"I didn't know I could improvise." One of my flute students said this today as she walked into her lesson. Yesterday was Woodwind Day at KU, and we were lucky enough to have Project Trio as our guest artists. Peter, Eric, and Greg gave an amazing, interactive class on the importance of rhythmic stability, improvisation, and how the two work together to create music. The day also included reading sessions and performances for each of the different instruments, a class on woodwind doubling, a session on practice techniques by oboist Nobuo Kitigawa, vendors, and a faculty recital. The day culminated with a performance by Project Trio in KU's Ursa Minor Cafe. It was really wonderful throughout. The kids all had a lot of fun (proof in the trendy, but necessary, video below). The most successful part for me was the joy in learning that I saw just oozing from the students. Whether trying to subdivide a metronome pulse, improvising in front of a group for the first time in their lives, or sounding out a melody, they were all thrilled to be simply... learning. They let themselves go, they allowed themselves to make mistakes, and they experimented with music. Project Trio does a remarkable job of pulling groups of students together and creating an ambiance that is conducive to both finding a comfort zone and then pushing past it; I definitely aspire to the same success in my teaching. We have a great bunch of music students here at KU; it's just a matter of finding the entry point that works for each student.
Side-note: During the well-attended evening concert (KU's President even came), I couldn't help but marvel over the the day. Although they were 3 years older, I was slightly-better-than-peripheral friends with Greg, Eric, and Peter back in college, and it makes me smile to think about how we've all evolved into functional adults. A short video produced by Kutztown University about the Case Ensemble's recent performance It was a really nice night. Prior to learning the music, I actually had my doubts about contemporary music written for sax, flute, and piano. I just wasn't sure the instrumental grouping would make for a successful concert experience. But, it all ended up being remarkably enjoyable... It was interesting to explore new soundscapes and timbres, and atonal or otherwise, all of the music told individually engaging stories. Also pleasing was how well the CASE Ensemble worked together, both in rehearsals and when performing; I felt like I got to know my KU colleagues much better musically and personally. If we're lucky enough to have more music written for our funky little group, I'd be thrilled.
"You know... I always thought I had the aptitude to be a musician, but I just didn't want to lose the magic."
I squinted my eyes half-shut, tried to ignore the instant headache, and quickly shook my head. "Then you don't have the aptitude." He looked taken aback, and the conversation ended. Perhaps I was a little harsh on him. I understand what he meant to convey, and I realize he had only good intentions. Unfortunately, he had slammed a hammer against one of my soapbox nerves, and there was really no way to backpedal. His aptitude: He probably had naturally fast fingers. Perhaps he had an admirable ear and could easily sound pieces out on the piano or guitar. Undoubtedly, he loved music. He felt that, if his life had traveled along a different path, he could have been a musician. And all of those things are important to feel, no matter where you lie on the musician-spectrum; whether you're a professional earning your living from music or an amateur going to concerts in your spare time, feeling intrinsic love and admiration is what makes music continue to live and breathe in our 21st-century world. So, I'm not simply launching a snarky attack on anyone who isn't a musician (or, for that matter, an artist). It's just that term: magic. Harry Potter aside, magic doesn't even exist; we all know that. What children interpret as 'magic' is really slight of hand or other trickery. Music is most definitely not magic. It's work. It's dedication. It's persistance and thoughtfulness and diligence. It's anything but magic. So, to say you "had the aptitude, but didn't want to lose the magic" means that you don't have the aptitude at all. Part of the aptitude of being a musician is the ability to problem solve, to delve deeper and figure out how to portray to a listener your understanding and love for a piece of music. Of course, this doesn't only apply to music; really, to fully appreciate any field requires total immersion. What we do with our lives depends on where we want to assign attention; music seems to be what speaks to me, but our world needs all types. So, yes -- absolutely, when you start to really explore music -- when you comprehend the inner workings of a piece of music, when you push over the top of a climactic phrase, when you discover how important a single note always is... perhaps then music migrates to a different spot in the brain. It's not simple joy anymore; it's joy compounded with knowledge. It's math and science grabbing the hands of art and literature, infinitely spiraling in the most graceful of all DNA dances. And that? Well, it's absolute ecstasy, and certainly much better than magic. In last week's New Yorker, there is an article on sound exploration ("Music to Your Ears" by Adam Gopnik, January 28, 2013) that I really enjoyed. You can read the beginnings of it here, but then you have to subscribe to the site or buy the magazine to read the rest. WNYC's Soundcheck has a nice summary of the article that includes some extra sound samples. Gopnik's piece starts out by examining the possibility of 3D recordings and the science of how our brain interprets sound. But then, the article delves much further into the realm of determining what makes us, as humans, understand some sounds as music, and beyond that, what makes music meaningful. Gopnik also broaches the subject of music through generations, how music has evolved, and where our culture might ultimately drive music as a pass-time and art. The best past though, is that Gopnik avoids the tendency of pretention that so often traps classical music-lovers. He remains open-minded throughout, whether discussing Bach, Ella Fitzgerald, Choueiri's BACCH (Band-Assembled Crosstalk Cancellation Hierarchy), or Taylor Swift. (Edgar Choueiri is the rocket scientist that dominates a large part of the scientific part of the article.) Because of Gopnik's ability to remain level-headed, the article won't inspire any impatient rolls of the eyes or discouraged shrugs. While certainly much of the article is quotable, here are a few of the passages that made me grin and nod. On our ever-present iPods and earbuds: Music represented for me not the endless, shifting weather-cover of sound... a cloud in every sense, a perpetual availability of emotion to suit a mood and moment. Music meant difficulty--and, when the difficulty was overcome, the possibility of life, too. It was something to master. On how our brains interpret music: There seem to be two "systems" in the brain that respond to music. One is "veridical," and responds to the pleasant sounds of the songs we already know. The other is "sequential": it anticipates the next note or harmonic move in an unfamiliar phrase of music and is stimulated when the music follows the logic of the notes or surprises us in some way that isn't merely arbitrary. We recall the meaning of single harmonies from the melodic sentences they conclude. We "learn" music as we learn language, and, with both, our mind disguises from us the complexity of our brain's calculations. The poignant C-major seventh saves your life when your emotions are already pitched somewhere around a hard-edged, unresolved G7. And, on whether a computer can imitate musicality: The two expressive dimensions whose force in music Levitin had measured and made mechanical were defections from precision. Vibrato is a way of not quite landing directly on the note; rubato is not quite keeping perfectly to the beat. Expressiveness is error. ... Ella singing Gershwin matters because Ella knows when to make the words warble, and Ellis Larkins knows when to make the keyboard sigh. The art is the perfected imperfection. I like that Gopnik merges the scientific with the artistic. As someone who enjoys both the measurable and unexplainable, I found it comforting and inspiring to read the research of someone who searched to understand both aspects of an artform. With that spare half-hour before bedtime, I definitely recommend the article. And maybe afterward, listen to your favorite piece of music while staring at the ceiling and dozing off. When I say I commute an hour and 20 minutes each way (and that's without traffic), I'm often met with disbelief and perhaps a little bit of disdain. People usually ask why I don't simply move closer to Kutztown.
Certainly, I could. I've thought about it a lot, and during the times that I'm stuck on I-76 after a long day (and I know I'm going to have to circle my neighborhood for parking once I finally get back to Center City), the benefits of not having to commute from Philadelphia on a daily basis make moving tempting, to say the least. But ultimately, I love this city. For some, locale isn't that important. But, I know I need to be based in a place that feels like home, and Philadelphia does that for me. I have family and friends here, and I simply love coming back home to my little trinity on a walk-only street just south of Rittenhouse. Each time I walk up to the front door, I smile. For me, that welcome-home feeling is important. For me, Philadelphia is worth the commute. Also very important are the musical connections I have here. The freelancing I do is, by and large, Philadelphia-based. Being in Philadelphia allows me to further with my performance career. I think that it's good my students see I'm also an actively performing musician. No matter where I'm living/performing/teaching, the activities I take part in reflect back to KU. The department needs all types in order to create a well-rounded learning environment. Some people need to live in town, for sure, but then it's also important to have faculty with slightly different lifestyles. Each professor will be able to offer students a unique perspective, and that's an essential part of a balanced arts education. And as far as the time I spend in my car? Sometimes I just enjoy the silence and the time to decompress. On the days I need a distraction, I have plenty of options. I have bluetooth, so I can safely talk to friends and family. Or... I catch up on the news via NPR. I listen to music. I have a collection of podcasts I enjoy. I listen to audio lectures on subjects that I would otherwise not have time to explore. I have language CDs. Who knows? Maybe the things I learn in the car will create new opportunities or spark ideas for projects. At the very least, it's not wasted time. Here's to taking part in the race without being a rat. This semester marks my sixth go-round with MUS-010/Intro to Music.
From the beginning, I've felt that the class is intrinsically difficult to teach. I dislike that it turns into a run of the mill survey lecture course after we finish learning about the elements of music. Each semester I tweak the format a bit, but I have yet to land on something that I feel is entirely successful. So, this semester I'm going to try a Teaching Artist approach, as much as possible. I know that I can't teach college students the same way I teach 3rd/4th graders, but I also can't help but think that if elementary school kids can understand and love the evolution of the symphony, certainly young adults can get there too. To that end, I'm asking that everyone buy recorders and music paper so we can compose regularly. (75 college students in one room playing the recorder; what could go wrong?) The idea will be to avoid the passivity of the lecture hall while promoting the discovery of music through in-class projects and playing (in both senses of the word). We'll still do out-of-class assignments from the textbook, but I'm hoping to stay away from lecturing directly from the book. Any monkey can do that, and I'd like to think I'm capable of offering something more. Through experimentation with the music we're studying each class, I hope to pique an interest and comprehension that the traditional powerpoint presentation simply can't broach. With any luck, the class will turn into an adventure. Perhaps this goes without saying, but I think it's important to give my students my best. Of course this applies to sharing what I know about the flute and music, but for me, it also means promoting a healthy and active life. About a year and a half ago, I started taking any interested students out for a run early on Tuesday mornings. While we miss a week here and there because of weather or schedule conflicts, we generally leave at 6 or 6:30 and run for about 3 miles. I know that 3 miles a week isn't going to change anyone's life, but the idea is that an added awareness of physical wellbeing will infiltrate daily life. And, I really enjoy getting to know my students apart from the lesson atmosphere. I try not to muddy the teacher/student relationship too much, but barring inappropriateness, I think it's actually good for my students to know me as a whole person, not just as their flute teacher. Of course, it's also good for me to know my students more completely. I enjoy the talks we have while running, and I hope they feel the same way. So, here we go... The semester starts tomorrow, so this Tuesday morning, we'll meet in the parking lot behind the music building at 6:30AM. I'm looking forward to it. The following is the email I sent when I first initiated the runs in the fall of 2011. Dear Music Majors and Faculty: A lot of new projects are underway, one of which is the upcoming Weill Recital Hall performance with the Case Ensemble. The Case Ensemble includes Kutztown University colleagues Dr. Jeremy Justeson, Dr. Maria Asteriadou, and Dr. Dan Immel. On Saturday, February 9 at 8PM in Carnegie Hall's Weill Recital Hall, we're performing new works by Craig Biondi, Alphonse Izzo, and Aleksander Sternfeld-Dunn. If you can't get to that, we're doing a preview recital in Kutztown University's Georgian Room on Thursday, February 7 at 7:30. For more information, go to Carnegie Hall's website, or check out the FB invite.
In addition to my job at KU, I'm also a Teaching Artist for the Philadelphia Orchestra's School Partnership Program. This job was actually one of the reasons I moved to Philadelphia four+ years ago, and I'm really happy I'm able to continue the work.
I have two partner schools: Cooper's Poynt Elementary in Camden and The Jackson School in South Philadelphia. Each week, I teach the 3rd and 4th graders at both schools; the philosophy of the program is "Engagement before Information," and to that end, we discover all about music together. We use recorders, step bells, percussion equipment, voices, visual art, and movement as tools to explore symphonic themes and forms, and to simply understand music in a more complete way. This year we've been concentrating on Beethoven in order to prepare for the Philadelphia Orchestra "Beethoven Lives Upstairs" educational concert in March. By the end of the year, each class will have written a piece of music that includes parts for recorder orchestra, percussion, and flute (me). This past week, the students at the schools had the opportunity to meet Astral Artists in an intimate workshop. Then, next week they'll all travel to the Girard Academic Music Program to hear the same Astral Artists in a more formal concert. I loved watching the students' faces light up as they heard Für Elise performed live for the first time (we had studied it in class two weeks prior). Below are a couple of snippets from the final gathering at Cooper's Poynt. |
|