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!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)