Tag Archive for 'rehearsals'

Bragging Rights

Published on April 11, 2009 in Orchestral Playing, Performances, classical music, columbus symphony orchestra and conductors. 0 Comments Tags: debussy, harnoncourt, jennifer parker harley, musical interpretation, performance practices, rehearsals, tempos, woodwind player, woodwind section.

A few days ago I was thinking of writing a post on how difficult it is for a good orchestra to maintain its “chops” when performing “real” music only 8-10 weeks in a season. But I would have been wrong.

Tonight’s concert of Frank, Debussy and Ravel was a stunning performance. Last night was good, but tonight was 15% better.

Much of tonight’s success is due to Maestro Fischer’s vivid reading of the scores and his excellent preparation of the orchestra during rehearsals. Also, there was some “je ne sais quois”, perhaps a bit more trust of us, or of himself.

Whatever the reason, a great performance boils down to excellent players tuning themselves to the highest standards; to laser focus, to subtle cooperation and an almost clairvoyant sense of timing. None of this was lost on Maestro Fischer, who let us breathe together and taper note endings, sensing that our ability in those areas did not require over-control on his part.

I like Thierry Fischer’s tempos. As a woodwind player, he knows we (woodwind and brass players) only have so much breath. His airy tempos were a bit more organic tonight, flexing here and there to allow just a touch of whimsy.

Yet his overall interpretation stuck to the score with adamant focus. Fischer’s style follows the radical tradition of Nikolaus Harnoncourt, who re-invented classical musical interpretation by harking back to historical performance practices based on extensive research. (When I first heard Harnoncourt’s Beethoven 9 symphonies, it was like hearing them for the first time; the fresh vigor of the music had been restored from the creaky, wheezy, over-interpreted traditions of the 60-70’s.)

On a side note, it was a pleasure to have the woodwind section “whole” again after so many months of lacking several key players. Notably, Jennifer Parker-Harley was back in town this week to play second flute. It was good to have the team together to play again, even if only for one program.

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Jahja Ling and Ax promise depth

Published on March 19, 2009 in Orchestral Playing, columbus symphony orchestra, conductors and live music. 1 Comment Tags: brahms, cleveland orchestra, concerts, dvorak, emmanuel ax, jahja ling, melodies, orchestras, rehearsals.

Our rehearsals with Jahja Ling this week have been very satisfying. He brings with him a wealth of experience from working with one of the world’s great orchestras, the Cleveland Orchestra.

Under Ling’s steady wings, we should be able to fly as a stable flock while piloting Dvorak 8th in G Major and Brahms 2nd Piano Concert in Bb.

Ling has an uncanny system for creating a natural interpretation of the music: He takes the piece apart and shows us how it fits together and why. With the details in place, the music begins to breathe and flow and our awareness as performers is highly tuned.

I don’t mean the larger abstract shape of the music as much as the mechanics, the nuts and bolts of the score, critical transitional or pivotal points to keep the music flowing such as balance between sections to let inner melodies shine, rhythmic patterns which reach across the orchestra’s sections and need to be consistent, and melodic shapes which affect all sections at different times.

Emanuel Ax is his usual self: incredibly accomplished and genuinely modest, also famous for not wanting to over-rehearse! He likes to keep the freedom in the performance. Of course, with him at the keyboard, live is usually better than any rehearsal. (He has also donated his fees back to the orchestra to support us)

Concerts Friday and Saturday, March 20 and 21st at 8PM in the Ohio Theater. Click HERE for tickets.

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CSO is a Great Orchestra

Published on January 17, 2009 in Behind the Scenes, Columbus Cultural Politics, Musician's Life and columbus symphony orchestra. 5 Comments Tags: acoustics, columbus, columbus symphony, cso, david lockington, guest conductor, holst, junichi hirokami, music director, musicians, Ohio Theater, orchestral sound, rehearsal, rehearsals.

It’s hard to believe how good the CSO sounds, considering the beating we’ve taken the past year.

Tonight we had our first concert back in the Ohio Theater since last May, and we sounded incredible.

Last week we played Holst’s The Planets in Vets Memorial Auditorium, a cavernous hall with no stage shell, and we sounded darn good there.

During rehearsals at Vets, without the audience, we could hear just enough acoustical feedback from the hall to taper releases of chords together, something we have not been able to do, or had the acoustical security to accomplish to such high degree, in the Ohio Theater.

I was impressed how the orchestra brought together details of performance after so many months apart. With a near full capacity audience during the concert in Vets, the acoustics were drier, and a bit more difficult to hear across the stage, especially with no shell. But many of the rehearsal details stuck.

Tonight’s concert went even better, despite Ohio Theater’s overly booming stage acoustics. (think of trying to whisper an intimate poem to a lover in a crowded subway station)

The Ohio Theater stage is a literal “box”, since the proscenium of the historical 1920s movie theater is much too narrow to allow complex orchestral sounds to blossom from the stage to the audience. This causes two problems. First, the musicians must constantly filter the roar of all the excess sound on stage in order to play with depth and beauty, rather than “shouting” to be heard over each other. Secondly, since much of the sound remains on stage, bouncing around, the audience receives only a reduced portion of the music making from the stage.

But the orchestra sounded as good in the Ohio Theater as it has in years, even better!

At first I thought is was our guest conductor, David Lockington, who holds his own with a crisp ear and heartfelt, intuitive phrasing. But the reason we sounded good was due to more than Mr. Lockington’s care.

It wasn’t until after the concert that I realized the inspiration behind the orchestra’s crisp and unified style.

After only two years of conducting us as Music Director, our beloved Junichi Hirokami has left his mark. The Columbus Symphony is several notches better than before his appointment as our musical leader.

We now play with more stable internal rhythm, better blending of colors and with more intimate phrasing because of Junich Hirokami’s influence.

Junichi Hirokami may not have spoken English very well. He may not have met the ego and image demands of the city’s elite. He may not have satisfied the masochistic tendencies of some musicians who feel that orchestra musicians need a tyrant to whip them into playing their best.

Junichi’s strategy was different from the start. He invited us, in a fun, lighthearted way, to believe in ourselves, to trust our musical instincts and our natural desire to improve, to play better and to enjoy what we do, no matter what political poison seeps into the well water.

Just think of where we could have gone if he had been invited to continue here! (If only all parties had been able to overcome the petty desire for revenge over unfortunate words, events which now appear tragically selfish compared to the music we could have made!)

The great paradox of making music is that it is, on the one hand, a critically difficult task, yet one which requires an optimistic and eager spirt in order to be accomplished to the highest level.

Not to worry, the musicians will carry forward the torch of high quality music making. Hopefully we won’t quickly forget the inspiration behind our step up in quality as an orchestra.

Tonight, the musicians of the Columbus Symphony showed that we have chosen to move to the next level of orchestral quality.

We don’t need anyone to understand what we do and what it’s worth, because we know as much, and much more.

And it shows.

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Clarinet Pushups

Published on January 12, 2009 in Mastery, Practicing and Technique. 2 Comments Tags: Clarinet, concerts, diane ackerman, hand position, mouthpiece, natural poise, practice session, rehearsals.

I have discovered that issues with the right hand position holding up the clarinet can deteriorate over time, causing serious problems if not corrected.

Such a problem occurred with me. When I reached out to turn a page with my right hand, I always felt a shocking pain shoot up through my forearm. I just ignored the symptom, which usually flared up during professional rehearsals and concerts, when I had little time to reflect on the cause.

Now that I am practicing more at home, I had to face the problem. I played around with it over several sessions. (I’ve noticed I use that phrase a lot, “played around with”. It reminds me of Diane Ackerman’s wonderful book, “Deep Play”, a lush and poetic exploration of the subject from a Darwinian point of view. Ultimately, play is how we best learn.)

It wasn’t until I was out for a walk one day that I noticed now my right hand never let go of the clarinet. I had tension continuously in that forearm. The epiphany was more physical than spiritual, but I suddenly felt my hand’s natural openness, each finger’s distance from the others, inhabiting its own muscular “space”.

It brought new meaning to my habitual suggestion to students to shake out their hands to find their natural poise. I’ve also told them their hands should feel like they are holding a large sponge ball. Now my hand felt joyously like it was holding a large ball, not quite basket ball size, but just big enough to call each digit out from the center of my hand into a poised fan shape.

I carried this openness into my next practice session, and found that my thumb collapsed from this ideal position under the weight of the clarinet.

I “played around” with that habitual issue, exaggerating the “openness” of my hand way beyond the position required by the keys. The muscles of my forearm were not weak at all, just lazy.

So I invented a little exercise, clarinet pushups, to remind my hand of its inherent openness. For those who wish to try this exercise, here it is.

While standing, hold the clarinet way out in front of your body, so your arms are extended. Level the instrument so the mouthpiece is slightly below the plane where your mouth is. Without bringing it to your lips, push up and toward your mouth with your thumb to bring the instrument up to your playing position, while keeping your arms extended. Repeat this “pushup” a dozen times or so.

Do not forget to mind your general stance, meaning your overall tension and balance. It’s useless to isolate the thumb while torturing other muscles. You should feel a little burn in the front of your right shoulder. The weight of the clarinet is not the sole responsibility of your thumb, or your shoulder, but is, with good “use”, transfered to your back where the real strength lies.

Don’t worry that your fingers and hand extend beyond the keys while doing this. Focus on the space between the fingers during this exercise, not the position of the hand.

Now, with your arms extended and open, as if you are about to give someone a hug, use your thumb and arms, in that order, to bring the instrument to your mouth to play. Never lose awareness of both hand’s openness.

Play a C scale two octaves, not worrying if you over shoot a few keys. Again, the point is to contract that open fan shape as little as possible.

If you, like many woodwind players, have suffered from discomfort in your right hand from holding the instrument, this exercise will help you become aware of, and perhaps resolve, those issues.

My right hand hand facility has improved, and I rarely have shocks up my arms when turning pages.

Happy Tooting!

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Before the Music Begins

Published on May 3, 2008 in Behind the Scenes, Clarinet and Personal. 0 Comments Tags: civilization, Clarinet, conductor, embouchure, fifth symphony, great music, human capabilities, ligature, mouthpiece, rehearsals, robert marcellus, tchaikovsky.

(The following story was submitted to the Columbus Dispatch for their First Person column. I hope it will be printed in the next week or two. It is a heavily revised, more accessible version of my previous post, “Why I am a musician“, with several new paragraphs.)

The powerful symphony we are about to play, and my ability to play it, seem to come from somewhere beyond human capabilities. Yet it highlights my humanity and my frailty, my nobility and my baseness. It reaches across ages and shows me how history and art have formed me and the civilization I live in.

Who wouldn’t want to be inside Einstein’s head, or Picasso’s or Martin Luther King’s as they thought and felt their great deeds? My life’s commitment is to get into composer’s heads and recreate their great music for others.

The first note we play is a commitment to our colleagues, the audience and the music. Egos may clash off stage, but conflict disappears as the conductor raises his baton and we come together to go beyond ourselves.

But a lot happens behind the scenes before the concert.

My clarinet’s reed is the heart of the instrument’s tone; it must be perfect if I am to perform with utmost skill. I carve a tiny piece of wood off the base of the reed. Almost nothing. I put the reed back on the mouthpiece and fasten it with the ligature. I form an embouchure and play the scale I repeat hundreds of times a day to check reeds. The raspiness has gone from the reed’s vibrations. Now it has a bell-like ring through the instrument. Ahh!

After two hours of working on reeds, I am tired. Add several hours of rehearsals today and that’s a full day. But I haven’t finished. I still need to review sections of tonight’s music. I need to be sure the reed will resonate in the low register for the famous opening clarinet passage of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony. The clarinet’s dark, brooding low notes are perfect for the mournful melody.

Why do I do this? I smile as I ask myself. “Because I love it” might be one answer. But that’s not quite it. It’s more like an itch that needs to be scratched. Since age 12, after hearing a recording of the instrument (Robert Marcellus), I had the “ring” of the clarinet’s tone in my head, an ideal to strive for.

As a child I always enjoyed science, especially botany, chemistry and physics. I also enjoyed music, perhaps because it seemed a bit like science to me. I began studying piano at age 6. During one of my first piano lessons my teacher had me face away from the piano and listen as she played various chords. I was to identify their happy and sad qualities. It fascinated me that a few musical notes could render such varied emotions.

Upon returning to the US after growing up abroad as a Foreign Service Diplomat’s kid, I was treated like an alien by other children my age. When I was introduced to clarinet in the 6th grade, I latched on to it as something secure and knowable. Over the years clarinet became my identity. While other adolescents grappled with the meaning of life, I strove to climb the mountain before me: mastering the clarinet. I competed in and won many competitions to hone my skills. My parents never had to push me to practice. However, I often took criticism hard, as it exposed my fervent desire to be the best.

10,000 hours of practice is the only way to master an instrument. Like an athlete wishing to win the Olympics, I constantly strive for machine-like perfection with an all-too-human body and life. Beyond practicing clarinet, I have worked a great deal behind the scenes to make it seem “effortless” on stage. I exercise regularly and I have studied various techniques for focus and poise.

Of course, playing the instrument alone is still only part of this process. I am a clarinetist because I love classical music. I’ll never forget playing Brahms’ fourth Symphony for the first time, age 17, at the Interlochen Summer Music Camp, an intensive “boot camp” for aspiring young artists. Brahms’ gypsy spirit shone through the almost tortured discipline of his North German Protestant upbringing. I related to the conflict of those emotions; freedom emerging from limitation. That sense of balance in conflict, and other such ideas learned from music, have fed my attitudes in life.

Being able to communicate music directly to an audience is my dream come true. A live performance reflects a unique snapshot in time and, like sports, happens in real time. And just as the excitement of a supportive crowd can urge a team to victory, an audience affects a performer with its attention and enjoyment. The smiles of listeners inspire me to fresh new depths of expression and heights of emotion.

Many in the audience probably think they know how this piece will sound. They have undoubtedly heard it in recordings. But tonight they will enjoy a fresh, new journey through this rich music, as performed by me and my fellow musicians. Maestro Hirokami brings down his baton and I am fortunate to be able to recreate the sad beginning of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth symphony. The end is never clearly known, and tonight I somehow sense that the ending of this symphony will be more optimistic than usual.

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The Way It Shouldn’t Be

Published on March 14, 2007 in Behind the Scenes and The Music. 6 Comments Tags: audiences, conductor, conductors, interpretation, music directors, Performances, pops, rehearsals, rhythm, tempos.

We played a family oriented program this afternoon. It involved a quick rehearsal followed by an hour long pops concert. The conductor for this event is a long standing regular with us. He has established himself as our main pops conductor, with good reason. His amiable, energetic and lighthearted demeanor appeals to our pops audiences.

To give you perspective, our pops concerts usually feature a big name artist who plays with the orchestra on the second half. The first half features just the orchestra. Most of the audience comes to hear the big name act, not necessarily the orchestra. So, despite our being “featured” on the first half, most of the audience is patiently waiting for the big act. This conductor bridges that gap well. He has high energy and is comfortable chatting and joking with them between pieces.

He also has talent as a musician. He knows good phrasing, good sound and pitch when he hears it. He corrects valid problems during rehearsals. But he has a disconcerting tension in his body when he conducts. There’s an urgency about him, despite his affable exterior. His face is often contorted and impatient during performances, and his arms move in tight, insistent motions. All this contributes to a tense orchestra. Our demeanor reflects his.

The most frustrating expression of this tension and urgency are his tempos. He tends to take them too fast. Even after setting a tempo, he seems to want to “keep us on our toes” by constantly pushing the tempo forward. It’s as if it’s never fast enough. So we never settle into a rhythm, a beat. As a player, I feel like I’m being dragged on a short leash through a beautiful park, missing all the glorious scenery I am paid to notice and recreate. Perhaps he sees it as a way to keep the audience from being bored, but is that doing justice to the music or the audience?

Many musicians in my orchestra are as frustrated as I am. We don’t presume to know the best tempo for any piece. There are many valid possibilities for tempos for any particular music. That’s not the issue here. It’s whether the music is playable, and also about allowing a tempo to settle.

So, preparing for this short family concert we rehearsed a well known piece. It was very familiar, in fact. Which means we’ve also played it under some top notch conductors over the years. We know what the tempos should be. After we rehearsed is for a half hour or so, with tempos the upper edge of speed, he implored us to perform the music well despite such little rehearsal. (remember we know this music)

Then, during the concert, he pushed the tempos even more. When I tried to stabilize one accelerando to keep it sensible, he just ignored me and pushed ahead to an unplayable speed. It’s a shame he doesn’t have enough respect for us to give us the benefit of the doubt. He always says how much he loves us, but I don’t feel respect from the podium under him. I give my best, and he pushes it more.

I don’t know any conductor who would ignore the collective experience of 55 well trained, very experienced musicians. Does he remember that we have notes to play while he’s zipping away up there? Even if we get the notes at those tempos, they sound frantic with tension. I am happy to give my best, but when it’s never fast enough, I tend to give up and ignore him. I don’t think he would want that. The fact is, many big orchestras ignore their conductors to survive. The Columbus Symphony is unusual in that we really give our best and try to follow any conductor who leads us.

But we do so at a risk. The players are the ones blamed if the musical product is lacking, rarely the conductor. Who will be our advocate in this case if not we? No one. Again, I don’t question this person’s ability or validity as a musician. As I’ve said, he bridges a difficult gap with out pops audiences. But he insists on pushing us to play tempos beyond either tradition or reason. That affects our musical product.

Making music shouldn’t be a tug of war. A conductor can give urgency to a tempo without ignoring the musicians and without looking frantic. A balance of responsibility between conductor and musicians is crucial. It’s a group effort. Each knows what they’re doing. True, each may prefer differing tempos for good reasons. The musicians want playable tempos so the music sounds clear, the conductor wants to create excitement. The two meet in the middle. That’s the way music is made.

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…but I’m with the conductor!

Published on December 5, 2006 in Behind the Scenes, Mastery and Off the Record. 3 Comments Tags: brass and woodwinds, brass sections, concertmaster, conductor, conductors, first violins, french horns, hierarchy, oboe, Performances, rehearsals, section leaders, string section, string sections.

So what?! It doesn’t matter a pile of feathers if it’s not together. Many musicians, good ones, don’t understand this basic fact of life in an orchestra. You have to factor in delay time for acoustics and human response time. So staying with the conductor is not the blanket solution. But it’s not rocket science, either.

There’s a clear hierarchy of leadership in the orchestra. The concertmaster leads not only the first violins, but also has some leadership of the other string sections. Within each string section, its principal is leader. So, 1st and 2end violins, violas, cellos, basses, have their own leaders. The same applies to every other section. In the woodwinds, the oboe is usually the leader of the whole section, while each section leader is responsible for that section. The brass are similar, with the trumpet leading all the other leaders of the various brass sections. The French Horns tend to be their own section, influencing both the brass and woodwinds.

So how do all those leaders stay together? Well, the conductor leads the way, giving the musical gestures and tempo and style indications. Then each section leader must interpret to make sense of it for their sections. The section leaders moderate and codify the conductor’s lead. For example, if the conductor’s tempo is simply too fast or erratic for a section, the leader may take the sensible path and lead a steadier, more playable tempo. The other sections will follow suit.

Within each small section, the players must follow both the conductor and their section leader. In other words, they get information from both and make sense of it within their group. It’s easier in the woodwinds, where there are only a few players in each section. The second oboe will always defer to the first oboe, no matter what the conductor does. And when the flute and oboe play together, since they are both leaders, they will work out their own hierarchy of leadership.

The leaders have to develop courage and tenacity to lead their sections in times of crisis. Occasionally a conductor will get lost or befuddled, and the section leaders have to become conductors, literally swaying in time to show where the beat it.

All this processing takes some time, so there’s an inevitable delay from the time a beat is given by the conductor and the resulting music follows in the orchestra. As a kid seeing a live orchestra or the first time, I thought it was rude and lazy of the orchestra to play so far behind the conductor’s beat. Now I know why. In order to get 80-100 people in lock step doing a subtle ballet of ever changing music, it takes time.

Like a huge, delicate machine, the orchestra undulates in subtle response to the various leads within it. Like a flock of birds or a swarm of insects, the group will stay together no matter what. At least it should, if the professional hierarchy is intact. But that’s another post.

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