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.

Swedish Adventure 1: Saariaho

   I've been in Sweden since Friday and I'm still recovering from jet lag. I screwed the pooch on getting acclimated, was a bit ill over the weekend (something I ate while traveling), and haven't been able to break the funk since. However, today was a day I wasn't going to miss because of my stomach nor my head.

   Kaija Saariaho is the recipient of a Polar Prize this year, and tonight was a concert of her music to kick off the festivities. The concert was an hour long with four pieces, three of which featured cellist Anssi Karttunen. If you're familiar with Saariaho's work, you'll probably recognize that name: most of her cello works are written for Karttunen.

   I was excited for the concert. Bill Brunson had let me know over the weekend it was happening, so I marked it on my mental calendar. I walked the 15 minutes to the tunnelbana (metro, subway, tube), and headed into downtown Stockholm from my suburban abode in Bromma/Sundbyberg. The T is very easy to navigate in Stockholm county, so getting around is cake. The bus system is equally good, and much nicer than any other city I've been in. MUCH nicer. But getting to the konserthuset is easy--T to T-Centralen, walk a couple blocks.

   An hour before the show, I picked up the ticket and a latte. The ticket was acceptably expensive (180 SEK or about $25-28 depending on the exchange). The latte wasn't very good, but I haven't had coffee since I got to Stockholm, so it was worth it. After finishing, I decided to walk the block and ran into Bill and his wife, completely unplanned. I knew he was going, but I wasn't out looking for him.

   Enough about the day to day of Stockholm. Onto the concert.

   I sat down about 10 of, and a crowd started forming quickly to my side. I glanced over and saw Saariaho. So, after she shook many hands, I hopped up and said a quick congrats and hello. Saariaho seemed pretty shy, and there was a crowd, so I wasn't going to draw her into a deep discussion. But, yes, I did "meet" her, though I doubt she'll remember my name (with all the hellos, names, and handshakes occurring).

   The show began with a quick chat with Saariaho about the four pieces. The pieces were Sept papillos for cello, Serenatas for cello, percussion, and piano, Duft for clarinet, and Je sens un deuxieme coeur for viola, cello, and piano. Karttunen played the cello throughout, while members of Norrbotten NEO, Robert Ek (clarinet), Kim Hellgren (viola), Marten Landstrom (piano), and Daniel Saur (percussion) made up the rest of the players.

    Saariaho explained the pieces simply: Sept papillons was written during rehearsal for L'amour de loins, her opera about Jaufre Rudel's possible (fictional?) love of the countess of Tripoli. She described it as her escape from all the drama, craziness, and huge amount of people. Serenatas was written using music that had been kicking around since sketching Sept papillons. They are a series of Serenades that can be played in any order. Duft for solo clarinet is based on music from an orchestral piece about the sense. Duft is German for smell, and it's her musical idea of the linking of smell and sound. Finally Je sens un deuxieme coeur (I feel a second heart) was inspired by Saariaho's second pregnancy, when she started thinking about how there was a second heart beating inside of her, beating very fast and slowing over 9 months. She mentioned polyrhythms as well as the programmatic aspect of the work.

     I won't embark on a piece by piece analysis or discussion. Instead, here are some general remarks about Saariaho's music. First off, three of the pieces had some sort of programmatic aspect. These aspects, if I had not been told about them in the first place, would not have come through in the music at all. In fact, even listening with the "insider information" straight from Saariaho, I did not hear any of the programmatic elements. Nothing in Duft made me think of smell, and nothing in Je sens un deuxieme coeur made me think of feeling two heartbeats during pregnancy. And, while these were impetuses and muses for Saariaho, I do not think I was supposed to hear anything overtly programmatic. Instead of listening for little signs, trying to tease out the program, I felt as though I was supposed to just relax and experience the music. And that is exactly what I did, letting the music wash over me.

    All of Saariaho's music takes a high level of virtuosity, especially the two solo works. Karttunen and Ek did fabulously on their ends, performing at high technical and musical levels. Saariaho's music favors the delicate over the raucous, though she is not afraid to put together a forceful section. However, it was the moments of relaxation that intrigued me the most.

    Sadly, as the concert went on, I started hearing the same motives over and over again. I've always enjoyed Saariaho's music, though I was introduced to it fairly late in the game. I did notice in L'Amour de loin that long passages of time, an hour or so, would sit in nearly the same musical area, even as the action moved around the stage. In the opera, this created an odd sense of stasis along with movement. In an hours worth of chamber music, it didn't create such an intriguing effect. Instead, I was left thinking "What else can Saariaho do?" As passages died down, Saariaho would turn to trills between harmonics. If she wanted to keep energy going but pull back the sound, it'd be harmonic arpeggios. All the material seemed woven into the same large rich tapestry.

    While I love that tapestry--it's colourful yet subtle, harmonically and motivically interesting--it is the one tapestry. When I hear Saariaho break out the most is when she uses electronics. For instance, Lonh, a beautiful piece for voice and electronics (performed beautifully by Dawn Upshaw on a recording available from Naive or Ondine...and streaming on Naxos).



    This piece, to me, is Saariaho at her finest. But her style is so distinct, so incredibly tight and structured, that it seems like her pieces are coalescing into one piece.

     This isn't necessarily a problem. As I said before, if all the pieces are woven into one tapestry, it is a beautiful, subtle, wonderful tapestry. But something happens when you hear four pieces that sound so incredibly close together. The music got less interesting, lines blurred, and I found myself slipping.

     My experience is incredibly personal. I know other people that with such a program would be able to drift more fully into the music, experience the parallels, ride the waves of sound, and be quite happy. Maybe I am still a product of my generation, one that grows impatient with too much of the same. It's why writing a 25 minute drone piece was the hardest thing I've ever done (yes, worse than 2 operas), and why even during my favourite symphonies, I can start getting antsy halfway through a movement.

    That being said, I am excited for the Kungliga Filharmonikerna concert in October with Saariaho's Laterna Magica, Chopin's 2nd Piano Concert, and Schumann's 4th symphony. Funny, I just brought that symphony up in my last post. Heh.

     And I'm still quite happy I went to this concert. I had never gotten a chance to hear Saariaho's music live, and honestly the music didn't disappoint me. I think I disappointed myself. Instead of being able to just relax, and get washed away by the music, my mind instantly started analyzing all the similarities between the pieces. I couldn't even concentrate on the differences, just the similarities. So, now I've identified what I see to be a weakness in myself.

    Because music is about the experience of the moment, not to over think it.

     I listened to Lohn tonight when I got home after eating a giant smorgorsar (accents missing) and drinking an Orangina. In the quiet of my room, I was able to relax more and just let Saariaho's beautifully nuanced music flow over me. Hopefully, this mode of listening can stay with me--attentive, but not to the details, just to the music.

Event 1- Doctoral Comprehensive Exams

all doctoral students in every discipline dread their comprehensive exam. It's a major point in your degree, a make it or break it test. If you pass, you're "home free" to work on research and finish your dissertation (and any random courses you've got left). If you fail, well...you get multiple chances.

My DMA Comps was made up of 4 parts- a take home repertory essay, a drop the needle listening test, a "drop the score" theory exam, and major area questions. The test took my two weeks to complete. In those two weeks, I spent about 52 hours just taking the test. This doesn't include the 2 hours a night i spent "studying" for the listening exam.

the take home essay is, really, a full blown research paper. You're given a choice of topics Friday morning, and then have till Monday morning to turn in a 2500 word paper with bibliography, footnotes,  and title page. The 5 topics given were varied, and I think just about anyone taking the exam could find something they wouldn't mind spending time with. For me, I chose a question about the influence of 3 librettists of composers. Each pair had to be active collaborators and be from different time periods. If you know anything about me, then you know that this is right up my alley. As soon as I saw the question, I knew the pairings, though my brain totally died on the name of the librettist that did late Verdi. D'uh, Arrigo Boito, composer of one of my favourite operas, Mephistofele. So, I pumped that puppy out with time to spare. The other pairings were equally obvious- Da Ponte and Mozart, and Weill and Brecht. Turned it in Sunday night around 8, after a third revision. To do better, I would have needed a couple days off to get "fresh eyes."

The listening and theory were on the same day. For  the listening, everyone taking the test crowds into a large computer lab, plugs in headphones, and at the drop of 9am, the listening appear on blackboard. You then have three hours to identify nine examples- time period, genre, possible composer, and a couple paragraphs of style characteristics. The examples were drop the needle (meaning it starts anywhere in the piece), could be from any time period, by any composer...And judging from their choices, don't really have to be "representative" of a time period. You're given roughly 1-2 minutes of each excerpt.

A random test that includes all Western art music ever composed. There's no real way to study for it, just practice listening in general. I went to a couple sessions on that and felt more than comfortable with it. Then I read my Grout...namely the beginning through Renaissance. Once we hit common practice I'm fairly confident.

And boy, I thought I bombed that test. damn...completely insane. Nothing really prepares you for this...well...

Unless you had music history with Matthew Balensuela. Then you're fine. Luckily, I did...

After the listening, the proctor gives you a choice of scores to analyze, compare, and contrast. the range was again bountiful. I think there were 6 pairings to choose from? man, it's hazy. I chose a "new music" pairing, Xenakis Mists and Crumb Processional.

There were some particular bits we were told to look at, namely the use of time in the piece, as well as pitch content. Three hours to do the analysis and compare and contrast isn't much time at all. Both pieces were 10 pages long, so I went for a quick overview, tried to find some sort of major pitch structure, and then how they used the structures to define different time scalings. If i hadn't known basic background theory of each composer to begin with, I would have been screwed. Luckily, both were semi-straight forward pieces representative of Xenakis and Crumbs general style. I was definitely hurried like crazy, but I was able to pump out around the 5 pages they asked for and give some decent discussion.

The area-questions are what most people are used to- you have a panel, they submit up to 6 hours of questions, and you answer them. I decided on a varied group, Dr. Jim Mobberley for Composition, Dr. Reynold Simpson for Comp/Theory, and Dr. William Everett for musicology. Hell, if i have to answer questions, i might as well be entertained.

I tackled Dr. Everett first, since I felt like he'd be the wild-card. A few short questions were great: "describe your music in 20 seconds to a non-musician," and "describe your music in 20 seconds to a musician." I took him at his word, and each answer was about a third to a half of a page (general reading time is 1-1.5 minutes per page). Heck, i even timed myself, just to be sure.

The other two questions revolved around music, politics, and nationalism. I did a small amount of research for each. mainly, if i had to look up a bit, i cited it. I can never remember the furiant rhythm. heh. All in all, not a bad set of questions.

Dr. Simpson's questions were a series of "you should know this verbatim OR know exactly where to find it." I tried each question without looking it up then found the resource and listed things off if I felt behind. The only one that was a bit of challenge for "off the top of my head" was "find all the trichord subsets and pentachord supersets of this tetrachord." I missed a subset and superset from my own work. Thankfully i knew exactly where to look this up.

As for Dr. Mobberley, two questions, deep thinking about my future. Wouldn't expect anything less from the guru himself.

Area questions are "cake," in as much as they tend to cover what you've actually STUDIED in school. Yeah, i said it. I've got bones with the system, and generally think we should limit a comprehensive exam to just area questions. Just stipulate that you must have one faculty from theory, one from history/musicology, and one from your major area (so, theory has to have 2 theory, performance would have their private instructor). Then make the questions open ended- no time limit, etc, just have to coordinate with the comp head (that you choose). So, if a history professor demands that you right a rep essay in a weekend, no problem. With technology, I don't see this as a problem, as timing "tests" is cake. 

This all took my 52 hours (18 for area, roughly 28 for the take home, and 6 hours for the listening/theory). Do i feel smart because of it? that I somehow proved I learned all my lessons?

Nope, not at all.

Did I pass? Yep, even "High Pass" on the repertory essay.

Do I care? only that I now can just work on a dissertation and be test free.

All this, while finishing a Fulbright app (which i turned in between take home and listening/theory) and spending what seemed like endless hours organizing a concert (which included judging pieces the weekend i did the take home essay), and, ya know, taking classes and teaching. Life.

But that's another story...

A rally against...

"unrehearsed" readings.

ah, i can hear the composers and performers starting to rally against me, pitchforks raised!

"Any performance or reading is good for the composer!"

Is it? I've heard two recently that were...how should I put it...a disservice to both the composer and the ensemble. The players came in underprepared--I'm pretty sure they were sight-reading--and the performance sounded...bad. very bad. both times, I was fortunate to have the score in front of me because without it, there's a good chance I would have had no idea what was happening.

both performances were plagued with basic errors--rhythms, missing repeats, poor intonation, missing dynamic markings entirely, and lots of missed notes--as well as the ensemble issues you would expect in an "unrehearsed" reading.

Now, maybe I'm approaching this incorrectly. Maybe my ideals as a performer are different. Yes, I say performer, not composer. I like to compare an unrehearsed reading to what happens at the first rehearsal in any ensemble.

Professional performers, how many of you step into your first rehearsal without looking over the part, identifying the difficult passages, putting in at least a minimal amount of practice, and come prepared to play?

How many of you look at it for the first time at the rehearsal?

Now, I haven't gigged much--most of my gigs come from many years past--but in every pit I played in, every sub job I've gotten, I made sure when I stepped in to the first rehearsal or, if I'm "lucky," the performance without a rehearsal, I've looked at my part. I've more than looked at my part, I've listened to the piece, looked through a score if I can get one, and marked that puppy up.

As a conductor, the last time i premiered a piece was a while ago. It had tons of mixed meters, all sorts of rhythmic issues, dynamic changes, etc. When i walked into my first rehearsal, I was not sight reading that score, because if I had been, i would have lost all cred with the performers. and since I was stepping in front of performers whom have never seen my conduct, i definitely needed that cred.

These two readings I saw recently, i don't think the performers did that. As a composer, this means I will shy away from them. It speaks to a lack of professionalism.

But maybe i'm wrong. maybe an unrehearsed reading MEANS sight-reading. In which case, you better be a damn good sight reader, and let people know upfront that you're sight-reading. As a performer, it's a disservice to yourself. As a trombone player, if I step in to play a piece, and I'm sight reading, and there's a sudden range jump, I will crack the note. I may not completely miss it (ok, right now I'd probably miss it), but i will crack it. I won't be reading far enough ahead to see it and prep myself. I'll see it and say "oh shit, Bb coming up...go!!!" So, if I get a part, I'm looking through it, even if it's just an hour before rehearsal. I've definitely done that, my "warm-up" consisting mainly of reading through parts.

But it's also a major disservice to the composer. You go in, you've got high hopes. YOUR PIECE IS GOING TO BE PLAYED!!! HOLY SHIT!!!! It's a big deal for those of us who don't get tons of performances. and then, the group steps up--you sent them the parts three, maybe four weeks ago. in the email, you say "let me know if you have any questions." You attached an mp3 of the MIDI "realization" from Sibelius (ever so real, isn't it?), and a study score. The first thing said to you:

"Oh, this has repeats? Hm, that'll be harder to read..."

Your heart sinks immediately. You now know that player did not look at his/her part in the preceding three weeks. Maybe s/he was busy. Of course, they're being paid $3K by the university for the reading, so you'd think they'd at least take a couple minutes out of the day to look it over.

The ensemble hedged their bet and have a conductor--it's only for 4 players, but since it's "unrehearsed" they want to stick together.

And the conductor complains you didn't put conducting marks, lines and triangles, in the score but 2+2+3 instead. You start to open your mouth and say "well, it's not meant to be conducted, i just put it as a courtesy to the players...and it means the same thing..." but you bite your tongue.

Your hopes are sinking fast, and they hit the first chord

out of tune

by the fourth measure, a player, who has a lightly syncopated 16th note rhythm, is already off from the group. By the end of the piece, you've stopped looking at your score, and you're wondering if there's a drink special at the local bar, and how many shots you can do before retching. and you're happy your mom didn't come.

After the reading, you go through the score with a fine tooth comb- what did I do wrong? What was unclear? Should I remove all the repeats, does that make it too hard? Maybe this cello line isn't playable...you consider everything the players said because they are, after all, professionals.

And the recording is rubbish. can't send it out for more readings or competitions.

You spend three days editing feverishly before you see your teacher. S/he was at the reading, but you ran out quickly enough that no one could catch your ire/sadness/repulsion/physical illness. You nervously tap on the door, and enter. First thing out of your teacher's mouth?

"Don't put your faith in that reading. they were obviously unprepared, hadn't looked at the parts, didn't even stay focused in the reading. I'm sorry you had to go through that. Please say you didn't change the whole score..."

Too late...

This is why I'm against these readings. Is it good to hear your piece played by live performers?

Hell yes.

But not in this format. If the players take it seriously, and plenty do (man, I'm looking forward to the eighth blackbird readings at UMKC. Damn straight they're not going to flub ANYTHING), then it can be a great experience. But, i'm seeing a disturbing trend of players that think too highly of themselves. They think "i've played Carter, i can play anything. Nothing these students write will challenge me..." then they are met with their nemesis of extended double tongued passages and sudden 2 octave leaps. And the performers get defensive "well, that's too hard..." but, you know full well it's not too hard, or "unidiomatic" or whatever you can say. No, you bombed it. And the composer knows it too.

And so do all the highly trained musicians in the room.

But you know who doesn't? all the middle musicians and general audience. Ya know what they think? that the piece sucks. Hell, maybe it does suck, but no one can really tell.

Maybe I'm just in a bad mood, but this bugs me. And, no, neither piece was my own. And it was different ensembles, in different cities, at different times. and there are great readings- the Prism quartet put together a freakin' clinic on how these should be handled, and i'm positive the eight blackbird readings will be ridiculously amazing. But it's so disheartening to see good friends win great opportunities, and get nothing but neurosis out of the experience.

and as musicians, we all have too much neurosis as is.

dogma

Great successes come from many failures

I bid on some gear today. i did not get the pair of Event TR8s. i don't particularly like those monitors, but it was such a good deal that i bid anyway. for $200+shipping i would buy them. more than that, hell no. but that's just my preference

And at the suggestion of my brother, i bid on a CAD E300. i've never used the mic, but he suggested it, especially at the price. It's one of the older Equitek CADs, which is actually why my brother was able to convince me. I really dislike the new CADs, though i've never used the equitek gear. I knew the smaller ones were electrets, not true condensers, and that was about all i knew. My bro said the E300 is worth it, especially if i can get it for under $200. From the looks of it, when the E300 came out, it went for £699. at least that's what a review from '97 says for the list.

I've also put a bid on an Oktava 219Mod. i wasn't planning on bidding on it, but since it's running cheaper than the standard 219 and 319, why not? i probably won't get it. anyway, i haven't even met the reserve yet. lol.

and now...i'm done on here. I've been drinking coffee so i'm not tired...but...i dunno what i'll do...eh, whatever. no worries