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--Patty Thayer

Communications Director

P.S. This location will be deleted by the end of June. If you forget the new address, you can always find a link to our new BLOG on our website at www.slosymphony.com.

J is for Jokes

A friend recently told me this joke:

Knock knock. Who’s there? Knock knock. Who’s there? Knock knock. Who’s there?

Knock knock. Who’s there? Knock knock. Who’s there?

Philip Glass.

You probably know who Philip Glass is, what his music is like, and consequently why this joke is funny (or at least clever and amusing). If not, check this out. You don’t have to listen long to get the idea.

So I was thinking about jokes: what makes them funny? Why do we tell them? What purpose do they serve? I’m not a sociologist or even particularly knowledgeable about humor, but here are some ideas that have been going through my head.

One thing jokes do: they relieve stress. As a teacher I know that if the mood in a class is tense or overly serious, a joke can lighten the atmosphere and make for a more productive class.

In the past I’ve seen articles that claim laughter can increase oxygen flow, ease muscle tension, even stimulate the immune system. We all know from experience how laughter just makes you feel good, hence “feel-good” movies that usually have a lot of jokes (in addition to some sort of cheesy romance plot or comforting moral message – uh oh, cynicism. Here’s a joke to counter it: why did the Salvador Dali cross the road? Fish…).

Jokes also build group spirit, especially those that require some sort of in-group knowledge (for example, the Philip Glass joke above: if you get it, you feel kind of special and might feel a kinship with other Philip Glass aficionados). I remember the first time I encountered this phenomenon as a musician. I was at summer arts camp where we had a “Conversation with the Artist” lecture series. Our conductor, David Becker, was holding forth about music (a really inspiring talk; I got a tape and wore it out). He also told a lot of musician jokes, some of which I remember to this day:

What’s the difference between a violin and a viola? A viola burns longer (this was the first, and certainly not the last, time I heard this joke).

What’s the difference between a saxophone and a vacuum cleaner? You can tune a vacuum cleaner.

How do you make a trombone sound like a French horn? Stick your hand in the bell and miss a lot of notes.

This part of his talk was a revelation to me and all my musician friends. You could make jokes about music! It wasn’t just practice and lessons and auditions and rehearsals and concerts! We could laugh about music in a way that was special to us! And perhaps most importantly, we could make fun of ourselves, not take ourselves so seriously. For a bunch of tightly wound, perfectionistic, aspiring teenage musicians, this was an epiphany. We told those jokes to each other over and over. We tried explaining them to our roommates, who were writers, actors, painters, dancers, mimes (yes, mimes). They didn’t laugh out loud at our jokes (especially not the mimes), and their “not getting the joke” made us feel even more special.

Here’s a video that plays on in-group knowledge about the great cellists and illustrates an element of satire (exaggeration for comic effect) – as well as the idea that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

This dynamic of being “in on the joke” does have a dark side, though. If jokes can produce group cohesion, they can do that by scapegoating or stigmatizing someone outside the group. It’s the down-and-dirty road to self-esteem (group or individual): put someone else down. They’re bad; I’m good. This kind of joking enforces hierarchy by making the object of the joke seem less-than. Racist, sexist, homophobic jokes do this. They aren’t funny unless the object of the joke is in some way already socially marginal or subject to prejudice. For example:

What did the rich, well-educated white guy say when he opened a box of Cheerios?

“Look, donut seeds!”

Not too funny, right? Substitute “blonde” or “redneck” or “Sarah Palin” or “violist” and bingo! The joke works better. At some point in the past, viola jokes may have functioned this way – as a way for others musicians to build up their egos by putting down a scapegoat. And historically, there was some basis for viola jokes: until the twentieth century, the viola wasn’t much of a solo instrument, and violists were recruited from the ranks of older and/or less accomplished violists, so they were easy targets. Hence jokes like this:

What’s the definition of a string quartet? A good violinist, a bad violist, a former violinist, and two plane tickets.

These days, however, violists aren’t necessarily any better or worse than any other category of musician. So viola jokes, I think, have the status of blonde jokes – making fun of a group that everyone knows (or should know) isn’t really inferior.

So to me, viola jokes are funny because they represent a form of "Viola Power" -- a repetition of the stigma that makes fun of it and takes its power away, in the same way that the gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgender community reclaimed the word “queer” or the African-American community (especially comedians) have reclaimed the “N word.” I think this reclaiming perhaps operates on the same principle behind the formula “tragedy plus time equals humor.” If you can laugh later about something negative, you take away its power to hurt you.

Also, I think it’s fun that the viola has its own category of jokes. Everyone in an orchestra knows about viola jokes. By contrast, heard any good xylophone jokes lately? Celeste jokes? Bass clarinet jokes?

So having written a not-terribly-funny blog on jokes (irony), I’ll forego the viola joke, and leave you with these humorous viola videos.

Maybe the universe is trying to tell this guy something?

I wish I sounded this good playing the Bartok Concerto NOT riding a unicycle:

DH

A Conversation with Sandi Sigurdson: Conclusion

David Hennessee: During your tenure as Executive Director, was there any controversy?

Sandi Sigurdson: There was some controversy over touring: what it means, why we should do it. In the end, the orchestra musicians were always proud musical ambassadors and our community loved it! The Symphony/Youth Symphony merger required the skilled facilitation of Sharon Young who brought us together. Then there were occasional issues with programming: letters to the editor, comments in reviews, or comments about reviews. But, you know, I love it that we live in a community of music fans who care so much about classical music and know what they want and what they don’t want. And I also love it that the audience is willing to trust Mike’s judgment in programming the classics but also exploring new musical experiences.

DH: in my experience, controversies in arts groups blow over pretty quickly since everyone is primarily focused on the creative process.

SS: Yes, with open communication problems can’t get traction. For example, the symphony has been playing on the Cal Poly campus for many years. The connection to the campus runs deep and many Cal Poly alumni, faculty, staff, and students play in the orchestra. Because Mike has deep respect for conductors like David Arrivee, we have a policy that a qualified student can play in the SLO Symphony and the Cal Poly Orchestra but can’t opt to just play with SLO Symphony. We have the same policy for talented Youth Symphony musicians- they can perform in both groups but their first allegiance must be to the Youth Symphony. If all of us (Cal Poly Orchestra, the Youth Symphony and the Symphony) didn’t make this commitment, then the Symphony would just be scavengers, picking off the best players, and those groups would suffer.

DH: I didn’t know that. What a great idea! It’s a wonderful educational experience for young musicians to play with more mature musicians. But it’s equally valuable for them to take a leadership role in a group of players younger or less accomplished than they are.

SS: We really are blessed to live in an area that has such a strong music community. There’s so much going on, with so many institutions (like Cal Poly and Cuesta College) and individuals (like Clif Swanson) who have fostered a culture of music and music education. Moreover, all the different performing arts cooperate really well. We try not to step on each other’s dates for concerts and fundraisers, and we promote each other’s events. We strive to avoid the idea of competition; the idea is, more music is more music, and everyone wins.

DH: Also, a lot of musicians perform in several different groups. For example, my violist colleague Pat Lamprecht sings with the Vocal Arts Ensemble, and a lot of us play for the Cuesta Master Chorale, for church services, or PCPA, or in various small ensembles… the list goes on.

SS: I can remember a time when Mike was concerned about long lapses of time when the orchestra wouldn’t be rehearsing or performing. Back in the day we’d have a season opening concert in October, then the orchestra might not play together again until February. But with all these other performing opportunities like the ones you mentioned, there are plenty of chances for musicians to keep their chops up. There’s just such a vibrant music scene here.

DH: What have been some of the challenges the symphony has faced over the years?

SS: Let’s see… when I took over as Executive Director, we had a fairly small budget. Then sometime in the late 90s, the tech stocks crashed. Our endowment had been in a growing position, then all of a sudden it wasn’t. So because of that, I was told to trim $50,000 from the budget. Now, that was maybe 20% of the entire budget. As a result of that situation, we initiated some policies that would protect our financial stability. But still, it was a shocking and difficult time. More recently, when the recession hit and the stock market took another dive, the staff and orchestra took pay cuts. But having gone through the earlier crisis, Mike and I had hope. We knew we were on the downside of a cycle, that the economy would come back, and it was our job was to hold on until it did.

Oye! Then there was the 2001 tour to Carnegie Hall and Washington, DC. A week before we left for New York, I got a call telling me that the World Trade Organization would be meeting in DC two blocks from where we were going to play, I think they were actually meeting at the Watergate. The DC police were expecting mobs of protesters, and if they got out of hand, the police planned to shut down all traffic in ten-block radius. That area included Lisner Auditorium on the campus of George Washington University- the Auditorium where the SLO Symphony was scheduled to play! I told the President of the Symphony Board of Directors about this possibility, but I didn’t tell Mike or the orchestra, so as not to worry them. Instead, I arranged for another venue, busses to get us there, and marketing to promote the change in venue. Our performance went on as originally planned, but the whole time we were in New York, I held my breath.

DH: that’s quite a story. From my perspective in the orchestra, there’s so much that the staff does behind the scenes that I don’t know about; I just sort of take it granted. It’s as if season brochures, programs, and paychecks just magically appear.

SS: And for the staff, the music just seems magically to happen. It’s a sign that the relationship between artists and staff is working well when we can have the luxury of taking each other for granted.

DH: Do any other challenging situations come to mind?

SS: Well the Tour Down Under was “artistically fantastic” as we sometimes say when we’re looking on the bright side and bummed about a lack of butts in the bleachers. In preparation for the Australia tour, we did lots of research, advance marketing, we talked to the communities there, we connected with the local symphonies. Even so, there was poor attendance at many of the concerts. That was heartbreaking for everyone.

DH: Why do you think that was?

SS: I’m not really sure. We tried to figure it out -- we have a three-inch thick book of marketing samples from the tour: flyers, posters, magazine tear sheets, news ads and news stories. It’s a different country; there may have been some hubris on our part. Thank heavens that at the Sydney Opera House, we were part of a festival, and that was well attended. That was amazing, to play at this famous hall on the other side of the world.

DH: Do any memories of your fifteen years with the symphony really stand out?

SS: In all our talks, I haven’t said enough about the Board of Directors. Those guys are willing to sweat blood for the orchestra. Year in an year out they show up for myriad meetings, strategize improvements to the organization, listen to Mike’s artistic guidance, and give generously of their time, talent and treasure because they love the art and they love the San Luis Obispo Symphony. Unsung heroes indeed.

But there is this memory that will always stay with me. Several years ago, I was attending the Friday rehearsal before the Saturday opening night concert. One of my daughters was very sick and would have to miss opening night for the first time. The orchestra was going to rehearse Elgar’s “Enigma Variations,” one of my favorite pieces. Mike thought he might just do sections of it, but then wound up playing the whole thing. I sat alone in the hall, listening to the Elgar, filled with worry about my daughter. As I listened, I looked from to face to face at the musicians onstage. There was Martha Uhey, who had taught my kids in school. There was Pam Dassenko who’d watched my daughter grow and loved and encouraged her. There was Ginette Reitz, who was my son’s violin teacher. There was Dr. Jim McKinney, who gave us advice on our daughter’s health. There was Randy Garacci, who always gave me hugs. There was Barbara Hoff, who had lost her son and knew that terrible grief. There was Jane Swanson, who reassured me all would be well. There was Mike, the first person I had called when I knew just how precarious my darling’s situation was. As I listened to Elgar’s earnest, profound music, I thought about the personal experiences I’d had with every musician on that stage. I reflected on what I’d gained. I was alone in the dark, but somehow I was sustained. In those terrifying moments before my daughter got better, I was reaching out for hope, and I got it from “the little orchestra that could.”

A Conversation with Sandi Sigurdson, Part Two

David Hennessee: What was you favorite part of the job as Executive Director? What was most enjoyable?

Sandi Sigurdson: Two things come to mind. Friday night rehearsals in the hall at the Performing Arts Center, before the Saturday afternoon dress rehearsal and evening concert. [Until concert week, the orchestra usually rehearses in the PAC Pavilion, a large room, not in Harmon Hall.] Friday rehearsal was like a little sneak preview, a chance to hear the orchestra just before they’re ready to launch into the Saturday public performances. It was always fascinating to observe the process of putting the final touches on the music. It was such a privilege to be one of about three people in the hall for that. That’s a part of the job I never took for granted, that I got to be one of those lucky people. Also, all Youth Symphony concerts. I loved every single one.

DH: I went to one last year, and it was really inspiring. The kids were so full of life and the joy of making music, you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

SS: And the focus! They are so focused on the music! From a marketing point of view it’s hard to photograph the Youth Symphony kids while they’re playing because they all have such intense looks on their faces, not happy and smiling like people expect to see kids.

DH: On the flip side, what was your least favorite part of the job?

SS: I’d have to say that by the end I was tired of putting on parties. In the last few years I let the rest of the staff take the lead on those. Parties are just very time-consuming to organize, with so many details: what caterer to use, what color tablecloths to have… but they are SO important. Here’s the thing, parties, receptions: these are chances for the audience to socialize with Mike and the musicians, and those opportunities are what build relationships or deepen them. Those relationships can make the difference between someone just applauding the orchestra’s performance versus volunteering their time or donating money. At the Symphony Ball we started the “Parties with a Purpose” series to, of course, raise money but truly to give the audience and musicians more chances to get to know each other.

DH: I hear the Marine Mammal Center in Morro Bay is starting a similar series: “Parties with a Porpoise.”

SS: (Groans.)

DH: Tell me about the Association of California Symphony Orchestras (ACSO) and your work with them.

SS: My predecessor, Cricket Handler, established the relationship with ACSO and our involvement grew from there. In the early days I went alone to one ACSO workshop or conference per year. Then the SLO Symphony board made a commitment to the organization’s professional development, so a culture of on-going training and peer networking flourished. There was a commitment for the staff, the board, Mike and musicians to get involved. ACSO workshops and round tables gave us each a chance to talk to our peers about doing our respective jobs and to learn from their experience.

Say I’m in the middle of a problem with finance, marketing, whatever. Instead of wrestling inside my own feeble head I’m talking to other ED’s I may get ideas about how to solve those problems. More importantly, getting involved in ACSO taught us that we really need-to know who we are and what our role is in the community. Think about that: all decisions, whether about Youth Symphony, finances, touring, etc. flow from knowing who we are and what our role is. Mission, vision, values. Mike has really led in these areas. Especially after 9/11 he had a strong sense of how our orchestra could help the community heal. That purpose hadn’t been part of our mission to such an extent before 9/11, and now we have a greater sense of our particular contribution to the community.

DH: I remember when I interviewed Mike a few years ago he spoke about concerts as offering people a break from all the stresses of life and a chance to recharge spiritually.

SS: That’s so true. In my job I wasn’t making music, but my role was to put the foundation in place so the creative people, the musicians, could have the freedom to do their work and perform that service. There are so many elements that have to be in place for an arts organization to thrive: legal transparency, policy, procedures, finance. I learned a lot from participating in ACSO roundtables with EDs, board presidents, marketing directors. The Kennedy Center’s President, Michael Kaiser, spoke recently at an ACSO conference and summed it up: the key to success is great art, well marketed. The artistic director dreams the dreams and thinks big, and the organization has to keep up with those dreams and aspirations, to bring them to fruition. Through our ACSO association we met folks who helped us to reach for our dreams: The Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra mentored us on grant writing. Joe Truskot from the Monterey Symphony was an organizational mentor. And overall, our association with ACSO raised the profile of the SLO Symphony. We’re well regarded in the state of California.

DH: How did you notice the symphony changing during your tenure as Executive Director?

SS: I think we learned to better understand our role: not just to put on concerts, but to support and advance the cause of classical music in the community. Understanding that mission helped enormously with decision making. For example, we send a string quartet into public schools to expose the kids to strings and build interest. A symphony board member once suggested that we send a jazz quartet, and he had lots of good arguments for doing that. Now, I’m a jazz fan. I think showcasing all the different instruments would be wonderful. But our mission is to promote and preserve classical music. And we have limited resources for doing that. So we focus on educating about strings, the defining element of the orchestra. I also got to witness the orchestra grow artistically. There’s money set aside for the musicians’ professional development. You guys can’t all go to LA for lessons, so Mike brings LA to you with guest artists and master classes.

DH: That’s a good point. We’re very lucky that he has those connections. Everyone was raving about Lynn Harrell’s master class, and the cello section sounded great afterwards. And just being onstage with really fine musicians ups your game.

SS: Exactly. And you know, we spend as much on musicians’ pay as similar-sized orchestras. We just have more rehearsals. We have six rehearsals spread out over a month for one performance. That’s really unusual. So on one hand, the per-service pay for the musicians is less than for other orchestras that don’t rehearse as much. But on the other hand, that’s what we do to deliver the best performances.

I is for Intonation

What does it mean to say that something is played “in tune” or “out of tune”? Like Winona Ryder on irony (“I know it when I see it”) most music listeners (and almost all musicians) can hear when something is in tune (or not). You just know. Case in point:

So what is intonation?

There are a few different theories, and there’s all kinds of physics involved, but for orchestras, a note is in tune if its sound waves are vibrating at a rate consistent with its relation to the agreed-upon standard for intonation, A 440. This is the note the oboe plays at the beginning of an orchestra concert. Everyone joins in to make their instrument’s A match the oboe’s. The theory is that if we can all agree on one note, we will then all agree on the other notes.

Some instruments come pre-tuned, and how they’re played doesn’t affect intonation. Keyboard instruments. Marimbas and xylophones. Guitars. Percussion instruments (except the timpani). Accordions. Harmonicas. Bagpipes. Zithers:

People who play these instruments don’t have to worry about intonation while playing. If the piano is out of tune, call the tuner. If the guitar is out of tune, tune it before the next song. If the accordion is out of tune, ask yourself: why am I playing the accordion? Otherwise, you’re stuck with bad intonation. For one performance of the Trout Quintet, our pianist Ina Davenport was playing her part like it was nothing, but had to play on an instrument that was so out of tune, it sounded like it had been time-traveled from an Old West saloon. I thought showgirls were going to appear.

If it’s tuned, the piano is probably the best instrument for a child, for a few reasons. With intonation not a factor, they can spend more effort learning music fundamentals like rhythm, chords, and note reading. Also, playing a pre-tuned instrument gets your ear used to the sounds of different notes. Later on it’s a little easier to play an instrument that requires effort to play in tune.

To be totally truthful, though, pianos are not perfectly in tune. If they were, you’d have to retune them every time the key changed. The reason: intonation for every key is slightly different. Hundreds of years ago, musicians solved this problem with “equal tempering,” which means that the intervals on a piano are adjusted to be more or less in tune. Why is this?

Notes exist in relation to other notes. In C minor, E flat is a minor third from C. In B major, D sharp is a major third from B. (If you’re not a musician, try singing “Sunrise, Sunset” – “is this the little boy I cared for” – “This” and “the” are a minor third apart. Sounds kind of sad, huh? Now try “Do re mi” – “Doe a deer, a female deer” – “fe,” “male” and “deer” are a major third apart).

Back to the point: on the piano, E flat and D sharp are the same note. But if played by a solo instrument that can change pitch, the E flat will be a tiny bit lower in pitch than the D sharp because an E flat in the key of C minor is me (pronounced “may”), or the lowered third in solfege (do-re-me-fa-sol and so on) while D sharp in the key of B major is mi, pronounced “me” (a name I call myself).

That’s enough to give even Julie Andrews a headache! One upside, though: because of this pitch variability, really fine string quartets are theoretically able to play absolutely in tune in any key. Musicians who can play perfectly in tune by themselves still spend rehearsal time working on pitch. I remember sitting in on a rehearsal of the American Quartet rehearsing, very very slowly and quietly, a unison passage from Brahms. The second violinist stopped and said to the cellist, “I’m thinking of a high E” because the cellist’s E, while in basically in tune, wasn’t quite “bright” enough for ti (a drink with jam and bread… also a leading tone that brings us back to do…. oh, oh, oh.).

In school I had a coach who had us lie on the floor, in the middle of the group, and listen to chords played very slowly in order to experience perfect intonation. Recently at a rehearsal I was having trouble getting a D in tune. In the chord, it was the fifth, and needed to be “bright.”

Or maybe I just hadn’t been practicing enough and my index finger had forgotten where to go make an in-tune D. (Though I suspect it was pianist Ina Davenport’s fault. The string players in our group have agreed: whatever happens, it's Ina’s fault.) String players have to practice and practice for our fingers to go in the right places consistently. While learning, our teachers put tapes on the fingerboard so we can see where to put our fingers. Eventually one’s fingers develop muscle memory and remember where to go. Whenever a piece has more than four flats, one hears groans from the string section. String players have more difficulty playing in tune in flat keys than in sharp keys, for two reasons. First, flat keys have fewer open strings. And second, the finger patterns for sharp keys are taught first, and probably for that reason feel more natural.

I don’t know a lot about intonation for winds – it has to do with amount and speed of air flow, shape of the mouth, certain notes on individual instruments that tend sharp or flat… and pushing in or pulling out the sections of their instruments. If Ina Davenport is in the audience, that can affect the pitch as well.

In orchestras, intonation can pose some challenges. Wind instruments warm up as they play and can go sharp. Strings instruments also warm up but go flat as the strings stretch out. This push-pull factor is one reason orchestras sometimes tune between movements of a long piece. I try to make sure my lower strings are tuned to “bright” in case the pitch goes up – otherwise they will sound flat.

In chamber music or solo playing, some musicians tune backstage, and some tune onstage. I was always told to tune as well as you can backstage so you don’t have to do major tuning onstage. I was also taught that when playing a solo with piano, to turn around and face the piano, not to play your open strings to the audience like it was a concerto on four out-of-tune strings. The idea was that tuning is a private affair, not a performance. So one time at a music camp, when about to perform for a master class, I turned to the piano, and the violin teacher (whom we had nicknamed “The Dragon Lady”) yelled from the audience: “David, I don’t care how cute your butt is, you don’t ever turn your back on the audience!”

If that’s not enough of a viola joke, here’s another one:

What’s the difference between the first and last stand of the viola section? A minor second. Or a half step: try singing “ray, a drop of golden sun” – “a” to “drop of” is a minor second… this is funny because the section should be in unison but they’re really playing so out of tune that it’s like different notes… oh, I give up. Bottom line: the SLO Symphony always plays in tune. And if we don’t, it’s usually Ina Davenport’s fault. :-)

DH

A Conversation with Sandi Sigurdson (Part One)

As we know, Sandi Sigurdson is stepping down after fifteen years as Executive Director of the symphony. She kindly agreed to be interviewed for the blog. I arrived at her house on a Saturday morning. "Are you hungry?" she asked almost as soon as I was in the door. "I had some coffee and yogurt earlier," I replied. "So, you're probably still hungry." I was. "I thought so. Let's have some breakfast!" Sandi said excitedly. "Do you like poached or scrambled eggs? Aren't these little potatoes cute? Do you like salsa? This is the best salsa in the world. I'll make more coffee." Properly fed and caffeinated, we got down to business.

David Hennessee: Tell me about your early life. Did you want to run a symphony when you grew up?

Sandi Sigurdson: (laughs) I’m the oldest of five -- five children born in six years. I was born in British Columbia, but spent my childhood in San Diego and later Los Angeles – Inglewood. When I was a kid, across the alley from us lived an older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Large. They were about sixty, and I thought of them as “ancient.” Mrs. Large died and Mr. Large moved away, but before he did he gave me his portable record player and enormous collection of 78s – almost all classical… and Mario Lanza.

DH: Lanza was sort of the “Il Divo” or Andrea Bocelli of the time, right?

SS: Exactly. I loved organizing this huge collection of records, and I especially fell in love with Tchaikoivsky’s “Swan Lake.” I knew the story and put together performances with my siblings as ballerinas, and myself as the star, of course. We’d charge my parents and anyone else five cents to watch the performance.

DH: So even as a little kid you were organizing and managing performers?

SS: I guess I was! Also, unlike my mother who never sat down, my best friend’s mother listened to jazz and classical in the evenings, and I just thought that was the most refined, civilized thing to do. We were fortunate to live close to several major performance venues. We’d go to the Pilgrimage Theater (now the Ford Theater) and to Hollywood Bowl for jazz and Fourth of July concerts. We’d get seats in the nosebleed section ($2 per ticket – can you believe that!), pick up some KFC and watch the LA Phil. There’s something about Tchaikovsky and fireworks.

DH: We’ve spoken before about how Tchaikovsky is a great “starter” composer – repetitive, hummable melodies, no dissonance… I used to listen to the symphonies and ballets a lot as a kid.

SS: Me too – with Tchaikosky the emotions are so big and in-your-face, and that’s where you’re at as a kid and a teenager. These days though, I like big-old-ballsy, complex music: Mahler and Metallica! And Barber!

DH: So you went to a lot of concerts in LA?

SS: Yes, especially after two performance spaces came on the scene: The LA Music Center and the Forum (did I hear that it was getting torn down?). When these opened, there was a ton of buzz; everyone wanted to go, me included. I was like twelve or thirteen and saw the Supremes with Little Stevie Wonder (who’s the same age as me), BB King… Grand Funk Railroad was my first rock concert. They were so loud, I couldn’t hear for days! OH! And I loved your blog entry last year, David, that included Petula Clark video. I saw her and met her family at the Coconut Grove. It was great to have this easy access to music and have these venues as part of your life. It’s my hope that we do something similar at the San Luis Obispo Symphony, make music an easy part of people’s lives through the concerts in the PAC, the free dress rehearsals, the Pops concerts at Avila Beach, and the chamber music concerts around the county.

DH: Do you still make it to LA for concerts?

SS: I do – my husband (Steve McGrath), myself, and our friends the Spatafores are subscribers to the LA Opera. On performance days we leave SLO at 8am, eat lunch on the plaza at the Music Center, and then the performance starts at 2pm. It’s over about 6 or 7pm, then we drive back. Lately we’ve been getting in to Wagner and the Ring Cycle. I’m coming late to opera, and it’s a revelation. It’s like the first time you eat Thai food – you never knew that food could have flavor combinations like that. Our first LA Opera was an amazing production of Tannhauser. The set was all in red and there were people simulating sex onstage, and the virginal and holy heroine was all in white – it’s hard to explain how powerful it was, but five hours later I was on the edge of my seat, sobbing at the beauty and nobility of this woman. I felt the same way about the Pacific Repertory Opera’s production of “Madama Butterfly” last spring. The music, the modern sensibility, the exploration of racism – I was dazzled.

DH: What other performances stand out in memory?

SS: As I got older, if I wanted to see a concert but couldn’t find anyone to go with me, I’d just go by myself. I saw Dave Brubeck [legendary jazz pianist], and in college I got to see Aaron Copland conduct at the University of Colorado at Boulder (Go Buffs!). I’ll never forget that; I was on the first row just mesmerized by this tall, thin man conducting with a lifetime of experience behind him.

DH: How did you wind up in San Luis Obispo?

SS: I worked for fifteen years in Southern California in hotel and restaurant management. After Steve and I married, we made a conscious decision to “live the SLO life.” I worked part-time at a doctor’s office in Cambria, and in 1988 we bought a house in SLO (twenty-one years later we’re still in this house. They’ll have to take us out feet first.) I began looking for a job and heard that the SLO Symphony was looking for a secretary. I got the job and worked for two years under Cricket Handler, who was Executive Director at the time. Then she stepped down, and I took over as Interim Director. I didn’t think I’d do it for very long. Then they did a big search; I applied and got the job.

DH: What changed your mind about doing the job on more permanent basis?

SS: I liked the musicians! I also saw that I could do valuable work for the organization. Mike was building this talented orchestra with strong community ties and Cricket had laid a strong foundation for the group to become more professional in terms of policies and organization. Together they launched the music education program. I saw a lot of potential and room for growth, and wanted to be part of that.

DH: The orchestra certainly has grown over the years. Why do you think that is?

SS: Well, Mike Nowak is a brilliant programmer and nurturing conductor and our musicians are so talented and dedicated. We owe a lot of it to the completion of the Performing Arts Center in 1996. It was a big, sexy draw for audiences when it opened. The first year we played there, we were sold-out on subscriptions. There were hundreds of people we just couldn’t seat, the demand was so high. A lot of groups using the PAC experienced the same demand, so they doubled or even tripled their programming. There was some pressure for us to add Friday night or Saturday afternoon shows. It’s much, much to Mike's credit that he said: no, let’s see how it goes and not respond to this immediate pressure. Then demand tapered off, and some of those other groups faced half-empty halls, but our demand stayed high. Then in 1999 tech stocks crashed. All of a sudden no one had any money, but we rode that out, and were able to continue serving the community and even add the free dress rehearsals. We continued to sell out the Saturday evening concerts. We expanded music education and merged with the Youth Symphony, which was an investment in the future. Kathleen Lenski [Grammy-award winning violinist] moved to the area in 2000, and with her we started the chamber music concerts, bringing what we do to different parts of the county.

DH: How did your job change as the orchestra grew?

SS: I used to do a lot of the bookkeeping and payroll, record keeping and such. There was a wonderful and oh-so-curmudgeonly volunteer to help with that, Alan Goldsmith, a Jewish-Austrian expatriate who actually experienced Kristallnacht. Can you believe that? When I first started it was me and part-time secretary and a part-time music education/marketing coordinator. Think about it: those are two very different jobs. Now we have a brilliant staff of seven, lead by Patty Thayer, dozens of volunteers, and of course the hard-working Board of Directors. A big change from the old days. We used to do it all: take out the trash, vacuum… oh! A great example of that: when we played in Pismo at the Church of the Nazarene, I’d hand-write Row A, Row B, Row C, ect. on adhesive file folder labels and put them on the carpet to show people which row their seats were in!

DH: You’re open about not having formal musical training. What’s that been like, working for an orchestra?

SS: Well, I did sing in high school and still love to sing…. badly. Former Music Ed Director Jaime Lewis and I are going to LA Master Chorale in December for a sing-along Messiah. But sometimes in discussions with my more musical executive director peers, I don’t get all the classical references or jokes. I’m so lucky that Mike has always very been kind and patient about schooling me. He’s never been anything but willing to educate me about classical music. For example, I simply didn’t know there was a trombone and a bass trombone.

DH: Does a bass trombone burn longer?

SS: Bad joke! But I get it!

G is for Getting There

Woody Allen once said that “90% of life is just showing up.” For musicians, it’s sometimes challenging to show up at a rehearsal or performance at the right place and time. Fortunate are those who land positions with major orchestras. They plant themselves in a city, do that job, and take in some students, maybe work at a local university. On the other hand, to make ends meet, freelance musicians often must play in several groups in different locations and do lots of occasional work (weddings, parties, etc.). This career path can involve a great deal of driving. For many, being a “freeway flyer” is the price one must pay for a career in music.

And there is a price: check out this blog entry that details the efforts of a musician to cobble together a living wage. The pay for four positions (with gas and car maintenance figured in) comes to $11/hour, $18,000 a year.

http://doublebassblog.org/2007/10/this-crazy-business-part-5-driving-for-dollars-–-life-as-a-classical-music-bottom-feeder.html

Our own conductor, Mike Nowak, describes how some three-hour jobs in LA pay $150. Adding in his drive time from Los Osos, that’s about $15/hour – before taxes, gas, and food.

Then there can be snags in “getting there.” You never know what will happen. Violist Karen Loewi Jones relates one of her “horror stories of LA commuting”:

“I always had to drive myself because nobody lived in Long Beach. I was driving to an LA Opera matinee on a Sunday and figured there would be no traffic, but still gave myself plenty of time. Hit the Hollywood freeway and bam...dead stop. I didn't think I was going to make it. Got to the pit, dripping in sweat, literally 30 seconds before the downbeat.”

Mike Nowak agrees that you never know what will happen in LA: traffic, earthquakes, mudslides, car trouble. He describes how, currently, for a 10am session, he leaves around 8:15am to arrive at the studio around 9am, with time to warm up and settle in. This extra time also allows a cushion for anything unexpected, since as he says, in LA “you’re just not allowed to be late” or you won’t be asked back.

And then there’s Murphy’s Law. Case in point: in college I played with the Oklahoma City Philharmonic, which rehearsed in downtown OKC, an hour away from my home. Some background: I usually have a 5 o’clock shadow because my face is very sensitive. If I try to shave every day my face looks like it’s been attacked by rabid hamsters. This was even more the case when I was 22. Once, in an effort to save money, I switched to cheap disposable razors. Big mistake. It’s like shaving with a butter knife. Before a concert, I shaved with one of these 99 cent wonders, and the result… rabid hamster face. I couldn’t get the bleeding to stop. Running very late, face covered in bits of Kleenex, I did 80 mph all the way to the Civic Center, ran backstage, unpacked, walked quickly onstage, sat down and 10 seconds later played the downbeat of Scheherazade. That was cutting it too close! Currently on concert days I shave around 9am so that by 1pm dress rehearsals, the carnage is under control.

Commuting isn’t all low pay, traffic, and profuse bleeding, however. There can be positive aspects. For example, a while back, Violinist Valarie Koos accidentally shredded her parking pass, so she carpooled with Kaoru Miyanouchi. Valarie obtained a new parking pass, and both she and Kaoru live in SLO, so not much gas money is saved by their carpooling. Still, they found the conversation before and after rehearsals so enjoyable, they continued riding together.

I’ve had some similar experiences. In high school, I played in the Oklahoma Youth Orchestra, and some friends and I would make the hour and forty-five minute drive from Lawton to OKC in the comfort of a trumpet player’s dad’s plush van. We could relax, listen to our Walkmen (remember those?) and talk about whatever 17 year-olds talk about. Moreover, for several years my dad and I drove one-and-a-half hours to my viola teacher’s home. During that time we talked about all sorts of things, and he taught me the ins-and-outs of highway driving.

It was a coming-of-age when I gained enough experience to drive myself. I mostly listened to music. It was during these trips that I learned all the words to West Side Story, The Sound of Music, and Joni Mitchell’s first two albums.

Commuting can also provide time for reflection. Mike Nowak relates that to maximize this opportunity for quiet time, and to minimize stress, for him “a one-day gig [in LA] turns into a three-day project.” He leaves Los Osos the day before, then stays with friends in LA. He works the next day 10am-5pm (or 6pm), then drives to Santa Barbara that night, usually staying in a hotel by the ocean. When driving, he used to listen to talk radio. These days, however, he often works on music in his head, thinking about scores and programming. Sometimes he’ll listen to a ball game on the radio, imagining what it looks like. He doesn’t talk on the phone or listen to music often, except for recordings friends and colleagues have given him of their concert performances and studio recordings. Repertoire can range from standards (for example, Shunske Sato performing Ysaye) or new music, including pieces by contemporary composers. “LA is so noisy,” Mike says, the quiet time in the car, spaced out over a few days, means that he arrives home rested, not hungry or stressed from driving after dark. As he says, “I don’t bring LA home with me.”

Commuting is a fact of life for many in the SLO Symphony since its musicians come from all over the county. We receive a mileage compensation – even people like me who live a stone’s throw from the PAC. However, for musicians who live farther away, drive time can pose a problem on concert days. The dress rehearsal is usually over around 3 pm. By the time one packs up and gets out of the congested parking lots, it can be 3:30. To drive back to Santa Maria, Cambria, San Simeon, or Paso Robles would not only be costly, but only allow a couple of hours of downtime before the concert. To avoid this problem, some musicians stay with friends who live closer to the PAC. For example, violinist Margaret Berrio hosts a number of these “orphans” in her home. Instead of rushing to and from SLO twice in one day, they can relax, have a nap, a nice dinner, and socialize with other musicians.

So while the cliché “Getting there is half the fun,” may be an overstatement, neither does commuting have to be an onerous experience. Perhaps it’s the price we pay to take the most rewarding journey: the musical one.

Please feel free to leave your best-and-worst “getting there” stories in the comments section.

Up next, "I is for Intonation."

DH

Viola jokes:

What's the latest crime wave in New York City? Drive-by viola recitals.

Why do violists leave their violas on the dashboard of their cars?
 So they can park in handicapped zones.