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.

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.