Zion's Walls

Greetings!

I've just arrived home after a weekend of lots of fun with my beloved DGMC in Estes Park (for a record two consecutive weekends at two different YMCA of the Rockies locations...one of many rather odd distinctions that February 2011 holds) for their spring retreat. Despite a hefty blanket of snow, we did good work, and as usual, the guys were impressive in both their focus and their positive attitudes.

Fortunately, the skies (and roads) were beautifully clear this morning as I drove down the mountain -- one of the universe's birthday gifts to me, it seems. And, while I am prone to reflection at many times of the year, birthdays are extra effective at bringing that out in me. So, in these last few minutes of a birthday, these are my thoughts:

Both University Singers and DGMC are singing Copland's "Zion's Walls" for their spring program, and I was struck this weekend by my dear friend Ben's commentary on that piece and the mixed feelings all thoughtful people probably have toward their homeland(s) at times. It's the place we can't wait to get back to, it's the place we can't wait to leave -- it has all the people we love best, all the people who bother us most, and all the things that remind us of who we are....for better and for worse. Home, whether it is the place we come from or a place we later choose, contains all of these things. It's complicated. Copland's own relationship with his homeland obviously was -- not only was he a gay man living through one of the more repressive parts of American history, he also held socialist political views, and for that reason was scrutinized and later blacklisted by the FBI. All this, from the composer who is possibly most often credited with being the main cultivator of a distinctly American sound.

So, now, when I hear the words of Zion's Walls, I begin to hear all of these things:

Come, fathers and mothers! Come, sisters and brothers!

Come, join us in singing the praises of Zion!

Oh fathers, don't you feel determined to meet within the walls of Zion?

We'll shout and go 'round the walls of Zion!

....because sometimes you have to be determined. Sometimes you have to shout to get in. And many times, you have to be willing to make the effort of drawing in the ones you love, to give the invitation.

So, this week, I invite you to listen...

All Levels:

The Promise of Living (essentially a contrafact of Zion's Walls)

The Tender Land (you can watch the whole opera in 12 YouTube segments with Copland conducting -- it's dated, no question, but I think it's pretty magical that we have this available to us at the touch of a button!)

Transcribe the melody of the main tune in "The Promise of Living" and see if you think it's necessary to change meters to preserve the correct text accents.

If you're feeling adventurous, track down a recording of "Zion's Walls" and do the same.

Enjoy!

What do you do?

Greetings, solfa-seekers!

The sun is shining brightly today in Colorado, despite forebodings of gloomy weather today, and I am grateful for the near-completion of a very busy weekend (and an unexpected reprieve from my usual Monday activities...hooray!). The University Singers' mini-tour to Winter Park was a success, thanks in large part to the cool heads and warm hearts of the Singers themselves. They did themselves proud from musical, logistical, and human standpoints, and I believe myself to be exceedingly lucky to work with them (and no, I'm not just buttering them up because they're stuck with me as their conductor for the remainder of the semester....though it probably can't hurt, right?).

For me, this month has been an exercise in learning my limitations. As I mentioned in my last post, I am a self-diagnosed adrenaline junkie. I have learned in my time how to do many things, and how to tiptoe right up to the line of the humanly impossible. In the past few weeks, I feel that circumstances have called me down on those choices and taught me several good lessons, but the heavy-hitters seem to go as follows:

1. When panic strikes, the ability to stop and ask yourself the question "What do you do?" is invaluable.

2. Being willing to accept help in a variety of forms can be hard, but it's absolutely necessary. And when it is offered, for gods' sakes, have the humility and the courage to accept it and accept it graciously.

I should perhaps explain here that the concept behind Lesson #1 was ruthlessly "borrowed" from a dear horn-playing-tenor-singing friend of mine who has two delightful and well-trained dogs, and when it's time to go for a walk, get a treat, etc., he says to them, "What do you do?" Now, before anyone gets upset because I'm comparing self-training to dog training, think for a second about that cue. The real message behind it is exactly right: "You know what to do. All you have to do is remember and do it." It's a message of confidence. It's a reminder of competence. It's a way of telling yourself that you can, even when it feels like you can't. As it pertains to solfa (Aha! You knew I was gonna do this!), this is really good self-pedagogy, because it asks you to draw upon what you already know to be able to deal with something that looks complicated....our favorite pedagogical progression of using the known to access the unknown. You're putting your own logged hours of effort to work for you, honoring your own work by not reinventing the wheel.

As for Lesson #2, it is also a message of empowerment: many supports are available to us as people and as musicians, and we (and especially I) like to beat our heads against the wall trying to do things without gathering the necessary tools and support mechanisms. We'd rather not have to think about how to get help because we're too proud or because getting the help seems like more effort than just pushing through. I would argue, however, that one learns much more from solving a problem when one is not so exhausted from the effort that all one wants to do is forget the whole thing ever happened.

It occurs to me that I've been preaching both of these messages to you, my students, for quite some time, but it's been a long time since I took a good, hard look at the way I get through my own tough tasks and rough patches. Studies in limitation are probably very good for all of us to take on sometimes, and it's probably never the same lesson twice, even if the principles are the same.

Rising Level 2's

Take a look at Ottman 12.1-12.10

Before you read through each example, consciously give yourself the following cues:

1. What do you do (meaning, what procedures should you follow in order to be successful)?

2. What help can I get to make this task more manageable (meaning, what pieces of information should you look for that will help de-mystify the examples -- formal patterns, scales/triad outlines, rhythmic repetitions, sequences, etc.)?

If you struggle with an example, revisit cue #2, and decide how to proceed with some sort of aid (i.e., reading through rhythm only first, transposing into a key that better suits your voice, accompanying yourself with block chords on the piano, going faster or slower, etc.)

Rising Level 3's

Take a look at Ottman 18.16-18.26 (read the chapter 18 heading before you start to give yourself a hint about why the rhythms look so scary, and pick your tempi accordingly....be musical in your choices of tempi, however -- if a super-slow tempo makes the music sound boring or yucky, that will make it harder for you to sing it).

Follow the same procedure as the rising level 2's

Rising Level 4's

Take a look at Ottman 19.2-19.5, 19.7, 19.12-19.13 (in my own examination of each of these melodies, I decided against changing keys in each case, but it's up to you).

Follow the same procedure as the rising level 2's, noting that audiation of the home tone is your friend in the chromatic passages, as is audiation of notes of resolution....remember, chromaticism is just an accessory!

And, for a little refreshment (only partly on these themes), click here.

We wait...

Hello, patient solfeggists!

Being performers, I'm sure you all know something about post-concert let-down. The glut of adrenaline left behind in your system from working way too hard begins to process out, the noise and activity dies down, and there you are....just you. No more concert. It happened. You did the work. It's over.

And then, thump! That's the sound of you dropping back into reality.

It's been that week in my world, although not completely. The Colorado Conductors' Chorus had their first winter concert last night, and they have their second this evening, and then next weekend is a University Singers' concert/mini-retreat to Winter Park, and the following weekend is the Denver Gay Men's Chorus retreat. So, it's necessary to keep up some level of adrenaline, but it's hard to keep the level of adrenaline compatible with the level of activity required. It reminds me of counting rests or taking 2-part dictation -- you have to be just present enough with both your own task and the sound world that's going on around you. If you lose track of either, you'll blow the entrance or miss what happens to the other voice. Rushing is just as bad as dragging. It's the art of being present, which has a lot to do with waiting....and I don't mind confessing to you, my dear readers, that I suck at waiting. I guess that means it's time to practice...and as usual, I'll drag you poor, hapless people into it, too.

Rising Level 2's

Let's have some fun with Ottman rhythms, shall we?

pp. 250-251 (15.1-15.19) is your realm, with these stipulations:

-You must set up the meter and tempo AND conduct throughout.

-Use a metronome (nooooooooo!!!) for at least five of the exercises you do.

-Choose tempi that make the syncopations feel convincing.

-If there are articulation marks, you must follow them.

Rising Level 3's

I think you all might find this tricky, but knowing you guys, you'll relish the challenge...

Ottman pp. 252-253 (15.27-15.38)

-You must set up the meter and tempo.

-To make things easier and more interesting, use one timbre for one voice and a different one for the other (meaning voice/hand or two hands on two different surfaces, i.e. right hand taps on a table and left hand taps your knee).

-Use a metronome (noooooooooo!!!) for at least three of the exercises you do.

-Choose tempi that make the syncopations feel convincing (meaning don't automatically choose a slower tactus for 6/4 vs. 6/8 unless it makes musical sense to do so).

Rising Level 4's

Since y'all are such hot stuff...

Ottman: 15.107, 15.112, and 15.114

Step 1: Treat each example as a 2-part rhythmic exercise (follow procedure above)

Step 2: Treat the top voice of each example as a melodic exercise (but be sure to conduct!)

Step 3: Tap the lower voice as you sing the upper voice

(Optional Step 4: Play the lower voice on piano as you sing the upper voice)

As always, feel free to choose an easier or harder assignment depending on how you're feeling this week.

And, if you're interested, here's my new waiting soundtrack...

Bernstein: Mass (Marin Alsop, Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, Jubilant Sykes)

Track 23: Epistle "The Word of the Lord"

At the risk of sounding hopelessly subversive, here's my favorite line from the piece:

So we wait in silent treason until reason is restored....

We wait.

One-trick ponies

Hello, solfa specialists!

It's good to be back to my home turf....

I've just spent several wonderful, incredibly stressful, highly enlightening days under the thrall of "The Tudors Conference" in my capacity as the grad assistant for the Center for British and Irish Studies. The conference, by all accounts, was a big success -- things were smooth, people showed up, and I felt like I'd gotten really lucky. Our keynote speaker, Michael Hirst, was not only a joy to work and interact with, he proved to be an incredibly engaging and thoughtful speaker. I was also especially impressed with the CU humanities faculty and our collaborators from the Denver Art Museum and the University of Wyoming -- they were so gracious and they, too, treated their presentations as we musicians treat a performance. They brought their A-game. They made it their business to say something relevant and exciting, and to truly communicate with their listeners. I feel extremely grateful to have been a part of the fine group of people who made this conference happen.

In the face of all the multifaceted knowledge and the extremely smart people I spent the last few days with, I definitely started to feel like a dumb musician. These folks not only knew a lot about their own field of expertise, they knew a lot about one another's....and a fair amount about mine, for that matter. Without the comforts of my own people reminding me of everything I know and know how to do, it was easy to begin to feel that I don't really know anything, that I'm not doing everything I can, that I haven't put time into being a cultured and well-informed person. And, to be sure, there are so very many, many things I want to know more about. I want to be a person who can talk intelligently about art, who knows why people compare Hitchcock to Bach, and who has read all the important books that smart people are supposed to have read. It seems like I'll need a lifetime to come close to hitting those marks.

But, now and today, I realize I am just one person. I've chosen a path that is almost bizarre in its specificity, and I am telling the truth when I say I love it with all of my heart. So, while part of me recognizes that I've sacrificed a lot of breadth for the sake of depth and feels sorry not to be able to say I have both, I am also grateful that there is time and opportunity to stretch out and grow more, and to benefit from the knowledge and experience of people whose depth lies in a different place than my own. Though I feel a little stung by humility in saying it, I am forced to believe my own sermonizing: the path from the known to the unknown is respectable in its own right when one chooses to travel on it, regardless of their specific trajectory.

That being said, I'm making this week's assignment a little different -- in loving tribute to this past weekend's subject matter.

All levels:

Find a copy of the 1998 film "Elizabeth" and watch it...it's worth your while and a little bit of cash, I promise. You can rent it on iTunes or Amazon for $2.99.

In the final scenes of the movie, there are two very famous pieces of music that are played -- neither of which are contemporary to the time of the movie itself, but both of which are incredibly evocative and probably readily recognizable to you:

Nimrod from Enigma Variations by Edward Elgar

Introit from Requiem by W.A. Mozart

After listening, proceed to the linked scores and spend a little time each day this week reading through the various voice parts of the Mozart and the familiar melody of the Elgar (note that when the G-sharps start showing up in the Elgar, it's probably a smart idea to use A-do, and when they are canceled out, to switch back to D-do). After spending some time with the scores, spend a little time reflecting on their function in the film. Do the scores alone evoke the same kinds of emotion when you're dealing with them on their own terms as they do when you consider them in the context of the film? Have these pieces changed for you after both studying them and hearing them in this context? Would you have chosen different pieces of music for these parts of the film? If so, which ones?

Enjoy, my friends!