Wouldn't that be cool?
Monday, February 21, 2011
Idea
You know how when you wear earphones, you can hear the sound coming from your iPod or cell phone or whatever, but others around you can't hear it? Well, I wish there were some sort of device you could wear around your mouth and speak into, so that only you and your correspondent could hear your voice. You'd never have to worry about bothering others or being overheard when talking on the phone in public.
Something I've Realized
How do you know if you should pursue a career in music?
a) you love it
b) you're really good at it
c) it's the easiest option for you
d) all of the above
I don't think any of these are the right answers, not even d, believe it or not. The right answer is,
e) you can't live without it.
To successfully make a living in music (or another profession where the odds are greatly against you, and the process is terrifying unpredictable), I think you have to realize that, you'd rather face constant failure in music than constant success in anything else. You have to be willing to take rejection, because chances are, you will be rejected...over and over and over again. Even the best of the best get rejected...what does that say about the rest of us? But, you have to love what you do so much that you can still find immense, irreplaceable joy, not just in playing music, but in trying again and again and again, even while you're constantly facing disappointment. Would you rather take audition after audition, rejected every time and not knowing why, and having to make the same recordings over and over, learn the same notes again and again, lock yourself in a jail cell of a practice room day after day to perfect five minutes of music? Or would you rather sail happily through life in another field...top of your class, getting prestigious internships, star athlete?
I told all this to my friend, while I was thinking aloud, and he said, "So...how is this supposed to make us feel better about rejection?"
Well, it's not. It's just something to be aware of.
I told all this to my friend, while I was thinking aloud, and he said, "So...how is this supposed to make us feel better about rejection?"
Well, it's not. It's just something to be aware of.
You've got to love what you're doing more than you love yourself--at least for now. I think that's the bottom line.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Dickens and Tennyson
In accordance with my New Year's resolution, I've been reading while at the gym, instead of watching The Office reruns like I used to. It's a bit hard to read while bouncing up and down on the treadmill, because I keep accidentally skipping lines and losing my spot, but I still get a lot more done. Here are an assortment of my recent favorite quotes (DON'T skim the poetry!!! My eyes always gloss over anything in verse, by default, but these ones are SO good...):
From Dickens' "A Christmas Carol"-
Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room...wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed.
Hahaha!!!
"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home, home!"
From Tennyson's "In Memorium"-
V.
I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold:
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more...
from XXIV.
And is it that the haze of grief
Makes former gladness loom so great?
The lowness of the present state,
That sets the past in this relief?
Or that the past will always win
A glory from its being far;
And orb into the perfect star
We saw not, when we moved therein?
...couldn't have said it better myself.
XXVII.
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage
That never knew the summer woods:
I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfettered by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;
Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
So THAT'S where that comes from!!! I was so excited when I read it.
From XLVII.
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip
Their wings in tears, and skim away...
From CXXIV.
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answered "I have felt."
Right-brained, and proud. :)
From Dickens' "A Christmas Carol"-
Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room...wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he failed.
Hahaha!!!
"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. "To bring you home, home, home!"
From Tennyson's "In Memorium"-
V.
I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.
In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold:
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more...
from XXIV.
And is it that the haze of grief
Makes former gladness loom so great?
The lowness of the present state,
That sets the past in this relief?
Or that the past will always win
A glory from its being far;
And orb into the perfect star
We saw not, when we moved therein?
...couldn't have said it better myself.
XXVII.
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage
That never knew the summer woods:
I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfettered by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;
Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
So THAT'S where that comes from!!! I was so excited when I read it.
From XLVII.
Short swallow-flights of song, that dip
Their wings in tears, and skim away...
From CXXIV.
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answered "I have felt."
Right-brained, and proud. :)
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
:)
I was walking home tonight, and it was pretty late, so when I saw a (presumably) homeless guy at the street corner calling things out to random people, I considered taking a different route. But as soon as this thought crossed my mind, he made eye contact with me and went, "Hello! Happy Valentine's Day!" and walked in my direction. He looked so cheerful that I laughed and went, "Happy Valentine's Day!" back. He looked in his thirties or forties, a mid-height black guy who reminded me of Jamie Foxx in The Soloist. He held a cup with a long-stemmed red flower inside, and after I replied, he smiled at me and said, "Here, this is for you!" and handed me the flower. After his insistences, I took it and thanked him, and then as I walked away, he called after me, "Have a great night!"
It was a completely random act of kindness, and I smiled all the way home.
It was a completely random act of kindness, and I smiled all the way home.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Szigeti
I had so many things I wanted to write about in here...but I'm in the middle of a massive marathon of homework catch-up (expected, I suppose, at 9pm on a Sunday night), and this is all I can manage for now.
From an article written by violinist Arnold Steinhardt about his teacher Joseph Szigeti:
How seriously Szigeti took our lessons was evidenced by his greetings as we arrived for our lessons each day, such as "I have been thinking about your phrasing in the Bartok Rhapsody, Arnold, and want to advise a new tack" or "Oswald, I could not sleep all night as a result of the fingering you took in the Brahms concerto." ...There were often rustlings outside my window while I practiced, and later came comments during my lessons about things I had not yet played for him. Finally I saw him under my window in the shadows during a break in my work on Paganini's 24th Caprice. Realizing that he had been spotted, he stepped into the light, and without apology, spoke his mind: "Arnold, try a more reasonable bowing in the first variation!"
HAHAHAHA. And:
He had always been a letter writer, and I was privileged to receive them from time to time informing me of his work and keeping tabs on me as well. For example on July 25, 1963, he wrote in part: "Dear Arnold, Your Mozart A Major Concerto was broadcast by Brussels and I was very happy about your stylish playing! The fermata after the initial Adagio was a little short and I found there was too little caesura before the second theme and the cadenza seemed a little affected (like some parts of your Havanaise!), Cadenza 2nd movement a little too gypsy-like and in alla Turca not enough appoggiatura and end of III mov. Too much Ritard. But the whole was a proud performance."
Hahahahaha...I laughed a lot when I read that. How cute.
From an article written by violinist Arnold Steinhardt about his teacher Joseph Szigeti:
How seriously Szigeti took our lessons was evidenced by his greetings as we arrived for our lessons each day, such as "I have been thinking about your phrasing in the Bartok Rhapsody, Arnold, and want to advise a new tack" or "Oswald, I could not sleep all night as a result of the fingering you took in the Brahms concerto." ...There were often rustlings outside my window while I practiced, and later came comments during my lessons about things I had not yet played for him. Finally I saw him under my window in the shadows during a break in my work on Paganini's 24th Caprice. Realizing that he had been spotted, he stepped into the light, and without apology, spoke his mind: "Arnold, try a more reasonable bowing in the first variation!"
HAHAHAHA. And:
He had always been a letter writer, and I was privileged to receive them from time to time informing me of his work and keeping tabs on me as well. For example on July 25, 1963, he wrote in part: "Dear Arnold, Your Mozart A Major Concerto was broadcast by Brussels and I was very happy about your stylish playing! The fermata after the initial Adagio was a little short and I found there was too little caesura before the second theme and the cadenza seemed a little affected (like some parts of your Havanaise!), Cadenza 2nd movement a little too gypsy-like and in alla Turca not enough appoggiatura and end of III mov. Too much Ritard. But the whole was a proud performance."
Hahahahaha...I laughed a lot when I read that. How cute.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Happy Birthday, Schubert :)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJTzRwtdUDY
DIE SCHÖNE MÜLLERIN, D. 795 (1823)
trans. Philipp O. Naegele
18. DRY FLOWERS
You little flowers all,
That she gave me,
You should be laid
With me into my grave.
How you all look
At me in pain,
As if you knew
How I would fare?
You little flowers all,
How wilted, how pale?
You little flowers all,
Whereof so moist?
Ah, tears do not make
The green of May,
Nor dead love
Bloom again.
And spring will come,
And winter will pass,
And little flowers will
Arise in the grass.
And little flowers will lie
In my grave,
The little flowers all,
That she gave me.
And when she walks
Past the hillock on by
And thinks in her heart:
He meant it true!
Then, little flowers all,
Come out, come out!
May is come,
Winter is done.
DIE SCHÖNE MÜLLERIN, D. 795 (1823)
trans. Philipp O. Naegele
18. DRY FLOWERS
You little flowers all,
That she gave me,
You should be laid
With me into my grave.
How you all look
At me in pain,
As if you knew
How I would fare?
You little flowers all,
How wilted, how pale?
You little flowers all,
Whereof so moist?
Ah, tears do not make
The green of May,
Nor dead love
Bloom again.
And spring will come,
And winter will pass,
And little flowers will
Arise in the grass.
And little flowers will lie
In my grave,
The little flowers all,
That she gave me.
And when she walks
Past the hillock on by
And thinks in her heart:
He meant it true!
Then, little flowers all,
Come out, come out!
May is come,
Winter is done.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
World of Music
http://blog.ted.com/2008/04/15/machover_ellsey/
I was watching this video and thinking about how cool/different the world would be if every educated person learned how to make music, the same way we learn to read, solve basic math, and speak a language. What if we could all make music as easily and naturally as we talk? How much more would we be able to find out about one another's personalities?
When you reach a certain level of music-making, you reach a level of ability to express. The more skilled you are at your art, the more capable you are to show yourself and say what you mean, to have that unique sound that characterizes you (and vice versa). That's why musicians at the beginning level (a horde of little kids playing Suzuki, middle school orchestra students etc.) generally all sound quite similar to an unbiased ear, while musicians at the highest level (Kreisler, Wunderlich, DuPre) are much more distinguishable. But, you don't have to be Heifetz or Casals to reveal a little bit of yourself through music-making. It's reasonable that the more you master your technique and gain control over your body/instrument, the more you're able to make creative decisions through the music, but if you have a strong enough personality, it should and will shine through, whether you've been playing an instrument for three days or three decades.
All this seems like a given--we know it already. But I never saw a better example of this fact (that music unmasks aspects of a particular human's psyche that cannot be expressed through any other means) than in the above video. The man at the end suffers from brain damage, and it is clear that his capability to express himself is extremely limited. However, through the music he made, the audience (and I) could begin to discern really intimate details about him. The happy bursts of energy, the fluctuation in texture and dynamic, the pitches and rhythms...I can't describe in words exactly what I know about him now, but I can certainly say that I am closer to him after hearing his music.
Of course it also works the same way, in reverse--the more trained of an ear you have, the more you will be able to discern someone's inner workings through their music.
So my daydream is, what would happen if everyone in the world could effectively/constantly express themselves through music? If we all went about our everyday lives singing or playing the flute or strumming a guitar or something, as frequently as we communicate through speech and actions? How much more would we know about one another? Wouldn't it make it that much easier to find your friends, soul mates, and those with whom you would NOT get along? Imagine walking into a classroom full of strangers on your first day at a new school. Everywhere are unfamiliar faces, and you want to figure out who's who. In our current world, we observe people's facial expressions, the way they present themselves, their clothes/accessories, how they interact with others. But in this fictional music world of mine, everyone would be making some sort of music whenever they had something to say. So instead of observing their appearances, you would listen to their songs. One kid is making the smoothest, silkiest sound on his clarinet--he knows how to charm the ladies. A girl in front row is playing her viola louder than everyone else--she has a big ego, let's avoid her. The small skinny boy at the back taps a pair of hand drums with his eyes closed, devising creative rhythms--he's intelligent but laid back. Guy in the corner playing Dvorak cello concerto second theme with the longest lines and seamless vibrato--instant crush.
Because it's easier (not easy, but easier) to fake who you are through the clothes you wear, the mannerisms you adopt, the timbre of your voice, the way you do your hair. But it's difficult, if not nearly impossible, to fake who you are through music. Music is, in some ways, the clearest, most shamelessly honest mirror one can hold up to his self.
I was watching this video and thinking about how cool/different the world would be if every educated person learned how to make music, the same way we learn to read, solve basic math, and speak a language. What if we could all make music as easily and naturally as we talk? How much more would we be able to find out about one another's personalities?
When you reach a certain level of music-making, you reach a level of ability to express. The more skilled you are at your art, the more capable you are to show yourself and say what you mean, to have that unique sound that characterizes you (and vice versa). That's why musicians at the beginning level (a horde of little kids playing Suzuki, middle school orchestra students etc.) generally all sound quite similar to an unbiased ear, while musicians at the highest level (Kreisler, Wunderlich, DuPre) are much more distinguishable. But, you don't have to be Heifetz or Casals to reveal a little bit of yourself through music-making. It's reasonable that the more you master your technique and gain control over your body/instrument, the more you're able to make creative decisions through the music, but if you have a strong enough personality, it should and will shine through, whether you've been playing an instrument for three days or three decades.
All this seems like a given--we know it already. But I never saw a better example of this fact (that music unmasks aspects of a particular human's psyche that cannot be expressed through any other means) than in the above video. The man at the end suffers from brain damage, and it is clear that his capability to express himself is extremely limited. However, through the music he made, the audience (and I) could begin to discern really intimate details about him. The happy bursts of energy, the fluctuation in texture and dynamic, the pitches and rhythms...I can't describe in words exactly what I know about him now, but I can certainly say that I am closer to him after hearing his music.
Of course it also works the same way, in reverse--the more trained of an ear you have, the more you will be able to discern someone's inner workings through their music.
So my daydream is, what would happen if everyone in the world could effectively/constantly express themselves through music? If we all went about our everyday lives singing or playing the flute or strumming a guitar or something, as frequently as we communicate through speech and actions? How much more would we know about one another? Wouldn't it make it that much easier to find your friends, soul mates, and those with whom you would NOT get along? Imagine walking into a classroom full of strangers on your first day at a new school. Everywhere are unfamiliar faces, and you want to figure out who's who. In our current world, we observe people's facial expressions, the way they present themselves, their clothes/accessories, how they interact with others. But in this fictional music world of mine, everyone would be making some sort of music whenever they had something to say. So instead of observing their appearances, you would listen to their songs. One kid is making the smoothest, silkiest sound on his clarinet--he knows how to charm the ladies. A girl in front row is playing her viola louder than everyone else--she has a big ego, let's avoid her. The small skinny boy at the back taps a pair of hand drums with his eyes closed, devising creative rhythms--he's intelligent but laid back. Guy in the corner playing Dvorak cello concerto second theme with the longest lines and seamless vibrato--instant crush.
Because it's easier (not easy, but easier) to fake who you are through the clothes you wear, the mannerisms you adopt, the timbre of your voice, the way you do your hair. But it's difficult, if not nearly impossible, to fake who you are through music. Music is, in some ways, the clearest, most shamelessly honest mirror one can hold up to his self.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Listening
Thanks to various circumstances in the course of my life, I have mastered the ability to block out all noises around me in the physical world and get completely and irrevocably lost in my own head. Once, in my sophomore history class, I actually fell asleep and had an engaging dream about the first movement of Dvorak's American quartet (second theme)...and I "woke up" to find that my eyes were open the whole time. After this discovery, I spent many an hour in Econ class perfecting my newfound skill...it takes time and practice, but if I so wish, I now can close my mind to my surroundings and transport myself to Jenniferland. I used to think this was really fun and useful--and it is, because let's say you're in a mind-numbingly useless lecture...well, if you can block it out, you can then proceed to think about and deal with more pressing/interesting issues in your head. But, it's getting to the point where "Brain to Jenniferland" is my default mode when I enter class. Without realizing it, I'll sit down, get out my books/pen etc. and BAM 45 minutes later I jerk to my senses, discussion topics (none of which I can recall or understand) whizzing around my ears, impossible for me to grasp.
Come to think of it, this may be a reason memorization is usually my biggest worry in music. I get lost in a distracting whirl of thoughts, music-related or not, and muscle memory can only take me so far.
On the one hand, it's my own restless brain--too lazy to concentrate on things that don't interest me--causing me to gradually shorten my attention span. BUT on the other hand, while cleaning out my room on the last day of break, I re-unearthed an evaluation report from Challenger preschool days. Going through my preschool binder always makes me laugh really hard. There are the hilarious self-portraits (all of which display me in purple clothes) and even more hilarious short stories (most of which feature as protagonist a bunny, creatively named Bunny). And then the evaluations, which are quite revealing. For all the math and verbal stuff, like Arithmetic, Sentence Construction, Reading Skills etc. there are a string of 99th percentiles, and at first I was quite proud, like "Hey, not bad, little Jennifer was actually a pretty smart kid!" But then I keep looking down, and there, next to Listening, is a very sad-looking 53. (Social Interaction was not much higher.)
So...maybe I was this way all along.
Come to think of it, this may be a reason memorization is usually my biggest worry in music. I get lost in a distracting whirl of thoughts, music-related or not, and muscle memory can only take me so far.
On the one hand, it's my own restless brain--too lazy to concentrate on things that don't interest me--causing me to gradually shorten my attention span. BUT on the other hand, while cleaning out my room on the last day of break, I re-unearthed an evaluation report from Challenger preschool days. Going through my preschool binder always makes me laugh really hard. There are the hilarious self-portraits (all of which display me in purple clothes) and even more hilarious short stories (most of which feature as protagonist a bunny, creatively named Bunny). And then the evaluations, which are quite revealing. For all the math and verbal stuff, like Arithmetic, Sentence Construction, Reading Skills etc. there are a string of 99th percentiles, and at first I was quite proud, like "Hey, not bad, little Jennifer was actually a pretty smart kid!" But then I keep looking down, and there, next to Listening, is a very sad-looking 53. (Social Interaction was not much higher.)
So...maybe I was this way all along.
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