Oh For Fun!

Happy New Year!

A few years ago, on a New Years Eve concert, we did a whole show of Viennese waltzes.  Waltzes have a fairly complicated system of repeats and Da Capos, and it is pretty easy to get lost if you're not on your toes.  At the end of this particular concert, after we played the final chords, we were supposed to shout "Happy New Year" in unison. (I know, so cheesy.)  Something went HORRIBLY wrong in the final number though.  The brass took a repeat that the strings did not take, and we ended up more or less crashing to a halt instead of properly ending the show.  I mean, we played three big loud chord-like crashes, but everyone was in the wrong place and freaking out.  It was without QUESTION the single most disastrous moment I've been a part of as a professional.  We ended the entire concert in a stunned silence. I've always wanted to go back in time and be the one person in the entire orchestra who remembers to gleefully scream "Happy New Year!" after such a disaster.  Now, at work, whenever something is going very very very badly, Janz and I wish each other a Happy New Year.  The phrase "Happy New Year" has become synonymous with "this is a stupid plan and it's not going to work."

Because I'm Worth It!

I took this week off of work unpaid.  I have some practicey type stuff going on this week, and I just needed some time to chill out and not go to work.  I've never done this before; taken time off so that I can just do my own thing.  I'm going to be pretty broke in January as a result of this indulgence, but let me tell you, I am LOVING life this week.  Merry Christmas to me!

Coach

Over the years I have had the opportunity to coach a lot of teen-aged chamber music groups.  I enjoy teaching chamber music because the whole performance is reliant on the ability of the group to work as a team.  I don't think I am a very good technical teacher, but I do think I'm pretty good at fostering camaraderie between a group of kids. 

As a rule, I like coaching chamber music, but every once in awhile you get a group that is just trouble.  Maybe one of the kids isn't as good as the others, maybe they are playing a piece that's way too hard, or maybe one of the kids is just a bad seed.  These groups can be excruciating, and watching the performance can be terrifying.  It is never fun to sit and listen, praying to baby Jesus that the group can just make it through the piece without stopping. (They always make it.)

One of the funny things about teenagers (particularly girls) is that you never know what to expect in terms of their reaction to the performance.  My all time favorite reaction came a few years ago.  I was coaching a group that was playing a piece that was WAY to hard for them, they had major trouble getting along, and they had a pretty toxic member.  It was the perfect storm of unpleasant.  The concert was......well, it was successful in that they didn't have to stop, but they really didn't do any of the things we had worked so hard on, and it was a pretty rocky ride. 

I went backstage fully expecting tears, and finger pointing, and surliness all around.  The first member of the group I encountered was the fifteen-year-old second violinist.  Her face was flush with emotion and drama, and I instinctively reached out to console her, about to offer my very best "Hey, nobody's perf" speeches.   She looked up at me, eyes flashing and cheeks burning, and breathlessly said, "That.  Was so.  Awesome." 

Heh.  Yes, it was.

Is This Going To Be a 90?

Sometimes I take a step back and realize how ridiculously coddled I am as an orchestra musician.  We are a highly unionized group, and everything that happens at work is specifically dictated and governed by a CBA. 

Today there was a big hubbub. 

We recently got a new rehearsal clock.  For those not in the know, the clock is quite possibly the most important piece of equipment on the stage for the average symphony.  We do not play one second over the scheduled rehearsal time, often ending rehearsals in mid-phrase. The clock also dictates precisely when we take our break.  Today was the debut of our new, digital rehearsal clock, and it was an unmitigated disaster. 

We couldn't read the clock because the numbers were too dim! 

Honestly, how can we be expected to perform under these horrific conditions?  Are we animals, or something?

Heh.

Osmosis

I have been in a pretty good mood lately and I am happily filling my days with crocheting, blogging (of the hockey variety), and cooking.  What I have not been doing is practicing.  Oddly, in spite of this long stretch of non-practicing, I feel like I am playing better than I have in a long time.  This has created a weird psychological situation.  I am currently convinced (CONVINCED) that by not practicing I am getting better at the viola.   

This new technique for improvement fits very well into my leisurely lifestyle and I plan on implementing it in many areas of my life.  In the next few months I intend to lose weight without dieting, fall in love without dating, and increase my site stats without blogging.  I'll let you know how it goes. 

I'm pretty sure it's going to work. 

Rough Day at the Office

Today, I was supposed to play an outdoor concert downtown over the lunch hour.  It's really windy today in Buffalo, and when I arrived at the gig, everyone was in a tizzy because the music stands were blowing over.  So, because of excessive wind, the concert was canceled and my workday (which was scheduled to last all of 55 minutes) was over at 11:45am. 

My life is very, very difficult.  I mean, I had to get up at 9:30 AM to get to that concert.  Plus, I had to find a clean white top and two matching black socks.  Couldn't someone have called me before I drove an entire mile to the concert?  That seems like the least management could have done.  Someone really screwed the pooch on this one.  I couldn't even get back to sleep when I got back home at noon.

I'm calling my union rep.

:D

Fearless

Almost three years ago, on the night our beloved friend Scott died so suddenly, I had an amazing dream.  I didn't find out about his death until morning, so that night I went to sleep unaware of the unfolding tragedy.

In the dream, I was playing the viola in a beautiful, empty concert hall.  Playing was effortless and hugely enjoyable.  One part of the dream I remember vividly is making a huge shift and then laughing out loud as I totally nailed the high note.  Unlike any real life experience playing the viola, in my dream, playing was just pure joy.  It was fun, and exciting, and easy as pie.  I have never had another dream like this, before or since, and I've always kind of thought of it as a little gift from Scott.  As crazy as it sounds, I believe he was trying to teach me something on his way out of my earthly life.  When I think about this now, when I really stop to consider that dream, I can remember it, and I can stop the constant churning in my mind.

I learned a lot from Scott, both in his life and in his death. 

I miss him so much.

Any Given Sunday

I've noticed an interesting phenomena in my orchestra on the weekends when we play the same show on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon.  Our Saturday night concerts are usually very exciting, but along with the drama comes an increased chance of technical sloppiness.  Our Sunday afternoon concerts tend to be a little bit more subdued, but a lot tighter technically.

My theory is this:  We get all jazzed up on Saturday night.  There is usually a larger audience, and it's the first performance of music we have been working on all week long.   Then we play the concert and afterwards we go out drinking.  While drinking, we often discuss the concert we just played in great detail.  (This need to rehash our musical experience is often very annoying to non-musicians, and I imagine it's a major downside to hanging out with orchestra members.)  The next morning we wake up late because we were out the night before, we putter around the apartment, eat some food, look at the internet, and head off to the Sunday matinee.  On Sunday, we are not exactly hung over, but we are kind of sleepy with that Sunday afternoon feeling.  We play the Sunday concert with perhaps a little less zip, but with a lot more accuracy.  We are getting the job done on Sunday.

Obviously, in an ideal world all of our concerts would have the emotional urgency of Saturday, with the technical focus of Sunday.  Sadly, this is not an ideal world.  Personally, I prefer the drama of Saturday night, but it never ceases to amaze me how a tricky passage that got the better of me on Saturday when I was all cued up, becomes a total breeze on Sunday when I am ho-humming my way through the concert.

This might be a little too revealing, as I believe our orchestra's official position is "we are full tilt all the time in an effort to bring you the most riveting concert EVER", but I think the truth is much more interesting.

Part One: The Obsession with Chris Drury Leads to Thoughts on Music

*I'm super sorry guys, but you are going to have to listen to me drone on about Buffalo, hockey, and sports as it relates to music for a little while longer.

Yesterday, while scouring the internet for my favorite Chris Drury photo, I stumbled upon this very interesting, very long Sports Illustrated article.  I now know pretty much everything about Chris Drury.  Here is a short summary of what I've learned:
1. He has been a champion literally his whole life.
2. He's incredibly intense (hot) about his work ethic (meh).
3. He manages to be totally committed to his sport while simultaneously maintaining a zen-like understanding of the unimportance of hockey and sports stardom. (The article suggests that this characteristic is the key to Chris Drury- incidentally, it is also the key to my heart.)
4. The article doesn't come directly out and say it, but based on his above mentioned work ethic, and his apparent lack of humor about lolly-gagging and frivolity, I can now assume that Mr. Drury would find my four day long Eating-Microwave-Popcorn-While-Watching-Arrested-Development-And-
Crocheting-A-Thon decidedly unattractive, which is fine because he is....
5. ....married with two kids.

Here is the part of the article that really caught my attention:

The seconds are dwindling: 8.9 seconds ... 8.6.... When Drury sees Briere jabbing at the puck behind the net, he glides, almost lackadaisically, across the Pittsburgh crease: 8.5 ... 8.4 ... 8.3.... Briere knows without seeing that Drury will be there. "He's always in the right spot," he says. "It's amazing. You can always count on Chris when the game's on the line." Drury, meanwhile, is barely thinking: no hope, no fear, no worry about whether he'll score or not.

"In some ways it's already been decided," Drury says. "Mentally and physically, if you're prepared and you make your move, you make what you think is a good shot. If it doesn't go in, it wasn't meant to be. There's not much sense in fearing that."

I believe my biggest musical issue is that I play with a lot of fear.  I'm scared that I'm not good enough, I'm scared that my hard work won't pay off, I'm scared that I will sound like everybody else, I'm scared that I'll sound like the messy spaz that I am.  I don't think I am at all unusual in this, in fact, I believe I might be a little ahead of the curve because I can acknowledge this fear and write about it openly on the internet.      

I am fascinated and inspired by people, like Drury, who somehow intuitively understand that there is nothing to fear.  It's an amazing paradox.  In risking failure, he actually risks nothing, and he has incredible success.  I have been stuck time and time again in this trap: as I work harder, the burden of failure increases in my mind.  The harder I work, the greater my investment, the bigger the failure looms.   For Chris Drury, it seems that the harder he works, the lighter the emotional load becomes.  The greater his investment, the less he fears failure.  Which begs the question, what is Chris Drury really invested in?  Winning?  Championships?  Reading the article, Drury seems to be pursuing a goal outside of the actual game.  He is driven to work hard and his goal is just that: to do the very best that he can every minute of every day.  The fact that doing his very best has made him a smoking hot sports star seems almost beside the point for Chris Drury.         

Every once in awhile I tap into a little glimmer of musical peace, and these are the times when I have the most memorable and successful performances.   I can honestly say that my biggest dream in life is to play and live without fear, and yet, I can't seem to find a way to actually pursue this dream.  In working hard, I always end up pursuing some other dream, a less important dream- a job, a guy, musical approval.  I don't think that fearlessness is something you can pursue.  Fearlessness is something that only exists in the moment.  It can't be pursued because it doesn't exist in the future, it only exists right this very second, and this second, and this second, and this second, and this second.......

I would be curious to hang out with Chris Drury today, the day after the season ended, to observe disappointment in such a seemingly steady person.  I hope he is able to relax and enjoy his family.  I hope that along with his awe inspiring commitment to playing hockey, he can also hang out and have fun.  If not, Mr. Drury, you are welcome to come over to my apartment.  Relaxing and having fun are activities at which I naturally excel.  I'll toss some popcorn in the microwave, and we can sit together on the couch, listening to music and crocheting our fears away.

We're So Awesome

Courtney and I have a routine to ease ourselves through auditions.  We go to the audition, we get knocked out in the first round, and then we have some version of the following conversation:

Kate: I didn’t advance
Courtney:  What?!  That’s insane.  How did you play?
Kate:  Well, I thought it was pretty good.  I suppose my Haffner could have been a bit less spazzy, but other than that, I thought did well.
Courtney:  Did you play pretty?
Kate:  Hell yeah I did.
Courtney:  They just couldn’t handle your rocking viola soul.
Kate:  Yeah.  I probably wasn’t tidy enough.
Courtney:  They are clearly looking for some sort of robot.
Kate:  I am so not a robot.
Courtney:  No.  You are too awesome for them.   You play with balls…I mean ovaries.
Kate:  I did play with some serious ovaries. 
Courtney:  They are going to hire some sort of robot, probably a child robot.
Kate:  They are looking for a three-year-old robot.
Courtney:  You are a wise viola sage.  You are too good for them.
Kate:  Thanks. 
Courtney:  What did they ask for in the first round?
Kate:  It was totally strange.  The list was really long, and they asked for the third page of Mendelssohn Scherzo.
Courtney:  That’s so lame.
Kate:  I know.  Totally lame.
Courtney:  You are so lucky you didn’t win that job.    
Kate:  Seriously!  I don’t even want to move to *insert name of red state city* anyway.   
Courtney:  Good Lord, who would?  You’re too awesome!
Kate:  Thanks, Courtney.  You’re awesome too!
Courtney:  Hell yeah I am!
Kate:  We’re so awesome!
Courtney:  …Dave thinks it’s really weird how we tell each other how awesome we are after losing auditions.
Kate:  Oh, Dave.  How else are we going to know that we’re awesome?!
Courtney:  I know!