I know I rarely write, but going forward, when I do blog, all new posts will be shared on the blog at brianblumemusic.com. This is primarily to consolidate for simplicity's sake.
Check out the newest post -- 15 Random Thoughts from DCI 2016
Thanks for visiting!
Saturday, August 20, 2016
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Volume of Work
This past Monday I had the pleasure of hearing my friend and colleague Dr. Charles Hulin give a wonderful solo piano recital. With works spanning nearly 300 years, one each from the Baroque, Classical, and Romantic periods, and two written in the last 7 years, the program provided something for nearly any taste of piano music.
I knew all but one composer on the program (a friend of Dr. Hulin's), but I had never heard any of the works before. As I sat and listened to works by Bach and Mozart (again, that were new to me), I got to thinking about how many Bach and Mozart works I have not heard before. I also took note of the catalogue numbers next to the titles of the pieces in the program (BWV 855, K. 333) and began thinking about just what those numbers mean.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Reflections on my first semester as a college professor
It's over. The fall semester at Southeastern University wrapped up last week with final exams, juries, and Fall Commencement. Campus has cleared, grades are posted, and Christmas break is finally upon us.
A few musings and highlights of my first semester teaching at a university:
1) Have you ever been in one of those situations where nearly everything you do, you're doing it for the first time? Well, a good portion of the past four months has been this way for me. Every day, it seems, there's at least one thing that my job requires me to do that I am uncomfortable doing, because I've never done it before. But I am quite aware that this is how one grows and expands knowledge. Thus, I am thankful for the opportunities that I have had so far, and I know that this will continue for awhile. For example, I am teaching two classes in the spring semester that I did not teach this fall.
2) Florida is hot.
3) It has been a true joy to share music of the marimba with many who have never heard it (yes, including several of my students). I have been blessed to play solo marimba several times in the area, and it's awesome to see people's eyes widen as they realize that a percussion instrument can actually be musical, too (can you believe it?!).
A few musings and highlights of my first semester teaching at a university:
1) Have you ever been in one of those situations where nearly everything you do, you're doing it for the first time? Well, a good portion of the past four months has been this way for me. Every day, it seems, there's at least one thing that my job requires me to do that I am uncomfortable doing, because I've never done it before. But I am quite aware that this is how one grows and expands knowledge. Thus, I am thankful for the opportunities that I have had so far, and I know that this will continue for awhile. For example, I am teaching two classes in the spring semester that I did not teach this fall.
2) Florida is hot.
| Taken Dec. 18 at SEU. What you can't hear in this photo is Dean Martin singing "Let It Snow!" |
3) It has been a true joy to share music of the marimba with many who have never heard it (yes, including several of my students). I have been blessed to play solo marimba several times in the area, and it's awesome to see people's eyes widen as they realize that a percussion instrument can actually be musical, too (can you believe it?!).
Friday, July 12, 2013
Are you listening?
I had the privilege of taking a real vacation last week, spending a couple days on the central coast of California at friend's wedding, followed by five days on the Gulf coast of Florida. I say real vacation because I've taken a few short "mini-vacations" in the last 5 years––a day or two here and there––but I'm talking about a real, week-long, sit-by-the-beach/pool-and-do-nothing vacation. Away from practicing, away from teaching, with no real agenda (other than finding a place to live in Lakeland while we were in Florida, which we did).
One afternoon, after my pale skin had taken all the beating it could handle from the Florida sun, I decided to put on some headphones and listen to music. As soon as I pressed play on a playlist of mostly piano and marimba music*, I found myself searching for something else to do while I listened to my iPod.
"I should check Twitter or Facebook. I have a few games on my phone I could play. Maybe I'll read a bit. Oh, I can catch up on how Brad Stevens became the new Celtics coach! I could flip on the TV and just mute it. I should at least get a snack so I'm doing something."
One afternoon, after my pale skin had taken all the beating it could handle from the Florida sun, I decided to put on some headphones and listen to music. As soon as I pressed play on a playlist of mostly piano and marimba music*, I found myself searching for something else to do while I listened to my iPod.
"I should check Twitter or Facebook. I have a few games on my phone I could play. Maybe I'll read a bit. Oh, I can catch up on how Brad Stevens became the new Celtics coach! I could flip on the TV and just mute it. I should at least get a snack so I'm doing something."
Friday, July 5, 2013
Moving On (Part 2 of 2)
(If you missed Part 1, click here.)
Despite leaving many wonderful experiences and people in Indiana, what I am walking into at Southeastern University is a fantastic opportunity. Since finishing a masters degree in 2010, I have been freelancing in Indianapolis, but ultimately with a goal in mind of teaching college percussionists. Not only do I get this opportunity, but in a full-time position, with benefits (health insurance for musicians is NOT a given), surrounded by super helpful and welcoming people, in a state I don't mind moving to (it could be a lot worse...). I thought I would share a little more about what I'm stepping into, and the process by which this job has become a reality for me, with the hope that it may prove helpful for those interested in teaching college, and at least somewhat interesting to others.
Doctorate or Not?
Despite leaving many wonderful experiences and people in Indiana, what I am walking into at Southeastern University is a fantastic opportunity. Since finishing a masters degree in 2010, I have been freelancing in Indianapolis, but ultimately with a goal in mind of teaching college percussionists. Not only do I get this opportunity, but in a full-time position, with benefits (health insurance for musicians is NOT a given), surrounded by super helpful and welcoming people, in a state I don't mind moving to (it could be a lot worse...). I thought I would share a little more about what I'm stepping into, and the process by which this job has become a reality for me, with the hope that it may prove helpful for those interested in teaching college, and at least somewhat interesting to others.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Moving On (Part 1 of 2)
By now, most of you know that I have accepted a position as Instructor of Percussion at Southeastern University in Lakeland, Florida. This is a very exciting time for my wife and me, and I feel incredibly blessed and undeserving of such an opportunity. However, as we step into the new and exciting, we leave behind family, friends, and jobs that mean a great deal to us. In particular, my job and experiences at Center Grove High School will be missed dearly.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Let It Snow!
'Tis the season to be jolly! Sure it's not Christmas yet, but I'm jolly indeed, because I'm recording and releasing a Christmas album this November! It will be all new arrangements for marimba solo and marimba/vibraphone duet (Colin Hill will be joining me for the duets).
I have launched a Kickstarter campaign to help raise the funds necessary to make this album, and it's already off to a great start! You can watch the video below and check out the Kickstarter page here.
Since the first few days have been so successful, I have (unofficially) increased my funding goals. You can read more about that here.
Please spread the word and share with your friends and family if you wish. I am working hard to make the best album of interesting and beautiful music that I can. I hope you'll consider joining me while we Let It Snow!
I have launched a Kickstarter campaign to help raise the funds necessary to make this album, and it's already off to a great start! You can watch the video below and check out the Kickstarter page here.
Since the first few days have been so successful, I have (unofficially) increased my funding goals. You can read more about that here.
Please spread the word and share with your friends and family if you wish. I am working hard to make the best album of interesting and beautiful music that I can. I hope you'll consider joining me while we Let It Snow!
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
The Love of Money
We all know that money is the root of all evil, right? That's how the saying goes, isn't it?
Not quite.
"Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil." – 1 Timothy 6: 9-10
Money itself is neither good nor bad. It is simply a tool or a resource, like a brick, for example. A brick can be thrown through someone's window or it can be used in the construction of a building. The way we view money is where things go awry, and I have seen and believed a range of viewpoints when it comes to money.
Not quite.
"Those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil." – 1 Timothy 6: 9-10
Money itself is neither good nor bad. It is simply a tool or a resource, like a brick, for example. A brick can be thrown through someone's window or it can be used in the construction of a building. The way we view money is where things go awry, and I have seen and believed a range of viewpoints when it comes to money.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Why not?
Why is it that we can come up with a thousand reasons not to do something that we actually desire to do?
It probably won't go very well.
I don't have enough time.
I'm not any good at that anyway.
It seems too hard.
There's no need for my perspective on that.
I don't want to fail in front of everybody.
I don't know how.
It's too expensive.
I'm too tired.
I'm too tired.
I don't want to go alone.
I am afraid of heights.
It's too scary.
I might get hurt.
They don't need me.
I don't bring anything worthwhile to the table.
It's much easier to not do anything at all.
I'm too old.
I'm too young.
I missed my opportunity.
It might not live up to my expectations.
I might not live up to their expectations.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Making music with friends
As I look back at all the performances I've been a part of in the last year, here are the typical sorts of things I've been doing.
- section percussion with an orchestra
- studio percussion with large ensemble
- solo marimba concerts
- mass drumline at the Super Bowl (What? You don't think that's typical? Okay, you're right.)
What I realize is that I tend to play with a large group of musicians or as a soloist. What's missing is chamber music. I have had (or made) very few opportunities to perform with a small group in the past year and a half, and recent events have helped me remember how much fun chamber music can be.
- section percussion with an orchestra
- studio percussion with large ensemble
- solo marimba concerts
- mass drumline at the Super Bowl (What? You don't think that's typical? Okay, you're right.)
What I realize is that I tend to play with a large group of musicians or as a soloist. What's missing is chamber music. I have had (or made) very few opportunities to perform with a small group in the past year and a half, and recent events have helped me remember how much fun chamber music can be.
Monday, February 6, 2012
What a night!
Two months ago, in my mind Madonna was just a famous name of the past who wasn't really relevant to pop music anymore.
Now it's a name that, upon mention or thought, will immediately take me back to this past week of unforgettable experiences, culminating in a performance of the National Anthem with Kelly Clarkson and the halftime performance with Madonna at Super Bowl XLVI in Indianapolis.
I will be honest, this week has been really difficult. My body has not been through this kind of pain probably since I marched drum corps almost 6 years ago. Seeing my wife awake was a rarity, as I was practically working second shift while she worked normal daytime hours. And while I enjoy working with high schoolers, spending 20+ hours surrounded by (star-struck) students was mentally taxing.
But last night made it all worth it.
Being on the field for the pre-game festivities, seeing and hearing that incredible stadium full of loud fans, sharing the stage with Madonna, Cee Lo, and Kelly Clarkson, getting to drum with friends Josh Torres, Jason Hammond-Wood, Nick Taylor, Jeff Huffman, and Jeff Queen before 100+ million viewers worldwide. Indescribable, really.
I should share how this event took shape and how I got to be a included in it all.
Josh Torres, band/percussion director at Center Grove High School, got a call from a DCI employee (who also worked on the halftime team) in early December asking if he could round up and head up a 100-member drumline for the Super Bowl halftime. What a task! Thankfully, he said yes, and took on what turned out to be a HUGE endeavor.
Madonna and her team had heard that Indiana was a prime place to find world-class drummers for a drumline, and they are absolutely right. Mr. Torres took advantage of the talent and experience of four Indianapolis area high schools (along with some of their alumni and staff) to put together this massive drumline. When asked if I would strap on a drum, there was no hesitation at all. Absolutely!!!
The group rehearsed several times at Center Grove, where we were fitted for costumes, practiced the music, and learned the choreography and staging, which subsequently changed at least 23 times. The following week was for rehearsals in Lucas Oil Stadium with the whole shebang. Full costume and lighting run-throughs, detailing every possible thing we could with the time we were given. You may have heard that Madonna had put a lot into her performance, and I can tell you first hand, she is an incredibly hard worker. I was impressed by her attention to detail and her efforts to get everything just right leading up to the big performance. And I thought that the end result, while not perfect (who ever has a perfect performance?) was awesome! If even a fraction of what I experienced in the stadium made it to your TVs and speakers at home, then you should have been pretty blown away. (A side note: She was very thankful to us, the drumline, and was really nice in all our interactions with her.)
Mr. Torres was also asked to assemble an "all star team" of 6 drummers for the National Anthem, to be sung by Kelly Clarkson. As one of his percussion staff members, I got the nod. A couple of Clarkson's audio production team members flew out to Indy to pre-record us playing the percussion parts for the National Anthem a couple weeks in advance, and we had one rehearsal with Kelly and the Indianapolis Children's Choir in the stadium on Friday before the big day.
A huge thanks to Josh Torres for all of his hard work and lost hours of sleep to make this all happen so smoothly. And for letting me be a part of it. While I do expect the Super Bowl to return to Indianapolis at some point, I imagine that my experiences were truly once-in-a-lifetime.
Oh, and thank you, New York Football Giants, for capping off an extraordinary week with the perfect finish...a beatdown on the Patriots and a Super Bowl Championship!
Now it's a name that, upon mention or thought, will immediately take me back to this past week of unforgettable experiences, culminating in a performance of the National Anthem with Kelly Clarkson and the halftime performance with Madonna at Super Bowl XLVI in Indianapolis.
I will be honest, this week has been really difficult. My body has not been through this kind of pain probably since I marched drum corps almost 6 years ago. Seeing my wife awake was a rarity, as I was practically working second shift while she worked normal daytime hours. And while I enjoy working with high schoolers, spending 20+ hours surrounded by (star-struck) students was mentally taxing.
But last night made it all worth it.
Being on the field for the pre-game festivities, seeing and hearing that incredible stadium full of loud fans, sharing the stage with Madonna, Cee Lo, and Kelly Clarkson, getting to drum with friends Josh Torres, Jason Hammond-Wood, Nick Taylor, Jeff Huffman, and Jeff Queen before 100+ million viewers worldwide. Indescribable, really.
I should share how this event took shape and how I got to be a included in it all.
Josh Torres, band/percussion director at Center Grove High School, got a call from a DCI employee (who also worked on the halftime team) in early December asking if he could round up and head up a 100-member drumline for the Super Bowl halftime. What a task! Thankfully, he said yes, and took on what turned out to be a HUGE endeavor.
Madonna and her team had heard that Indiana was a prime place to find world-class drummers for a drumline, and they are absolutely right. Mr. Torres took advantage of the talent and experience of four Indianapolis area high schools (along with some of their alumni and staff) to put together this massive drumline. When asked if I would strap on a drum, there was no hesitation at all. Absolutely!!!
The group rehearsed several times at Center Grove, where we were fitted for costumes, practiced the music, and learned the choreography and staging, which subsequently changed at least 23 times. The following week was for rehearsals in Lucas Oil Stadium with the whole shebang. Full costume and lighting run-throughs, detailing every possible thing we could with the time we were given. You may have heard that Madonna had put a lot into her performance, and I can tell you first hand, she is an incredibly hard worker. I was impressed by her attention to detail and her efforts to get everything just right leading up to the big performance. And I thought that the end result, while not perfect (who ever has a perfect performance?) was awesome! If even a fraction of what I experienced in the stadium made it to your TVs and speakers at home, then you should have been pretty blown away. (A side note: She was very thankful to us, the drumline, and was really nice in all our interactions with her.)
Mr. Torres was also asked to assemble an "all star team" of 6 drummers for the National Anthem, to be sung by Kelly Clarkson. As one of his percussion staff members, I got the nod. A couple of Clarkson's audio production team members flew out to Indy to pre-record us playing the percussion parts for the National Anthem a couple weeks in advance, and we had one rehearsal with Kelly and the Indianapolis Children's Choir in the stadium on Friday before the big day.
A huge thanks to Josh Torres for all of his hard work and lost hours of sleep to make this all happen so smoothly. And for letting me be a part of it. While I do expect the Super Bowl to return to Indianapolis at some point, I imagine that my experiences were truly once-in-a-lifetime.
Oh, and thank you, New York Football Giants, for capping off an extraordinary week with the perfect finish...a beatdown on the Patriots and a Super Bowl Championship!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Not everyone will like it.
Isn't it amazing how fast we can dismiss an original idea because we think, "Naaah, they won't like it"? We may spend hours, days, maybe even weeks or months, developing an idea, creating something new that, if you've spent that much effort and time on it, means something to you.
Or consider an idea that just formed. It may not be well-thought-out yet, but in your mind, something about this idea is worthwhile. "I know someone won't like it," you tell yourself.
Well guess what? You're right. Someone probably won't like your idea, your work, or your creation. But is that alone reason enough to dismiss it as a worthless idea? Does it mean that you shouldn't share the work you do that people might not like? Absolutely not.
How easy it is to place the entire value of a product or idea on the opinions of a few. If you have ever created anything, you know what I am talking about. You prepare to release your work and you immediately wonder, "How will Person One receive this? Is it good enough for Person Two? I so hope he thinks it's awesome." And what if he doesn't? Doesn't the work have any value to you? What about the hundreds or thousands of others who appreciate the work?
Author and speaker Jon Acuff puts it this way.
Let's flip the situation for a moment. I take in a lot of content in a normal day, and some of it I don't care for, whether it's someone's blog post, a new percussion composition, or a website design. But it's awfully selfish of me to think that my opinion of someone else's work is all that matters. Just because I don't care for a piece of music doesn't mean that it has no value to its creator or many others who love the piece.
Some people like certain things, others hate those things. That's the way it is. But facing the risk that someone won't like your work is never a reason to stop being you.
Or consider an idea that just formed. It may not be well-thought-out yet, but in your mind, something about this idea is worthwhile. "I know someone won't like it," you tell yourself.
Well guess what? You're right. Someone probably won't like your idea, your work, or your creation. But is that alone reason enough to dismiss it as a worthless idea? Does it mean that you shouldn't share the work you do that people might not like? Absolutely not.
How easy it is to place the entire value of a product or idea on the opinions of a few. If you have ever created anything, you know what I am talking about. You prepare to release your work and you immediately wonder, "How will Person One receive this? Is it good enough for Person Two? I so hope he thinks it's awesome." And what if he doesn't? Doesn't the work have any value to you? What about the hundreds or thousands of others who appreciate the work?
Author and speaker Jon Acuff puts it this way.
You don’t get to open yourself up to other people loving an idea unless you also open yourself up to people hating the idea too.If I am vulnerable enough to share who I am and what I do with the world (thanks, Internet), should I expect 100% of the population who sees my work to like it? And consider it a failure if they don't? How ridiculous! Yet that is often the direction of my thinking. And all it does is confine me to my own little world of self-pity and lies.
Let's flip the situation for a moment. I take in a lot of content in a normal day, and some of it I don't care for, whether it's someone's blog post, a new percussion composition, or a website design. But it's awfully selfish of me to think that my opinion of someone else's work is all that matters. Just because I don't care for a piece of music doesn't mean that it has no value to its creator or many others who love the piece.
Some people like certain things, others hate those things. That's the way it is. But facing the risk that someone won't like your work is never a reason to stop being you.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Faith and Works
Don't worry, I do not intend to write a deep theological post on the long-standing tension between faith and works. (I'll let the smart people do that.) But I do want to share what is becoming a recurring theme in my own life.
"Dear friends, do you think you'll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it?" James 2:14 (MSG)
How many of us have "all the right words but never do anything"? I'm raising my hand right now. Anyone else in that group? Heck, I feel like I started the group. You could just about name it after me.
You see, I'm a calculated person. Calculated and safe. I like to know exactly what I'm getting into before I dive in. I need to know how much it will cost, how much I get in return, how long it will take. Is it the best option? The absolute best option? Or is there a better one? I better keep looking for a better way.
It goes on and on, and you know what I end up doing?
Nothing.
There comes a time to act. To make a move even if it feels scary. To take a risk. To have faith.
Maybe it's time to raise funds to record that album. Maybe it's time to set a date for that performance. To send in the resume for that audition. Maybe it's time to reach out to that person who hurt you. To say yes to that gig you don't want to do but you know you should.
I am struggling to really learn what this means. And why is it a struggle? Because in order to understand faith, I have to HAVE faith. I have to experience what it means to have faith.
"Do I hear you professing to believe in the one and only God, but then observe you complacently sitting back as if you had done something wonderful? That's just great. Demons do that, but what good does it do them? Use your heads! Do you suppose for a minute that you can cut faith and works in two and not end up with a corpse on your hands?" James 2:19-20 (MSG)
I haven't spent much time around dead bodies, but I'm not real interested in having a corpse on my hands.
What faith step will you take today?
"Dear friends, do you think you'll get anywhere in this if you learn all the right words but never do anything? Does merely talking about faith indicate that a person really has it?" James 2:14 (MSG)
How many of us have "all the right words but never do anything"? I'm raising my hand right now. Anyone else in that group? Heck, I feel like I started the group. You could just about name it after me.
You see, I'm a calculated person. Calculated and safe. I like to know exactly what I'm getting into before I dive in. I need to know how much it will cost, how much I get in return, how long it will take. Is it the best option? The absolute best option? Or is there a better one? I better keep looking for a better way.
It goes on and on, and you know what I end up doing?
Nothing.
There comes a time to act. To make a move even if it feels scary. To take a risk. To have faith.
Maybe it's time to raise funds to record that album. Maybe it's time to set a date for that performance. To send in the resume for that audition. Maybe it's time to reach out to that person who hurt you. To say yes to that gig you don't want to do but you know you should.
I am struggling to really learn what this means. And why is it a struggle? Because in order to understand faith, I have to HAVE faith. I have to experience what it means to have faith.
"Do I hear you professing to believe in the one and only God, but then observe you complacently sitting back as if you had done something wonderful? That's just great. Demons do that, but what good does it do them? Use your heads! Do you suppose for a minute that you can cut faith and works in two and not end up with a corpse on your hands?" James 2:19-20 (MSG)
I haven't spent much time around dead bodies, but I'm not real interested in having a corpse on my hands.
What faith step will you take today?
Friday, July 22, 2011
Some frustrations
It happens nearly every summer.
Someone comes out with an update or upgrade, and I decide I need it. They take turns. Sibelius, Apple (OS X), Virtual Drumline, Kontakt, others.
And every summer, during marching band writing season, I spend a day or two scouring forums and FAQs looking for answers. And rarely find them. Sometimes it's an easy fix for a problem that is quite common among other folks, but too often, it seems like I'm the only one with the problem I'm having.
You might think I'm talking about Apple's new operating system "Lion", but I've learned not to jump into a brand new operating system until the kinks have been worked out. My most recent issue stems from a Kontakt Player update, which I mostly use within Sibelius. It will work out soon, I suppose, but never soon enough. I'm not a big fan of reading forums all day.
Advice: make sure you know what you're doing when it's time to make an upgrade. Be sure your programs will all be compatible with the updates, and if you can wait and not miss anything, it might be a good bet to just wait.
Sweetwater has this helpful post regarding Lion and its compatibility with several music-related programs.
Someone comes out with an update or upgrade, and I decide I need it. They take turns. Sibelius, Apple (OS X), Virtual Drumline, Kontakt, others.
And every summer, during marching band writing season, I spend a day or two scouring forums and FAQs looking for answers. And rarely find them. Sometimes it's an easy fix for a problem that is quite common among other folks, but too often, it seems like I'm the only one with the problem I'm having.
You might think I'm talking about Apple's new operating system "Lion", but I've learned not to jump into a brand new operating system until the kinks have been worked out. My most recent issue stems from a Kontakt Player update, which I mostly use within Sibelius. It will work out soon, I suppose, but never soon enough. I'm not a big fan of reading forums all day.
Advice: make sure you know what you're doing when it's time to make an upgrade. Be sure your programs will all be compatible with the updates, and if you can wait and not miss anything, it might be a good bet to just wait.
Sweetwater has this helpful post regarding Lion and its compatibility with several music-related programs.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Greg Patillo
Apparently I am intrigued and impressed by beatboxing. It is pretty darn cool when done well. I hope you'll check out the subject of today's post --- beatboxing flutist Greg Pattillo.
Classically trained at the Cleveland Institute of Music, this creative flutist discovered a new way to make music on his instrument. And it has launched him into a career probably far different than the one he envisioned when he stepped onto the campus of CIM. See for yourself what this guy can do. And maybe it just might inspire you to think outside the box.
Check out Greg with his trio, PROJECT. (And of course, you'll be able find many more videos on YouTube.) Enjoy!
Classically trained at the Cleveland Institute of Music, this creative flutist discovered a new way to make music on his instrument. And it has launched him into a career probably far different than the one he envisioned when he stepped onto the campus of CIM. See for yourself what this guy can do. And maybe it just might inspire you to think outside the box.
Check out Greg with his trio, PROJECT. (And of course, you'll be able find many more videos on YouTube.) Enjoy!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
How teaching can make you a better player
I have had the privilege of teaching music/percussion for 8 years in a variety of settings. And I can tell you with great certainty that my teaching experiences have absolutely helped me to become a better player and performer. I will share just a couple of examples of how this has happened.
I taught the snareline at the Blue Stars Drum and Bugle Corps in the summer of 2007. And when I say summer, I mean all summer, every minute of every day. I lived and breathed snare drumming. Now, I had played the snare drum all summer for the previous 4 years, but teaching was very different. Daily, I would be presented with challenges of how to fix someone's hands, or how to create a better or different sound, or how to control the rebound better on certain types of strokes. And until I was on the teacher side of the equation, I had never given so much thought to the details of what my own hands were doing. As I evaluated my own technique in order to help students understand the technique, I became much more aware of how to make changes to improve certain aspects of snare drumming that I could even apply to myself. I learned not just how to teach better that summer, but I learned how to play the snare drum better that summer. And, of course, techniques from snare drumming can cover a wide range of percussion, so I ultimately became a better percussionist from teaching that summer.
A second, and more recent, example is my experience teaching the front ensemble at Center Grove High School this school year. Similar to the above example, I have dug deep into the technique of marimba and vibraphone playing, and improved my own playing as a result. But beyond the technical realm, I have enjoyed growing in another area of percussion, and that is musical communication and performance. (Wait, I thought they were just drummers....) When I watch a pit perform, whether indoor or outdoor, I don't want to see robots, or choreographed foot shifts, or manufactured cheesy smiles. I want to see (and hear) honest, genuine musical communication. So this is something I have tried to instill and foster in my group.
When you're discussing such abstract and vague concepts as performance and musical communication with high school students, you get a lot of questions!
How do I do that?
What does that even mean?
What am I supposed to do with my body?
Should I make a sad face? Happy face?
What if people laugh at me?
What if it feels fake?
So we had to discuss these things (and more), and some beautifully insightful conversations ensued. Just in encouraging students to think about these things, and talking about them often, I have given more thought to the subject than I probably ever had before this year. And when I step up to an instrument to play, I am armed with a deeper understanding of how I can communicate effectively through music. As I spend so much time trying to get emotions out of students, I find more emotion flowing out of me.
These are just two of several examples that could be shared. Do you have examples to share? Have you experienced improvement in your performance as a result of teaching music?
I taught the snareline at the Blue Stars Drum and Bugle Corps in the summer of 2007. And when I say summer, I mean all summer, every minute of every day. I lived and breathed snare drumming. Now, I had played the snare drum all summer for the previous 4 years, but teaching was very different. Daily, I would be presented with challenges of how to fix someone's hands, or how to create a better or different sound, or how to control the rebound better on certain types of strokes. And until I was on the teacher side of the equation, I had never given so much thought to the details of what my own hands were doing. As I evaluated my own technique in order to help students understand the technique, I became much more aware of how to make changes to improve certain aspects of snare drumming that I could even apply to myself. I learned not just how to teach better that summer, but I learned how to play the snare drum better that summer. And, of course, techniques from snare drumming can cover a wide range of percussion, so I ultimately became a better percussionist from teaching that summer.
A second, and more recent, example is my experience teaching the front ensemble at Center Grove High School this school year. Similar to the above example, I have dug deep into the technique of marimba and vibraphone playing, and improved my own playing as a result. But beyond the technical realm, I have enjoyed growing in another area of percussion, and that is musical communication and performance. (Wait, I thought they were just drummers....) When I watch a pit perform, whether indoor or outdoor, I don't want to see robots, or choreographed foot shifts, or manufactured cheesy smiles. I want to see (and hear) honest, genuine musical communication. So this is something I have tried to instill and foster in my group.
When you're discussing such abstract and vague concepts as performance and musical communication with high school students, you get a lot of questions!
How do I do that?
What does that even mean?
What am I supposed to do with my body?
Should I make a sad face? Happy face?
What if people laugh at me?
What if it feels fake?
So we had to discuss these things (and more), and some beautifully insightful conversations ensued. Just in encouraging students to think about these things, and talking about them often, I have given more thought to the subject than I probably ever had before this year. And when I step up to an instrument to play, I am armed with a deeper understanding of how I can communicate effectively through music. As I spend so much time trying to get emotions out of students, I find more emotion flowing out of me.
These are just two of several examples that could be shared. Do you have examples to share? Have you experienced improvement in your performance as a result of teaching music?
Thursday, April 21, 2011
What Makes a Piece of Music Great? (Part 3)
The final one on this topic, this post probably involves more of my opinions than the first two. Just a warning.
We have looked at how the composer of a piece can affect its reception and fame, as well as how innovation in a piece can give it value and prominence in the world's eyes. I would like to argue a third point in what makes a piece of music great, and that is whether it communicates something and moves a listener in some way. Yes, I realize this is a broad issue, but hang with me here. Think about it for a minute.
What pieces of music do you qualify as being great? Why are they great? I will bet that there is something about each of the works you're thinking of that moves you, that draws you in, keeps your interest. In my opinion a great piece of music communicates a thought or idea in such a way that the listener must respond. A response might be one of nostalgia, sadness, or excitement. Maybe the music moves a listener to deep reflection and thought. Maybe a piece moves someone simply by its virtuosity (of course the performer(s) plays a large role in this). Something about a piece, possibly including the subject or inspiration of a piece, must connect with an audience, or least one listener, for that piece to really be considered great.
If I write a piece that is intended to depict images from my trip to East Asia, and upon listening, you think I took a trip to West Africa, then I would have a hard time calling the piece great. Or if, upon listening, you immediately lose focus and want to take a nap, I would again hesitate to consider this a great piece of music.
I must note that this can not be a sole qualifier in determining whether a piece is great, because it puts so much stock in the listener's ability to understand what is being communicated in the music. A great piece of music might communicate something clearly to a learned listener, moving him in a deep way, while the same piece of music does nothing for another listener.
Also, a piece may take several listenings/viewings before it communicates in such a way as to move a listener. Take for example, the music from the Rite of Spring (Stravinsky), which caused a riot at its premiere in 1913, and is now received as absolutely one of the greatest works in the repertoire. This ballet and its music took some time before they were understood and enjoyed by the public. Now, one could argue that the music of the Rite of Spring did move people, even if to a negative response. True. And this begs the question, could a piece be considered great if it garners widespread negative attention, moving audiences to respond with disdain? It's moving the audience, isn't it? Hmmm.... Well, I'll leave the answer to you.
What do you think? What makes a piece of music great in your opinion?
We have looked at how the composer of a piece can affect its reception and fame, as well as how innovation in a piece can give it value and prominence in the world's eyes. I would like to argue a third point in what makes a piece of music great, and that is whether it communicates something and moves a listener in some way. Yes, I realize this is a broad issue, but hang with me here. Think about it for a minute.
What pieces of music do you qualify as being great? Why are they great? I will bet that there is something about each of the works you're thinking of that moves you, that draws you in, keeps your interest. In my opinion a great piece of music communicates a thought or idea in such a way that the listener must respond. A response might be one of nostalgia, sadness, or excitement. Maybe the music moves a listener to deep reflection and thought. Maybe a piece moves someone simply by its virtuosity (of course the performer(s) plays a large role in this). Something about a piece, possibly including the subject or inspiration of a piece, must connect with an audience, or least one listener, for that piece to really be considered great.
If I write a piece that is intended to depict images from my trip to East Asia, and upon listening, you think I took a trip to West Africa, then I would have a hard time calling the piece great. Or if, upon listening, you immediately lose focus and want to take a nap, I would again hesitate to consider this a great piece of music.
I must note that this can not be a sole qualifier in determining whether a piece is great, because it puts so much stock in the listener's ability to understand what is being communicated in the music. A great piece of music might communicate something clearly to a learned listener, moving him in a deep way, while the same piece of music does nothing for another listener.
Also, a piece may take several listenings/viewings before it communicates in such a way as to move a listener. Take for example, the music from the Rite of Spring (Stravinsky), which caused a riot at its premiere in 1913, and is now received as absolutely one of the greatest works in the repertoire. This ballet and its music took some time before they were understood and enjoyed by the public. Now, one could argue that the music of the Rite of Spring did move people, even if to a negative response. True. And this begs the question, could a piece be considered great if it garners widespread negative attention, moving audiences to respond with disdain? It's moving the audience, isn't it? Hmmm.... Well, I'll leave the answer to you.
What do you think? What makes a piece of music great in your opinion?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
What makes a piece of music great? (Part 2)
A few weeks back I had the privilege of sharing some great conversation with percussionist Colin Currie, his violinist friend, and my wife. Among the many topics of discussion was the topic of what percussionists value in a piece of music (they must have known I was blogging about this!).
Colin commissions and premieres new percussion works like it's his job. In fact...it IS his job. That's nearly all he does. So one can imagine how much new music he encounters, while also occasionally playing works that have had a few birthdays. As Colin described to me the concerto he was playing that weekend with the Indianapolis Symphony (Rautavaara's Incantations), the violinist friend sensed an implication that percussionists often seemed to value the new in a work. The innovation. The "never been done before".
He asked Colin and me if this was the case, if percussionists value or devalue a work based on whether it pushes beyond the boundaries or not. Of course, two of us cannot answer for the entire world of percussionists, but in my experience, the answer is mostly yes. And Colin, who has literally been around the world many times over, agreed.
As I scan a list of titles in my mind, virtually all pieces that have had a real impact in the percussion repertoire are pieces that have a good deal of new. Rhythmic Caprice (Stevens), for example, was innovative in its use of the shaft of the mallets on the marimba. Many of the sounds of Tan Dun's Water Concerto had never been written into a percussion work, and its newness gave it value (at least in my opinion). I recently saw a premiere of Kevin Bobo's percussion ensemble work, Migraine Sketches, and my opinion of the piece was positively affected by the array of new sounds coming from the ensemble. Percussion works with electronic accompaniment (by Bruce Hamilton, for example) or live electronics are often valued simply because of their innovative ideas.
However, many will agree that novelty and innovation alone do not make a piece great. So in my next post I will attempt to go beyond who composed the piece and whether or not it has been done before to look at what else make a piece of music great.
(Note: I apologize for the 5-week hiatus from updating the blog. WGI and other commitments have moved blogging to the back burner for a time, but I'm back at it -- at least for now!)
Colin commissions and premieres new percussion works like it's his job. In fact...it IS his job. That's nearly all he does. So one can imagine how much new music he encounters, while also occasionally playing works that have had a few birthdays. As Colin described to me the concerto he was playing that weekend with the Indianapolis Symphony (Rautavaara's Incantations), the violinist friend sensed an implication that percussionists often seemed to value the new in a work. The innovation. The "never been done before".
He asked Colin and me if this was the case, if percussionists value or devalue a work based on whether it pushes beyond the boundaries or not. Of course, two of us cannot answer for the entire world of percussionists, but in my experience, the answer is mostly yes. And Colin, who has literally been around the world many times over, agreed.
As I scan a list of titles in my mind, virtually all pieces that have had a real impact in the percussion repertoire are pieces that have a good deal of new. Rhythmic Caprice (Stevens), for example, was innovative in its use of the shaft of the mallets on the marimba. Many of the sounds of Tan Dun's Water Concerto had never been written into a percussion work, and its newness gave it value (at least in my opinion). I recently saw a premiere of Kevin Bobo's percussion ensemble work, Migraine Sketches, and my opinion of the piece was positively affected by the array of new sounds coming from the ensemble. Percussion works with electronic accompaniment (by Bruce Hamilton, for example) or live electronics are often valued simply because of their innovative ideas.
However, many will agree that novelty and innovation alone do not make a piece great. So in my next post I will attempt to go beyond who composed the piece and whether or not it has been done before to look at what else make a piece of music great.
(Note: I apologize for the 5-week hiatus from updating the blog. WGI and other commitments have moved blogging to the back burner for a time, but I'm back at it -- at least for now!)
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
What makes a piece of music great? (Part 1)
There are some pieces out there that are simply accepted as being great compositions, masterpieces, or the staples of the western art music tradition. And if you're like me, at some point you have had to ask, "Why?" Notice I'm not asking just what makes a piece great, but what leads it to be accepted as great, what makes it famous, for lack of a better term.
I will be doing a multi-part post of my thoughts on this subject. Not so much as an academic, research type of post, but more of a philosophical, opinion-based one.
As an aspiring composer, as opposed to an established one, I have often questioned how the fame of a composer alone affects the acceptance of a new piece. Take, for example, Iannis Xenakis's multi-percussion solo, Rebonds. Arguably one of the top three most well-known and frequently played multi-percussion piece in the world today. And why? Well, there are several great reasons, but I might propose that the composer's name at the top of the piece has a large part in that. What if I wrote the exact piece (instead of Xenakis, that is), note for note, and shared it with percussionists and other musicians around the globe tomorrow? How many people would accept it with such enthusiasm as the piece is actually accepted today? I'm guessing it would be significantly fewer than have accepted and praised Xenakis's work (though I realize it can take time for people to accept a new work).
No doubt Xenakis was a fine composer, and his impact on modern music composition is undeniably substantial. But how is it that he (a non-percussionist) can get away with writing a piece which is physically impossible for one percussionist with two hands to play (as written, without 'interpreting' the ink), while a student studying composition at a university would be counseled never to write such impossible combinations of notes? I worked on a cello piece with my composition teacher in school, and I was never allowed to write anything that was absolutely impossible for a cellist to play. Why would I want to? (Though, I suppose that could be a unique type of composition––knowingly write something impossible and see what performers do with it.) Do you see what I am getting at, here?
Along the same avenue of thought, how much is a piece's fame affected simply by the opinions of the folks around you? Rather than by the merit of the actual composition itself? If I share a new marimba solo with you, tell you that it's all the rage because Famous Composer Guy wrote it, that everyone's playing this awesome piece, and you believe me (work with me here), you might accept it as such and start learning this piece. As you're learning the new solo, you think, "Gosh, compositionally, this piece is rubbish. But oh well, everyone else thinks it's cool. And Famous Composer Guy wrote it, so it must be great!" Then I tell you that it was my 9th grade student's first composition ever. How does that change your view of the piece?
I do want to point out that I am not saying a piece becomes famous ONLY because of the composer's fame, just that it likely has something to do with it. Many well-known pieces become that way for reasons far beyond the names of their composers.
So in summary, I recommend a few things:
1) Don't just accept a new piece because everyone else does or because it's written by someone famous. Decide for yourself if you like it, if you think it's a good piece of music.
2) On the other hand, don't immediately dismiss a piece of music because you don't like it at first or you're not sure about it. If it's well-known, there's probably a good reason beyond the composer's name.
3) Take a minute to answer the question, What do you think makes a composition famous? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
I will be doing a multi-part post of my thoughts on this subject. Not so much as an academic, research type of post, but more of a philosophical, opinion-based one.
As an aspiring composer, as opposed to an established one, I have often questioned how the fame of a composer alone affects the acceptance of a new piece. Take, for example, Iannis Xenakis's multi-percussion solo, Rebonds. Arguably one of the top three most well-known and frequently played multi-percussion piece in the world today. And why? Well, there are several great reasons, but I might propose that the composer's name at the top of the piece has a large part in that. What if I wrote the exact piece (instead of Xenakis, that is), note for note, and shared it with percussionists and other musicians around the globe tomorrow? How many people would accept it with such enthusiasm as the piece is actually accepted today? I'm guessing it would be significantly fewer than have accepted and praised Xenakis's work (though I realize it can take time for people to accept a new work).
No doubt Xenakis was a fine composer, and his impact on modern music composition is undeniably substantial. But how is it that he (a non-percussionist) can get away with writing a piece which is physically impossible for one percussionist with two hands to play (as written, without 'interpreting' the ink), while a student studying composition at a university would be counseled never to write such impossible combinations of notes? I worked on a cello piece with my composition teacher in school, and I was never allowed to write anything that was absolutely impossible for a cellist to play. Why would I want to? (Though, I suppose that could be a unique type of composition––knowingly write something impossible and see what performers do with it.) Do you see what I am getting at, here?
Along the same avenue of thought, how much is a piece's fame affected simply by the opinions of the folks around you? Rather than by the merit of the actual composition itself? If I share a new marimba solo with you, tell you that it's all the rage because Famous Composer Guy wrote it, that everyone's playing this awesome piece, and you believe me (work with me here), you might accept it as such and start learning this piece. As you're learning the new solo, you think, "Gosh, compositionally, this piece is rubbish. But oh well, everyone else thinks it's cool. And Famous Composer Guy wrote it, so it must be great!" Then I tell you that it was my 9th grade student's first composition ever. How does that change your view of the piece?
I do want to point out that I am not saying a piece becomes famous ONLY because of the composer's fame, just that it likely has something to do with it. Many well-known pieces become that way for reasons far beyond the names of their composers.
So in summary, I recommend a few things:
1) Don't just accept a new piece because everyone else does or because it's written by someone famous. Decide for yourself if you like it, if you think it's a good piece of music.
2) On the other hand, don't immediately dismiss a piece of music because you don't like it at first or you're not sure about it. If it's well-known, there's probably a good reason beyond the composer's name.
3) Take a minute to answer the question, What do you think makes a composition famous? I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Progress
I have recently come to a new realization about myself. And across the board of my life. The issue isn't new, but the realization of it is.
I like to chart progress. I like to know where I am on the spectrum of moving forward (or backwards?). I want to know how far I've come and how far I have to go until I get "there," wherever that is. In many cases, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but when I dig a little deeper, I find the ugly root of this desire. And yes, this root issue is a bad thing.
An example: I am working up a new percussion solo that is quite difficult and takes a lot of time and practice to learn. As I work through the piece, note by note, measure by measure, I keep looking down to the bottom of the page to see how far I have till the end of the page, then I flip through the next couple pages to see what they are like.
How far until the end of the piece? Let's see...I am almost to letter B...okay, I am exactly 3 17ths through the piece. Sweet.
But I can get so caught up in charting how far I am and how much I have done that I lose track of what I am supposed to be focusing on––learning the piece!
And as I mentioned, when I really think about what drives this behavior, I see a problem. The problem is that I want that feeling of accomplishment before it's really time. I want the result without the work. I want the trophy before I have earned it.
But the neat thing I'm learning is that when you simply focus on exactly what you're supposed to focus on, and not worry so much about how awesome you are or aren't, and keep plugging away at the right things, a time will come, not manufactured, but as a natural result of your commitment, when you can begin to see real progress. It might be several weeks or months. It might be a year or more. But the reward of seeing genuine progress is rich. It certainly beats the fabricated feeling of success for completing a measure of music.
I like to chart progress. I like to know where I am on the spectrum of moving forward (or backwards?). I want to know how far I've come and how far I have to go until I get "there," wherever that is. In many cases, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but when I dig a little deeper, I find the ugly root of this desire. And yes, this root issue is a bad thing.
An example: I am working up a new percussion solo that is quite difficult and takes a lot of time and practice to learn. As I work through the piece, note by note, measure by measure, I keep looking down to the bottom of the page to see how far I have till the end of the page, then I flip through the next couple pages to see what they are like.
How far until the end of the piece? Let's see...I am almost to letter B...okay, I am exactly 3 17ths through the piece. Sweet.
But I can get so caught up in charting how far I am and how much I have done that I lose track of what I am supposed to be focusing on––learning the piece!
And as I mentioned, when I really think about what drives this behavior, I see a problem. The problem is that I want that feeling of accomplishment before it's really time. I want the result without the work. I want the trophy before I have earned it.
But the neat thing I'm learning is that when you simply focus on exactly what you're supposed to focus on, and not worry so much about how awesome you are or aren't, and keep plugging away at the right things, a time will come, not manufactured, but as a natural result of your commitment, when you can begin to see real progress. It might be several weeks or months. It might be a year or more. But the reward of seeing genuine progress is rich. It certainly beats the fabricated feeling of success for completing a measure of music.
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