared independence from Russia. It is second in importance in Finland only to the country’s national anthem, “Maamme.” (Some still would like to see it become the national anthem.) December 6, 2017 marks Finland’s centennial. I can think of no better way to honor such an event than to share Finlandia with the world. Following is a link to my favorite version of the choral hymn. It makes tears rise in my throat every time I watch it (and I’m going on a dozen times at this point). That nationalism can be expressed with such beautiful song, is just one more reason why Finland impresses me to no end. (Second: tied for highest literacy rate in the world at 100%. Third: most engaged, informed, prolific classical music audience in the world. Fourth: one of the highest functioning welfare systems and lowest infant mortality rates in the world. Fifth: the best front row seat for viewing the Northern Lights.) Want to know the words? Here you go! (And if auto-correct made a mess of the Finnish spelling, apologies to all my Finnish readers out there! Let me know and I’ll fix.)
Oi Suomi, katso, sinun päiväs koittaa Yön uhka karkoitettu on jo pois Ja aamun kiuru kirkkaudessa soittaa Kuin itse taivahan kansi sois Yön vallat aamun valkeus jo voittaa Sun päiväs koittaa, Oi synnyinmaa Oi nouse Suomi, nosta korkealle Pääs seppelöimä suurten muistojen Oi nouse Suomi, näytit maailmalle Sä että karkoitit orjuuden Ja ettet taipunut sä sorron alle On aamus alkanut Oi Synnyinmaa
Here is the English translation:
Finland, behold, thy daylight now is dawning, the threat of night has now been driven away. The skylark calls across the light of morning, the blue of heaven lets it have its way, and now the day the powers of night is scorning: thy daylight dawns, O Finland of ours! Finland, arise, and raise towards the highest thy head now crowned with mighty memory. Finland, arise, for to the world thou criest that thou hast thrown off thy slavery, beneath oppression’s yoke thou never liest. Thy morning’s come, O Finland of ours!
And now, here is a link to the full version (coming in at nine minutes, so a little more deliberate pacing), which also provides a film tour of Finland and its staggering natural beauty. (But warning, the cute little animals and birds kind of kill the mood of “we, the oppressed, must struggle or die trying” patriotic fervor. Now it’s more like a Nature episode. But a gorgeous one, I might add!) PS: Happy Centennial, Finland! PPS: Want to hear the original Press Celebration Music suite? In truth, it’s pretty cool, because, for you Sibelius fans such as myself, there’s some new music in there that hints at what he will produce further down the road. And there’s a pretty nifty slide show that depicts different historical scenes for each tableau, which are, themselves, intended as historical episodes. Further, you can hear the original 1899 first ending. This article first appeared, in modified form, at The Classical Girl.You might also like:

Augustin Dumay - Wigmore Hall

$
0
0
By Gill Hart: I attended a concert last week following a busy day at work. I had booked tickets to see Mr. Augustin Dumay months ago, having never having heard of him before. Now at this point, I've already heard many violinists perform at Wigmore, including Julia Fischer, Nikolaj Znaider, Sergey Khachatryan, amongst others. At risk of sounding like a spoiled child or an old-age man who just goes to these things, I've grown so accustomed to attending these recitals that at times I feel I'm sitting through a university lecture, forcing myself to stay awake and occasionally enjoying the discussion. The truth is that these recital programs are long and I tend to 'over think' the music, leading me to doze off. The warm atmosphere and nice plush chairs don't help. I sat by myself and mentally prepared for a long night. I had booked a seat in the front row, hoping to catch and internalize every note played, just like a studious student would for every word during lecture. The recital was soon to begin and an old man who came by himself sat to my left. He was well dressed and reserved, and I couldn't help but wonder - what if he was a rich patron who owned a Strad? Was he a violin fanatic like myself? Should I strike up a conversation? No, my ego got the better of me and we both played it cool and mysterious while sitting in silence. Then Mr. Dumay walked out. He came out looking slighlty tired, in seemingly oversized pants and a modern Mao suit. For whatever reason, I immediately had a flashback to my violin professor's modest and beat-up violin case. I revisited an old thought...that you don't need the best accessories or equipment to be a world class musician. In any case, the violin recital started and I found myself sitting on the edge of my chair for the rest of the concert. From the first to the last note, Mr. Dumay drew a silky, bel-canto-ish tone that reminded me a lot of violinists from an older era. Not a single harsh note was played throughout the night, even in the most intense sections of for example the Brahms Sonata - something I can say is rare among younger violinists of today.
Augustin Dumay
Augustin Dumay.
I left the concert feeling relieved and forgetful of all my stress, worries, and unhappiness that I experienced during the day. I sound dramatic, but it's true. I felt blessed as I tried to re-live the musical moments that night. After heading home, I did more research and found out, not surprisingly, that Mr. Dumay had studied with some of the greats, including Nathan Milstein and Arthur Grumiaux. I also learned that he was playing on a Del Gesu formerly played on by Leonid Kogan. Needless to say, this recital was one of the most memorable and exciting experiences I've ever had. You might also like:

Yo-Yo Ma and Kathryn Stott in Blacksburg

$
0
0
By Paul Deck: This afternoon my family and I attended a beautiful recital performed by cellist Yo-Yo Ma and pianist Kathryn Stott. Of course I could write for hours about the amazing all-Russian program – Stravinsky Suite Italienne, Prokofiev Sonata in C Op. 119, and Rachmaninoff Sonata in G minor Op. 19. The soul-melting melodies and rich, shifting harmonies of these incredible composers. The whispering pianissimos from Ma’s bow matched by Stott’s deft touch. The soaring soprano of the cello’s upper register piercing like lightning through thunderstorms emanating from the giant Steinway. And the perfect, pin-drop acoustics of the gorgeous Fife Theater in Virginia Tech’s Moss Arts Center, which celebrated its four-year anniversary this week. For encores the pair played “Ave Maria” and “The Swan” separated by a short virtuosic piece that I did not recognize. (When I find out what it was, I will edit this portion of my post.)
Ma and Stott
Yo-Yo Ma and Kathryn Stott.
One striking observation was that nobody ever clapped between movements. Not once. Ma –- the consummate performer -- controls his audience from the stage. When a movement is just ending, he leans quite strongly toward Stott and appears to be looking to her for the next move. And she then begins the next movement immediately and he relaxes his stance again. The audience, even the children, have thereby been taught the signal. At the end of the piece, well, they made that pretty obvious too: Hands in the air and broad smiles. I can’t leave this post without commenting on how utterly jarring and shocking and horrifying it is to come away from a display of the world’s most beautiful musical artistry, only to return home, turn on the news, and learn of yet another gut-wrenching tragedy, just a few hours before, in which two dozen (and counting) human beings, including children, were murdered in the space of a few minutes by a gun-wielding lunatic -- this particular time, just outside San Antonio, Texas. Must it be so?

The Week in Reviews, Op. 205: Nicola Benedetti; Leila Josefowicz; Jennifer Koh

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: In an effort to promote the coverage of live violin performance, Violinist.com each week presents links to reviews of notable concerts and recitals around the world.Nicola Benedetti performed the Marsalis with the Philadelphia Orchestra.
  • The Philadelphia Inquirer: "The music saunters and dances. A punchy circus-like atmosphere takes over for a bit, commented upon with short quips from the violin. The Blues hovers over the piece in various places."
Nicola Benedetti
Nicola Benedetti. Photo by Simon Fowler.
Leila Josefowicz performed works by Prokofiev, Saariaho, Wittenbecher and Zimmermann with pianist John Novacek.
  • Chicago Classical Review: "Like most of her concerts, her program Friday night at the University of Chicago’s Mandel Hall with pianist John Novacek was like no other, carrying as it did an invitation to her audience to join her on a mission of discovery."
Jennifer Koh performed the Barber with the Marin Symphony.
  • San Francisco Classical Voice: "Right from the start, with Koh unfolding the opening subject in a warm and confiding manner, an air of sensitive, nuanced responsiveness took hold."
Augustin Hadelich performed the Britten with the Indianapolis Symphony Orchestra.
  • Nuvo: "His left hand dexterity is astonishing. Then there’s the infectious joy in his playing; he doesn’t just play his 1723 Stradivarius violin — he makes it sing."
Baiba Skride performed the Sibelius with the San Francisco Symphony.
  • Violinist.com: "The main draw was the Sibelius Violin Concerto, gracefully and sensitively rendered by Latvian violinist Baiba Skride, with Finnish guest conductor Osmö Vänskä leading the orchestra."
  • San Francisco Classical Voice: "Skride produces a marvelous tone that ranged from ethereal and fragile at the opening of the concerto, to more meaty and powerful as the technically demanding concerto progressed. Dressed in a lavish gown, Skride had an interesting story to tell, and she did so in a convincing way."
Ning Feng performed Jiping's Violin Concerto No. 1 with Beijing's National Centre for the Performing Arts Orchestra.
  • The Philadelphia Inquirer: "Zhao Jiping’s Violin Concerto No. 1 — was played with great conviction by soloist Ning Feng, though this composer of film scores and works for the Silk Road Ensemble didn’t really assert his own compositional voice."
Will Hagen performed works by Saint-Saëns and Ravel with the Utah Symphony.
  • The Salt Lake Tribune: "...he demonstrated unimpeachable technique and keen musical sense in a stirring performance of Camille Saint-Saëns’ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso."
Joshua Bell performed a recital with pianist Alessio Bax at Brigham Young University.
  • Deseret News: "...with Bell, every note carries weight, every note counts and every note sings. His violin is an unwavering voice."

The Well Aging Fiddler: Perfection? Forget about it.

$
0
0
By Michael Kennedy: During an intermission at our recent Halloween recital I was talking to one of my fellow violin students. He wasn’t playing in the recital, and I was surprised he decided to simply listen. "I’m not ready. Once I’m ready, I’ll consider it," he said to me. I was surprised. I’d heard him play, and frankly, I thought he was quite good, but he didn’t see it that way. That's too bad because I believe everyone who plays a violin, or any other musical instrument, should take the important step of playing music in front of others. Whether it is a recital, a Bluegrass or old time jam, an open mic show, or some other venue, preparing a piece or two, having a deadline and a time for playing, and then getting up in front of others is an important part in developing skills and confidence. Last spring when I started playing violin, after my third lesson, I had an opportunity to play in a student concert. I jumped in and played "Boil ‘em Cabbage Down" right along with my teacher, Mirabai Peart. It went well. People were both delighted and amused that a 68 year-old man got up and played in a concert where the vast majority of musicians were elementary school children. There were also couple of middle and high school students, and parents who accompanied their children. Beyond that, I was a bit of a novelty. The following Monday, when I went to my fourth lesson, I asked my teacher whether she had other adult students. "Actually, about half of my students are adults, " she said. "They are just too busy, or simply don’t want to play in these recitals." I was surprised, but understand their hesitation. As you know, this is a difficult musical instrument. It’s very unforgiving. Everything – and I mean everything – done with a violin and a bow must be patiently and skillfully learned. It takes a long time to begin to get a good sound, and there is little guarantee that sound will be there the next day. When I practice on my violin I’m often reminded of the movie, "Groundhog Day", with Bill Murray. The story of a man stuck in the time loop of a single day, and his struggles to simply get onto the next one. With the violin, I may have a good day, but the next day is no guarantee I will move forward in my technique. It’s slow, deliberate, and requires patience and focus. Going to that next step of getting up in front of others, with no real guarantee it will sound any good, is a bit over the top. In a lot of ways, the practice sessions alone discourage any urge to stand in front of an audience. Practice is often repetitious and a lot of work. It's a lot of scales (how thrilling), arpeggios (even more thrilling), single string exercises, cross string exercises, pitch and tone exercises, learning how to read those little dots and lines on the paper, and making mistake after mistake after mistake. How on earth could someone be persuaded to do something like this in front of an audience? Why put yourself through that stress? Who needs it? Plus, to discourage people from performing, there is that ever-elusive, out of reach golden ring of perfection. A lot of people think, "Once the tune is exactly what I want it to be, once it’s solid and secure, then I’ll consider playing in a recital." That’s too bad because the old saying, "Practice makes perfect" is a dead end goal. Of course you want to play well. You want to have great timing, intonation, and so forth. That makes sense, but don’t go for perfection. Go for something better. Go for the moment. Let me explain what I mean. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never done anything even close to perfection. When I sang and played guitar and mandolin in shows, jams, solo, in groups, and so forth, I never once hit perfection. Never. When I was an actor and director I never had a perfect performance or play. Every story I’ve written, or article I’ve submitted could have been better. However, I just went for it. If I’d gone for perfection I’d never have done anything. Perfection is an airbrushed, auto-tunes, color adjusted, mirage. Indeed, it is actually something to avoid because of one very important factor. Perfection is boring – It’s really, really boring. It ain’t got no life. It’s not present. It’s not in the moment. Imagine you are in your practice room and the prefect performance happens for you. You get through a piece of music without any mistakes, without any rhythm problems, your bowing is amazing, your body and the violin are married in a joyful moment, the heavens open and the angels sing, you play that song wonderfully, and then it ends. Well, so much for that, eh? If it happens, I’m glad it happened. Of course, the catch is you’ll have to do it again, and there isn’t any guarantee it will work out as well. Here is something we’ve all experienced. You had a great practice session. You’ve got it down. You’re confident. Then you go into your lesson, play in front of your teacher, and for some reason it just doesn’t work out as well. So what happened? What happened is the fact that someone else was in the room, and that changes everything. It could be one person, or fifty, but the second someone else is present, all bets are off, and perfection is out the window because you are now in a moment of artistic communication. Here's an example: I used to work with playwrights. I directed their new plays. One playwright refused to let his plays be staged or even read. I asked him why. "It’s because in my head it’s perfect. In my head it’s cast exactly how I want, the sets are perfect, the lines are delivered exactly as they should be delivered, the audience loves it, and the plays are always a success. Why should I risk letting actors ruin my writing?" Yes, he really said that. That guy must be one lonely fellow. Believe me, perfection is not your goal. As Tony Soprano often said, "Forget about it." What you are going for is communication. You are diving into the instrument and the music to draw others in with you. You are working to fill that space with sound that says something, that pulls the listener into the moment. Did you see The Beatles on Ed Sullivan in 1964? Well, probably not, but watch them on YouTube singing, "I Want To Hold Your Hand" in their first live American performance. Check it out on YouTube. Notice anything odd? Can you hear John Lennon? It's hard, right? It doesn’t sound good because his microphone wasn’t working. All the voices are coming from Paul McCartney’s microphone. As a bit of perfection it was something of a disaster. One of them even messed up some words in the song. And yet it was a triumphant moment. Why? Look at those guys. They are having a great time. They’re looking up at the kids in the audience, they’re smiling, almost laughing, and the audience is having the time of their lives. The Beatles, their audience, and 90 million people who were watching it, were in the moment. That’s what you’re going for when you play, and the only way you are going to get there is to experience playing in front others as often as you can. You’ve got to get over that hump of avoiding an audience. To get other adults to play, my teacher, Mirabai Peart, and I came up with a plan. We’d have a recital just for adult students. Only the players would be present. It would be in the studio and not in an auditorium. We’d just play one song for each other. We’d keep it light and low stress. Wine, cider, cheese, bread, and other treats would be available. The recital was proposed, and five students took the bait. We met in the studio on a Friday night. While Mirabai knew everyone of us, we were strangers to each other, but that didn’t last long. We sat in a small semi-circle while each of us got up in front of the others, and played his or her song. Frankly, we had a great time. One woman had played violin for two years, but never in front of anyone until that night. After we played we sat around and talked, laughed, empathized, and the atmosphere was friendly and light. In other words, we had fun. A month later, the Sunday before Halloween, another student concert took place. However, this time there were five adult violinists playing along with the kids, rather than just me. How did it go? It was great! We had an enthusiastic audience, lots of variety, a sense of fun, and some good treats at intermission! Were there mistakes? Of course! So what? I played a piece I probably should have held back on because I wasn’t really ready to play it in public, but I got through it as well as I could. Live and learn, right? The young woman who played after me nailed her piece. She played an Irish reel and knocked it out of the park. Do as well as you can, but don’t wait for perfection. It’s not all it’s chalked up to be.

Pamela Frank to Join USC Thornton Faculty: Focus on Injury Prevention

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: Violinist and Curtis Professor Pamela Frank will join the University of Southern California Thornton School of Music for a one-year appointment beginning in Fall 2018, USC announced Monday.
Pamela Frank
Pamela Frank. Photo by Nicolas Lieber.
Frank, who also teaches annually at the Tanglewood, Ravinia and Verbier Festivals, will join as an adjunct professor and visiting artist at USC Thornton, teaching graduate students, while continuing her primary position at the Curtis Institute. Frank will be joined by physical therapist Howard Nelson, an expert in movement-related impairments, with whom Frank launched Fit as a Fiddle Inc., a collaboration in which they use their expertise for injury prevention and treatment of musicians. Nelson, who also will have a one-year appointment, is an expert in movement-related impairments who analyzes how postures and movements can be the cause of injury and pain. "Because of my experience with a career-threatening injury, and my recovery — thanks to physical therapist Howard Nelson — I feel the need to describe my problem and his expertise in solving it," she said. "It is my hope that, together, we can assist a growing population of untreated individuals, as well as those at risk, to prevent problems before they become career-threatening." "We in the Strings department at the USC Thornton School of Music are thrilled and excited to welcome Pamela Frank and Howard Nelson to our faculty," said Ralph Kirshbaum, Chair of the Strings department. "Pamela will offer to a select number of graduate violin students the opportunity to study intensively with one of today’s most accomplished and inspirational musicians, and Howard will enhance the impact of their time with us by observing, treating, and following up on any physical problems that can at any moment challenge hard-working strings students." You might also like:

Patricia Kopatchinskaja and the Ojai Festival on a Collision Course to the Future

$
0
0
By Laurence Vittes:

Despite turning 70 this year, the four days in June Ojai Festival continues to be one of the freshest takes on what’s hip on the contemporary scene with an invigoratingly wide reach. The Festival hires its music directors for one-year stretches, gives them reasonable budgets, pretty much carte blanche for artists and programing, and makes good hires. This year it was Vijay Iyer, last year Peter Sellars, next year it will be Barbara Hannigan.  Esa-Pekka Salonen was penned in for 2018 but when he withdrew in January due to his increasing workload as a composer, violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja, who was already scheduled for 2020, was ready, willing, and able to take over. 

Patricia Kopatchinskaja
Patricia Kopatchinskaja.

In making her Ojai Festival debut, Kopatchinskaja won’t be alone. Also making their first appearances at the Festival will be the Berlin-based Mahler Chamber Orchestra, the New York-based JACK Quartet, composer/pianist Michael Hersch, soprano Ah Young Hong, pianists Markus Hinterhäuser (in his spare time artistic director of the Salzburg Festival) and Amy Yang, pianist/harpsichordist Anthony Romaniuk, and composer/sound designer Jorge Sanchez-Chiong

Kopatchinskaja’s parents, Viktor and Emilia Kopatchinski will also be making their debuts. And Stravinsky’s L’Histoire du Soldat will be performed on the occasion of its centennial.  

In addition to soloing in music by Luigi Nono, Beethoven, Tigran Mansurian, and György Ligeti, Kopatchinskaja will collaborate with Hong in György Kurtág’s riveting 50-minute long Kafka Fragments. She will jam with her parents in a celebration of Moldavian folk music and food, and present three free children’s concerts. Topping off her amazonian labors Kopatchinskaja will conceive and direct two semi-staged concerts. 

Dies Irae, a commentary on global warming, will use Byzantine chant and music by another virtuoso violinist, Heinrich Ignaz Franz Biber, Hersch, and Giacinto Scelsi, plus Galina Ustvolskaya’s remarkable Dies Irae for eight double basses. Bye-Bye-Beethovenwill mash up music by Charles IvesJohn Cage, Haydn, Kurtág, and Bach, plus Beethoven’s remarkable Violin Concerto. 

Further expanding horizons the Festival is taking its show on the road to UC Berkeley’s Cal Performances series and then, for the first time, to Great Britain’s Aldeburgh Festival

When she is not keeping track of the Ojai Festival and practicing the music, Kopatchinskaja maintains an enormous concert schedule, and will soon be releasing CDs with Polina Leschenko, cellist Sol Gabetta, and with Teodor Currentzis conducting Alban Berg’s Violin Concerto. She recently recorded Hersch’s new violin concerto, and is planning a CD with Il Giardino Armonico which could be a best seller. 

Kopatchinskaja and I e-mailed each other for this Q & A.

How much programming was in place when you took over?

Nothing. Of the musicians, only the Mahler Chamber Orchestra had already been booked – and they are anyway one of my absolutely preferred partners. 

Tell me about the Mahler Chamber Orchestra. I know it’s 45 musicians from 20 countries who form the core of the Lucerne Festival Orchestra. In the context of US chamber orchestras like the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, of whom you are formally an Artistic Partner, and the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra.

I never have worked with the Orpheus but often with Saint Paul and Mahler. They are not so different. Both have first class musicians and are prepared to explore frontiers of programming. The main difference concerns touring and conductors. In the Mahler the members meet and collaborate just for the projects and they do extensive tours in Europe. Saint Paul resides permanently in Saint Paul and commits to the local community in their marvelous new Ordway Concert Hall and many other venues in the neighborhood. And the Mahler Chamber Orchestra often works with conductors, while the SPCO works without conductors but with regular artistic partners. 

How did you get mixed up with the JACK Quartet?

The JACK Quartet is an icon known to every musician. In summer 2017 I met them at the Lucerne Festival and had the privilege to play with their cellist Jay Campbell. They never have any issues about the usual questions of style, tradition, right, or wrong that normal quartets do, because they work with living composers and can just ask composers when they’re not sure. We will be never able to call Mozart or Brahms or Beethoven and be sure about their ultimate interpretation. 

Beethoven seems to be on everybody’s mind these days. Just last week at the University of Southern California, a daylong series of performances and discussions celebrating Pauline Oliveros took as its title Beethoven Was a Lesbian. Tell me about your Bye-Bye-Beethoven production.

Well sometimes you just feel strangled by tradition if you are only allowed to play the big old monuments like Bach, Mozart Beethoven, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius and never something else. The Bye-Bye-Beethoven project articulates this feeling. It’s not against Beethoven, who remains one of the greatest ever, but against a pervasive lack of curiosity about the present and the future. For me it’s completely absurd and unnecessary to run a career built on copying and pasting the same pieces in the same way everywhere on the planet.  

And what are the works in Dies Irae that people might recognize?

We have the trombones of the last judgment, there are bits from Biber’s battle piece Battaglia interspersed with a selection from Crumb’s Black Angels,  like God music or electric insects, and there are soldiers’ steps. The Dies Irae of Ustvolskaya is about hopelessness and facing truth. Anyway it’s not about recognizing music you may have heard before but about creating new impressions and associations, like in a dream. When you dream, you don’t analyze, you just dream.

I reviewed Michael Hersch’s dark, intense Images From A Closed Ward for Gramophone magazine. What are you expecting from him?

In fact Michael’s Images From A Closed Ward was the first piece we discovered from him some years ago. My husband, who has worked in a psychiatric institution, was very impressed and said that Hersch had caught the essence of a mental asylum in this piece. Then I met with Michael, I worked with him, and he wrote a violin concerto for me which we recently recorded with the outstanding International Contemporary Ensemble in New York. His music is not in the comfort zone, but it is wholly compelling. He says things in music that must be said and that nobody else says. I am a strong advocate of his music - and very glad to present a relevant US composer in Ojai.  

I heard Ilya Gringolts play Kurtág’s Kafka Fragments at Lockenhaus a few years ago in impossible heat; both he and the singer were drenching sweat. Even so, it held the audience transfixed for more than 50 minutes. Have you played it often before?

Kafka Fragments is THE greatest song cycles of our time, after Schubert, Schumann and Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire. I have played it very often and worked with Kurtág personally. 

When did you first play Ligeti’s Violin Concerto?

That must be more than ten years ago. It is a very difficult, fascinating piece. I always imagine a child playing in his room with thousands of puzzle pieces, or a scientist in his lab, inventing new ways of old techniques, and flying into the cosmos with passengers like Bartók, Claude Vivier, Stravinsky, and Guillaume Machaut. And so many more.

Please tell me more about your parents Viktoria and Emilia – Where do they live? What will they play at the Festival?

My parents live near Vienna. They play Eastern European folklore. My mother plays the violin, my father plays the cymbalom – he was a star in the old Soviet Union. I always was fascinated by their music making. There was and is no line for us between our job, hobby, and private life – we all live in music, practicing, listening, talking, arguing, discovering, and dreaming about music. Like in a peasant family, where everything is centered around raising children, food, the soil and animals, so music is our harvest, our food, our garden, past, and future. 

It’s my sense that the soil for women and other outside groups in the classical music industry has pivoted. I’m thinking in particular about the sudden flush of young women conductors who fit perfecetly into the new freewheeling style a staid industry is trying to absorb.

What are you seeing on the ground as someone who is emblematic of the change?

We now discuss and realize projects which would have been unthinkable 15 years ago. In part this might be because I am more experienced now, but I really think that times have changed.

Can orchestras both as institutions and as artistic entities change to a dynamic model along the lines you and groups like Brooklyn Rider implicitly propose: moving quickly and spontaneously not just as artists but as organizations?

They will have to adapt or they will go the way of the dinosaurs. Small and self-administered entities like the Orpheus or the Mahler chamber orchestras have an advantage. Bigger structures often are immobilized, not even by the public but by boards, administrations, sponsors, or unions.

When are you going to start conducting yourself? – There’s an increasing need for women conductors.

In the last dozen years I have directed chamber orchestras as a leader, and there is very fertile soil waiting for me when I become artistic director of the Camerata Bern in 2018/19. The ideal in conducting is not to tell people what to do. It’s more about coaching and bringing out spontaneity, opening space for each participant to make fresh discoveries instead of feeling weighed down by concrete traditions. Then you get real dialogue, communication, and fun.

Reprinted from the Huffington Post.

Speed-dating a Strad: one week with Milstein's ex

$
0
0
By Nathan Cole: The first time I picked up Nathan Milstein’s violin, three years ago, all I could think about was my shoulder rest. I had been toying for the past few days with the idea of giving it up for good, and suddenly there I was holding Milstein's flawless 1716 Stradivarius in my hands. I imagined his spirit taking solid form and striking me down should I try to attach a piece of plastic to his beloved. Thus distracted, I managed a restless program of Bach and Paganini. Mostly, I was terrified of dropping the ex-Milstein onto Jerry Kohl's plush carpet. But by the time I handed Jerry back his violin, I had learned the following things:
  • I could play in public without a shoulder rest
  • Gut strings actually could sound fantastic
As soon as I got back home, I put the rest on a shelf and ordered a set of Pirastro Passione strings. I also vowed to start using more bow. When I fed the ex-Milstein bow, she sang. But when I tried digging a trench into the string, she'd let out a chortle and shut down until I lightened up. And that wasn't her only quirk. In fact The Milstein (I'll drop the "ex" for the remainder of the story), for that hour at least, played hard to get. My experience with other Strads (including the one I play at work) had taught me that not all of them dazzle “under the ear”: that is, from the player’s perspective. But great instruments, whether old or new, produce a series of overtones that please the listener from a distance. But even with that knowledge, The Milstein puzzled me: the two middle strings had distinct personalities, but neither clamored for attention; the E string had the “wow” factor, to a degree I had never before experienced on any violin; and the G was frankly disappointing at first play! I had the feeling, trying to draw sound out of the low register, that I was rousing a sleeping animal, one that wasn't at all pleased at my intrusion. Piecing together a puzzle I felt as though I'd been handed a fragment of a treasure map, then had it snatched away after an hour. I was tantalized by what the complete picture might reveal. I wanted the rewards that would follow. So I started to research. I was eight years old when Milstein gave his last recital, at the age of eighty-two, so in a parallel life I might have seen him in person. But I knew someone who actually had: my grandfather!  As a flutist in the Philadelphia Orchestra from 1949-1962, he had seen most of the giants of the era. Milstein"Milstein just looked like he was born to it," he told me. There was a caricature of Milstein floating around Philadelphia at the time that depicted him playing while casually observing the viewer: a caged lion who instead sees you as the spectacle. He was gracious enough to sign it for my grandfather in 1953, and he passed it down to me. I had, of course, grown up listening to Milstein, among the other greats, but now I sought out the sound I had just heard under my ear. I attempted to separate the violin from the man. In his recording of Bach’s Chaconne, for example, where was Milstein, and where was The Milstein? Occasionally I would seize on a particular run of notes, usually on the G-string, and say to myself, there it is. That troubled, throaty quality was apparent even through my earbuds. Jerry Kohl is on intimate terms with The Milstein. As its owner and caretaker, he had generously given me my first Milstein experience years before. And now that I was about to perform the Beethoven concerto for the first time, I asked if I might have a whole week with his instrument. Jerry graciously agreed, and the week began. Sunday: getting to know you (again) There was no time to lose: the performance was on Friday, and it was already Sunday! I was set to play a brief string quartet program with my wife Akiko and two other Philharmonic colleagues later that day. Why not use the Haydn and Schubert quartets to get reacquainted? I thought. Seven notes into the Haydn, I missed my first shift, a simple 1-1 from first to third position. So, that’s how it’s going to be this week?Monday: reverse engineering Back in my studio the next day, I sat down to really get to know The Milstein. I fell in love all over again with that golden high register: how it shone, never giving over to that shrill, steely sound that sets a listener's teeth on edge. All I had to do was let the E string do its thing. In other words, a little vibrato and a little bow pressure went a long way! The gut-core Pirastro Passione A and D behaved much as they did on the instrument I'm accustomed to, a Strad on loan from my orchestra. But on The Milstein, they took on more distinct characters rather than filling out a broad "middle range". I was reminded of an Aaron Rosand article I had read, in which he compares the four violin strings to four vocal types: baritone, alto, coloratura, and soprano. Tuesday: the power of perspective The more I played, the more inescapable it became: my baritone had laryngitis! Here was the same Passione G that I'd been playing on for years, but on The Milstein, it sounded under-powered, even muffled. Interesting to be sure, but not of a piece with the rest of the instrument. And just as I’d noticed years ago, with even a bit too much bow pressure, it shut down completely. So at Disney Hall the next day, I asked my colleague Martin Chalifour to give The Milstein a play and a listen in his dressing room. He had spent quite a lot of time with the instrument over the years, and knew its potential. Perhaps all it needed was an adjustment? First I played a few notes, and then I handed the violin over to Martin. As he played, I was astonished by the difference just a few feet made! Of course, any instrument changes once you give it a bit of breathing room, but rarely to that degree. That animal quality in the low register remained, but intensified and seemingly amplified. “Yes, this is how it sounds,” Martin chuckled, turning the violin over and admiring it from all sides. “Do you hear a buzz, or some weird grit in there, like I do?” I asked. “Well, yes, there’s always been some noise in there,” he admitted. “Milstein’s spirit, maybe? I think he’s trying to tell you how to play it!” I’ll take all the help I can get.Wednesday: watching videos Once again in my studio, I turned to YouTube to hear Milstein perform his own cadenza for the Beethoven. A virtuoso-composer in the mold of Paganini, he had written original pieces, as well as cadenzas for most of the major concerti. Once I knew that I'd be playing his violin, I planned on playing his Beethoven cadenza as well. As I listened to his live recordings of the Beethoven cadenza, making notes in my copy all the while, I realized that each performance differed from the published version I had in front of me: sometimes it was simply a different figuration for a chord, but other times, he would add, subtract, or alter several measures! The video accompanying the audio was no video at all, just a still image of Milstein. It resembled, in fact, the signed caricature my grandfather had given me. I could almost see Milstein turn toward me, never interrupting his performance: You didn’t think I would hand you what I actually played, did you?Thursday: making videos Milstein made his Beethoven recordings after performing the piece countless times. But I wanted to use the recording process to help me with my first performance. I decided that making videos would serve me best. There’s something about setting up a shot, turning on the hot lights, plugging in the mic, and hitting “record” that raises the stakes. And I wanted to get Milstein's violin on video playing not only his cadenza for the first movement, but Kreisler’s legendary one for the third movement. A quick note about these garage videos: I use a DPA lapel microphone to capture both playing and speaking. Therefore the mic is only a few inches from my voice or violin. Why not set up the mic further away? Because I'm not in a proper studio! The further away I put the mic, the more I have to turn the levels up, and the more outside sounds creep in to ruin my efforts. Invariably, the gardeners next door pick my best take to fire up the leaf blower. Or the Pasadena police chase down a suspect with their fleet of helicopters! So in the following video, you get the sound of The Milstein roughly as it is "under the ear". For a talk-free performance video like this, I like to add some studio reverb as I find the raw sound rather unappealing for most listeners. But I’ll including a sample of the sound as it went straight into the recorder for those of you who are interested. First the finished video: And 30 seconds of the raw audio: opening of Milstein cadenza (MP4, 135K)Friday afternoon: wardrobe malfunction My Friday schedule was more hectic than I would have liked: first, a Philharmonic matinee; then a lesson; then the dress rehearsal; then showtime. By the time my lesson was over and I fought the Friday afternoon traffic, I was fifteen minutes late for my own dress! I had to rush onstage, considerably agitated, and join the concerto already in progress. So it wasn't the start I had hoped for. But with marvelous support from Maestro Christopher Russell and the Azusa Pacific University orchestra, I settled in. In fact, walking off stage from the dress, I mostly felt relief. If I could handle the dress rehearsal with my fingers still tight from gripping the steering wheel, I could certainly make it through the performance. In fact, I felt that I had comported myself with a great deal of dignity. Then I happened to look down and see a glint of metal. I had played the entire concerto with my zipper wide open. Friday evening: maiden voyage Lounging in my dressing room an hour before the time of trial, I ruefully recalled my own article about the hardest violin concerto openings. I had ranked the Beethoven extremely high on the scale, giving it a 9.0 out of a possible 10.0 in degree of difficulty. Here was my commentary: “A tutti that seems to last forever. An opening arpeggio in octaves. Then an entire page of sixteenth notes, some slurred, some separate, but all designed to make you look like a fool. It’s fun to imagine what outfit springs most readily to mind for each concerto opening. Glazunov might be a beautifully tailored three-piece suit. Bruch would be your favorite broken-in denim jeans. Beethoven is definitely swimwear. You feel like you should be wearing armor, but all you’ve got is your Speedo.” I actually spoke to The Milstein, hoping to reach the man himself. If Martin was to be believed, it was as good a way as any to get through to him. Just get me through those first two bars, I implored. You’ve done it so many times. Just then, Akiko popped her head in. I knew she would be at the concert, but it was still a surprise to see her. She always gives me an extra dose of confidence, and her presence at that moment was a reminder that whether or not I offended Beethoven or Milstein, we’d still look forward to a martini afterward. I wish that I could recall more of the details from my first Beethoven concerto. I do remember offering up thanks to the “other Nathan” after the first two bars, and again after an extended passage in the first movement that had vexed my powers of memorization. And I looked forward to the first-movement cadenza, wondering during the preceding tutti when The Milstein had last gotten to play it in public! Here is audio of the performance: Sound through space I was prepared to hand back The Milstein the very next day, but Jerry surprised me by asking, “Aren’t you playing the Mozart clarinet quintet in Disney Hall on Tuesday? Want to keep it until then?” Why, yes! I had big plans for those next few days. I wanted to play The Milstein in Disney Hall, but even more importantly, I wanted to hear it there. It might have been hard to find a player at short notice who could get the most out of that instrument, except that I’m married to one. So I asked Akiko to take the violin on a test drive in that wonderful space. Ben Ullery, our violist for the Mozart, and Bob DeMaine, our cellist, joined me out in the hall as Akiko put The Milstein through its paces with some of her favorites: Brahms concerto; Bartok 2nd concerto; solo Bach. The four of us had played quartets together quite a bit, and knew each other’s playing well. We'd also been lucky enough to try some amazing instruments in our time. Nonetheless, we marveled at the transformation of The Milstein's sound through space. “That’s its afterburner effect,” quipped Bob as we closed our eyes and enjoyed Akiko's performance. The sound in my ear Throughout my week with The Milstein, I'd felt like Cinderella at the ball, and now the clock was finally about to strike midnight. As long as I held onto that violin, I could call forth its incredible tone. And even after I handed it back, I might be able to retain just enough of its essence that I could recreate its essential elements no matter what violin I was playing. But for how long would the essence remain? How many hours or days would pass before the thread snapped? When I was young, my teachers encouraged me to listen constantly to the great recordings. Daniel Mason, who had studied with Heifetz, recommended his recordings above all. “Do you know why he kept sounding great all those years?” he would ask me with a smile. “He always had the Heifetz sound in his ear!” He was only half in jest. Over the years, I’ve come to appreciate the self-reinforcing nature of sound. What we play, we hear. And what we hear, we are bound to play again. This endless circle can trap players who never experience great sound up close. But for those who seek that sound, and keep their ears open, it's a golden circle. Sound builds on sound, and strength begets strength. A new instrument is therefore a catalyst for change. Suddenly we have a new voice, and almost immediately, new expectations for what we want to hear. As the new voice becomes our voice, our circle gains power until it begins to affect others. Just as an orbiting planet attracts a comet and sends it on a new course, our sound attracts and influences our listeners.Sound through time This is the true power of a violin like The Milstein: it transmits its sound not only through space but through time. More than 70 years ago, Milstein chose a particular 1716 Stradivarius because inside it, he believed he heard his voice. That voice found its way to me, imperfectly, through his recordings. The recordings inspired me to develop my own voice. And for a brief time, with the help of his violin, I was able to complete the circle. Many violinists have compared old violins to fine wines. The analogy's appeal is obvious: both violins and wines will change over time, and great examples can improve with age. Both sound and flavor resist exact description. There's an element of mystery to both that delights and frustrates connoisseurs. But a better comparison for a fine violin is to a vineyard, not a wine. After all, a bottled wine is mostly a finished product. It will change over time, of course, but no human hand is necessary for its transformation. And when it comes time to enjoy it, anyone can open the bottle, pour, and taste. A violin, however, is silent without a violinist. That would be the winemaker, tending carefully to the vineyard, developing the soil, pruning the vines, and finally taking those raw materials and creating something beautiful for others to enjoy. Two different winemakers may make very different wines from the same vineyard. But in Burgundy, for example, the best vineyards are marked "Grand Cru", and for hundreds of years, they have delighted and challenged both winemakers and wine drinkers. Where is the wine? In the vineyard or in the bottle? Postscript: Vertigo There was a somewhat comic postscript to my time with The Milstein. The Strad that I usually play had been in need of some routine maintenance for a while, so in the let-down period after my magical week, I took care of my violin. Mario and Brenda Miralles have taken care of both instruments (and a great many more) for years now, so we had a debriefing session. They had heard the Mozart performance in Disney, and they had questions: Are there any issues you notice? How is the response? How are the strings? I recapped the literal highs and lows: the other-worldly E string, the perplexing G, and the dumbfounding fact that it all balanced out in the hall. “It’s been that way ever since Milstein played it,” said Mario with a smile. "Nobody could ever figure out how to get it to sound like other instruments, under the ear. But it only matters how it sounds to them,” he said, gesturing to an imaginary crowd. I had a brief chuckle, imagining a curmudgeonly Milstein banging on the door of his luthier, demanding yet another adjustment: “It’s this lousy G string again! I’m playing Tzigane tonight! What am I paying you for?” Mario suggested that we get my instrument in the same room as The Milstein, so that we could play around with adjustment. “The Milstein will give us a goal to shoot for.” A few days later, we made it happen. As I held the Milstein once more, it struck me that I was recreating a scene straight out of Hitchcock! In his classic Vertigo, Scotty (James Stewart) is haunted by the memory of a woman he believes he’ll never see again. When he meets Judy, a woman who bears an eerie resemblance to his lost love, he takes her to a department store, secretly hoping to remake her into the other woman. She picks up on his intentions and recoils in horror: Sure enough, my violin pushed back. After a few minutes of playing the instruments against each other, with Mario and Brenda adjusting, I struggled to put my finger on what was missing. With me clutching the Milstein, and Mario holding my violin, he smiled. “You’re never going to turn this into that…” I knew he was right. If any violin could become The Milstein, we'd have no need for The Milstein. Mario continued, “But sitting here, listening to them, I’m saying to myself, ‘they don’t sound all that different’. One has one quality, the other another. But they’re related.” Related to Milstein: not by blood, but by sound? It’s certainly a goal worth shooting for. He and I share a name, after all! As I let go of his violin for good, I wondered when I would get to play the Beethoven again. I decided that when I did, I’d write my own cadenza. I decided that I wouldn’t play exactly what I wrote. If you want to know how to evaluate the sound of any violin you play, take a look at the free guide I just wrote along with my wife Akiko. We're actually starting a podcast, called Stand Partners for Life, and it's all about stories like these! You can pick up the guide by clicking here:The Stand Partners guide to upgrading your violinYou might also like:

'Life without Music Is Unthinkable.' Remembering Leonard Bernstein at 100

$
0
0
By Pauline Lerner: The anniversary of the death of Leonard Bernstein on October 14 in what would have been his 100th year of life has me thinking about what made him great as a musician and a man. I admire him as a teacher, composer, performer, conductor, and a man who used music to bring people together. Bernstein was one of conductor Marin Alsop's mentors. Here she talks about the first time she met him. I must admit that I'm a bit jealous of Marin Alsop because she attended the live performances of Leonard Bernstein's Young People’s Concerts even before she met him personally. I loved watching those programs on TV when I was a kid. Now I have a collection of 10 DVDs from that series, and I watch them over and over. Recently I discovered that more of these videos have been posted on Youtube, and I enthusiastically recommend them to people of all ages. This is teaching at its best. Bernstein said that he loves words in addition to music, and most of his compositions include singing. The best known of these,"West Side Story," appeared first as a play and then as a movie, and the movie is still widely viewed thanks to rentals and downloads. Other compositions with words by Bernstein include Candide and Symphony 3. The play Candide premiered in 1956, but it was flawed in many ways and closed after a brief run. It was revived in 1973 with multiple changes, notably the replacement of the original libretto, and this time, it was a great success. When the Kaddish Symphony was first performed, Bernstein was not happy with the narrative, and the critics bombed it. When he finally, after much effort, convinced Simon Pisar, a remarkable man who was an alumnus of both Auschwitz and Harvard, to rewrite and then recite the narrative, the symphony became a masterpiece. Bernstein was also an outstanding jazz pianist. In this clip, he plays piano and conducts an orchestra simultaneously for a beautiful, lively performance of Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue." I find this performance spellbinding. I just can't walk away from it. I first realized what a great conductor Bernstein was when I attended a concert in which he conducted Elgar's Enigma Variations, a piece that I didn't particularly like. However, when Bernstein conducted it, I loved it. That says a lot about him. I love so many performances that Bernstein conducted that It's very hard to choose one to include here. I decided to focus on his conducting the final movement of Gustav Mahler's Ninth Symphony for several reasons. Bernstein was responsible for a comeback of Mahler's music, which had been neglected for years. I had a long lived antipathy to Mahler's music, derived in part from my experience playing second violin in his Symphony #1 (a dismal part to play) and, more strongly, my perception that Mahler's music was just too big for me to relate to. Once again, Bernstein made me love this music by conducting it and talking about it. The following video clip shows him conducting and explaining the very end of Mahler's Ninth. That was quite a journey -- walking with a tortured man to his death. I would be scared to take that walk by myself, but Bernstein helps me by showing me the surrender and peace at the end of life. Bernstein conducted with his whole body and his whole being. To watch him conduct is to see the music embodied. He becomes the music he conducts. It takes a special talent to laugh and make others laugh about one's personal, artistic predicament. Bernstein once had a real predicament when he conducted a piano concerto in which the pianist was the notoriously eccentric Glenn Gould. Bernstein and Gould had completely incompatible views on how the concerto should be played, and Bernstein deferred to Gould in the performance. Bernstein preceded the performance with a disclaimer in which he spoke about his need to "submit to a soloist's totally new and incompatible concept. " This speech became controversial although both Bernstein and Gould always said that they accepted it. Prof. PDQ Bach, aka Peter Schickele, referred to it when he presented his Concerto for Piano vs Orchestra. Bernstein was a political activist through his music and in other ways. After President Kennedy was assassinated, he said, “This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely, more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.” He was active in his support of many causes, including freedom from dictatorship in Chile, the Black Panthers, civil rights under the leadership of Dr. Martin Luther King (he marched in Alabama), opposition to the War in Vietnam, support for Spanish Civil War refugees, and more. Leonard Bernstein revealed himself and his thoughts on music vividly in his writing. Here are some quotes from him that I particularly like.
"Music, because of its specific and far-reaching metaphorical powers, can name the unnamable and communicate the unknowable." "Stillness is our most intense mode of action. It is in our moments of deep quiet that is born every idea, emotion, and drive which we eventually honor with the name of action. Our most emotionally active life is lived in our dreams, and our cells renew themselves most industriously in sleep. We reach highest in meditation, and farthest in prayer. In stillness every human being is great; he is free from the experience of hostility; he is a poet, and most like an angel." "To be a success as a Broadway composer, you must be Jewish or gay. I'm both." "Life without music is unthinkable. Music without life is academic. That is why my contact with music is a total embrace."
I'll end as I began, with a clip of Marin Alsop talking about her mentor, Bernstein. She speaks of his greatness as a musician and a human being.

For the Record, Op. 36: Nuné Melik; Terry Riley/Tracy Silverman; Chloe Hanslip

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: Welcome to "For the Record," Violinist.com's weekly roundup of new releases of recordings by violinists, violists, cellists and other classical musicians. We hope it helps you keep track of your favorite artists, as well as find some new ones to add to your listening!Hidden Treasure: Classical Armenian Music for Violin and PianoNuné Melik, violin Michel-Alexandre Broekaert, piano
Since 2010, Canada-based violinist Nuné Melik has been on a mission to uncover the music of her Armenian and Georgian heritage, and this album is "a celebration of the survival spirit and creativity of the Armenian people," she said. Among the composers represented are the well-known Aram Khachaturian (1903-1978), as well as lesser-known composers such as Komitas Vardapet (1869-1935); and Arno Babadjanian (1921-1983). Melik's Hidden Treasures Project goes beyond this one recording; her research has taken her to Armenia three times over the last seven years and between her commissions and discoveries she has brought forth more than one hundred pieces of music from the Caucasus. Melik and Broekaert have presented these pieces at Carnegie Hall in New York, as well as little village churches in Canada; and in lectures - from Wayne State University in Detroit to the Russian-Armenian University in Erevan. Over the next few months Melik and Broakaert will take this music on tour across North America. Melik plays on a 1750 Carlo Ferdinando Landolfi violin on loan from the Canada Council Musical Instrument Bank. BELOW: Introducing "Hidden Treasures":
Beethoven: Violin Sonatas Vol.1Chloë Hanslip, violinDanny Driver, piano
Violinist Chloë Hanslip joins pianist Danny Driver for the first release in a three-volume, complete Beethoven Violin Sonata cycle. Hanslip plays on a 1737 Guarneri del Gesu. BELOW: "Rondo: Allegro molto" from Beethoven's Violin Sonata No. 3 in E-Flat Major, Op. 12.
Terry Riley: The Palmian Chord Ryddle & At the Royal MajesticTracy Silverman, Electric Violin Todd Wilson, Organ Nashville Symphony Orchestra; Giancarlo Guerrero conducting
Terry Riley is the pioneering composer who launched the Minimalist movement with his landmark 1964 composition "In C." Commissioned by the Nashville Symphony, The Palmian Chord Ryddle is a kind of musical autobiography in which electric violinist Tracy Silverman’s "one-man string quartet" sets the pace for sparse but radiant orchestration. "The Palmian Chord Ryddle leaped into my consciousness as a very spontaneous work," Riley said, "full of the things in music that I find colorful, dynamic, beautiful, challenging, humorous, loving, friendly, joyous, stark, and universally minded." The work is an outgrowth of Riley’s longstanding collaborative partnership with Nashville-based Silverman. BELOW: Terry Riley and Tracy Silverman working together on the project in 2014.
If you have a new recording you would like us to consider for inclusion in our Thursday "For the Record" feature, please e-mail Editor Laurie Niles. Be sure to include the name of your album, a link to it and a short description of what it includes.You might also like:

V.com weekend vote: Does the need for perfection keep you from performing?

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: Let's face it, getting on stage can be rather difficult, in any of the performing arts. In particular, violinists and other classical musicians seem immersed in a culture of unobtainable perfection. For many musicians, striving for that perfection can cause us to avoid performing.
stage fright
I really enjoyed Michael Kennedy's blog this week, its message being something like "get over yourself and just play for people"! The more practice you get performing, the better you will perform, and the better you'll feel about performing. Nevertheless, we all want to perform well, and all those hours of practice can turn us into highly self-critical creatures. It's hard to turn off that "perfectionist" voice from the practice room in order to give what we have and enjoy performing. Are you nagged by feeling that you are never ready, that your playing or your piece always needs improving? Does this cause you to avoid performing? Or do you simply get on stage and have fun, do your best? Please vote and then tell us your thoughts about this issue and how best to handle performing vs. perfection. You might also like:

Twinkle: A Different Set of Variations

$
0
0
By Drew Lecher: A most famous melody…I will sometimes play its opening notes in order to lighten the mood of a lesson. Of course, I play it badly with my bow going in every direction — except the correct one:) When teaching the simpler pieces of the repertoire, whether for a young student or adult, it is very important to introduce more advanced skills. This should be done in a slow and progressive pattern throughout the student’s study. With this short example, it is my wish that you gain a little bit of insight on how to do so. We all use open strings, like "pedal tones," to assistant training our focus and accuracy of intonation and tonal quality. This is to be a lifelong method — refining our skills on a daily, hourly, even minute by minute basis. Combining basic skills of excellent intonation, we additionally learn the necessity and gain the skills to vary the balance and posture of our left arm, hand and fingers — technique required per a given passage. It is my wish that you find this of benefit — enjoy! God bless, Drew Original melody is the French folksong, c.1774: "Ah vous dirai-je, Maman" French lyrics:
Ah! vous dirai-je, Maman, Ce qui cause mon tourment. Papa veut que je raisonne, Comme une grande personne. Moi, je dis que les bonbons Valent mieux que la raison.
English translation:
Ah! I shall tell you, mommy, what causes my torment. Papa wants me to reason like an adult. I say that candy Is better than reason.
Perhaps we could substitute chocolate for "candy" :)

The Week in Reviews, Op. 206: Arabella Steinbacher; David Kim; Leila Josefowicz

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: In an effort to promote the coverage of live violin performance, Violinist.com each week presents links to reviews of notable concerts and recitals around the world.Arabella Steinbacher performed the Berg with the Chicago Symphony Orcehstra.
  • Chicago Tribune: "Some soloists stress the music’s angular modernity, but Thursday’s soloist, the probing and sensitively musical German violinist Arabella Steinbacher, treated it as an affirmation of the Mahler tradition of which it is a final flowering."
Arabella Steinbacher
Arabella Steinbacher. Photo by Sammy Hart.
David Kim performed Bach's Violin Concerto No. 2 with the Philadelphia Orchestra.
  • The Philadelphia Inquirer: "The Bach concerto more than justified itself. The cut-down orchestra played as light as air, while concertmaster David Kim, the concerto’s soloist, made expressive points with a slender tone and minimum vibrato."
Leila Josefowicz performed works by Zimmermann, Adams, Sibelius and Prokofiev in recital with pianist John Novacek.
  • Washington Post: "I have admired this artist for decades, and still view her as the model musical citizen, doing her part to help the art form evolve and remain relevant. I hope, though, that she takes care of herself and tries to remain connected to simple beauty."
William Preucil performed the Vivaldi with the Cleveland Orchestra.
  • The Plain Dealer: "The slow movement was a special treat. Preucil held the chamber-sized orchestra, including principal keyboardist Joela Jones at the harpsichord, to a tantalizing whisper and unfurled above it a honeyed melody punctuated by sleek trills."
Harry Bennetts performed the Tchaikovsky with the Canberra Symphony Orchestra.
  • The Canberra Times: "Bennetts' heartfelt and technically fantastic performance was met not only with a standing ovation at the end of the work, but with spontaneous applause and an ovation between the first and second movements."
Isabelle van Keulen performed the Mendelssohn with the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra.
  • New Zealand Herald: "Isabelle van Keulen was a forceful soloist in Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto, too much so perhaps when the cadenza came along."
Andrés Cárdenes performed works by Prokofiev and Schumann with the Atlanta Chamber Players.
  • Arts ATL: ..."it is (the) lyrical, vocal quality (of Prokofiev's "Five Melodies") that predominates throughout, and Cárdenes played to that dynamic with a lovely, liquid tone that focused on its attractive detail and intimate musical qualities, with Pridgen’s piano supporting that well."
Please support music in your community by attending a concert or recital whenever you can!

TwoSet Violin – Hilarious with a Cause

$
0
0
By Jacqueline Vanasse: Finding Brett and Eddy from TwoSet Violin in the city of Taipei was a little bit like an episode in one of their zany videos: part earnest persistence, part catastrophe, and in the end, pretty hilarious. They were in Taipei to give a concert as part of their 2017 World Tour, and we were meeting at a coffee shop for an interview. Of course, there were two coffee shops with the same name in the same neighborhood, and I went to the wrong one. I ran 30 minutes in the famously hot and humid Taiwanese weather, barely knowing where I was going and if I was ever going to make it. But I kept running, thinking: "I need to try, I need to try, I can’t give up before even trying..." I finally made it. Somehow this prelude ended up setting the tone for the whole interview. Brett Yang and Eddy Chen founded TwoSet Violin in 2014. Since then, the two Australian musicians use technology and social media "to make classical music relevant to the modern generation through fun, humor and simplicity." They are hilarious indeed, but it is their cause that really touches me. TwoSet is about believing in the music within us and giving it a shot. It’s about challenging preconceptions and breaking them down.
Brett Yang and Eddy Chen of Twoset Violin
Twoset Violin: Eddy Chen and Brett Yang.
Brett and Eddy began to play violin for the same reason as thousands of other violinists did: because their moms told them to. Playing violin, they said, was part of the "Asian combo," which also includes playing piano. But it was the social aspect of music that really got them going. At age 13, they joined a youth orchestra, which allowed them to meet other good young musicians - including each other. Playing violin was no longer a lonesome activity, it was a shared interest. Their love for practice grew with time. "Practice is that little constant thing in your life. It is the best way to just forget about everything," Eddy said. "Let’s say your boyfriend or girlfriend dumps you. Go practice and it will make a lot of things better." "If life sucks, go practice," Brett added. The TwoSet adventure began when the video Gangnam Style came out and went viral. Brett and Eddy decided that they too could make YouTube videos. They first looked at what other violinist YouTubers were doing; naturally, they came across covers. "Why did we start? Curiosity. But we soon discovered that covers were not just about playing violin," Brett said. "While we were confident about the playing part, we did not know much about video editing, filming and recording. We are self-taught." "It is funny how it is always easy to look at something from the outside and think someone has it easy," Eddy added. They eventually moved from making covers to making funny videos. "That came unannounced, we just tried it and it worked," Eddy said. "In everyday life we like to mess around. Those jokes were a lifestyle..." "...because our life is a joke," Brett interrupted. "Yes our life is a joke," Eddy continued. "All the videos that we've made are drawn from real-life experiences. At the university, when the rehearsals were getting boring, we would play these games with each other." Brett and Eddy do not deny that at times they were concerned by their reputation and stopped because they were afraid that they would fail. "The hardest part for us was to actually have the guts to put our videos online back then four years ago," Eddy said. "Our biggest fear was about our reputation." "Now we have fallen so many times that we have enough experience to know that there is nothing to lose," Brett said. "If the video fails, it fails. We move on, that’s it." "But if we don’t make that video, we will never know if it would have gone viral," Eddy said. "That is for sure: If you do not even try, that is a fail," Brett said. "If you give it a shot and you fail, you kind of succeed by learning what works and what doesn’t work." Millions of views and thousands of "likes" later, TwoSet has found itself a mission. Of course classical music has always been a well-respected art form, but it can sometimes give a severe and unwelcoming impression. Brett and Eddy love classical music and play it seriously, without taking themselves seriously. "TwoSet’s videos speak of what we feel about ourselves in classical music," Brett said. "Making the videos also made us realize that we want to make classical music more relatable, or accessible really, not just for people learning an instrument but for everyone." "There are people out there who are ready to love classical music, and we have to actively find them," Brett said. "It is the way classical music has been presented so far that makes it so austere. We were lucky that we learned the instrument for 20 years; if we were not musicians, it would be very hard to get into." "Everyone has the potential to like it, but sometimes musicians alienate and scare potential listeners with our pride," Eddy said. "There is a communication gap between people and classical music," Brett said. "Back when classical music was new, it was not 'classical'; it was just music. "Today our (classical music audience) is very small, but there are many great musicians," Brett said. "There are so many great soloists these days, it is insane," Eddy said, "So there is so much potential to reach out to more people," Brett continued. Speaking of reaching out, this year TwoSet has brought the videos to a higher level and is traveling the world with a live show. For Brett and Eddy, the idea behind this world tour is to express and share their love for classical music in their own way. They want to show how much fun one can have with classical music. They want to show the world that it is possible to play seriously but at the same time mess around. They want to give people the ‘permission’ to also have fun. "With our live shows, we are able to be ourselves and enjoy music," Brett said. "We want to control our own creativity. Granted, the standards for classical music are there for a good reason: people want the best art, and that is a standard we should uphold. At the same time, sometimes we see people breaking down and freaking out because of those standards." "Those standards can be so scary," Brett said. "It is sad to think of all that lost potential and love for music. We feel we are losing audiences; we are losing people who used to love music." For Brett and Eddy, classical music does not have to be presented with a superior and judging attitude. They reject the idea that for someone to understand and appreciate classical music they need to be educated first. "You can teach or give somebody advice, but unless that person is open to learning they will just think you are a moron," Eddy said. "Just like if your mom gives you advice, you are not necessarily going to listen – even though you know what your mom is saying is right." "We think the first step is not to educate but to create curiosity and a connection, inviting people first as friends," Eddy said. "Once they have this good emotion, this good feeling, this good connection, then they will want to learn more about it naturally. That is when all the education comes in." Brett and Eddy believe the future of classical music is all about social connections, and they are using Internet to create intimacy and authenticity with their audience. "We got into music because of the youth orchestra; it is a connection, a human connection," Eddy said. "Everyone likes to feel connected. A big part of what we do is to show the more human side of music. TwoSet is almost not about us, but about community. TwoSet is about a community that we have only touched upon, stumbled upon." You might also like:

A teacher's perspective: Ask questions to promote self-sufficiency in students

$
0
0
By Mihai Tetel: After trying various approaches during my 36 years of teaching, I am increasingly convinced that a productive lesson needs to include many of questions that I would ask the student, with the aim of making the student more focused, alert, and aware of causes, effects, and solutions. I ask a broad range of questions in any given lesson, from the most general to the most detailed. At the onset I usually ask the student what he/she has prepared, so I know how to pace myself accordingly for the hour-long lesson. Some students bring a great deal of repertoire and technical work to a lesson, and some bring just one item. Knowing that at the beginning of the lesson helps me allocate appropriate chunks of time for each item.
questions
If the student plans to start the lesson with a scale I will ask, "What are you going to focus on while you play the scale?" and hope for an answer that includes specifics such as tone production, smooth bow and string changes, left-hand organization, correct shifting, etc. After the scale is played, I would ask, "Is there anything in the scale you just played that you feel needs improvement?" The student might say, "I did not like my sound," after which I would ask, "Did you feel your sound was perhaps forced at times, or that it did not have a core, or consistency throughout all registers?" I try and guide the student through some detailed detective work, so when the scale is played again there is a heightened sense of awareness and focus. If the sound was the issue, then we would work on bow speed, arm weight, and bow location (sounding point). If the sound improves, I ask the student to tell me why exactly the sound got better. I want the student to become aware when he/she does something well, and to also know the reason(s) when something does not sound good. The student is more likely to duplicate good results obtained in the lesson when they practice alone later on if he/she has a clear understanding of what causes a problem and what the solution is. If the student might not have been happy with his/her shifting in the scale, I would ask, "What specifically was not good about your shifting? Did the left hand travel too fast during the shifts? Did you have too much pressure on the left hand while you shifted?" I would then have the student try shifting slower and lighter, so he/she can hear and feel the difference. If the student was not happy with the legato playing aspect in the scale, I would ask about string crossing preparation and/or bow changes. Where those prepared in advance, or did they happen abruptly? Were they done with the fingers or the entire arm? I would then have the student play the scale again and try all possible ways of crossing from one string to another (whole arm, or with the wrist, or only with the fingers). When the student tries various ways of crossing strings it usually becomes clear right away which option produces the best results. If the student brings a Popper etude to the lesson I first ask, "Why do you think Popper wrote this etude? What lesson(s) is he trying to teach us through this particular etude, or what skills can be developed by working on this etude?" Let’s suppose the student brought Etude No.1 by Popper to the lesson. I would first ask, "What bow stroke makes sense to use in this etude, and how do we get it? Is it with a firm right arm, or loose wrist and fingers? Clearly off the string or more of a light brush stroke?" I would then have the student try to find through experimentation the most appropriate bow stroke for this particular etude. If the student is not getting a good sound I would likely ask about bow placement: is the student playing too close to the bridge, or too much on the fingerboard? Is the student playing too far from the frog to have a good control of the off-the-string bow stroke? This kind of pointed questions help guide the student towards solutions, and puts the onus on the student for finding answers through trial and error under my guidance. When the student is about to play a repertoire item such us a movement from a concerto, I would first ask, "What did you focus on when you worked on this concerto?" or "What steps or stages did you go through when you practiced this concerto?" These kinds of questions will usually produce answers that are quite specific, such as, "I first worked on intonation, slowly, then on my shifts, then on the kind of sounds and colors I want to have throughout this work, and then on musical architecture and character, etc." The aim is once again to make the student more focused and productive in practice sessions, with a clear idea of what issues are to be addressed and how. Knowing that I will ask questions week after week makes the student much more aware of what he/she is doing in the practice room. Aside from their playing, I ask students about performances they heard, or recordings they listened to. If they liked a particular interpretation, why did they like it? Was it because it was full of character? And what made the performance so effective? In what ways did the performer make the performance appealing, convincing? How did the performer create a good, projecting tone? Was the performance strict in terms of tempo, or imaginative in regard to the use of rubato? By asking this kind of questions I find that the students develop an ability for critical listening when they attend a concert, and are able to absorb details that they can later experiment with in their practice sessions. I find that this type of approach stimulates the minds of students to a higher degree than a more traditional approach where the teacher simply gives advice on various issues without placing much responsibility on the student for problem-solving. You might also like:

LA Phil Names New CEO: Simon Woods

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: On Thursday Los Angeles Philharmonic announced the appointment of Simon Woods as its new Chief Executive Director, effective Jan. 22, 2018. Woods, who has served as President and CEO of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra since May 2011, succeeds Deborah Borda, who departed the LA Phil in March to become CEO of the New York Philharmonic last fall. Borda had led the organization for 17 years, with major accomplishments including the completion of Disney Hall and the appointment of Gustavo Dudamel as Music and Artistic Director.
Simon Woods
Simon Woods. Photo by Brandon Patoc.
"It is the very greatest honor to have been chosen for this position," Woods said. "The Los Angeles Philharmonic demonstrates persuasively and passionately in every aspect of its work what a contemporary and forward-looking orchestra can be in one of the world's great global cities. The chance to work closely with Gustavo Dudamel, the remarkable musicians, a great board, and the tremendously creative staff team is a completely inspiring prospect. I join the LA Phil with the greatest humility and admiration, and look forward to helping to lead it through the Centennial and into its next century." Gail Samuel, Acting President and CEO of the LA Phil since March, will resume her position as Executive Director for the Association upon Simon Woods' formal arrival in January 2018. "Simon comes to the Los Angeles Philharmonic with an impeccable reputation in the orchestral world," said LA Phil Board Chair Jay Rasulo. "He has a proven record of innovative and collaborative leadership, a deep knowledge of and commitment to music, and a passion for music education and social action. He has been instrumental in establishing the Seattle Symphony as a dynamic, forward-looking and community-focused organization, re-positioning the orchestra as one with artistic, financial and reputational success." "Simon has a wonderful reputation, a great knowledge of music, a passion for music education, and understands the intricacies of an organization as complex and unique as the LA Phil," Dudamel said. "I am very much looking forward to working with him as we head into our second century," Before his work in Seattle, Woods was Chief Executive of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra (RSNO); President and CEO of the New Jersey Symphony Orchestra; and Vice President of Artistic Planning and Operations at The Philadelphia Orchestra. From the late 1980s to the late 1990s he worked as a record producer with EMI Classics in London. Born in London, Woods earned a degree in Music from Cambridge University, and a post-graduate diploma in conducting from the Guildhall School of Music and Drama. He is a board member of Cultural Access Washington and the Seattle Metropolitan Chamber of Commerce. He was a board member of the League of American Orchestras and Chair of the Group 1 Orchestra CEO group from 2015 to 2017. He is a long-standing contributor to the League's professional development programs, including being a core faculty member for Essentials of Orchestra Management in 2016 and 2017. You might also like:

The Amit Peled Peabody Cello Gang - Closing the Circle

$
0
0
By Amit Peled: As a student, I was fortunate enough to experience the magic of performing music on stage with my great mentors Bernard Greenhouse, Boris Pergamenschikow, and Laurence Lesser, as well as see how each of them balanced their performing and teaching careers. The difference between listening to them explain how to create a phrase and actually forming that phrase with them on stage was huge and significant. Performing with my teachers was a vastly more effective lesson than a one-on-one in a studio, teaching me “on-the-spot” artistic decision-making, amending each performance to fit the energy of the hall. Ever since those transformative and magical moments, I knew that I would become a teacher and pass on the tradition of sharing music with my own students on stage. As Janos Starker once said, “I personally can't perform without teaching and I can't teach without performing.” For me, there wasn’t much of a gap between being a student and becoming a teacher. I was hired as a professor at the Peabody Institute at Johns Hopkins University at 28, one of the youngest professors employed at a major conservatory, and some of my students were older than me. I created the Peabody Cello Gang because I want my students to not only excel technically, but to become successful career performers who understand how to emotionally prepare for a performance and experience the feedback of an audience. The Gang is composed of students from my studio, ranging in age from undergraduate freshmen to second year Master’s students, who come together frequently to perform works written or arranged for cello ensemble. I also bring the Cello Gang on tour with me around the country, performing as soloist in standard cello concerti with the Gang as orchestral accompaniment, as well as cello choir repertoire and more. Classical Voice North Carolina described a recent Cello Gang tour performance as “collaborative playing at its absolute best.” By performing with the Cello Gang, my students can feel when I get nervous and see how I deal with concert life in real time, feeling the spontaneity I infuse into every performance. I also assign each student on stage talking points, improving their audience communication, and have them assist in masterclasses to hone their own teaching skills. When my students joined me in the recording studio for The Amit Peled Peabody Cello Gang on CTM Classics, I wanted them to feel the excitement, rigor, and unpleasant aspects of the recording studio, followed by the immense pride and collegiality when you get the desired result (and a drink!). All of these skills build upon the strictness and knowledge learned in the classroom, leading to more meaningful and faster improvement. I am also excited to be able to create new works for cello ensemble, most recently a collaboration with Tom Zebovitz on a world premiere arrangement of Schubert’s Arpeggione Sonata in A Minor, D. 821, which is featured on the album. I’ve always thought the piece would sound amazing for four cellos, so I asked Zebovitz for help. On the top of my future project wish list is to arrange and record all six Bach Cello Suites with the Cello Gang -- I dream of these masterpieces in a cello quartet set-up, emphasizing Bach’s unique polyphonic approach. This approach to pedagogy has created a marvelously close-knit and circular community of musicians. I teach them in-studio, accompany them on stage, and then oversee them teach -- the whole package! Throughout my performing career, I’ve rarely seen the public react more enthusiastically than they do towards the Cello Gang, thanks to their enthusiasm and talent, as well as the wide variety of their backgrounds and ethnicities. Laurence Lesser is now teaching a former student of mine and was very proud to hear her performances on The Amit Peled Peabody Cello Gang album. He has “cello grandchildren!” Purchase The Amit Peled Peabody Cello Gang album on Amazon

V.com weekend vote: What is your longest stretch of practicing every day in row?

$
0
0
By Laurie Niles: Recently Hilary Hahn drew some attention for taking a vow to practice every day for 100 days - and documenting that on Instagram.
Hilary Hahn practicing
Though some thought this was no big deal for a pro violinist, I found it both commendable and inspirational. Sure, people talk about practicing, but how many truly "walk the walk" and show that level of devotion? By documenting it day-by-day, she also provided an example of what devotion looks like: it's not easy and it's not glamorous. On some days she's dressed up and exuberant, on others she is rather tired, or has to work around a bandaid on a sore finger. She also shows us that practicing for her is a lot like practicing for the rest of us: slow practice and fast practice; tedious technical work; repetition; open strings; no vibrato, yes vibrato; passage-by-passage detail work. On many days she has very fixed goals; but occasionally there is that day when it's "no pressure, no goals," just playing, or even just listening to a previous performance. Basically, it's steady work and commitment. Have you ever succeeded in practicing daily for a fixed amount of days? What is your longest stretch of daily practice? Please share your answer (choosing the longest stretch you practiced) and then also tell us about it in the comments. How many days did you go? What were the biggest challenges? Did it help your playing? Was it part of a challenge? You might also like:
Viewing all 3157 articles
Browse latest View live