My nose

There was a time in my life when I was obsessed with my nose....I hated it. It seemed huge. I was self-conscious about it. I was embarrassed by it. This was in that fragile period of adolescence when I was trying to make sense of the world and my place in it. And as I grew from a boy into a man, my nose seemed to be growing faster than the rest of me. I spent many hours with a hand mirror, standing in front of a big mirror so I could see it from the side view. I was trying to convince myself that it wasn't that big. Some days I was able to achieve that conclusion...but the next day I was back at square one. Thankfully, I can say that I was never bullied nor ridiculed by anyone in my family. Nor any of my friends or classmates. But comments were made: "You have the Hazlett nose"..."your nose is big"..."he's got a big nose too, like you." Things like that were said, but never in a mean way. It was just good-natured to them. But deep down, I was hurt.

Both my grandfather and my dad had "prominent" noses...but mine seemed more than "prominent" to me. So I made a decision to do something about it. First, I tried to cover it...there was a bump that seemed like a good place for a pair of glasses to sit on. So I decided that I was having trouble with my vision. And that resulted in my parents taking me to the eye doctor for an exam, which I faked to make the doctor think I needed a prescription for glasses. It worked. We went to the store to pick out frames, and in a matter of time I had a pair of glasses that sat on the bump of my nose and seemed to cover it up. In my teen-aged mind, it was a perfect solution and I felt free of the insecurity I had been living with. Well, this was great, except for I couldn't see very well with these glasses that I didn't really need. So after awhile, I knew this was not going to be a long term solution. My next option, one that I had been looking into, was plastic surgery-a nose job. There was a kid in my Junior High school that had an operation to pin his ears back so they didn't stick out so much. As far as I know, this was purely a cosmetic procedure, and he seemed much happier and confident after having it done. And there were two kids in High School that I knew had had nose jobs. One was a girl who had a broken nose and needed surgery to repair it...so it certainly was necessary, but she claimed it also improved the look of her nose. And there was another kid in my class who had a much bigger nose than I did, and he had a nose job just to make it look better. As far as I could see, once the bandages were removed and the swelling went down, he did look better. And he seemed happy about it. So that's when I decided to look into having plastic surgery. I wish I could remember more of the details for this story, but it has been 40 years, and I just can't recall many of them. But I did find my way...alone...to a plastic surgeons office for a consultation. I don't remember lying to the office staff about my age when I checked in. I filled out some papers and waited to see the surgeon. They called me back and seated my in a room. The doctor came in and took a look at me and the file they had created. "How old are you?" he asked. "16" I answered. "Are your parents here?" "No." "Timothy, I am not going to be able to have a consultation with you unless your parents are here with you. I am sorry that you were allowed in by yourself, but you have to be at least 18 to do this on your own. Do they know you are here?" "No" I told him. I am here alone. "If you want to have a consultation, you will need at least one of parents to be with you. I am going to have to call them and explain that you were allowed to see me, but that it was a mistake in the  admitting process, but that no such consultation was given. Do you understand me, Timothy?" "Yes sir...I understand. And I am sorry to take your time. I just hate my nose and want to have a nose job to make it look better." "Well Timothy, please understand the reason I can't meet with you starts with the fact that this is surgery...it is not some magical, casual procedure. And all surgery comes with significant risks. And there is no guarantee that the results will be perfect."

And that was the end of that. I felt terrible about not telling my parents in the first place. And I felt bad that the doctor seemed alarmed that I had taken this step on my own. So I went home and faced the music...I talked to my mom. I could also have talked to my dad, but as I remember it, he was not home when I got home. But my mom was, and I sat her down and told her what I had done. To her credit, she kept he cool....she didn't get upset or angry...she didn't cry. She gave me a hug and the best pep talk a son could ever have. She told me she loved my nose....that it had character...that it was just a part of the whole me, and she loved every part of me...and that many famous people had large, or prominent noses, both men and women, and she proceeded to list some names. She assured me that I would "grow into my nose" and that it was the nose God had created for me, and I was loved by God. 

These words sunk in. My dad was also very cool about it once she told him after he got home. And he and I had pretty much the same conversation too. So I took off the glasses, and I gave up the idea of having a nose job. I focused on the things that I loved...my violin, my guitar, sports, and girls. 

It was during this time shortly after my failed plastic surgery attempt that another important event happened. I was in a bookstore at the mall looking through a book about the Beatles, my favorite band. I glanced down the self and saw another book about the Who. The first line of the book, on page 1, started out "Pete Townshend simply hated his nose." He too had a very large and prominent nose, and he experienced many of the same feelings I had been dealing with. Like I said above, my mom named several famous people who had big noses....but none of them were people I was a fan of. But Pete Townshend...this connected to me immediately. He spoke about using his insecurities about his nose and his looks to fuel his dream of being a rock star. He played the guitar like a wild man, jumping about and windmilling his arm, all in an attempt to take attention away from his nose. And it obviously worked for him. 

There is a moment during the Who's concert in Philadelphia on 12/4/73 (you can hear the entire concert on YouTube) when Townshend is introducing a song call I Am One from the album Quadrophenia:

"When I was an ipper, I always used to feel the guitar was all I had. I could have been right, of course. I wasn't tough enough to be a member of the gang, not good looking enough to be in with the birds, not clever enough to make it at school, not good enough with the feet to make a good football player. I was a fucking loser."

So as I entered my Junior year of high school, I began to "forget" about my nose. Maybe I was growing into it. But armed with my admiration for Pete Townshend, I was beginning to not only accept it, but to be confident with it. He was a world famous rock 'n roll musician after all. 

Looking back now on that time in my life, 40 years ago, I am very thankful that I didn't have plastic surgery. I am very comfortable in my skin. And I can honestly say, I don't just like my nose, I love it, just like my mom told me she did. And it is the nose that God gave me, and I am glad I didn't change it. Adolescence is such a difficult time for so many people, and I know now I was neither emotionally nor intellectually equipped to make a major life decision such as having surgery. I was just a kid. Decisions such as these should made in adulthood, not childhood.

The Trill is Gone

 

Trill:  A quavering or vibratory sound, especially a rapid alternation of sung or played notes.

If you play or sing music from the classical repertoire, there is a better than average chance that you will come upon a marking of tr~ . This means a trill. Trills were very common for many centuries. Here are some examples for you:

Giuseppe Tartini wrote a famous violin sonata in the 1700's (it was published in 1799). It is know as The Devil's Trill.

Here are two examples of trills by Beethoven, first is his Violin Concerto in D major (1806):

and now is Piano Sonata no. 30 (1820).

Vocalists can also trill. It is very common in the operatic world. Check out Joan Sutherland, soprano:

Somewhere along the way, the trill must have fallen out of favor. I don't know about you, but I don't ever hear anyone in the world of popular music using trills. Howlin' Wolf didn't trill. Hank Williams didn't trill. Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra didn't trill. Where did the trill go? and Why did it go? Beats me. B.B. King said The Thrill is Gone. He could also say The Trill is Gone. 

But not completely. I found a couple of examples of trills being used fairly recently outside of classical music.

Here is Pete Townshend, guitarist for The Who from their famous 1970 Live at Leeds recording:

And just this month, guitarist Extraordinaire, Paul Gilbert, released a new album of Christmas Songs, one of which opens with a trill:

So there are still a few trills out there, maybe more than I realize. I would welcome your input. If you come upon any trills in non-classical music, drop me a line and let me know! Otherwise I will continue to echo....The Trill is Gone.

Big Impressions: NFL Films and Sam Spence, Composer

Even though baseball is my favorite sport, I also love football. Being from Kansas City, my parents became Chiefs fans when the Dallas Texans moved to KC in 1963 and joined the AFL as the Chiefs. Naturally, I became a Chiefs fan too. In those days, there was no ESPN or social media. There were one or two games a week to watch on TV each Sunday, and in 1970, Monday Night Football was born which added a third opportunity to see NFL football. The only way to see highlights of each game was to watch This Week in Pro Football, a production of NFL Films. Watching TWIPF was a must for me. NFL Films used dramatic music, slow motion action and vivid narration that brought each game to life in a theatrical way. The players and coaches seemed larger than life...almost mythical. But it was the music that caught my attention and did the most to create the story for each segment. 

Sam Spence (1927-2016) was the composer who brought these films to life.  He used a wide array of styles and instrumentation to fit the mood of the game. Here is a tune he wrote called The Ramblin' Man from Gramblin' being used for a Chiefs-Dolphins game from 1974:

Here is the music without the narration:

And here is my arrangement of Ramblin' Man From Gramblin' on the guitar:

Here's another great tune called The Over the Hill Gang by Sam Spence:

These two works and many others filled my childhood with great memories. Thank you Sam Spence.

Classics in Commercials: Patrick Mahomes and Beethoven for Bose

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yk38H2UtrLY

It seems ironic that the tag line for this Bose Earbuds commercial is "rules the quiet." The music you are hearing in this ad is the second movement of Beethoven's Symphony no 9. I'm sure you are aware that Beethoven was tormented with hearing loss, tinnitus, and eventually total deafness. Despite this cruel fate, he continued to write music. And as the story goes, while conducting the 9th Symphony at it's premiere, he didn't hear the audience's applause when it was over so the musicians had to turn him around to see how well it had been received. 

Beethoven sought medical attention throughout his life to deal with his hearing issues. But he certainly didn't have anything like the amazing technology we have today such as these earbuds being promoted by Kansas City Chiefs' quarterback, Patrick Mahomes. And I don't know if the creators of this commercial chose Beethoven's music just because it is incredible music, or if they were tapping into the story of Beethoven's hearing tragedy as a way to emphasize the power of their technology. 

I wrote about my hearing challenges in this blog a few years ago, and I called it "This is My Quiet." When the room is quiet, I don't just hear "nothing." I hear whirring and buzzing. My hearing has been damaged over the course of my lifetime from exposures to loud music and other everyday loud noises. Now I keep earplugs with me at all times and for all environments, be it in a crowded-noisy restaurant, a concert, vacuuming, or playing my violin. 

I like this commercial a lot because I love the KC Chiefs, Patrick Mahomes, and Beethoven. 

The guitar

 

When I saw a string quartet at my elementary school in 1972, I knew the violin was the instrument for me. And that was the path I pursued...no regrets. I love playing more now than I did almost fifty years ago. But while the violin was my first love, it is not my only one. A few years after starting to study the violin, I had an affair with the guitar, and that love too still burns in my soul. 

I remember where it started...  this affair. I of course knew what guitars were...they were everywhere. I learned of the Beatles in 1978 and was instantly hooked by their sound. And I had a desire to play that kind of music, so learning to play the guitar seemed like the way to do that. But even before that point in my life, there was an equally profound introduction to guitar music thanks to Liona Boyd.

Liona Boyd released this album in 1974...her debut album. On one of my regular trips to the record store with my dad that year, I saw this record displayed on the "new release" shelf. I told my dad I wanted to buy it...well, I wanted him to buy it for me....which he did. I had heard of Andre Segovia at this point....we listened to some of his music in the music literature class I was taking (the program I was in at the University of Texas String Project provided students with an instrument and private instruction, as well as weekly classes in music theory, literature and ensemble play.) The sound of Segovia playing all of those notes on only one instrument was pretty amazing to me. Violins, at least at that point in my studies, only played one note at a time. My dad supported my interest in classical guitar because, even though it wasn't his "thing,' he recognized that it was classical music. So the record was mine. Disclaimer...I can't lie, I know I was smitten by this beautiful woman holding a guitar....it wasn't just the guitar that got my attention. I read the liner notes on the back of the record a thousand times, and listened to this record over and over and over. I could sing along with every note. The first cut on the album became my favorite: El Colibri by Julio Salvador Sagreras. Here is the full album.

Later that summer, Liona Boyd came to Austin to promote her album and played a live concert at the record store where we bought it. My dad took me. We got there pretty early, and I saw her coming out of a door at the back of the store...she was setting something up in the area she would be playing in. Then she went back. I followed her. The door was open so I poked my head in and there she was...she smiled and said hello. I said hello and told her we were looking forward to seeing her play. She was very kind and thanked us for coming. I noticed she had one of those big red, rubber, hot water bottles on her hand. I asked what was wrong? She laughed and explained that she was fine... her hands get cold easily, so before she plays a concert, she warms them up. I retreated from the room feeling awestruck. I had met a celebrity! 

The concert she gave lasted about an hour as I recall. She was very friendly and open with those of us who showed up to hear her play. And play she did.....it was mesmerizing watching her fingers splay and stretch all over the fingerboard. And the fingers on her right hand as she picked, strummed and fluttered the strings. She even tapped and knocked on the body of the guitar (you can hear this on the last cut of the album: Le Muletier des Andes by Tomasi.)

Liona Boyd was hailed by the great Christopher Parkening as "one of the most excellent guitarists I have heard." She is alive and still performing. 

That's me at the top of the page. I bought my first guitar in 1980 and started to teach myself how to play. I haven't ever had any lessons....I was too busy studying my first love, but that's OK. The guitar continues to give me joy every day.

Impeach Nixon, Vivaldi, Sloppy

 I'm not in a super good mood at the moment. I am trying to fly home to Kansas City from Phoenix and my flight has now been delayed by 3 hours...I hope it does not get cancelled! I am projected to arrive in KC at 1:59 am. Then I have a 45 minute drive home. Oh well, I have a lot of time to kill, and watching people offers a ton of entertainment. What stands out to me as I sit here watching people walk by is....people are sloppy. Very few people I see make any attempt to dress nicely when they travel. Dudes wear flip flops, basketball shorts, t-shirts. Ladies wear shorts, flip-flops, leggings. Most of these folks look they just rolled out of bed and came to the airport. Occasionally a well dressed man wearing a sport coat, slacks, and a dress shirt will stroll by. Or a woman wearing a skirt or dress and nice shoes walks by. But these people are by far the exception. The rest of them probably argue that they want to be comfortable. Sure...but you look like a slob too. It is possible to be comfortable AND look sharp at the same time.

Another annoying reality of people is their lack of self awareness, especially in crowded spaces. Some are talking on their phones with the speaker on, seemingly oblivious that I can hear what they are saying and what the person they are talking to is saying. Others walk, stop, turn, walk and move all over the place without recognizing that they are in the way of the rest of us. Hello! The guy next to me is also at his computer. I am typing this and listening to music (Chopin) with my headphones on. He is watching some show without headphones and I can hear the words of his program through my headphones. He seems clueless that he's being a dick.

Traveling today is a an ugly pain in the ass.

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I was reflecting on my earliest memories of playing the violin this week. We are having our bathroom renovated...new flooring, tile, shower door and vanity. I was practicing my violin in my office when one of the workers stuck his head in to ask a question...but first he said I sounded great and asked how long I had been playing. I had to stop and think a second and add up the years...48 I answered...the number hit me pretty hard. That seems crazy when I really think about it. So I started to reflect on the beginning. 1973. I was transported back to the University of Texas Music Building. It was an old building even then. I spent so many hours there taking lessons, practicing, studying and dreaming. I remember hearing one of the advanced string orchestras playing a piece of music by Vivaldi. I was spellbound by the the sound I heard. And the kids in that group looked so much older and cool as they dug into the music. I was hungry to play that music someday. And they didn't have tape on their fingerboards either! I also remember learning about politics in the men's room. The walls above the urinals and the stalls were covered in graffiti. One phrase that appeared often was "Impeach Nixon." Another was "No More War." Those were the days.

Routines, Ear Worm Relief

It's been at least fifteen years ago...my son Jack went to one of those do-it-yourself pottery places and made me a coffee mug for Father's Day. I have to say, it remains one of my most prized possessions. Father's day came on a Sunday that year, and since then, every Sunday, I drink my coffee from this cup alone. Not on any other day...just Sunday. Every Sunday.

I love everything about this mug...my name, a running shoe (New Balance)...I don't recall every wearing New Balance, but that's irrelevant...and his signature with a smile inside. Welcome to my Sunday ritual.

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The other day, my wife told me that in one of her dreams, she heard the song Billy Don't Be A Hero. I instantly asked Alexa to play this song, and then it was stuck in my head. We all go through that at times...a song or melody becomes imbedded in our heads and it plays constantly, driving us crazy. I have found a cure for this phenomenon...it is Debussy. His Arabesque no. 1 specifically. Something in this beautiful work kills the annoying tune in your head.

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