World Is Never Quiet

A photo I've been after for a long time!!!

2010-04-26T09:52:00.003-04:00

Here's Charlie Ponte, my old mentor, out on West 48th Street in Manhattan playing the world's largest sax. The man he sold this to brought it back for sercvice in 1975 when I was employed there as the reed maker. Young and foolish - I took no photos!!

Here's an article that should come out this weekend in the Conway Daily Sun

2009-11-25T10:47:00.002-05:00

How to Prove the Reviewer Wrong

Very plainly speaking, a review is a personal assessment of a subject, incident, or event by a biased observer. Reviews come in a few different forms. Sometimes it seems, we confuse them and mistake one for the other.

In life, we meet with reviews daily, and we give reviews out freely. Most are silent or personal such as our wisecrack about the driver in front of us who cut us off, or our assessment of someone’s attire that we think is laughable. Not all our reviews are harsh, but certainly, these reviews are not intended to be heard by the person who is the object of our review.

Imagine though if our private thoughts were announced to the community. I think these unrequested assessments could indeed wound and be met with an intense response. If the nasty comments from the other driver were aimed at you, you would probably feel hurt, your pride being scorched - your blood would boil.

Then there's another kind of review - the welcomed review. This assessment given by a professional critic or invited observer is intended to inform others and provide feedback to the reviewed. It's not intended to harm the subject, and it's usually thought out, well composed, and based on a fair amount of experience and insight. Even the best review can have shards of uncomfortable truth in it.

Having put your heart and soul into your work, you have every right to hope that the critic will pay attention and like what they see. Hoping for this is reasonable, expecting it is not.

The review of Narnia by the performing arts critic of this paper was somewhat shocking in the context of the "kid glove" reviews of the past. Rightly so, this newspaper has a policy against reviewing children's performances in an adult context. I assume it's to avoid aiming a review at someone who didn't ask for it. Someone who could not grow from it or appreciate its potential.

Receiving no review is a part of the life of a performer, young or old. Receiving a negative review is a much more challenging part of that life. The shame one feels is real, and is amplified when broadcast to the community at large. To use the review to your own benefit, you have to set out to prove the reviewer wrong. The worse the review, the greater the challenge, and in challenge comes the opportunity for real growth. These kids have nothing to be ashamed of in receiving any kind of review. They have been challenged to excel - to rise up. It is time to prove the reviewer wrong not by harsh words, but by accomplishments.

As parents, we ache to shelter our children from malicious mischief, adult themes, and violence. Slowly, gradually, as they mature, we allow them to bump up against the harder, darker, and more complex parts of life. We want protect our kids and support their growth at the same time and in doing so, may shelter them to their detriment.

Once you've felt the sting of a review, you have been gifted in a singular way. Your mettle is tested, your determination is called upon, and your desire to rise up to the challenges you face has been called forth. There's work to be done, and accomplishments to achieve. Let's listen well to the critics, and prove them wrong when necessary. What you do in response can define your life.

Party Tuesday

2009-11-09T17:02:00.002-05:00

Our one year anniversary party is tomorrow (tuesday). I'm a little nervous - will we have 25 people or 250 people show up? No way to tell.

I do know that the Bose people are coming and setting up the new Bose compact tower speaker and probably the L1 and L2 if we have room. If you've got an electric instrument - bring it down and test it out. Storyteller Andy Davis will be there, Beau Chadhina is playing some tunes, as is Mike Stockbridge, and maybe others?

Call for info 356-3562 or just come on down 5 to 8 pm for music, food, giveaways and more.

A new piece of mine just got published in Making Music Magazine

2009-11-05T11:35:00.002-05:00

I guess I can now add "writer" to the long list of occupations I've amassed . . .

http://www.makingmusicmag.com/columns/nov09.html

When The Audience Is Ready.

2009-10-30T10:26:00.000-04:00

When The Audience Is Ready.

Grace happens. So the bumper stickers promise us. It's not something you can quest for - the closer you get to what seems like Grace, the further it appears to recede. Grace comes to you. You have to be patient, you have to be present, and you have to be willing to witness its existence. Grace in music is found between the notes. It is not the sounds themselves, but the place between the previous note and the next note. Each little gap offers a magical little cubby hole into which you can peer for a brief moment. Most people don't even notice that it's there.

I often tell my students to "play between the notes,” which they know to mean that when you intentionally leave one note and strive to arrive at the next, you can fill the in-between space with meaning and intention. That's what gives the groove its juice and deepens a piece of music to its core.

The journey between two notes offers spectacular promise: adventurous diversion from what you think is your goal to a path you never imagined, but now can't imagine living without. All the while, remember that you cannot fill this space. It's already full. What you can do is try to witness the content and be willing to be changed by what you find.

The moment comes when the silence becomes the destination and you disappear into the gap between two notes. Entry to that rarified and magical space is not reserved for the few. It's what music making offers to every player and listener. At every achievement level, you have the opportunity to examine and live in and be changed by the space between the sounds.

Ultimately, I guess that Grace is whatever you decide it is. You decide if you want to bother with it. To you maybe it's God, or luck, or the Buddha, or a can of tomato soup. I don't think Grace cares. It just is.

I have this talent for making music that's interesting to listen to. The truth is that while you're listening to me play, I am trying to be as open as possible to the magic that lies in the Grace space between the notes. When I’m open, when the audience is ready - Grace happens.

Audio Kickstand

2009-10-21T15:05:00.001-04:00

Here's the scene: the outdoor Fall Foliage Festival at Black Mountain in Jackson, NH last Saturday; pouring rain; large receptive crowd; you're a member of a hot funk band in the middle of a set under a huge tent - and with a sudden pop — no electricity.

A situation like this gives you no time to think or plan — no time to second guess. Whatever inner resources you bring to the bandstand — that's what you have to work with. In front of a crowd of hundreds, what you choose to do with this opportunity is very telling and sometimes compelling.

Take for example the brave and nimble Daniel Spofford, drummer for the band Audio Kickstand. This guy is the epitome of cool under pressure, with a healthy dose of lucky thrown in. In fact, the whole band appears to be made of the same stuff.Last Saturday, Black Mountain had an outdoor festival — nine bands, pony rides, season ticket give-aways. It's a fabulous venue (you should go next year). Hundreds of people came out for a good time, even in the pouring rain. Live electricity and pouring rain is always a tricky combo and all praise to the event folks at Black — they really pulled off a major win.

Audio Kickstand was part way through their very funky set when, as may be expected in a live situation there was a glitch. I was privileged enough to be under the festival tent listening to the band when the electricity went out and everything went semi-dark. The sound of the guitars and bass went blank and you could hear only a faint strumming in the background as the drummer rolled through his now solo phrases.It could have petered out right there, but Daniel continued through into the darkness. I could sense what I thought was a moment of trepidation and then with confidence rising, he expanded and added filigree and went on to create a fantastic drum solo out of nothing but a back beat and opportunity. The crowd sensed what was happening, loved it and rose with him. I wondered, how long could this solo continue if the electricity didn't come back. What's going to happen next?

The solo powered on like a freight train through about 30 bars (maybe 90 seconds) when the electricity sputtered back into play. It's as though the rest of the band anticipated this, and smack at bar 32, right where the drum solo needed a breath, and was ready to pass the baton, the whole band jumped up, jumped right in and moved forward as one right back into the song with the energy that comes from good fortune, grace and deep musicianship under pressure. It was a rare opportunity well met.

Those of you who were there should count yourselves lucky. Not many of us are presented with challenging and public opportunities like this one. Not all of them are as deftly handled as this was. But every day there are small opportunities within your grasp to take adversity and make something meaningful from it.

I guess I'm now a forever fan of Audio Kickstand. I want to be present when a group of talented individuals make wise choices and rise together as a community. Whether I'm on stage, in the audience or at a town meeting, the opportunities are waiting and I'm keeping my ears open.

It's our One Year Anniversary

2009-10-04T07:49:00.002-04:00

It's our One Year Anniversary and someone's going to win this guitar. Could it be you?

Thanks for being one of the folks who cares about music and has supported us through our first full year. You're totally invited to our anniversary party on November 10th.

WIN THIS JASMINE TAKAMINE ACOUSTIC ELECTRIC WORTH $600!

We have a surprise for you! A chance to win this guitar or one of these excellent prizes. It's easy to enter:

•Visit us at North Conway Music Shop
•Guess the number of picks in our fish bowl.

If your guess is closest to the correct number, you will walk away with . . .

First prize: a gorgeous quilted maple Jasmine Takamine Electric-Acoustic Guitar valued at $600.00
Second Prize: a cool all-wood Ukulele
Third Prize: an Australian aboriginal style didgeridoo

It's our way of saying thanks for your suggestions, support and friendship throughout our first year. The winner will be announced at our Gala First Anniversary Party on November 10th. We hope you'll attend! Thanks for being a big part of our success,
-- Brian, Jen and John

Call 356-3562 for more info.

Gold Plated Music

2009-09-27T09:26:00.002-04:00

As you read this, there are two little space capsules fleeing our planet at unbelievable speeds. Launched in 1977, they are still 40,000 years from reaching the nearest solar system (and that is at an impressive 35,000 mph), which will be the first feasible time that intelligent life may be able to find them. By that time, human kind will be either extinct, or drastically changed. The existence of these records will most likely be the only documentation of our having ever existed.

My focus today is on what scientists Ann Druyan and Carl Sagan decided to put on board when they finalized plans for the twin Voyager space probes.

The capsules contain this message:

"This is a present from a small, distant world, a token of our sounds, our science, our images, our music, our thoughts and our feelings. We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours."

- Jimmy Carter.

On the gold plated recording within is the sound of a mother comforting her crying baby, a piece of music by Bach, greetings in 55 human languages and the musical language of the humpback whale. In addition to these, another very touching audio recording was included: the sound of a beating heart belonging to a woman who has just fallen in love. The heart in space belongs to Annie Druyan herself.

The planets of our solar system harbor no intention as they vibrate circling the sun. Our bodies produce sound vibrations as our hearts beat and lungs contract and expand. These sounds are automatic - without clear intention on their own. They exist mainly as a byproduct of the function of an object or action. The sound of a baby crying seems suspended between automatic and purposeful.

Our cough to clear a stuck object in our throats is a byproduct sound of the need to keep breathing, similarly suspended between intentional and automatic. However, a similar clearing of the throat might be used to indicate that someone has said something they might regret. That’s a different and purposeful use of sound to communicate. That is where the difference occurs.

It may be that intentional structuring of sound, sometimes defined as music, is unique to the human animal. Perhaps a distant civilization will discover our gold plated recordings and embrace and understand our effort, perhaps we are unique and without companions.

My request of you is this: when you produce sounds today, intentional or non-intentional — take a moment to consider them as you focus your intention upon them: the brightly colored leaves falling around us, crisply settling on the ground; the hum of car tires outside the window; the metered sounds of your breath.

We float freely in the space between intentionality and purpose. It is a defining part of what makes us unique. I hope you get to pay attention to the quality and purpose of the sounds around you today. And may you enjoy, appreciate and revel in the world of sounds around you.

Writing is a cool experience

2009-08-25T14:09:00.002-04:00

I've written more in the past 12 weeks (the articles I mean) and the process is evolving slowly. I start off in one direction, hate what I'm writing, and then zap, another alley opens, and a third, and finally I realize I've written the end of an article about something else entirely.

Here's this weeks:

Music in the blooming of a century plant

Starting to play music is easy. Maybe you want to join a rock band or the town band. You figure out how to play something on the guitar or drums and if it's fun -- so you practice. Perhaps you're told to play by a parent: "here's Aunt Bessie's old Flugelhorn - I know you always wanted to play flugelhorn, right? - now make us proud - go practice..."

No matter how you got there, once a level of competence is reached music becomes fairly easy and your playing kind of runs on inertia. Sometimes, maybe most times, it peters out after a while, and you move on to other pursuits.

What turns me on is when adults come back to music after being away for a long time. Perhaps a career in, say, medicine, has kept you busy for a decade or more, and suddenly there's this little tweak in your brain: " I'd like to play again! " If they follow that muse, what happens next is as beautiful as the blooming of a century plant.

I have a student right now who is such a person. She is a well-respected medical professional with what seems like a full life and lots of fun things to do. And yet, almost every week, she comes fully stoked for another oboe lesson, having practiced almost every day and full of ideas and enthusiasm. This "returnee" may never gain great control of her chosen instrument, or she may rise to levels unexpected, but it does not seem to matter to her. And to me, she is the flower of the century plant. Long awaited, beautiful and bursting forth right where it belongs, just when you least expect it.

Some folks choose a career path that blends music into their lives, such as teaching, or business. Others go whole hog right into the meat of it as performers (heaven help them!) However, I suspect that most people are like my student. They carry within them a seed that was planted long ago. A seed of music that is waiting to be nurtured, given fresh soil and tended to - so as to flower.

I’m almost positive that YOU have that in you. Am I wrong? Are you willing to take a look? If you find that it IS there, what will you do with it? I hope you follow the muse. There’s a whole crowd of flowers out here waiting for you to join us.

Busy Week?

2009-07-28T07:36:00.002-04:00

I've had a week that seemed to overflow at the edges. I tried writing an article, but all I got was a series of fragments. I'll get it together for an article this week, I hope.

What Keeps You Changing? - Part 2

2009-07-15T11:13:00.003-04:00

Sometimes there seems to be more urgent news in the Conway Sun than my music column. What's up with that? They didn't publish the original "What Keeps You Changing" article because Livingston Taylor was in town. Hey - my brother's kinda famous, too!

Anyway, I rewrote the article on Mike Stockbridge/change and constancy and here's what (might) get in the paper this coming Saturday . . .
What Keeps You Changing?

The musician I spoke with recently who set off this line of thinking in me is Mike Stockbridge. A striking, confident, and friendly guy, Mike seems comfortable both with himself and with his career in music. Mike described his new band to me as "... a lot different than what I put together before," which might be thought to imply that there was something wrong with his previous bands. But there isn't anything wrong. It's something else entirely. Mike likes change.

In some ways, musicians epitomize transformation and constancy. Most folks take some time to figure out what they're going to do with themselves after school. Working musicians are usually from a different page in that book. They discovered early, sometimes very early, a love for sound and making sound. They found it easy to play, or thrilling to play, or challenging in a way that felt good. They found their unchanging pathway early, and along that pathway, that they didn't yet know was ahead of them, they were following a dedicated direction leading through constant transformation.

Getting better or "growing your chops" as a musician requires that you purposefully change your abilities. Suffering through the rocky years of young musicianhood and still maintaining the ability to reveal something intimate in front of hundreds or thousands requires great acts of courage. It's the discipline of moving forward in a straight line, all the while changing like mad. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, but "you gotta suffer if you want to sing the blues," and all this change and constancy leads to richer artistry.

Mike lives in Tamworth and he's been performing with his new band around the Valley. The Mike Stockbridge Quintet: (Mike Stockbridge - guitar, Aaron Green - trumpet, Evan Miller - keys, Duane Edwards - bass, Shawn Boissonneault - drums), plays those changes in a musical way. "It's a new place that's been reached in terms of my playing," he said. Having played around the Northeast and especially in the Portland scene for years, Mike is sort of coming home. He's setting up a new teaching studio, bringing his band into town, and trying out, in his words, "my first show of new music" in the Mount Washington Valley.

The Mount Washington Valley music scene seems to be taking off with new wings in many ways these days. This is just another example of the constancy of music, revealing itself through transformation.

The Valley That Performs

2009-07-10T10:28:00.000-04:00

Published April 4th, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

Recently I was reminded that March was National Music in our Schools Month. My new column didn't even begin until April, so I hope you'll give me some leeway on this.

Our beloved Kennett appears to be on the upswing in many ways. The new building and grounds, high test scores, declining drop out rate are just a few indicators we can hang a hat on.

Let's remember that thriving music, drama and arts departments are also powerful indicators of how good an education students are receiving. In fact, there is a direct correlation between improved SAT scores and the length of time spent studying the arts. According to research from The National College Board, those who studied the arts four or more years scored 59 points higher on verbal and 44 points higher on math portions of the SAT than students with no coursework or experience in the arts. And the U.S. Department of Labor issued a report urging schools to teach for the future workplace. The skills they recommend (working in teams, communication, self-esteem, creative thinking, imagination, and invention) are exactly those learned in school music and arts education programs. A Rockefeller Foundation study stated that music majors have the highest rate of admittance to medical school, a whopping 66.7 percent!

Happy, smart, capable adults are the bedrock of our community. As a community we can honor our kids and help them grow to become all that they can become by supporting the arts in our schools at every level.

Parents are crucial in helping this process by assessing the school’s arts education program and teacher qualifications, evaluating the community’s cultural assets and forming an arts education coalition. Our community has many active parents doing this right now, and with your support, this effort can grow - these kids can thrive.

I'm thrilled about Kennett High's Performing Arts Department. The recent move, the stellar new auditorium, the dedicated staff are elements of a thriving program. I cringe when I hear well meaning but misinformed residents preach about what should be taught - marginilizing the arts in favor of math, language, social studies and other academic courses. No one wants to lower the standards or teach less of these important fields. They, however, are not the entire school program and were never meant to be. There's a symbiosis between all the departments and each is rtaised higher by being a part of the whole.

We can't deny the incredible gifts that students and the community receive when the arts are given a leading place in our schools. Therese Davison and staff have taken the incredible kids of Kennett to higher and higher levels of achievement. I have no doubt that we've only seen the tip of the veritable iceberg.

One Musical Language - Many Things To Say

2009-07-10T10:26:00.001-04:00

Published April 25th, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

Every day we make choices that lead us in new directions, or inculcate us into our comfort zones. Some choices are unremarkable: take the North-South Road, or drive right through town? Sugar and cream, or black? Some choices require more effort and risk. I often approach and teach music in terms of risk.

Imagine for a moment that you're floating downstream on the Saco River. As you go with the flow you pass a variety of houses. There's one built on stilts jutting out into the water. Strange, you think - never saw that before. Wonder if it's even legal? Let's call this house "Rap Music." The next house is almost invisible, built so low to the ground. There's rumbling come from it, oppressive, even scary. Let's call this one "Heavy Metal Music." Next is an old Victorian, very ornate and pretty. Perhaps it's called "Classical Music"? Finally, you spy a mismatched hodgepodge of boxes, rusty tractors and a car propped straight up in the air, nose buried in the ground. Call this house "New Music."

Each of these houses is made of the same materials, built on the same river, has a sign out in front welcoming you to pull up your kayak and come on in. Why is it that some people will only enter one of them, some visit a few, and others can't settle down on any for long? What is it that makes the quality of these places unique to us?

The Portland Symphony has a nice take on it - they're mixing different musics together, and coming to Kennett to do it. If there's a way to do this, it will be on display next week when the Portland Symphony's Brass Quintet with guest percussion gives us a concert called Classical Music in Pop Culture on Friday, May 8th at 7pm. This concert, in collaboration with the Kennett High School Performing Arts Department may offer some answers.

By exposing the foundations of music, and contrasting them for us, a fine regional Symphony and great local performance space are taking us into the risky realm of the construction of music and the question of taste.

Whenever there is an opportunity to take in a broader perspective in life, we have challenge. When there is challenge - we are presented with the opportunity to deepen our understanding of ourselves. Will this concert show you who you are? Of course not. Will it explain the differences between "houses" of music? Possibly. Will it be of value in your enjoyment of music? Most probably. Will it be entertaining? Without a doubt.

They say that writing about music is like dancing about architecture. This column is proof: no matter how much I say, you must go and listen, observe, let in and savor the music to gain meaning, even basic understanding. I challenge you to take this risk. With risk, comes the possibility of reward. Go ahead - listen and reward yourself.

Planting The Sonic Garden

2009-07-10T10:25:00.000-04:00

Published Early June, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

As a young kid, I was aware that my mom and dad had played music sometime in the murky past. They had stopped playing before I was aware enough to be interested and sadly, didn’t play again. I never heard the sound of live music in my house as a kid.

I do recall relentless radio music – at home and on our long car trips. Classical music mostly, with some folk music creeping in over time. At the time it was wallpaper of a sort – a daily soundtrack that wasn’t exceptional or even noticeable. It never occurred to me that something special was going on. I was being seeded.

My Mom gave me the first record I remember owning. It was the Animals "Animalization." Pretty fitting title for a sometimes wild pre-teen. If she was trying to make a point with the title, that would be interesting, but I seriously doubt she had actually listened to it.

I was confused by this ear anarchy. I liked it, but the sounds in my young head were pure classical and folk music. I tried to like it. I listened and listened to the cacophony. What I wound up with was a revelation: I own my own ears and I can put whatever I want in there. And it turned out I wanted a lot.

We are all sonic gardeners – throwing and receiving seeds which will result in blooming later. As casual as a radio station, or as dramatic as a years’ worth of lessons, we all pick up the sonic reverie around us, and through us it becomes a new garden, based on the past but made special in our own way.

Take a melody, a tempo, some rhythm. Water it with imagination and bring it out into the sunlight.

Can A Duck Be A Musician?

2009-07-10T10:23:00.000-04:00

Published June 17th, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

You make music every day, whether you intend to or not. Hoeing in the garden, spoon on mixing bowl, clearing of throat to make a point - these actions are intentional and create sound. Sound and intentionality are key ingredients of music. And you thought you weren't a musician?

Sound exists without needing any meaning outside of the sound itself. However, if it walks like a duck and sounds like a duck is the duck a musician? Maybe yes, maybe no.

Unlike waterfowl, we have the ability to interact with sound using conscious intention. Instinct is a separate dynamic: think songbirds. Intention is unique to humans and some of our closer relatives. It requires introspection and the ability to observe and change using will. What happens after that is what human musicians spend years attempting to harness.

When we make sounds intentionally -- be it on stage, in the shower, at a school board meeting, wherever we use sound for effect -- we're creating a complex relationship in three parts. There's the sound-maker, the hearers and the sound itself. The sound is just sound, but the maker and hearer have the ability to interact with intentionality.

Consider the Kennett High drum line. Here's a great group of musicians and givers we can all be proud of. What many don't know (and I only recently found out) is that these young musicians use their own funds and take time out of their non-school activities to be the official Drum Line of the NH Special Olympics. This is a big and notable commitment and a beautiful act of selflessness. These students create a meaningful bridge between maker and hearer on a variety of subtle, graceful and complex levels. Here is a wonderful real world example of intention and sound reaching out community to community.

Some say music exists only in the fleeting moment - it's here and gone. Here's what I experience: music marches, lilts, stumbles and galumphs across the distance between two human beings creating threads of crucial, deep connection. Sound plus intention interconnect lives, bodies, and souls and offers them each an opportunity to respond, embrace and change. It connects the listener and the maker using the immutable science of vibration and what some might ascribe to the mysterious realm of God. With music we can witness time out of time and experience the miracle that happens through intentions or through no intention at all. Just like a duck, on a walk.

The Rhythm of Breath

2009-07-10T10:22:00.000-04:00

Published June 20th, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

In the performing arts, the breath is where it all starts. Trained guitarists, violin players and pianists know that although they don't need air to power their instruments, they rely upon the cadence of breathing to inform and enhance phrasing and flow.

Breath warms the cold mathematics of the performing arts. Clearly, dance is a medium which epitomizes the crafting of breath, motion, math and flow into art.

Our local pro dance troupe, The White Mountain Dance Ensemble, is keenly aware of breath and all of the internal physical rhythms and it brings depth and character to their performances. Talking with the four core members, Lori Richardson, Samantha Hounsell, Gretchen Brown, and Danielle Bento, their enthusiasm was contagious. Highly skilled and talented dancers all, these women are deeply attuned to the underlying principles of their work. Breath, inner rhythm and attentive listening were the key concepts they came back to over and over.

In art as in life, refining one’s self knowledge takes on many forms. It's in the scary task of learning what makes you angry, and then finding how to express emotions in flavorful, yielding ways. It's memorizing the rush and ebb of blood in your body, until you find your internal meter.

These dancers have trained to be in sync with their internal rhythms and each other’s rhythms as well. They communicate and anticipate each other in that key way that makes art honest and exciting. You're witnessing more than motion, more than music, more than the sum of the parts. It's this kind of performer that has a chance to change your life. The bridges they have built between them give you opening to come and explore the terrain with them.

What happens between dancers, musicians and all those in the performing arts is where the dark heart and lyrical rainbows live. When the performers are attuned, their breath, motion, math and flow generate the rich feelings of a great performance. If each performer has been listening to their breath, giving courage to their self search, attending to their partner’s rhythms and engaging themselves in the performance, art happens.

Using an instrument, or your body as an instrument – you have a vehicle to express that which cannot be expressed in any other way. Take a deep breath and begin . . .

Turn off the TV and make music

2009-07-10T10:20:00.001-04:00

Published June 6th, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

Most of my recording career has been as a member of a big orchestra, jazz group or rock band. Often, the ensemble would play through the music two or three times, but aside from rock, where each instrument is recorded at a different time and blended together, the recording sessions were fairly unglamorous, lasted a few hours, and resulted in a fairly accurate depiction of the performance.

I got my first glimpse of the manipulation and magic of recording engineers at work in my first solo endeavor.

I was commissioned to record a classical piece for oboe and two pianos - each piano tuned 1/4 step apart. This creates a shimmery quality to the piano sound, and provides luxuriance to the music. It's as though once the piece starts, it streams through your ears in a gentle, unending flow.

In the recording studio, the sound engineer asked us to play measure 40 to 41, then measure 21 to 48, then measure 92 to 111 and so on, and so on - little snippets of sound, played and recorded repeatedly. Not a performance at all. Certainly not luxuriant. In that one session we recorded over 550 little snippets of sound. This for a piece of music that lasts all of 7 minutes and is supposed to have a feeling of continuity.

The mixed and produced recording was ready a few weeks later and I was stunned at the result. Man, did I sound good! Really good. Better than good - and it didn't really sound like me in a hard to define way. There was a gloss and perfection to the performance that was far beyond my ability to recreate on stage. Friends heard it and said it sounded fine - nothing weird at all, but I knew the truth. The recording engineers had spliced, looped, and meshed together a finished work from little bits of sound resulting in a startlingly clear and cohesive musical performance. I was a sound effect, more or less. The performance was more theirs than mine.

It is very, very likely that you've heard the snippet method of music making dozens of times this week alone. Commercial music, pop stars, even local bands using home computer systems all employ the method. It all seems so normal to us, but go to a live performance, and you are sure to hear mistakes and out of tune notes. It may seem like the performer is having a bad day when in fact, what you're hearing is actual music. In the past 50 years, we’ve been trained to expect a deceptive level of perfection that is unrealistic and highly manipulated.

I think that this, sadly, is one of the main reasons people say things like "I'm not a musician, I could never play that guitar or sax or whatever." Based on the perfection we hear on the radio or TV - how could anyone measure up? Even the people who perform the music can't measure up.

I teach music, and I've said to my students many times: it's okay to practice and never reach your ideal or goal. It's okay to mess up, even in performance. Creating something that reflects your world and your feelings is a beautiful and often messy thing.

There are struggles in making music, but none so hard as getting past the pursuit of perfection. We practice music hoping to progress to some specific point, however, along the way, we overlook how competent and creative we are right now in all our messy glory. Though none of us will reach the point of perfection, we all are capable of enjoyment right where we are.

Reaching a balance between wanting to be better, and being happy with where you are is another elusive goal. The territory you traverse in working toward this goal is one of humanity, and personal growth. One that can be filled with joyful sound and shared music making - real music making that reflects and expands who you are. Not the digital representation of you. The real you.

Songlines

2009-07-10T10:18:00.000-04:00

Published May 16th, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

There is a belief among Australian Aboriginal people that each day, songs bring the world into existence. The songs describe the features of the land and how they were created and named during "The Dreaming," or time of creation. The songs commemorate and describe pathways, such as the those taken by the Native Cat Dreaming Spirits who travelled from the sea across vast distances of Australia and helped to bring the world its features.

As an Aboriginal child learning the songs of your elders some of which might be traced back tens of thousands of years, you are in fact learning the exact path you would take to travel your clans path across Australia. This is the path taken and sung by your people as your reponsibility as part of the creation of the world.

As you go on your walkabout, you might traverse the lands of the Aranda, Kaititja, Ngalia, Kukatja, Unmatjera and Ilpara. Were you to meet a person of these tribes along your path, you would know the same song that describes your intersection point. Perhaps a water hole, or oasis in the vast desert of inner Australia. Your ancestors had not met in decades or centuries along this path and yet, you know the exact same song. A feature of the paths is that, as they span the lands of several different language groups, different parts of the song are in different languages. Thus the whole song can only be fully understood by a person speaking all the relevant languages. The songlines of Australia help us see that music transcends mere entertainment and reaches back into the base rock of existence and primal meaning.

I was lucky to study with two outstanding Aboriginal teachers, a great Aboriginal didgeridoo player named David Hudson, and Lorraine Mafi-Williams, who I knew as "The Mother of DreamTime." She taught that the Rainbow Serpent followed a path across Northern Australia, creating rivers and mountains as she went, and stopping at especially sacred places such as Ubirr, a sacred rock in the Northern Territories. There are ancient impressions in the rock still visible today, which appear as long slithering marks and resting places. A song, created by Rainbow Serpent, is still sung by Indigenous Australians, and describes her journey, and the features along it.

David Hudson is of the Djabugay people of Kuranda, Queensland and yet more of the modern world. I met him in Greenwich Village in 1982, where he was performing with the Aboriginal dance and music troupe "Tjapukai" and in New York to record "Australia: Sound of the Earth," with Steve Roach, which became an acclaimed recording. After drinks and dinner with the entire troupe at a Mexican restaurant, he ushered me outside, grabbed a didgeridoo out of his equipment van and jumped onto the roof of a nearby car. Sitting crosslegged in the cool night air of the West Village, he played loud long sinuous tones which broke into the hopping of kangaroos, the yips of the dingo dog, slilthering sounds of Rainbow Serpent, and the wild laughing of the Kukkaboro bird. I was a fledgliing player, and what I heard that night opened my ears permanently.

My background as a classically trained oboe player has given me certain abilities. I can sight read music and know the names of music ornamentation in three languages. However, what I learned from his didgeridoo playing that night changed my life more dramatically in an instant than what I had gained through years of study. I heard the sound of the earth. Some might call it the voice of God. It was, and still is, the sound of everything all at once, brought down and focused into a long hollow tube of wood. David was a conduit that night, and at his best, he simply allowed those sounds to come through him, while he "got out of the way." That's what I strive for as a musician, as I grow into a full human being, it's what I wish for all throughout my life.

I'm going to play and teach didgeridoo this Saturday at my shop and I welcome everyone to come and listen or come and play. Every time you need a reason to believe that there is something more than just yourself in the world, and that the world can be sung into existence, the didgeridoo can be your guide.

John Brown - The Opera

2009-07-10T10:16:00.000-04:00

Published July 3rd, 2009, The Conway Daily Sun

“A Crime of Righteousness,” a new opera by local composer Ellen Schwindt premieres at 4:00 PM on Sunday, July 5, at the Leura Hill Eastman Center for the Performing Arts, at Fryeburg Academy in Fryeburg. Modern operas such as this are much more accessible than the grand operas of yore, and in this case, it's the local talent that makes the performances grand.

Ms. Schwindt is a musician of many talents. In addition to being music director of MountainTop Music Center in Conway, a widely admired music teacher, and a talented instrumentalist, she has taken on the formidable task of writing, directing and producing what may be the first opera native to Mt. Washington Valley.

Maestro Phillip Lauriat, former conductor of The Granite State Opera is at the baton. The soloists are trained singers, all local residents. The chorus is comprised of talented local performers, many of whom have taken on the huge challenge of being in an opera for the very first time. They excel as a group and there are many standout performances.

In this powerful retelling of the life of John Brown, (played by Nicholas Gunn), we witness the battle between opposing views of his life and deeds as well as Brown's own thoughts, illustrated in settings through his lifetime. Primarily set in 1930, long after Brown’s death by hanging, we meet social activist and poet Julia Ward Howe (Mary Edes) and Pulitzer Prize winning author and critic Robert Penn Warren (Hans Stafford) who have radically differing viewpoints of this man’s life story. Through their interactions John Brown takes shape in our minds. Interestingly presented in the setting of a church book club lecture, the two battle not only their views of Brown, but their own inner demons of control and expectation as well.

John Brown's legacy is clouded in controversy. President Abraham Lincoln called John Brown a "misguided fanatic." Journalist Ken Chowder says "stubborn ... egotistical, self-righteous, and sometimes deceitful; yet ... at certain times, a great man."

Harkening back to the time period known as Bloody Kansas, roughly 1856, we are presented with the virulent self-righteousness of this martyr/madman. John Brown was a white anti-slavery advocate whose actions in part led to the American Civil War. Not hesitant to promote his beliefs through extreme violence, he has also been described as America's first terrorist. His abolitionist views since became the mainstream, and his actions can be said to have contributed to the promotion of civil rights in this country, but his murderous tactics and fraudulent manipulations will forever mark him as a dangerous, sad and ultimately disgraced figure in American history.

Ms. Schwindt, who grew up in Kansas, was fascinated by John Steuart Curry's Tragic Prelude (1938-1940), a mural in the Kansas Statehouse depicting John Brown and the clash of forces in Bleeding Kansas. Her inner questioning of whether violence is ever an effective means of ending injustice inspired her to write this poignant commentary on the loss of a peaceful solution to the intractable conflict that changed our nations character forever. Employing thoughtfulness and striking creativity she takes this fascinating life and time period and spins a marvelous tale, tracing both historical fact and misconception through her inspired wordplay and inspiring music.

A workshop performance will be offered on Saturday, July 4, at 7:30 PM at World Fellowship Center in Albany. Tickets to the premiere are $15, or $5 for students and seniors. Call 207-935-9232 or e-mail boxoffice@fryeburgacademy.org for tickets.
This production is sponsored by Hastings Law Office, Fryeburg Veterinary Hospital, The Inn at Crystal Lake, and M&M Technology Insurance Services in collaboration with World Fellowship Center of Albany and the Leura Hill Eastman Performing Arts Center.

What Keeps YOU Changing?

2009-07-10T10:09:00.001-04:00

What Keeps YOU Changing?
To be published Saturday, July 11, 2009 Conway Daily Sun

The musician I spoke with recently who set off this line of thinking in me is Mike Stockbridge. A striking, confident and friendly guy who seems comfortable both with himself and with his career in music. Mike described his new band to me as "... a lot different than what I put together before," which might be thought to imply that there was something wrong with his previous bands. But there isn't anything wrong. It's something else entirely. Mike likes change.

In some ways, musicians epitomize transformation and constancy. Most folks take some time to figure out what they're going to do with themselves after school. Working musicians are almost always from a different page in that book. They discovered early, sometimes very early: a love for sound; making sound; and communicating through music. They found it easy to play, or thrilling to play, or challenging in a way that felt good. They found their unchanging pathway early, and along that pathway, that they didn't yet know was ahead of them, they were following a dedicated direction leading through constant transformation.

Getting better or "growing your chops" as a musician requires that you purposefully change your abilities. Suffering through the rocky years of young musicianhood and still maintaining the ability to reveal something intimate in front of hundreds or thousands requires great acts of courage. It's the discipline of moving forward in a straight line, all the while changing like mad. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, but "you gotta suffer if you want to sing the blues," and all this change and constancy leads to richer artistry.

Mike lives in Tamworth and he's performing with his new band down at the Other Store in Tamworth today, Saturday July 12th. The Mike Stockbridge Quintet: (Mike Stockbridge - guitar, Aaron Green - trumpet, Evan Miller - keys, Duane Edwards - bass, Shawn Boissonneault - drums), is going to play those changes in a musical way. "It's a new place that's been reached in terms of my playing," he said. Having played around the Northeast, and especially in the Portland scene for years, Mike is sort of coming home. Setting up a new teaching studio, bringing his band into town, and trying out, in his words, "my first show of new music" in the Mount Washington Valley.

The Mount Washington Valley music scene seems to be taking off with new wings these days. Meet me down at the Other Store. Mike will lead us through some changes.

In our times, we have much in which we can find meaning, and much to celebrate

2009-07-04T10:49:00.002-04:00

Here's the July 4th article that didn't get published until July 10th, 2009 in the Conway Daily Sun

In our times, we have much in which we can find meaning, and much to celebrate. On this Fourth of July, America will rise up to sing together - a musical celebration of unity, purpose, thankfulness and, hopefully, forgiveness as well.

I was fascinated to find out that The Star Spangled Banner, our national anthem, was claimed by both the Union and the Confederacy at the start of the Civil War. At Fort Sumter, it was played when the American flag was lowered to make way for the surrender to Federal forces. It was again played at the raising of the American flag following the recapture of Fort Sumter at the conclusion of the war. At a time of great division, music united us. And it unites us still.

At the ball game, both sides stop and stand at attention to sing the national anthem, joining us once again in song and bridging whatever gaps may be percieved - race, gender, sexuality, and of course, team loyalty. It's no wonder to me that nefarious groups such as the Taliban reject music. Music leads to harmony, and breaks down divisions between people. Last I heard that was not one of their goals. I can't imagine they like baseball either.

Ultimately we're all on the same team. Yes - the Taliban, too. The big, invisible moving pieces within our hearts unite us in our shared experience of being alive. That our country has survived so much and continues to totter and weave along its path toward freedom is cause for celebration.

Perhaps there will always be some who find meaning in destruction. I can't help them and I won't join them. What I can do is celebrate. And the way I celebrate is by making music.

Play more, practice less, find happiness.

2009-05-27T11:07:00.003-04:00

Here's another article that appeared in The Conway Daily Sun. I've gotten more feedback on this one than all the rest combined. Someone even said they clipped it out and have it hanging in the practive room - cool!

Play more, practice less, find happiness

I spent a lot of my youth practicing just enough to get by. I played oboe and I progressed fast without a lot of effort. I liked that - it gave me time to do many important things, like hanging around with my friends.

Even with all that free time, I got really, really good really, really fast. Maybe too fast. There was little challenge. No struggle to get better. It just came to me. Senior year in High School I was looking at a fat envelope from my first choice school. A scholarship to music conservatory. Let's just say the transition from High School to College was not an easy one.

In the big leagues, no effort equals no results. If you knew me in those early college years, you'd know to look for me in the school practice rooms. Turns out I wasn't a prodigy. It would have been a lot easier that way. I was scared. I had bitten off a lot, and was choking on it - I could feel the dream of playing in a major orchestra slipping away before I even got a chance to mess up an audition.

So I practiced. And practiced and practiced and practiced. It worked just a little at first. Not fast enough to keep up, but enough to keep me going. Weeks went by. I began to find hard to play musical passages easier. More practice: new sounds came under my control. More and more practice: I could play in tune, with nice tone, for much longer. Something happened. It started feeling less like practicing and more like playing. Less like work and more like fun. That subtle wink when it shifted from practice to play is hidden somewhere in my memory and I can't recall the point exactly, much as I try. If you're in the middle of it, right where you belong, it passes by in a flash, and the moment shifts to the next and the next. It’s beautiful.
My Dad once asked me "what's the most important thing in life" and I was all over the road with my answer. Success? Friendship? Love? Patience? Achievement? He shook his head, smiled, and said: "Happiness."

I was finding happiness in the results of my struggles back then. And as I gain experience, I can tell you that I also find it in the struggle itself.
There is no reason to practice if you don't want to get better. And I think we do, all, truly want to get better – be better. There is no way to get truly, deeply better without effort. As a musician, it’s the effort that comes from you, alone in a practice room.

I wasn't sure my Dad had it right at the time. I believe him now. Practice as though your happiness depends upon it. The rest will come.

The World Is Never Quiet

2009-05-08T12:56:00.000-04:00

As a kid, I was unduly concerned about how radio stations get their sound to your radio. It seemed vaguely creepy - all that chatter and music flinging through the air - bouncing off and zipping right through me. Be still for a moment, and contemplate this: right now there are dozens or even hundreds of radio station signals passing through your body. Creepy, huh? I didn't like it then, and though I'm a bit calmer about it now, I still feel restless about it sometimes.

Radio signals move through the air as vibrations. Ones that are beyond our limited ability to perceive. There's an old joke about dental fillings picking up radio waves, but why can't it be like that - why can't we perceive the full range of vibrations all around us? If we could, the world would probably seem substantially different to us. I'm pretty sure we're better off without that ability, though wouldn't it be interesting? We have the limited, luxurious ability to perceive tones and vibrations in a specific range. And our abilities manifest in a variety of helpful and enjoyable ways.

As an amateur gym rat, I prefer to exercise using a tempo-based music track. I tune out as much as I can: the TV, the happy chatter and other distractions. I lower my cap over my brow, turn up the sound and repeat, repeat, repeat to the beat. It's always worked for me, especially when I'm feeling less than prime. I easily slip into sync with the repetitive sounds and once on board, I'm a happy musical passenger. I've read that many pro athletes prefer no outside rhythm for their workouts. My understanding is that they are focused on the functions of their body, the flow of energy, the tempos and cadences of their form. Perhaps their ability to perceive inner rhythms and vibrations is more highly developed; perhaps it’s an innate gift. Maybe I’ll get there someday, maybe not. I know that my rhythms are there, it’s just that I can’t perceive them very well.
I think that music is not more noise in a noisy world. Rather, it’s that we can’t help but express what we sense. The talent of being a musician may lie in the ability to sense and make sense of the rhythms around them, as athletes can sense and listen to the rhythms within their own bodies.

I love the quote from Albert Camus, “The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations which escape our ears.” We all have access to the same vibrations. Our job and indeed our joy, is to respect and develop our senses to better perceive that which is around us.

I've written a few articles . . .

2009-05-06T12:54:00.002-04:00

for the Conway Sun, and I wonder if anyone has any comments. Suggestions for topics would be great.

I spend most of the time on the articles just thinking up the point and the scenario. They seems to write themselves in about 1/2 hour after I've got the first few words down.

Writing is fun - and scary. It's really putting myself out there, you know? I take the writing seriously (which I know I should lighten up on, but what are you going to do?) and that always gets in my way. The more relaxed about it,. the more "it" flows. Whatever it is.

I've been reading a lot of Stephen King lately, including his book on writing. I love the tone and flow of his writing and I have to say it is part of what I keep in the back of my head while I'm writing these articles. So far, I think it's working out.

The Music scene in Mt. Washington Valley is . . .

2009-04-22T11:46:00.000-04:00

1) okay - sort of?

2) great!

3) horrible?

what do you think? Share your opinion . . .

Nice to be here . . .

2009-04-22T11:41:00.001-04:00

in North Conway. Music is all around us - the birds, the wind in the trees, and the upcoming didgeridoo workshop. Pass along the workshop info, would you?