In 1980, my family moved from Austin, TX to Omaha, NE. Shortly after moving there, I auditioned for the Omaha Area Youth Organization. I was fifteen years old and had been playing the violin for seven years to that point. I spent those early years studying and playing violin in the University of Texas String Project. It was a wonderful time for me and I built a solid base of music theory, literature, instrumental performance and ensemble play. But passing the audition and being welcomed into the OAYO opened new doors for me. First, it allowed me to play in an orchestra with woodwinds, brass, and percussion...not just strings as was the case in the String Project. This meant that I would also be introduced to a wider range of repertoire too. Right off the bat, in 1980, I played Brahms' Academic Festival Overture and the Finale of Sibelius' Second Symphony. But the highlight that season was Pictures at an Exhibition by Modest Mussorgsky. This is a hard piece for players in every section. I had to practice my ass off for sure.
When I started hearing and listening to music outside of the classical realm, I learned new terminology. In rock music, I heard words like riff and lick. A cool phrase or musical idea is called either a riff or a lick. Classical music is full of cool riffs and licks. Here's a great one that I spent many hours woodshedding. At the top of the page is the lick in question...these are the last six bars of the movement called Gnomus from Pictures at an Exhibition. You can see that the key signature is full of flats...six of them. There are also accidentals mixed in there too, as if it wasn't already hard enough. And it is fast...
If you practice something over and over, it's possible that you will never forget it, even after forty years. Riding a bike is a good example. Maybe swinging a golf club or throwing a baseball are also examples. In my case, I can still remember how to play this lick. I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but I can remember these six bars of music. Weird.
I have been learning how to play the electric guitar this COVID year. Learning something new, and hard, has been really fun and good for my mind and spirit. I decided I needed to play this awesome lick by Mussorgsky. Here it is on violin and electric guitar.
And here is Gnomus from Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky (1874 piano) and later orchestrated by Maurice Ravel in 1922.
Thousands of hours build steel. The hands of a musicians are proof. Take a look at Itzhak Perlman or Pinchas Zukerman. Photos don't do this justice, but if they could, you would see just how muscular and strong their left hands are. Lifetimes of practice build otherwise normal hands into bionic weapons of music. Playing the Beethoven Violin Concerto requires so much strength and endurance one can't even begin to comprehend how strong these hands really are. Just something to reflect on.
I do like the blues. But in all honesty, I don't love them. 10-15 minutes or so...that's enough for me. Exceptionally emotional, or gut wrenching pain...depending on who you are hearing...but not enough to keep me engaged. 12 bars..16 bars....whatever road map you follow...the lines are not that long. You get in...you tear it up...and then it's over. Classical music offers so much more depth and substance. Musical ideas can be explored to the greatest depths with lines stretch to the horizon and beyond. The greatest Stevie Ray Vaughan solo will melt your face and light up the sky in a 3-4 minute song. But Bach's musical lines are miles longer and fathoms deeper, I like both...but I love Bach.
In busy times...hectic times...stressful times...sad times.....whatever....try some of this. The second movement of Antonin Dvorak's Serenade for Winds in D minor is an instant cure.
It's good to be back writing! I have been away longer than I like. No real excuse....just life I suppose. Six years into this blog, finding ideas and ways to keep things fresh and interesting is always a challenge. What does not change is my love of listening to and playing music. And that's the basis for this journal...to write about classical music first and foremost, and then other thoughts and ideas. Heck, it's my blog...I can write about anything I want. But I have had a great week, full of new ideas that I am looking forward to incorporating into this format. Stay tuned!
This week, I "discovered" a person on YouTube named Rick Beato. Rick is an accomplished musician, producer, and teacher who makes videos about music on YouTube. He explores a wide range of musical topics such as "what makes this song great?" He is also a music theorist who breaks down the theory behind music in all genres. Anyway, what I admire about Rick is his enthusiasm. It is clear that he loves music...all kinds of music.
Here is a video he made about virtuosos.
Here's a video he made about the greatest riff using only the white keys of a piano. Yep, it's Prokofiev.
And here Rick shares some of the albums that he loves and made a big impression on him. This is really where you can sense his enthusiasm and love for music and it made me so happy.
Last week, my wife and I finished staining the shelves that have been housing much of my CD collection...yes I still have CDs, which is what I want to talk about next. Like most people, I have used iTunes, Apple Music, Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music and YouTube over the years. I still do. But I love CDs and vinyl records the most. You actually own them...hold them...touch them. Streaming formats don't give me that. So I still buy CDs and records and I listen to them more than music streams. I was going though some old posts this week where I shared music via YouTube, just as I have here. It works great, until the person who posted the video takes it down...then it's gone.
I shared awhile back that I have been playing the guitar quite a bit this year. I am not a trained guitar player...I am self taught, and I have some very clear limitations. But I am having a blast practicing and learning. I have developed enough courage to make videos of my playing and share them on Facebook and Instagram. I have learned a valuable lesson that has made this possible...to accept my imperfections. There pursuit of perfection will drive you crazy. There is no such thing. There will always be something you feel you can improve upon. At some point you just have to let it go. Cheryl confronts this same challenge when she is working on refinishing furniture. She chases perfection. So we had this discussion about embracing the flaws of your work. They can actually add to the beauty of it. In the example of a musical performance, I am not interested in hearing someone play every note perfectly. I am interested in someone going to the edge musically...taking chances...NOT playing it safe. If during the course of this effort a note is fluffed or an entrance is not as crisp as possible, so be it. These imperfections are part of the climb to the top of the mountain. A climber often slips or stumbles on the way to the summit. But the view erases those missteps. Once again, Rick Beato addresses this point very well in this video.
Kansas City, and the world for that matter, thanks to the internet, have a
great new way to hear classical music. 91.9 Classical KC is playing classical
music the old fashioned "terrestrial way" on the radio locally, as well as
streaming to the heavens from their website:
Currently, they have a mixture of local and national programming. The local
program I want to bring to your attention is called From the Archives,
hosted by my friend, Frank Byrne. Mr. Byrne was the Executive Director of the
Kansas City Symphony for many years, and he is perhaps the only person I know
who loves classical music as much as I do. For his new show, he programs a great mixture of music
off the beaten path...not regularly heard in concert halls today, as well as concert favorites we all know and love. The emphasis will be on exceptional performances, so he chooses the most interesting interpretations/recordings of these works for us
to hear. It is true, and fascinating, that you can put two conductors in front
of the same orchestra, playing the same piece of music, and end up with two
completely different listening experiences. Frank knows this and picks the
most compelling and fresh recordings to share. I highly recommend that you
tune in every Saturday at 11:00 AM and Sunday at 6:00 PM Central.
I am blessed to be able to play music, and sharing this gift with other
musicians is the best thing of all. I have been playing music at my church for
ten years now, and I've had the privilege of sharing this experience with many
fine singers and musicians. One who stands out is Rick Allen. Rick has a
passion for the guitar...and music...that I admire greatly. Every note he
plays is infused with his passion for music. We use in-ear monitors that allow
each musician to listen to the other band members at any volume level that
they want. I turn Rick up in my ears. Rick reminds me that what matters most
is passion and commitment. And the JOY of music. Thank you for reminding me of
this good friend.
Today is August 6. 75 years ago today, everything changed in our world.....the
first nuclear bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. Three days later, another was
dropped on Nagasaki. These are somber remembrances. I am not going to debate
the morality of these events. But I am going to share this beautiful piece of
music called Purple Heart Lane, by Stephen Harwood Jr. This is music
from a series called Band of Brothers, a WWII miniseries produced by
Steven Spielberg and Tom Hanks.
In 1945, the US was planning the invasion of the Japanese mainland. Our
experiences at Iwo Jima and Okinawa produced casualty estimates as high as 1
million US forces and 10 million Japanese civilians. Before Truman made the
decision to drop the A-bomb, the US military command ordered 500,000 Purple
Heart medals. Japan surrendered on August 15, and we were spared the invasion.
But the medals were manufactured, and every soldier who has been awarded a
Purple Heart since 1945 has received one from this order. Korea, Vietnam, the
Gulf War, Afghanistan, Iraq. This medal honors those who have been wounded
serving their country, but it is also a reminder that someone's son wasn't a
casualty in 1945. Perspective is important.
I've recently reconnected with several old friends from my childhood days in Austin, Texas. We get together via Zoom or Facebook every week now. This technology is truly amazing and it has allowed us to share our lives as if we were still kids in 1976. I bring this up because I am very touched by the relationship my friend Yoichi has with his 88-year-old father. I remember those two having a very contentious relationship...just as many kids do with their parents. Yoichi was born in Tokyo, but moved to the United States as a young child. He and his Dad did not see eye-to-eye on many things and I think his father did not approve of the "Western" attitudes and views that Yoichi had taken to. This was Austin in the 1970's....a pretty liberal town in a very wide-open decade. It pained me to see the two of them fight and argue. It was a clash of generations. But fast forward 40-plus years, and the two of them have a very loving relationship. Gone is the strife. What a joy to see how they have found each other. Time has done what it does...it wears you down, just as water wears down the rock. I saw the same thing happen with my father. He was not the same person towards the end of his life as he had been as a young father. He mellowed. He opened up. I hope I am on that path too with my family and friends.
I've written about Pink Floyd in this blog before, so you probably remember that they are one of my favorite bands. In 1971, they released the album Meddle which has a track on it called Echoes. Here is the live version from a performance at the ruins of Pompeii. If you like the key of D minor punctuated with a Hammond organ, and an overdriven Fender Start....you will love this.
The other day, I went out in the back yard to water the garden. I stepped down the stairs from the deck to the yard and I almost stepped on two baby doves. They were huddled together and did not make any effort to move out of my way. I stood there looking at them. Still no attempt to flee or fly away. Finally, after several minutes, they tried to fly away...only making it a few feet. Clearly they were still learning. So here I was, towering over them...and I was overcome with emotion. These little living creatures were completely at my mercy. They were completely vulnerable...and they were absolutely beautiful. I wondered how that must feel...to be so fragile and helpless. But I do know. And so do you. We all do. The COVID-19 virus, like every other virus in the natural world, should remind us that even though we put men on the moon, have iPhones, antibiotics, etc....we are still vulnerable. That will never change. In his book The Greater Journey, David McCullough recalls the cholera pandemic in Paris in 1831. Over 700 of the first 1000 cases died. Imagine how helpless people must have felt. No one knew what caused it, or how it was spread. And there was no cure. And unlike COVID, there was no such thing as "asymptomatic cholera." When you got it, you got it. And you probably died from it. I don't think we should be shocked when a pandemic arrives and takes lives. It is sad, and frightening. But not shocking. I read an old newspaper article recently from 1897 that reported on a family who lost 5 of 6 children to measles. Imagine having to bury 5 children. Thankfully, we now have vaccines for many of the diseases that used to kill people in great numbers. And we have antibiotics that prevent infections that used to kill great numbers. BUT, we are still vulnerable. It is the way of the natural world. So live each day as if it could be your last. Squeeze every bit of joy and love that you can out of every moment you are given. I didn't harm those defenseless doves. Pandemics are not so benevolent.
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As I continue to learn how to play the guitar, I recognized a parallel between practicing an instrument and running. In long distance running, you have to put in the miles. Every day, you have to get out there and do it. Some days it feels good. Other days, your legs feel like a bricks. But overall you get stronger and your fitness increases. The bad days are still productive. Same with music. I have been practicing alternate picking. Some days, I am dialed in and see great progress. But the next day, it is a shit show. My fingers have no clue what to do. I feel defeated. But the NEXT day, I can do more than I could two days ago. Even the seemingly unproductive practices pay dividends. I'm having fun even when I suck. I'm getting better even when I suck.
Black Lives Matter. Xavier Foley expresses this in his playing. A black man playing music written by a white man. And I, a white man, am spellbound by Mr. Foley's musicianship. He wrestles this huge piece of wood with strings and delivers a beautiful performance of Bach. I pray someday we don't see color. Music transcends. This performance is proof that .
I remember when I was a kid, practicing my violin was not always something I wanted to do. I wish I knew then what I know now. When you are young, you want instant results, not small improvement over a long period of time. I was impatient and restless. Now, at age 55, I see things much differently. I recognize and appreciate the beauty of practice. I am not in a hurry anymore. I love slowing difficult passages down to a crawl to look inside them...to figure them out.Taking my time feels good. And it still works.
I have experienced this new appreciation most recently while practicing the guitar. I play the guitar, yes, but I have not had any formal training and am completely self-taught. I don't consider myself a guitarist at all, but I enjoy it immensely. I borrowed an electric guitar from my friend Ben the other day and set about trying to learn some riffs that I admired, but I knew were out my reach. I embraced the idea of playing them slowly, over and over. Little by little I gained confidence and started to master these riffs. I learned to play them well enough to record and share with my Facebook friends. This tried and true regiment really works...even for me in my middle years. Take my time. Enjoy the work. Trust the process. I didn't see that as a kid. I practiced my violin. I got pretty good. I still play. It is a joy...a gift. And I am better now than ever. Wow.
The COVID-19 Pandemic continues. Life has changed. The world has changed. But it is not the first time in history that a pandemic has changed the course of history. Here is an excellent article about how an epidemic of Yellow Fever led to the United States's acquisition of the Louisiana Territory.
The Heritage Philharmonic was scheduled to play our Spring Concert on March 15 at Helzberg Hall here in Kansas City. This was cancelled due to the onset of the COVID-19 Pandemic. We had hoped to reschedule the concert for October, but that remains to be seen. In the meantime, we had to turn our music in last week because much of it is rented and needed to be returned. I was very sad making the drive to return it to our music librarian. So much practice and rehearsal...and no chance to play it in a performance.
I have given up watching TV news, and I don't read much news anymore either. I listen to music...more than ever. My latest listening project has been listening to the First or Only Symphony of composers:
Philip Glass Symphony no 1 Edward Elgar Symphony no 1 Joachim Raff Symphony no 1 Howard Hanson Symphony no 1 Igor Stravinsky Symphony no 1 Charles Gounod Symphony no 1 Sergei Rachmaninoff Symphony no 1 Peter Tchaikovsky Symphony no 1 Gustav Mahler Symphony no 1 Johannes Brahms Symphony no 1 Franz Liszt Faust Symphony Samuel Barber Symphony no 1 Georges Bizet Symphony in C major Felix Mendelssohn Symphony no Anton Bruckner Symphony no 1 Charles Ives Symphony no 1 Leonard Bernstein Symphony no 1 Edvard Grieg Symphony in C minor William Walton Symphony no 1 Carl Nielsen Symphony no 1 Franz Schubert Symphony no 1 Ludwig van Beethoven Symphony no 1 Robert Schumann Symphony no 1 Camille Saint-Saens Symphony no 1 Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov Symphony no 1 Jean Sibelius Symphony no 1 Dmitri Shostakovich Symphony no 1
I am still immersed in no 1's....I will update later. But there is something wonderful about a First.
May 2, 1940. The miracle of childbirth. A baby girl is born to Leslie and Eileen Welker in Lamar, MO. Her name is Judith Elnora Welker, and she grew up to be my mom, my friend and my inspiration. I call this Blog "Classical Connections" because I love classical music. My dad was certainly a prime influence on me with respect to music, as I said in the very first post in 2014. But I have to give equal credit to my mom, for she too nurtured and shaped my musical journey and without her, music would not mean nearly as much to me as it does.
This little girl from Lamar grew up to be an extraordinary woman. She got married, worked to support my dad as he completed his academic studies, raised two children, made friends everywhere we lived...most of whom she still stays in touch with...became a great tennis player, runner, journalist, advertising executive, artist and musician....and I know I am leaving many other accomplishments out. This remarkable woman is turning 80 years old, and I know it blows her mind as much as mine, and everyone who knows her. She still walks, runs, rides her bike, works in the yard, delivers Meals on Wheels, and serves at Church, She still has a passion for learning new things, and helping others.
She is also a cancer survivor, a person of deep faith, a person who serves God, and worries more about others than herself. And she is a grandmother who has more love to give her family than the visible light of the Universe. Yes, she is that special, and I love her more than words can express. So to you mom, I say "Cheers", just as we say when we take our selfies at the Kansas City Symphony concerts we love to attend together. I look forward to the next decade and beyond of Friday morning coffee, symphony concerts, fun times with family and most of all, your boundless love, joy, and positive spirit. I love you.
It may come as a surprise for many people that one of the most notable Civil War naval battles took place in France...or just off the coast of France...on June 19, 1864. The CSS Alabama had been wreaking havoc on Union shipping for years, until mid-June 1864 when it entered the harbor at Cherbourg for repairs. Word of her arrival reached US forces and the USS Kearsarge set off for Cherbourg to destroy her. The story is a great one, and it is told well in this article:
I will let you read the details for yourself, but as it relates to classical music, I couldn't help but wonder if any of the thousands of people who watched the battle from the shore would perhaps go to a concert later that same day. Paris is about 300 km from Cherbourg, a pretty easy train trip even in 1864. Assuming the battle took place in the morning...I am not sure what time it did happen...any one of the spectators could have made it back to Paris for a concert. So I looked at the June 19, 1864 edition of Le Petit, a daily newspaper in Paris. Top of the list was a 7:15 pm performance of the Marriage of Figaro by Mozart.
What a day that could have been...to witness an historic Civil War naval battle, then be back in Paris for a production of Mozart's most well loved opera.
On another artistic note, the famous French painter, Edouard Manet, painted the battle. He was not witness to it, but he used descriptions from those who did witness it to paint this that same year. The picture now resides at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
A few weeks ago, as the global pandemic was beginning to make itself known here in the US, my son learned that his baseball career was over. He played college baseball at Missouri Western University. This was his final year of collegiate baseball. He knew this was his final season, and he had made peace with that. He is ready to graduate in May and move on with his life. But no one, least of all him, saw things ending the way they did. It was not a hit nor walk nor strikeout...a win or a loss...it was a virus that brought his career, and that of thousands of other collegiate athletes, to an abrupt end. This was the end of a journey that started many years ago, in our backyard.
A little boy learning to hit a ball. This has been repeated millions of times since the invention of baseball in the early 1800's. Fathers...mothers...sons...daughters....a bat and a ball.
Baseball is a ruthless game. It is failure with small bursts of success sprinkled in. At every level, failure is the norm. Yet it is a game that we love none-the-less. And Jack took to it immediately and never let it go. From that time to now, it has been a big part of his life. I couldn't even begin to calculate the number of swings, ground balls, fly balls, etc etc he has taken and fielded. And of course there is weight training, film study, and team building.
There is also injury, disappointment, politics, and rivalry. The little boy above had surgery on his knee in 2016 and suffered life-threatening pulmonary embolisms afterwards. All for baseball.
I too have a few baseball scars...taking line drives off my chins that I could not block coming off his bat. Getting hit hurts! But we kept going.
To say I am proud of him is an understatement. Regardless of batting average or any other baseball metric, I am most proud of his dedication, resilience, and work ethic. And his sportsmanship. He gives back to others and uses his talent to lift others up.
I remember a time when he was in a slump and looking for anything to get out of it. It is a helpless feeling for a player to go from hitting everything the pitcher throws to not being able to hit anything!
He kept at it...kept grinding and trying...and finally he connected for a home run to break the slump. He signed the ball and gave it to me.
A couple of weeks ago, two things happened almost simultaneously that I knew I needed to write about. I got sick. I came down with a low grade fever, chills, and body ache. Earlier that same day, I was reading old newspapers and saw an advertisement circa 1888 about a belt that claimed to use voltaic electricity to heal a variety of illnesses and ailments, Electricity was a new revelation at the end of the nineteenth century and people explored the possibility that it could cure many of the diseases that inflicted many people. So later that night, as I crawled into bed and covered up in a super warm fleece blanket, Puma the cat followed me. This big blanket was covering part of my head and all my upper torso. The lights were out. Cheryl was sleeping in Ethan's room so I could have our bed to myself to try and get over this bug. I felt Puma take a stand in the middle of the blanket by my head and she started kneading her claws vigorously. She was also purring loudly. She leaned over me and her nose touched my nose. POW. A blast of static electricity cracked us. I opened my eyes. Puma kept kneading and I was treated to a laser light show of static "voltaic" electric all around this blanket. And....I kid you not....I started to feel better. This little cat somehow knew I didn't feel well. And she said, "just relax and let me take care of you old man." The sparks were green and yellow. They crackled. I fell asleep. and when I awoke, I felt better. A lot better. Coincidence? I think not. Puma's voltaic healing I say.
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My latest listening project was the 16 string quartets of Dmitri Shostakovich...1-16 in sequence. It took me four days...so four per day! It rewired my brain for sure. DS is a legit genius. Conflicted, tormented, razor focused, yet open to exploration. comical, and dark. I noticed that Puma the cat was on edge after the first day. DS's tonality, voicing, and phrasing is world class. But it's not always so easy on the ears. It stimulates a response in the brain that triggers edginess. Unforgettable and clever. A great musical journey...highly recommended. and it requires more than one pass, so I will do this again soon.
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I landed on the music of Max Ricther last year when I wrote about his soundtrack for the movie Hostiles. Last week I heard On the Nature of Daylight for the first time on Sirius XM Radio. This comes from his album The Blue Notebooks. I almost had to pull off to the side of the road to compose myself.
On February 8, 1898, the French organist and composer, Alexandre Guilmant gave a recital in Kansas City as part of his tour of the United States. This recital took place at the Grand Avenue church. Guilmant had a long, distinguished career as a performer, composer, and teacher. He lived from 1837 to 1911.
Here is the review of his performance in Kansas City published in the February 9, 1898 Kansas City Journal:
Here too is a wonderful piece of music composed for Organ by Guilmant. Enjoy!
I've had the pleasure of seeing Pinchas Zukerman perform a number of times, going as far back as the mid-70's when I saw him for the first time...he was playing the violin as a soloist. But he is also a conductor, and a virtuoso violist as well. In addition to playing the "standards" of the violin-viola concerto repertoire, he has also distinguished himself as a fine chamber musician. If you watch any number of interviews and documentaries about him, what stands out to me is his love of making music WITH other people...not FOR other people. He loves being "in the band" so to speak. The spotlight of the concert stage is not what he seeks...he would rather be part of a group effort. And Saturday night, watching him perform the Beethoven Violin Concerto in D with the Kansas City Symphony...that's exactly how it felt. Sure, he was the star...we all came to see him play the Beethoven...but he blended into the orchestra and made it feel like a group effort, even though he was doing the heavy lifting. Beethoven's Violin Concerto was premiered in 1806, and was not well received. Imagine that...this seminal work got off to a very slow start. But tonight, everyone in Helzberg Hall probably already knows and loves this concerto. Along with Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky and Brahms, Beethoven is on the Mount Rushmore of violin concertos. And the concerto starts with? That's right, 4 "d's" tapped on the timpani, followed by a rather lengthy orchestral introduction...over three minutes. So rather than just standing there waiting for his entrance, Zukerman jumps in with the second violins and plays with them...a man who loves being part of the band. And when it's time for the solo violin to enter, he steps forward and takes the hand-off from Maestro Stern and off we go. My mom asked me how many times has he played this concerto in his career.. I don't know...probably hundreds...but the great thing about him, and this concert, was his eagerness to make music. He was engaged, enthusiastic and alive. How does Billy Joel manage to play Piano Man with any enthusiasm after playing it thousands of times? Not sure...but Zukerman seemed to be having fun. When he reached the cadenza of the first movement, his true genius was obvious. The woodshed had velvet walls. The technical nature of the work was visible to the eye, but the resulting music was simply beautiful to the ear. Leaning into the cadenza, he swayed, and shimmied. all under the watchful eye of Stern,who did a wonderful job keeping the balance and guiding the attacks and phrasing for everyone else. And here's what Zukerman does that many if not most violinists can't do...and this is true of singers...he can be "loud" when he plays softly. I don't know how to explain this very well...but when he plays quietly and delicately, the music does not lose its power nor force. And when he does play at full volume, it is such a great contrast to his pianissimo. There were continued smiles throughout the performance, intentional eye contact with Stern and other musicians, and an obvious love and respect of this timeless music. After making his debut as a child prodigy some sixty years ago, the kids is still alright.
There was other music this evening as well. I am a huge Janacek fan...how many of you can honestly say that? I have probably listened to his Sinfonietta and Taras Bulba a hundred times. And his piano work On an Overgrown Path is also a big favorite of mine. But I had never heard The Fiddler's Child before this week. (I listened to it in advance of the concert.) What a great work! It has the same rhythmic pulse and chordal style of Taras Bulba, and a very tasty violin solo played with great tone and taste by guest concertmaster, Joseph Meyer. I listened to it again today because I am hooked!
And speaking of hooks...musical hooks...there was also Mozart's Symphony no. 39 this evening. Once again, the KCS played Mozart with finesse, crispness and most importantly, ENERGY. It seemed like Maestro Stern and the Band were having fun. Mozart sets so many traps for you as a musician. First off, there are the repeats and sudden stops that make you hold your breath that no one will blow through a stop sign and play in a rest. No one did. But much more importantly, as great as Mozart is, a blase', uninspired Mozart is a real drag. If you are going to do it...than DO IT. KCS brought their A-game tonight and brought Mozart to life. Cheers!
I may have mentioned before that I no longer listen to music when I run. I used to. About ten years ago...maybe even eleven or twelve, I was running the Omaha Marathon and I had an iPod loaded with songs. By then my eyesight was at the point where I needed glasses to see the display, and I didn't like to wear them while I ran. So anytime I wanted to make any adjustments, it was a struggle. And on this particular day, something was not working with the iPod and I had to stop multiple times to try and get it figured out. It was hot this day too, and sweat kept pouring all over my head and into my eyes and ears. The headphones kept falling out of my ears, and the chord was constantly bouncing about, getting in the way of my arm swing. And for some reason, the music I had loaded wasn't making me happy for whatever reason. I'd start a song and about a minute later, I wanted to forward it to the next song, but the next song didn't cut it either. I finally got so frustrated, I just ditched my mobile sound system in a bush and said "fuck it." I was left with the sound of my breathing and my feet hitting the road. It was better than any music that day, and I have not used music while running since. But that does not mean there isn't music in my head...there is. I have the ability to sing or hum a tune as I run...mostly to myself, but occasionally aloud. There was the time I was running a marathon and I must have been singing aloud and as I came up on another runner who looked around as I approached and said "do you think you could get any fucking louder?" (OK, so that's twice now I have cursed here....so be it). Anyway, I chalked that snarky comment up to the fact that she was probably suffering as we all do during a marathon, but I must have sounded too happy. And I was cruising pretty well at that point and that added to her displeasure. So I try to keep the music in my head. Any kind of music will do, but short phrases or segments of songs or symphonies work best...and I repeat them over and over. Today, on my six mile run, it was the ending of She's So Heavy by the Beatles, from the Abbey Road album in my head. I'm talking about the five bar phrase that is repeated over and over at the end.
But then I switched to the song Opening by Philip Glass. This is from his 1981 album called Glassworks. Glass is a great composer, and this album fits into the genre often called Minimalism. A simple, short musical idea or phrase is repeated over and over, sometimes with small variations, and sometimes with out any. I got this album when it was first released and it has long been a favorite of mine, regardless if I am running or sipping a bourbon.
Erik Satie may be the Godfather of minimalism. Some of his compositions are very short or singular musical phrases that are repeated over and over. Here is one of my favorites that is a great running tune:
The rolling arpeggios create nice forward motion in my mind which then translates to my legs as I run.
I have probably used a melody line from every composer at some point on a run. Dvorak, Beethoven, Bruckner, Bach, Chopin....and on and on. That's how I do it. No headphones to mess with, no device to carry, charge or protect from the elements. Ditching the outside music that day back in Omaha was the best thing I ever did.
I traveled to Orlando for work this week. Flying offers wonderful people watching opportunities. I try to keep a positive attitude while observing my fellow humans, but let me get some of the negatives out first. Sick people. I was stuck next to a family with two small children on the flight down. The girl must have been 5-6 years old, and she coughed and hacked and wheezed the entire flight. The dude in front of me also was clearly sick and could not stop coughing and sneezing. I understand that we have places to go and things to do. Most of us go about our lives even if we have a cold or some respiratory infection. But when you are trapped in an aluminum tube with crappy air, your germs have a field day I think infecting others. It's no wonder we have epidemics.
People talk on their phones at the top of their lungs, sharing their shitty conversations with everyone within 50 feet of them. The worst offender was a young lady at the Kansas City airport who was talking on speaker phone without any awareness that she was disturbing everyone around her. I looked at her and she noticed me. I kept my gaze and shook my head disapprovingly and walked away. I didn't want to be a complete douche and confront her directly, but I was pleased that I made some attempt convey what the rest of us for whom she had no concern were feeling.
Bravo once again to the Orlando airport. I had a two hour wait there and was treated to classical music the entire time on the overhead sound system. Why an airport needs to play music of any kind makes no sense to me. Most everyone else has their earbuds in listening to their own music or podcast or watching a movie or show. But I appreciated the Beethoven String Quartet and the Mendelssohn Symphony all the same...I listened. When I got to Atlanta, I was greeted with the worst "smooth jazz" mashup imaginable. It was loud and it was distracting. I love jazz, and have expressed that many times here. This was prefabricated, mindless, studio session bullshit. Your music sucks Hartsfield International.
I met an Uber diver named Abdi who was born in Somalia, and was forced to move to a refugee camp in Kenya when he was one. His family lived in the camp for years before he was allowed to come to the United States. His description of life in the refugee camp has horrifying and heart breaking. I can't imagine what it would be like not being able to live in my home country, to have to walk many miles to a different country and live in a tent without any security or protection, and lack basic needs like water, food and sanitation. He said the Kenyans did not want the Somali people to be there, and the camp guards were corrupt and violent. His father was killed. Luckily, he was granted asylum in America and came to KC with his mother, and two sisters. He now is a US Citizen, has a wife who is a nurse, and two young children. He expressed a profound sense of gratitude for the opportunity to come here and he had an infectious, positive outlook. It was very humbling for me, a person who has lived a life rich in material things, security, freedom, and an abundance of food and water.
I started writing this online journal...or Blog...in February of 2014. I must say, I am immensely proud and satisfied with what this has become. Writing continues to be a source of pleasure and happiness for me. I wish I had more time to write. It's not always easy, and I don't always write very well....but hey, that's OK too. I don't always write about classical music either...I branch out...take journeys into other areas...history and philosophy for example. But, regardless, it is genuine, and from my heart. It is honest and authentic. It is me. Hello 2020, I am looking forward to what you have in store for me.
In early December, I had another one of those moments when I heard a piece of music while I was in the car... I knew what the piece was...Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition (1874)...but in this case, it was the original version for piano, and I wanted to know who was playing it. Maurice Ravel orchestrated Pictures in 1922, and this is what most people know. I have talked to many people who have never even heard the piano version, and as incredible as Ravel's work is, the original work is equally stunning. On this occasion, the recording I was listening to was even more mesmerizing than any other I have heard. And of course, I arrived home before it was over, so there I sat in the garage for at least fifteen minutes, waiting for it to end so I could hear who had recorded it. The answer was Alice Sara Ott. Mussorgsky had a very tragic life. I read some letters of his that described his descent into alcoholism and eventual death that was equal parts fascinating and sad. The picture above (1881), was painted a few days before he died, and captures the red nose and vacant stare of a chronic alcoholic at death's doorstep. But in his Pictures at an Exhibition, there is so much life...breathtaking melodies, humor, fear, and triumph. Ott's recording is the best I have heard.
I stumbled upon another work of Mussorgsky this month that I had never heard...The Songs and Dances of Death for Soprano and Piano. I find these haunting and beautiful...sometimes playful and light...but mostly heavy and dark. I love them! Take a listen. I am curious what you think of them.
My resolution this year is to talk about LOVE. Despite the sadness and grief around us....the fighting and arguing...the negativity and anger...I do believe that LOVE is the answer. I believe in God's LOVE and GRACE. But I have dear friends and family members who don't believe in God...and that's OK with me. They too have LOVE in their hearts. LOVE is LOVE. Spread it. "I LOVE you" is the best thing you can tell someone. Say it.
