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.

F is for Flow (air flow, that is)

By guest blogger, oboist Linda Ashworth.

After reading the blog on bowing, I knew this one had to be written, but probably not by our regular blogger. This story from David illustrates why:

“I'm the youngest of 3, and growing up my brother played horn and sister clarinet. They were always talking about and working on their embouchures. I didn't really know what that was, just that it had to do with the position of the instrument relative to your body. So when I started playing viola, I proudly stood in front of them and said, "How's my embouchure?"

Sorry David. I imagine you know what an embouchure is by now, if only by osmosis, but someone else better write this column. So with the foreknowledge that you are now reading a column written by a geneticist instead of a college English professor, here we go.....

Airflow. Without it, my instrument is mute. Wind instruments like the ones I play (English horn and it’s little sister the oboe) create sound by producing vibrations “out of thin air”. No plucking or bowing of strings to get vibration, no striking a mallet against some kind of surface. Air. Coming out of my lungs.

As a general rule, the larger the instrument, the more air is needed to produce sound. Think tuba: large mouthpiece, large diameter tubing, lots of air needed. At the other end of the spectrum is the oboe. With the smallest opening for the air to pass through of any wind instrument, oboists actually use very little air to produce their sound. The exception to this rule is flutes & piccolos, falling in a category all their own. To make sound, a flutist blows air across a hole – similar to making sound on an empty Coke bottle – and only a portion goes into the instrument. Our piccolo player Martha Uhey tells me they need more air than any other wind player. I’ve tried playing flute a couple of times and I believe her! How a flutist plays a phrase longer than 2 bars, I will never know.

In the same way that air is used to vibrate your vocal chords when you speak or sing, a second element is needed to create sound besides just that airstream. Different wind instruments offer different types of “tools” to be vibrated by that stream of air. For brass players, their lips vibrate in the mouthpiece. For single reed and double reed players (clarinets, saxophones, oboes, bassoons) there is a carefully carved bamboo reed (made from Arundo donax; see photo) that does the vibrating. And flutes – well, the best I can understand is something about the air bouncing off the interior back wall inside the flute ‘mouthhole’ that sets up vibrations in the air column. For any more than that, you’ll have to consult your local acoustician or physicist.

Ideally, a player prepares to play a musical phrase by taking a breath, and begins sound production at the exact moment defined by the music. Ideally that single breath will be enough to get through the entire phrase. Ideally, at the end of the phrase the player has time to take another breath and prepare for the next note or phrase. If only it were always that easy. In reality, planning where and how to breath can be as important for wind players as planning bowings is for string players. Maybe more. Getting caught at the end of a phrase without enough air to finish is simply not kosher.

So what do we do when the phrase is just too long for a single breath? There are lots of tricks, depending on the situation. First, if possible, you exhale deeply before inhaling in order to clear CO2 out of the lungs. Maybe more than once. That alone will allow you to extend a phrase just a bit. If the problem occurs in a tutti passage, you can plan your breathing with others, so that no one breathes in the same place, effectively hiding breaks in the phrase. In a long solo line, a wind player may need to find somewhere logical mid-phrase to sneak a quick breath, hopefully without disturbing the line of the music. This is probably the most commonly used solution. There is also something called circular breathing that some players use. It involves filling your cheeks with air while you are playing. Next this stored air is expelled from the cheeks to continue sound production while you inhale through your nose. It’s kind of a parlor trick, but can occasionally be used to good end. (If you want to try it, get a glass of water and a straw and shoot for continuous bubbles.)

Sometimes an understanding composer solves the problem of a “too-long” phrase for you. In the opening oboe solo in the Adagio of Bizet’s First Symphony, the solo is passed to the second oboist (seamlessly hopefully) so that the first oboist gets a break. Then the first comes back in to finishes the solo. Take a listen to the two oboists of the Bilkent Symphony Orchestra (of Ankara, Turkey) performing the Bizet solo – about one minute in to the movement.

Okay, here comes the hard stuff...how to make this vibration sound GOOD. The place where your instrument meets your airstream is called the embouchure (pronounced ahm-boo-sure). The embouchure is all-important for stable pitch and great tone quality for all wind instruments. What part of your lip touches the mouthpiece/reed, how much of the lip, and how firmly all matter. The reason many people think a young oboist quacks like a duck is for lack of a mature embouchure. (Okay, so some of you still think we quack like ducks.) The good news is that the muscles that form any embouchure can be trained and strengthened. Practicing keeps those muscles in good shape. Lay off playing for a week or two, and it is your embouchure that suffers the most.

In addition to the embouchure, there are several other parameters about airflow that affect the quality of the sound produced. Without going into lots of details, here’s a laundry list:

• How is the airstream started?

• How is the airstream supported?

• Is the throat open?

• Where is your jaw placed?

• Where is the tongue in the mouth?

• How fast is the air moving?

• What direction is the air moving?

• How focused is the airstream?

• What are your lips doing?

• How do you stop the airstream?

You get the idea…..there are A LOT of elements involved in controlling airflow, and the quality of the sound produced is affected by them all. Not only that, they interact. Here’s an example: In order to play a crescendo, wind musicians will make the airstream move faster. However, this also increases the pitch of the note produced. Uh oh. So how do I play a crescendo without raising the pitch of the sound? I subtly change the shape of my oral cavity as increase the airflow, which allows the volume to go up while staying in tune. Okay, okay, most of the time.

Another important element involving the airstream is also how to separate notes. We call it tonguing. Slurred notes require no tonguing, but to create any kind of note separation, wind players use their tongue to interrupt the airflow. Think “ta-ta-ta” or “da-da-da”. And for really fast notes, some players can double tongue and even triple tongue. Think “ka-ta-ka-ta” or “ta-ka-ta-ta-ka-ta”. Of course players of each instrument approach tonguing differently. There is a big difference between tonguing for brass players, whose mouthpiece sits OUTSIDE their lips, and reed players, who have something INSIDE their mouths. There could be an entire blog on this: “T is for tonguing”. Maybe a trumpeter would volunteer to write it. They are always the ones to play those fanfares with lots of tongued notes in rapid succession.

The practicalities of tonguing can sometimes run up against the dictates of fashion; for example the trend among youth today for body modification. The following quote from the web is was written in response to a sax player considering tongue piercing:

“I play the clarinet and during my senior year I got my tongue pierced. I always left it in while playing and it didn’t make a difference. I also was 1st chair and the band director never questioned me. Of course there are some contradictions as far as placement. I have a longer tongue so it was never in the way. If you have a shorter tongue, it’s possible it may be a problem, but when you “tongue” while playing it’s w/ the tip and the tip of the tongue is usually not pierced. I would recommend going to see a body piercer to see what you’re placement options are. If the piercing is placed close to the tip, there will also be a higher risk for damaging your teeth. I played after having the piercing for 3 days; there was minimal swelling left, but I was able to still play well.”

Ick. I just can’t imagine that.

Finally, just the fewest of words about airflow and vibrato. Not all wind players use vibrato. But technically speaking they could. There have been thousands of words written about how to play vibrato on oboe alone. And no, we don’t wiggle our finger like a violinist. So how do we mimic a lovely string vibrato? We have to vary speed the air travels through the instrument. It is somewhat similar to a series of swift crescendo/diminuendos. And it starts clear down in the abdomen. For those who might be interested, oboe professor Martin Shuring (Arizona State) has written a brief description of vibrato production:

http://www.public.asu.edu/~schuring/Oboe/vibrato.html.

If you’re still reading this, thank you. That’s probably enough hot air on the subject of airflow. Except for an obligatory oboe joke:

Q. How do you get an oboe to play A flat?

A. Take the batteries out of the tuner.

LKA

E is for Ensemble

Hi everyone. What a fun Pops concert! Great film music, and the Damon Castillo Band “rocked the house,” as the kids say. (Do they even say that anymore? I’ll have to ask my students). I’d never seen so many people dancing at a Pops concert. Dancing to the 1812 Overture is a little hard. I’d also never found dead gnats stuck to my forehead at intermission. I’m up for new experiences, but there are limits.

I’m getting ready to start teaching at Poly, entering pedagogue mode. Not easy after a summer off, so for help I’m going to channel Julia Child, or at least Meryl Streep doing Julia Child.

An “Ensemble” (said with authority in a flutey upper-class voice) is a group that’s performing, whether musical or otherwise. An ensemble should never be overcooked to the point of tastelessness. Be sure to lubricate the ensemble well with butter and duck fat… the best way to express the duck fat is with a press. How about dinner in half a minute for your ensemble! Omelette! Next on the French Chef!

I have no idea what she’s doing or what she’s talking about (my cooking skills extend to boiling water for French-press coffee) so I’ll stop the Julia imitation. However, I am an academic, and good at definitions. Lead with your strengths, here goes…

In addition to a performing group, “Ensemble” can also refer to what someone is wearing. For example: “Michelle Obama wore a stunning ensemble today.” Bare arms? Long sleeves? J Crew? Health care for millions of uninsured Americans? No more war? Stay tuned.

So what is Ensemble? Here’s an example of what NOT to do with ensemble playing, courtesy of Jack Benny and Liberace.

“Ensemble” can also refer to a set of furniture. If you’d like a little British-humor diversion, check out this video – Keeping Up Appearances – “Three-Piece Suite” – about the social-class perils of buying a new furniture ensemble.

“Ensemble” also refers to the group of supporting actors, dancers, and singers in a theatrical production. That is, the ones who hope the lead actors will get sick/get old/die so they can take over their roles.

For musicians, though, “ensemble” means how well a group plays together.

I remember as a small child having one of those lightbulb-over-the head moments on the way home from one of my siblings’ band concerts. I’m the youngest of three; my sister played clarinet and my brother French horn. So as a kid I got carted to their High School Band, All-City Band, All-Region Band, All-State Band, All-Planet Band etc. concerts. I went to football games to watch them march at halftime, enduring the cold and the hard concrete bleachers. In many ways it was worth it. All that exposure to music must have rubbed off. I guess I was about five when returning home from a concert, I had the epiphany that the sounds I’d been hearing – indeed the sound of most music – came from individuals playing their own instruments, together. That really blew my mind – that this big wall of sound was really a mosaic of individual sounds, coming together as if by magic.

It’s not really magic, I later discovered, but the result of hard work. As far as I can tell, good ensemble boils down to a few basic principles. These are some that I’ve learned over the years. What follows will be common knowledge to symphony colleagues, but perhaps of some interest to them and other readers.

Don’t Rush (as in, don’t speed up the tempo of the music). This is easier said than done. When the adrenaline gets going, we want to speed up. For some reason, we tend to rush difficult passages (maybe to get them over with faster?). This must be a basic human tendency. For example, when people are nervous about public speaking, they tend to speak too quickly. Younger players (older too) rush during staccato passages, coming in early during the spaces between the notes.

Don’t Drag (as in, don’t slow down or play behind the beat). Often this problem is a result of fatigue; the body slows down, and so does the music. Or there may be technical issues with playing something in tempo. I tend to drag more than rush. I’m a Slow Panda. Or maybe I’m too in love with the sound of the viola. Either way, it’s a challenge.

Don’t Come in Wrong. The rule of thumb I’ve always heard is: don’t be the first one in. If you’re about to play, but no one else in the section is, chances are you’re wrong. Then again, we can’t be timid, waiting for someone else to come in. Cues from the conductor can help but can’t be solely relied on. Conductors have more to do than cue every single entrance.

Don’t Get Lost. I didn’t really learn counting till I was a sophomore in High School. Our orchestra conductor was really a band conductor (didn’t know jack about strings) so we mostly would sight read new music. As the only violist, I had a crash course in counting, which was tough since I’d done Suzuki till then, a method that involves playing by ear. After that, I learned to internalize the beat, to the point that when listening to radio, I find myself counting 1-2-3-4. One trick when counting rests is to use your fingers: the thumb is 1, index finger is 2, etc. Musicians get very good at counting to 3 and 4 over and over again. Too bad this skill doesn’t help with taxes or balancing the checkbook.

Don’t Don’t Don’t – this is all so very negative. What are some positive principles of ensemble?

Watch section leaders. Usually, someone is a section leader, or principal player, or first chair (I prefer the term “His Great-and-Powerful Viola Eminence”) because they tend to be “right” more often than not. Right about entrances, bow style, dynamics, breathing, etc. Though not always. As the viola section will affirm, my radar goes out with some regularity. Concentrating from 7:30-10 can be tough when you’ve just worked 9 to 5. What a way to make a livin’, barely getting’ by, it’s all takin’ and no givin’… (especially when the CSU institutes furloughs – stupid recession.)

That reminds me, this summer I found a great video of Dolly Parton performing at the Oscars. If you’re Dolly, you don’t need an “ensemble,” just a big stage and a big wig:

Listen. It’s important not to get so wrapped up in your own part that you become oblivious to the others. One always has to know whom one is playing with, and try to fit in with them. This is especially a challenge for violists. I think of the viola section as the sluts of the orchestra. Metaphorically, of course. We’re as moral as any other section (though I plead the fifth on my 20s). What I mean is, violists get around. Since we’re an inner voice, we play at various times with all the different sections. Sometimes we’re with the violins, doubling a line. Sometimes we’re reinforcing the cellos. Sometimes we’re with the winds and brass and even percussion. A real pleasure of playing the viola comes from this variety. That, and the beautiful sound the instrument makes.

Lighten up. This is Mary James’s mantra. When in doubt, lighten up. Don’t bear down in the thorny parts. Lighten up and let it happen, and then you can listen better. Easier said than done, as we tend to play louder when under stress. Weird how the exact opposite of this tendency is the solution.

Have fun. Last season, I was pretty nervous about playing the Mahler. It’s a tough viola part in many ways. And, you know, it’s f-ing Mahler, so that’s intimidating. About half way through the first movement, I remember thinking to myself, “This is sounding good. You’re here playing great music with great people. Enjoy it.” I did, and it got easier, and I played better.

I’ve heard theories about how a musical ensemble becomes sort of like its own organism, everyone thinking, breathing, moving, counting, and emoting together. Perhaps this is why the opening of a piece is so difficult – the group hasn’t synched up yet. It’s sort of like a blind date – you start off tentatively, but hopefully find common ground and connection. When you do, the results can be spectacular. I guess in some ways it really is like magic.

Before getting too New Agey, I’ll end with this video spoof of the Bartok Viola Concerto. Wish I’d learned this version!

Best, DH

PS: Viola joke – what’s the difference between the first and last stand of the viola section? 1. Half a measure 2. A semi-tone.

Fun on Broadway: Shrek and West Side Story

It’s hard to believe that summer 2009 is drawing to a close, time for Pops and then the 2009-2010 season. Summer is fun, but a bit strange. No other season seems to be invested with so much meaning and expectation. For example, I never heard anyone say “have a great winter!” or “how was your fall?” Or “can you believe spring is almost over?”

One highlight of my summer was visiting New York to see my brother and his family. My 20-month-old niece Audrey certainly deserves her nickname: “Little Devil.” Look at all that red hair! As my sister-in-law Rebecca says, “Audrey has a lot of energy,” and that’s an understatement. She wakes up ready for action, stopping only for food and sleep. She loves to play and to color – and not just on paper – on tables, chairs, the refrigerator, other people, and on herself.

During this visit I saw two Broadway shows that also exist as movies (that was my lame attempt to tie this blog in with the Pops theme of movie music): Shrek the Musical and West Side Story. I thought I’d tell you a little bit about them and share some videos.

I saw Shrek with my seven-year-old niece Chloe. She thoroughly enjoyed it and so did I. The costumes and sets were impressive and the performances were solid. Tony winner Sutton Foster stole the show as Princess Fiona with her hilarious send-up of a typical Disney princess. Check out her singing and dancing in “Morning Person.” This song comes at the beginning of Act II, after Fiona has been liberated by Shrek and is full of hope for her upcoming marriage.

A lot of the music in Shrek isn’t terribly memorable, except for this number, “I Know It’s Today,” which serves as the introduction to Fiona’s character. Catchy tune -- Chloe and I were singing it for days. Using three actresses of different ages was really effective in setting up Fiona’s backstory and her frustration over not living a fairytale life.

If you’ve seen the Shrek movies, you know that most of their humor comes from in-jokes deconstructing fairytale clichés. In the stage version, though, these jokes often seemed forced and heavy-handed. The films’ message about accepting differences also seemed overly didactic and obvious when delivered through show-stopping song-and-dance. OK, enough carping; it was an overall enjoyable theater experience. Best seen with a seven-year-old. Even more so if she’s your niece or other close relative whom you love, sitting on your lap, so she can see better. Eating M&Ms helps, too.

After Shrek, my brother Paul and I saw the revival of West Side Story. Despite 90+ weather (New York in August), the house was packed. WSS is well known and beloved, so this version was deliberately trying to “make it new.” For example, the Sharks spoke in Spanish much of the time, and two songs (“I Feel Pretty” and “A Boy Like That”) were sung entirely in Spanish. The staging and acting emphasized the grittiness, violence, and sexuality of the story, undermining the sappiness and sentimentality that can creep in with songs like “Somewhere” and “Tonight” and “Maria.”

I saw the film version of WSS at the Fremont a while back, quite an experience, and then as now I was struck by how the ballads seem a bit dated, while the dance numbers, set to Bernstein’s music, still hold up.

One advantage of sitting in the cheap seats, as Paul and I did, is that you can see the dance routines from above, really appreciating their symmetry, geometry, and energy. The highlight of the show was “America,” led by Tony award winner Karen Olivo. Here she is performing the song with the cast on David Letterman.

See you soon for Pops! Looking forward to the Damon Castillo Band. Last time we backed up a band was Pink Martini, and that was a blast. Warm regards, DH

French Horns Rule!

Principal French Horn Jane Swanson posted this as a comment a while back, but I think it deserves to be in the "main" part of the blog:

"David writes about various ways musicians unwind after a performance. I offer a few comments about what some of us do to prepare for a performance.



Some orchestra members have probably observed over time that the horn section tends to do mini-problem-solving before, at breaks, and after rehearsals. What you wouldn't have a chance to observe is that for every concert, we also have one or two section rehearsals at one of our homes. Scheduling these is no small feat, but we find them very useful. We can hear each other better so that we get each others' parts in our ears and fine-tune lengths of notes, intonation and style. It is kind of magical how it boosts confidence.



I would also like to take this opportunity to thank each member of the horn section for her/his terrific teamwork. I am the main beneficiary, as the section helps me pace my chops and offers kindly words of wisdom when performance anxiety rears its unwelcome head. Larisa, Jennifer and Kelli have long felt like immediate family, and for the last two concerts with "heavy" horn parts, it has been very helpful to have Greg Magie on board as assistant first horn.



The Tuesday before our Mahler performance, Jennifer ( who is young) and I (not young) drove to Disney Hall to hear the Vienna Philharmonic perform Bruckner Sym. #9, getting back to SLO after 2 a.m. Nutty but very worthwhile! It was inspiring to hear Vienna's clean playing, perfect blend, and huge dynamic range. I do think it helped us to aim a bit higher as we approached the Mahler performance. Hopefully we can keep some of that inspiration alive for Beethoven in May!



Enough of what the horn section does! We really could not have any fun at all without the rest of the orchestra, so thanks to strings (devils included), winds, our brass friends ( and spouses of Larisa and Jennifer) across the way, and the percussion and keyboard sections for making the whole picture work!"

Blog Updates and Michael Jackson

Hi everyone, I hope the summer’s been fun and relaxing for you so far. The blog’s on a summer hiatus, but recently Patty Thayer and I attended a “webinar” (isn’t that a great word – means web seminar) on blogging called “Is Blogging Yesterday's News? No Way!: The Why and How of Blogging.” We were pleased to learn that a lot of what we should be doing, we’re already doing. What can I say, we rock. Nevertheless, we did pick up a few tips.

We’ve added a few features to the blog. You see to the left that you can now subscribe via email. Just click the link, follow the instructions, and you’ll have new blog entries delivered right to your email inbox. (Don’t worry about clutter – as you know, I only write about 2-3 blogs per month). At the bottom of the page, there are other options: adding the blog to Google Reader, following, etc. Also I’ve updated with links to a few other blogs of note (if you know of any others that would be good to link to, let me know).

In terms of content, I’ll keep writing about A-Z in the orchestra plus anything else that comes up. We’d also like to have some guest bloggers – perhaps we can encourage our soloists to write a bit, and if you would like to write something, that would be great. The more the merrier! If you have any ideas for the blog, please let me know.

As must be known by now, I have a serious YouTube addiction. Here are a few videos I’ve found recently that I thought you might enjoy. In honor of summer, here’s “Summer Nights” from Grease.

Following up on the webinar, I did some checking on the SLO Symphony’s online

presence and found this gem: our own Peggy Whitson, violist, teacher, TV star.

While I’m writing, I can’t not mention the biggest news in the music world we’ve had for some time: the death of Michael Jackson. You’re probably tired of the non-stop media coverage, so I won’t add more commentary. Except for a few things: when the video for “Thriller” premiered in 1983, I was 12. Even at that age I was aware that it was event television. I knew kids in junior high who wore the red jacket and one sequined glove to school. I was never a huge MJ fan: never bought his albums or attended a concert, but his music was all around, inescapable. I was talking about him with my 20-something viola student, whom I suspected of not remembering him in his prime, but she replied, “My older sister had a fan club! We would dance to his music at slumber parties.”

People have spoken at length of MJ as groundbreaking, a trailblazer, crossing boundaries. Here are a few videos that speak to his influence on young classically trained musicians. First is a violinist.

This version of “Billie Jean” for cello quartet (same guy on all parts) is pretty awesome.

This is not for faint of heart: an electric violinist improvising on “Billie Jean” in a subway tunnel.

This guy is too much fun.

Here’s MJ himself.

Best, DH

Faces in the Orchestra: Wayne Asbury

Wayne Asbury has played oboe and English horn in the Symphony since the 1975-76 Season, joining for the January concert. In the fall of 1975 he played for West Side Story at P.C.P.A. He had heard about (but never met) a great clarinetist in the San Luis Obispo Symphony named Virginia Wright, and she happened to be playing for the same job. Not long after that, Wayne got a call from Clif Swanson, asking if he would like to play in the SLO Symphony. Clif had learned of Wayne through Virginia, and he had also heard Wayne perform in the Santa Maria Symphony, with which Clif also played.

So Wayne began his drives from Lompoc to San Luis Obispo to play with the orchestra. There he met Alice McGonigal, Virginia Wright (again), and Diana Sheridan. Diana had also just been recruited to the orchestra and Alice had joined at the beginning of that season. They have been the core of the woodwind section ever since.

Wayne’s favorite memories of the symphony include the trips to Spain and Carnegie Hall: “What great trips!” Most memorable was the Carnegie Hall concert. As Wayne says, “I will treasure that experience for a lifetime.”

On his time with the Symphony, Wayne says, “The Symphony has been a part of my life for thirty-four years. The people of the orchestra are my second family. We share our music and our stories. I hope the ride will continue. I am sure we will continue to play great music with great soloists!”