Classical Musicians Should Think More Like Pop Musicians

This is a take on this headline. I won't bother going through all the misinformation in this--from claiming for profits don't have boards and aren't beholden to other people's money, to being a for profit meaning you can't get grants, to all the strange and ignorant ideas of what pop musicians do.

So, let me approach this another way, from my experience as an audio engineer working with lots of groups, freelancing in a studio/rehearsal space, and actually having a clue about the pop music industry.

Classical musicians analyze their music and performance endlessly. Really good musicians stop analyzing the moment they step on stage to perform. Analysis is a part of practice, and the pursuit of perfection has to do with creating unconscious effort. Ensembles practice together until they know the music stone cold.

Pop musicians do the same thing. Have you ever known a serious guitarist in a band? Has his/her fingers ever stopped moving? Is there always a guitar in his/her hands? What about drummers constantly tapping, working through rhythms, practicing their parts?

Good pop musicians practice constantly. Yes, they practice differently. The difference is dictate heavily by the repertoire. They don't have to ask "What was the composer thinking?" because they probably wrote the parts. Or they are sessions musicians and aren't paid to think of nuance. Of course, neither are symphony or pit musicians--the interpretation is dictated by the conductor. This is of course, practical--having a unified artistic message is the most clear.

As for rehearsal time, well, As I said I freelanced in a studio/rehearsal space. I'd go in usually when big name acts were coming through and renting the space. Because, guess what, even famous bands still practice. I remember when Rev Theory came through Kansas City and rented the space. It was pretty great just chatting with the band and their engineer. The guitar player was stoked because he had rented one of Trent Reznor's guitars for the tour. They rehearsed all day one day, and then most of a second before playing the show the evening of the second day. Now, this group I think only peaked around 20 or so with a single, probably the one below. And they only put in 2 days of practice while on tour




The article brings up that pop musicians search less for perfection, that wrong is accepted, and there's a rawness to the music.

First off, these guys have never been in a studio working on an album with a pop group have they? Not in search of perfection? Here's a link to a nice article talking about recording a band, and going against the "do a million takes" idea. But let's put it in context; doing multiple takes is normal. Doing repeated takes until "you get it perfect" is normal. A major band when going into the studio often spends a month or more just doing the tracking. Here's a great article talking about the time and cost of putting together an album. There are major expectations on the sound of an album, and to do that, you have to be damn good. You can't fix everything in mixing and mastering. I've mastered a couple albums, and in each, while the recording was good, there were things I noticed that could not be fixed at my stage. The technology isn't there to make a recording perfect from a 75% accurate show. The technology is there to make 98% close to 100% (as long as you don't mind some formants getting a little iffy).

Ivan Trevino makes one great point about how classical musicians don't play enough. But he seems to ignore a big point about what happens when you start playing every night--you improve. Instead of rehearsing every night, you're playing gigs. The mentality changes, the way you play changes. It's not that pop groups aren't pushing for perfection, they've just trained themselves not to show it onstage.

I'm reminded of a speech told to me in jazz band by my professor, Randy Salman. He said "Don't show you missed a not. No one out there knows you missed a note. Just play the next one." Sage advice. Great pop groups do exactly that. They come on stage confident of their abilities--they've practiced and played the same songs repeatedly. They should be confident! And when there is a flub, usually it is completely forgotten.

Unless it's bad. Then the show goes to hell. There were ideas of what happened--was Scott Stapp drunk, high, what was happening? He said he was on prednisone for nodules on his throat. But what definitely happened is a lot of pissed off fans asked for their money back, sued the band, horrid reviews followed, and then Creed broke up shortly after the tour. So, wait, they don't care about perfection? They care about raw performances? And the audience doesn't notice? Bull...

No, you better be perfect. You better sound like your recording. And when you start mixing and matching studio techniques with live sets, well...There's still a human element. People don't want to think you're cheating. If you can do it in the studio, you better be able to do it on stage. Go to a metal show and watch the guitarists shred and tell me they don't think about all the music and practice to perfection. And plenty of pop musicians think heavily about the music--I know Anders Bjorler does.

The next whole section of this article is just purely incorrect. I don't know who taught Ivan Trevino business, but that teacher should be fired, or at least go back and give him F's for everything. Rather than dissect how horribly incorrect Trevino is about a number topics, from for profits not having boards of directors (HA!) to an odd statement like:

"We don't want a business dependent on other people's money. We want to be able to fund our own business through concert fees, album sales, and other streams of profit-based income, all centred around our fan-base.
If we do need extra income for a special project, we'll call on our fans for help. For example, we recently raised $50,000 through Kickstarter to do a public school music education tour around the US.

which just reeks of ignorance--sorry, you're still dependent on other people's money. And for some reason, I guess Trevino assumes donors to non-profits aren't fans?

And then the bit about being a for-profit means not applying for grants. Factually incorrect. Many grants require you to be incorporated as an artist, and this is, the majority of the time, for-profit. I can't name an artist who, on his/her own, is a non-profit. Now, for larger grant giving institutions, such as money coming from state and national government, yes, you have to be a non-profit. But individual artist grants, chamber music grants, etc. that are not provided by state-funds, that's not true. Why not actually look at the pros and cons of for vs. non profit? One thing to consider is the idea of "return of dividends." If you're seeking private funding (like crowd-funding sites), you are actually beholden to your customers. If you do not produce exactly what was advertised, they can ask for their money back or sue you. If they give you money, they expect a return on investment--recordings, concerts, etc. And if you don't provide what they want, they are gone. A non-profit the return is "social or cultural capital." That means the donors aren't looking for a specific return, such as a concert, but instead are expecting you to continue to serve your mission in a way that benefits society. You are not beholden to any of the donors to provide specific returns, though if they feel you aren't serving the community, donations could easily end. Many non-profits use a mixture of for and non profit ideas--they sell advertising, which businesses expect will provide immediate dividends. The product being sold isn't the performance, that performance is how you market selling advertising--"We will reach X number of people based on projections." That's a for-profit strategy in a non-profit set-up. But let's not get bogged down in how business actually works.

No, here's the core of the problem with almost all of Trevino's discussion about business: He's comparing a four person chamber ensemble to perception on how an incredibly large non-profit corporation are run. He's not comparing what Break of Reality does to eighth blackbird or JACK quartet. Why doesn't he compare what he does to eighth blackbird. They're incorporated as a non-profit, and I'm 98% sure no one tells them what program to do. Perhaps I should write them an email and ask.

This is the major problem for what Trevino is putting out there. His complaints aren't even about chamber groups, they're about symphonies. Symphonies have issues. And they are not run the same way as a smaller group. For a look outside music, why not examine community theaters. The Association for American Community Theaters has a nice set of tutorials for starting up a community theater. I've worked in a few of these, and let me spill a secret--most boards in small non-profits are made up of the people working in the non-profit. Yes, you read that correctly. When Tipton Community Theater started, the board was comprised of members who were also incredibly active in the creation of shows. They were the original directors, actors, and tech crew. Even as they have grown to a nice little theater able to mount a regular season (for, what, 20 years now?), the board is still made up of actors, directors, and tech people. The only professional staff used for the longest time was the business manager, and even now their head grant writer donates her time (disclosure, it's my mother, so I know). And you'll notice with eighth blackbird that all the members are on the board, along with a selection of other people (it's at the bottom of the page). If you tab over to the advisory board, you'll see some major names in music--it's almost as if they've surrounded themselves with people that will help them achieve their goals as an ensemble, not weighted themselves down with a board that will dictate their actions.

The dynamics of a small non-profit are wildly different than what Trevino seems to imagine. He's somehow equated non-profit with massive scale operation. This is a regular problem with people discussion music business. It's astounding to me that such incorrect rhetoric is so rampant.

The final section is entitled "No Fear." Trevino pushes for classical musicians to not have fear, and that's how you get booked. You just go into the club and say "Hey, book me!" You make a phone call and, boom, you're at Carnegie Hall! Perhaps he's right in that classical musicians don't have that mindset. I certainly don't. I dislike cold calling people. I remember getting offered a job doing cold call sales of coupon books. The commission wasn't great, you had to drive yourself, and you could be anywhere from New Brunswick to Wilmington, Atlantic City to Harrisburg. I needed a job, so I did a ride along. The basic idea was you went to businesses, preferably during non-peak hours (like a bar at 1pm), and tried to sell the coupon books to managers so that they'd give them away as prizes or incentives. For me, it was nerve-wracking, going business to business, trying to get people interested in buying the item.

I learned a few things doing this. First, I wasn't cut out for cold call sales. It was the selling that was the issue--I actually saved the skin of the guy I was riding along with just as he was about to get screwed by an incredibly shrewd older manager. It was just approaching someone who didn't care about what I did that was the problem. Second, I learned how horribly inefficient this model is. We beat the streets just going to random places. Most of the time we struck out. It's why most businesses don't do this.

And it's a bad way to do business as a band. I don't know any friends that got booked by just walking into a bar, handing a CD to the manager on duty, and saying "Book me!" Many regular venues have booking agents that handle everything. There's a single manager the deals with every booking request. Venues also usually have online booking forms--who are you, your contact, links to music, etc.

These forms are your first hurdle. Hardly anyone gets booked through these channels either. The local scene is about finding out who does the booking. The best way to do that is to get yourself into the local scene. Talk to other bands, become friends with them, go to their shows, and build a community. This is fairly normal in local pop scenes. Bands then share contacts; if your friends in another band got booked at a club, and they like what you do, they know how to hook you up. You find the booking agent, not usually from just looking online, but by going to the club during shows. You'll know him/her because of how the bands or tech guys treat him/her. Make the connection, chat with him, buy him drinks. Trust me, he knows the hustle. Maybe give him a CD, but be prepared for him to throw it away. Even better get his business car. Now you have his REAL number, not the email on the site, or the number that just rings the bar. For bigger venues, having an agent and a manager really help.

Wait, did Trevino mention his group has had a manager? And an agent? Hold on a second...that means he's not even doing the booking anymore. Oh, look, they have a professional booking agency and a professional PR group. Their hustle is finished. Once you reach that point, you've got a lot made.

This is not to denigrate the group--it takes a helluva lot of hard work to get to this point. To get an agent interested in you isn't easy. Check out this great write-up on getting an agent from New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts. Agents are your doorway into a much larger world. They find your opportunities and make contacts you don't have a chance at making. Here's a great tid-bit:

It used to be that young actors did “mailings”  -- sending headshots, resumes and cover letters to agencies “cold”; that is, with no contacts. Today that’s like throwing your headshots directly into the trash.

Here's some great advice on when, how, and why to get an agent as a writer. But what about music?

There are tons of different takes on this. One I go back to is by Saphreem A. King because he pulls no punches. Here's another from Music Think Tank. Here's a nice one by Jeff Rabhan for Reverbnation. And finally some more good advice.

Here's the thing, obviously Break of Reality were already really good at what they were doing. If not, their first manager never would have dropped in his card. But at the same time, there's a lot of luck involved--they were busking in Central Park, like thousands of others do, and just happened to have that happened. That's not the hustle. Yes, they were prepared to call the person, to make the leap. They obviously worked their butts off to be fantastic players. Without all of that, they never would have been noticed. But it's also incredibly abnormal. Just like it's abnormal to walk into a bar and say "Book me!" and get a gig.

More than that, it's horribly disingenuous to put out a "this is how to be successful" and focus not on the path they took, but on the finished product. So, let's revisit, really, what thinking like a rock band is, what really set this group up for success.

• Practice a lot, and play a lot. Practice for perfection, but don't sweat it in a performance. But practice, practice, practice, like the stereotypical guitar player whose fingers never stop moving.
• Be ready to jump at any opportunity--be it a manager dropping in his business card, a buddy giving you the name of a booking agent for a bar, or opening up for a major touring group
• Market your unique product--what are you doing different musically? Push those differences. Make yourself standout
• Do all the normal business things: get a website up; put together a professional recording (not a demo of a live concert, but a professional studio recording); get professional photos; and get very nice looking videos.
• Create a huge network. I cannot stress this enough. Find people who know people who can put you on the path. Use those connections.

Want to know the crazy part about that list?

I could say the same thing for being a composer. But that's for another post.

Retrospective 1: The Perception of Orchestral Performances

Related to my last post, an old friend of mine said on Facebook

While I have enjoyed reading them, there is a tenor in your posts that doesn't quite resonate with me as a fellow musician. I respect the authority and learned nature of your analyses, but the over-arching, general conclusions you come to don't accurately reflect my own experiences. Of course, I understand that one must generate their own conclusions mostly derived from their own experiences, but I felt compelled to write you that my conclusions of the state of western/classical music is not the same as yours, probably because my experiences have most likely been different than yours. Your opinions on the role of new music in comparison with the standard repertoire, how symphony models should function given their challenges, and defining what those challenges actually are differ from my own. I just wanted to write to you that all the ailments you feel the current model(s) have, remember the sample size is probably larger than one initially realizes. What happens in one city, in one orchestra, in one country, doesn't necessarily provide an ample basis to summarize the status of all models.

And, on this, I 100% agreed with him. If more than 100% were possible, I'd be that. The generalization of an entire model based on one, or even a few orchestras in cities in a single country is not enough to generalize about all of music.

I also have a very specific viewpoint on orchestral music and performance, from why I don't write symphonies, to why I enjoy certain performances over other performances.

What I thought I'd do for a few blog posts is start looking into some of the "whys." I asked "why" so many composers and young musicians jumped all over John Adams. Now it's time to ask why in regards to my own thought processes.

First off, why am I putting this on the internet and not just in a journal under my bed? Because I, foolishly perhaps, believe that my words can have an effect on the world--especially the immediate world that surrounds me. People I know, people I interact with, and, to a lesser extent, "friends of friends." Perhaps my own views are mirrored in others, and this process will help others. Or, perhaps, but offering a better understanding of my viewpoints, those with differing views can begin to see where I'm coming from.

So, let's begin with the post that began this process--my perception about orchestral performance. Let's think of sample size first and put in a few conditionals. Condition 1: Recordings don't count. Going to a concert, playing in a concert, and listening to a recording all different activities. Recordings are a medium change, and therefore reference an event. This causes a loss of "energy," if you will. This is like in an internal combustion engine, when gas, oxygen, and spark collide, potential energy of the gas and oxygen mix is released as kinetic energy. This change of form causes a loss of energy, in this case as heat. It's not a perfect system.

I've talked about all this before, a long time ago.

The next thing to examine is I'm going to ignore times when I was in the orchestra. This takes out a fairly significant amount of my time around orchestras. But, I think it's important to analyze this from a particular point of view: the audience.

Now, I'm not one to say "play only music the audiences wants to hear," nor to say "write music for the masses." In fact, I think it's quite the opposite--part of the orchestras job is to challenge audiences. This isn't just with the music that is played, but in the actual style of performance.

That being said, an audience can tell pretty immediately if a group is enjoying themselves. They can tell when there is energy within the ensemble. Music performance has a way of transmitting the performers feelings, be it about the piece, the conductor, his/her stand-mate, or any other event in the performer's life. It's been said "Performers are naked on stage." This is true, whether you're a soloist or last chair in a section of a Mahler sized orchestra.

If we take that is true, that the audience can tell the emotions of the performer, how then do I go to concerts and not feel moved. Do the performers dislike the music? This happens sometimes. I've been to a premiere of a new work where it was obvious the players didn't like the music. Since I knew several members of the orchestra, I was able to ask them about the piece, and most showed general disdain for it. And, honestly, I could tell.

Part of this could be because I'm a trained musician. Articulations seemed just a bit sluggish. There wasn't the same amount of control in the playing--I wouldn't go so far as the say careless. I've never been to a professional orchestra concert that was "bad." But beyond the playing being a little lackluster, it was the movements, the facial expressions, the body language. There was a fair amount of concentration--the piece called for measure by measure accelerandos, done as accelerandos. The rhythms were pounding, repetitive, and dissonant. And the orchestra showed all of that. I could tell they thought this mode of writing the piece wasn't effective, as it seemed like they were only giving 85% of their concentration toward lining up those accelerandos. Articulations weren't quite lining up.

I didn't like the piece. This was before I was really getting into composition, but I had always loved "new music." And this piece didn't jive with me. As a composer now, remembering how the piece was written, yes, obviously, it was constructed poorly. Doing a rhythmic accelerando is much easier for the orchestra to read, line up, and concentrate on. But, part of the job of the performer is to sell any piece.

This reminds me of jazz band in college. I remember one rehearsal where various players kept flubbing notes (myself included). And most of us made faces. We knew we had missed it. And we choreographed that. Our director got on us immediately after he cut us off. "What are you doing?" he asked. "The audience may not know you missed the note. But even if they did notice, they're not going to care all that much unless your body screams 'I missed a note. I suck.' Then they will care and remember that missed note."

But this little tidbit goes both ways, I think. Almost every musician is told some form of the above: be stoic, be composed, don't show that you messed up. However, this can be taken too far.

I've been to orchestra concerts where it seemed like the entire orchestra was made of statues. Barely any movement, barely even a cracked smile. It seemed like the only things moving on the string players were their arms. All the brass had proper posture, brought their horns up, and played cleanly. When not playing, they were still, eyes forward.

I felt a sense of disconnect. Are these people? Are they enjoying themselves? They were performing the music wonderfully. Very clean, beautiful dynamic range, wonderful balance, nearly perfect intonation. But I wasn't drawn in. I felt like I was listening to a recording. Or starting at a painting. The only person moving was the conductor, and while he was entertaining, it still seemed odd.

I'm then reminded of a small local "pops" orchestra. I went to their concert because Nitzan Haroz was playing the Grondahl concerto, and then some jazz arrangements with the group. Nitzan is a beast of a player, the Grondahl has a special place in my heart (as it does for all sorts of trombone players...often as their first "real" concerto), and I hadn't been to an orchestra concert for about a year at this point.

These were not completely "amateur" players by any stretch. But there was a great contrast between them and the orchestra mentioned above. They moved with the music, section leaders brought in groups (possibly because they had to lead more), they were active on stage. Nothing flashy, not running around or anything like that, but active. Nitzan was also active as a soloist: he bent his knees, leaned back, swayed lightly with the music, seemed to go up on tiptoes as a rising quiet line went up, then let himself down as the line moved back down. It reminded me a great deal of my own playing, which people always commented was "lively and engaging."

I was drawn into Nitzan's playing, and I was drawn into the performance.

The last example I'll give is one I've mentioned before...though I now can't find it. I heard the Kansas City Symphony sparingly during my time in KC. By then my prejudices as a composer, the petty little "You won't deal with me as a composer, so why should I deal with you as an audience member?" It is petty. I fully admit that. It got worse after meeting their composer in residence...but that's a different story.

Anyway, I did go to the orchestral readings of UMKC composers works when I could. I referenced one earlier. One of the things I always remember from these readings is a certain violinist. She's much older than most in the group--she'd definitely be qualified as a "little old lady." I remember the moment the group of composers joked about her. I didn't join in the joking, but I'll admit to chuckling. Again, bad show on my part.

But then, she showed every single one of us kids how wrong we were. As we watched the group, the conductor was doing mainly straight patterns and light cuing. These were reading after all, so it gets much more difficult to "get into" the music at this point. Hence why I'm not talking about the whole orchestra--the situation is very different.

But this violinist was engaged every single moment. Our group couldn't help but move our eyes to her. She moved toward the edge of her seat as passages got louder. She seemed to draw back slightly with diminuendos. When she dug in with her bow for a hearty passage, we could all tell. Nothing she did made the music seem "difficult," like it was a strain. In fact, her engagement made the music seem easy--if she could react this way in a "reading," then think about what would happen during a well rehearsed performance.

The Kansas City Symphony has always set somewhere in the middle for me as far as orchestra responsiveness. They never seem disengaged or irate about playing a piece (well, a little with one piece I can think of...), but they were slightly reserved.

Reserved is a style of orchestral playing. Maybe it can be traced to the same time period as getting the strings to match bowings. Maybe it comes from an idea that "we need to stay out of the way as performers so the music can speak for itself." But, for me, as an audience member, I feel much more engaged when an orchestra as also acts engaged.

The final example I'll give is Bruckner's 4th Symphony with the ISO, Mario Venzaga conducting. If you've never seen Venzaga conduct, then you're missing out. Talk about a lively conductor. And his interpretations of Bruckner are always a joy to hear. And this performance was no exception. When Venzaga turned to the cellos, and gave a "stirring the pot" type gesture, hand low, swirling in a circle, the cellos responded immediately with their swirling line, giving a little bit of an accent on the beginning of each small repetition. They seemed to move forward slightly in their seats, and engage. The whole section knew this was an important part that Venzaga wanted pulled out, and they responded. These types of little moments happened frequently during the performance.

And, in my youthful exuberance (I think I was...19 or 20 at the time?), I leapt to my feet and gave a rousing standing O, including yells of "BRAVO!" Seriously, me, of all people...the guy that hardly gives a standing O these days. Heh.

As a performer, I can say that I was partially trained to "tone it down." Knowing my personality, I'm sure I was closer to Liberace than Nitzan Haroz with my body movements. There IS a limit of course. But audiences respond to that type of physical energy.

This doesn't mean the performers of the orchestras I've been to weren't amazing. The NY Phil was an amazing experience. The ISO and KCS never once sounded "bad" or put on a concert so poorly that I wanted my money back. Far from it. But what makes a performance great?

I think this connection, the performers showing they're connected with the music, the conductor, and each other, only helps to connect the audience with the performance. This doesn't mean go "Liberace" (for me, a newer case would Lang Lang...as my brother pointed out when I sent him a video of Lang Lang "He even dresses like Liberace!"). But it does mean don't be afraid to show emotion, move to the music, make eye contact across the ensemble when needed, and appear to be present.

Appearance is part of the game. And it may be one reason why people are being drawn to groups like eighth blackbird, who don't go to Liberace levels, but always show physical energy in performance. But then, chamber music is a different game, and one where energy is more prevalent.

And I'm not saying we should go back to "everyone bows non-uniformly" nor to "everyone where whatever they want to wear." But the appearance of being engaged, the physical energy and joy shown by the performers translates to the audience. And that is incredibly important to remember.

Please, audience members, conductors, performers, composers, EVERYONE, chime in! What draws you into a performance? Do the physical actions of the performers make a difference? Let's have a dialogue!

Event 3- when the birds flew into town

I've done the production manager thing before. Contacted venues, gotten gear lists together, driven a 24' box truck, gone to rehearsals, heck i've even judged competitions before.

But nothing compared to when eighth blackbird came to town.

For those not in the know, check out the about on their page and catch the part where they've won a couple Grammy's (no. 73, a couple down the list, for 2012). They are the premier chamber ensemble in the nation, possibly world. Complete beasts.

I mean their playing. They're all delightful people. I had several great conversations with various members, including a fairly long one with Lisa Kaplan as I showed her cross campus.

Oh, the event! right. Through the Barr Institute at UMKC, eighth blackbird presented various masterclasses for the past year, a concert of music of their choice, and then one other project. The other project was put out as a submission to the conservatory at large. Groups, or individuals, could write proposals.

When eighth blackbird had come to town in April, I was talking to a local museum about hosting a series of concerts through the conservatory. We were in the final stages of putting together quite the idea- a commissioning project where each semester 5 students would be chosen to compose site specific pieces based upon art on display. And the goal was to have a "resident ensemble," maybe start with the university new music ensemble, Musica Nova, then see who would be game. Pretty frackin' cool right? Well, this idea got brought up during a large conversation with 8bb that somehow became them asking questions about what the composers organization on campus did. They loved the idea, the novel concept, the cultural link, and Matthew Duvall said "that's the kind of concert that if someone pitched it to us, we'd consider it." Being an opportunist, I said "Hey, so, we've got this concert we're planning in the fall, and I heard you'd be around..." It was a good laugh.

The this project proposal came around.

And I was flat out told "John, you have to submit that project. but spruce it up a bit." So I did. Instead of just 8bb playing the pieces, I pitched it as a "side-by-side" where UMKC student performers would get to work with 8bb, prepare brand new music submitted by composition students, and we'd hold a concert at the museum. Dance was even added in collaboration, so they get to say they've worked with 8bb (though I'm not sure how important that is to dance. Hopefully really important).

It was accepted. and I thought "woo! venue is already in! I won't have to do anything for this at all. Maybe they'll have me collect the scores or something."

Oh man...was I wrong.

So, long story made medium, the original venue had some issues. There was some turn over, all our efforts were lost in the shuffle, and come August, no venue. Well, shit. We were hell bent on the concert being off campus, so I set to work. Sadly, I couldn't find a "free" place, but I got a decent deal on a space for an all day rental (we had no idea at the time of booking how much time, so i said quote all day, we'll pay all day, and you'll prolly come out ahead. Fast way to get a yes). Alright, great...then came me being the middle man to get everything paid for. If you've never had to deal with that in a university (or other really large company) then I pray you never do. If it wasn't for great administrators, and certain higher ups covering my ass, I would have lost it

Ok, ok, we've got a venue! it's booked! Reception? uh uh uh...ok, held off as long as we could...No! We'll just go to a bar afterwards. we'll all be tired anyway, and we will need to get everything put away. Ok, great. Piano? SHIT, PIANO! WE NEED A PIANO!!!! WHY IS IT IN FOUR WEEKS AND I FORGOT TO EVEN GET A PIANO?!?!?!?!

To be fair, by this time about 5 people were involved in various fashions with ordering, coordinating, etc, and none of us remembered piano. Ok, no big deal, piano received. Great, how do we get equipment to the place? I suggested a 14' truck. Oh, good, someone else is driving...

Wait, what, he can't drive? Ok, fine, that's fine. OH, it's a 24' truck? well...shit...at least it's automatic. one less thing to worry about.

So here I am, night before, tired as balls, can't sleep. Have to be up at 7 to be at rehearsal (just in case, I was at almost all the rehearsals). Get there, drinking coffee, ok, I'll get the truck, load it...

And then the day went normally. Loaded a truck, drove it downtown, set-up stuff, drove truck back, got some lunch. The, uh, normal people in the venue complained about the noise...yeah, Stamos' piece is hella loud after all. But we did SAY from the beginning "rehearsals start at 2, show at 5:30." Guess that didn't make it throughout the company. Alright, fun. We're here, we paid, not much can be done.

Show is beyond packed. Standing room only, and we're in there like sardines. John Corigliano is in the audience, in town to begin his Barr Laureate status. And here I am, hopping up in front of everyone. Little sleep, only a couple weeks after comps, during which I was dealing with every pitfall possible in getting this concert to happen. I'm sure I looked like hell.

Then the concert happened. It was fantastic. 8bb and all the conservatory students played the hell out of the pieces.

In the aftermath, even more great news. Hey, remember that $4K you asked for, and proposed that since it's a project effecting at least 4 different student groups, that'd only be $1K a piece? Yeah, we decided it's really only for 1 group, and we're giving you a total of $1780. Oh, no no no, not for this one project...for the year. Yep, you're actually getting less than every other year. Have a great year!

But, ya know what? the concert was awesome. 8bb was awesome. The food afterwards was delicious

And, I learned I can still back a 24' box truck down a narrow alley without trying