Talking About Talking About Listening to Music

A number of months ago, in September of 2012, a friend of mine (referred to here as Phantom) sent me a message on Facebook. His out-of-the-blue question developed in to a lively conversation about the state of things in classical music. As one would expect, there were no solutions arrived at, nor any earth shattering claims made, simply two music lovers chatting. I was thinking of this conversation today and after re-reading, I felt it was interesting enough to share. 

It is my opinion that classical music can learn quite a bit from popular music and these conversations are necessary to learn where we are and where we should be going. Living within the bubble of the academy allows for much snobbery, but in the real world, things are different. The opinions here are my own, and may have changed since that day in September, but be kind to me, nonetheless. After reading this conversation (and I apologize, but this runs 10 pages in my Word document), I hope you’ll head on over to my FACEBOOK PAGE and tell me what you think!

I should mention that Phantom is not a musician, rather, he is the kind of 20-something fan of classical music that we (as musicians) should be seeking out and catering to. It should also be mentioned that this conversation WAS via Facebook chat, so I apologize for any and all grammar, punctuation, and spelling errors as well as any internet colloquialisms. Though I attempted to edit the conversation, these things certainly slipped through.

Enjoy.

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Phantom
There must be a middle ground between inaccessible modern music and Call Me Maybe covers. For example, look at the resurgence of bluegrass/old time music in the last ten years. That was an old, dead, unloved genre, and some intrepid people revived it and made it popular and profitable again.

Justin Dougherty
what do you consider inaccessible? And whose fault is it that it's inaccessible? Personally, I blame myself.

Phantom
I don't, I blame the people writing the music.

Justin Dougherty
But the music isn't actually inaccessible, it's just too hard for our hyper ADD, instant gratification minds. The “Google-generation” of listeners. Anything which is considered entertainment that requires thought is immediately considered inaccessible (and then dies a horrible death).

Phantom
That's not at all true. The tastes of the public have changed, surely, but, again, look at Bluegrass: they created demand when there wasn't any. Hardly Strictly! That was not some accident.

Justin Dougherty
I don't think it's taste, I think it's willingness. Bluegrass, like typical popular music, isn't difficult.

Phantom
OOOOH them's fightin’ words.

Justin Dougherty
It’s not! New, Contemporary Classical music is difficult because it is highly organized. Set class theory, serialism, is hard and mathematical. Bluegrass utilizes typical progressions that are predictable to the listener. For most, it is "easy listening."

Phantom
Okay, then maybe we're saying different things with the word "difficult" or "easy," but I think somewhere in there is my point.

Justin Dougherty
That highly organized music is inaccessible?

Phantom
I think it's somewhat strange to complain about how its hard to make a living in music performance without Call Me Maybe covers when the music you want to perform is, by your own admission, some of the more difficult music to listen to.

Justin Dougherty
I don't think it's difficult to listen to at all!

Phantom
Well of course YOU don't! You've spent a decade listening to it and studying it.

Justin Dougherty
Ah, but that's just it! We Americans need things that are simple, that's why Call Me Maybe is so enticing. It uses three distinct chords and only two chord progressions!

It's INCREDIBLY simple! I've written more complex works in freshman music theory homework assignments (that I probably received a C on)

But then there’s Ned Rorem, a composer of high art music, who uses set class theory in which every pitch and interval is related in some way. This is difficult to comprehend from an analytical standpoint. His music doesn't take predictable paths. A dominant chordin the tonic key doesn't always resolve to the tonic like it does in any popular music (or bluegrass) song. Instead, it might resolve to something completely distant, unexpected. Even on that basic level, it's harder than the simplest pop music. And therefore, because it requires more than the bare minimum of mental activity to listen to, it is considered too hard for the average listener.

Phantom

Okay, let me ask a question: in what should someone find satisfaction in a performance of a Rorem piece? There's no sarcasm in that, I honestly want to know your answer. And can you name a piece for me? I want to find this person and listen to him.

Justin Dougherty

If we're talking about Rorem specifically, one can expect to find incredibly lyrical writing. Just because it is composed in set class style doesn't mean it's crunchy and dissonant. In fact, Rorem is quite "tonal.” Much more so than many modern composers. Here’s a work to listen to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtAh3hEBPnk

Phantom
Okay, so [the Rorem YouTube video above] is a great example. 

Justin Dougherty

For other composers, perhaps those who are more dissonant and avant garde like Xenakis, the music is “affectual.” That said, Rorem’s music is highly complex, just as complex as Boulez, Xenakis, Stravinsky, or serial Copland, but it doesn't follow traditional patterns. I really believe that the reason music like this suffers is because listeners are lazy.

Phantom
No, I won't have that. Blaming your audience is not fair, and not correct!

Justin Dougherty
It's absolutely fair, but it isn’t the entire problem. As I said above, I also blame performers.

Phantom
Why the performers?

Justin Dougherty
Audiences come to hear music for different reasons, and everyone’s reason is different. When one plays/sings music like this (or pieces that sound "harder" than this), the performers must place the music in to context. It's my opinion that when performers talk about the music they are about to play, the audience "understands" this seemingly difficult music better. In the case of that Rorem video, the highly complex music sounds incredibly easy. In the case of this work, by Iannis Xenakis, the music sounds just as complex as it is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZazYFchLRI

Knowing nothing about the piece, listen to 4 minutes of that and tell me what you think.

Phantom
Alright, I'm 2:30 in, and I'm bewildered.

Justin Dougherty
Excellent! As you should be, and as most audiences (highly educated musicians included) would be. If I told, very simply, that Xenakis composed this piece to replicate his memory of the sounds of warfare, would that make the piece any more interesting to you?

Phantom
more interesting yes, but I still wouldn't enjoy it. I don't have anything to take away from this experience.

Justin Dougherty
And I think that's partially because this music must be experienced live. But the work isn't supposed to make you enjoy it, and you’re certainly free to hate the piece, even if you understand it. But it's written for an affect...you should feel something. Often times, I believe Xenakis wants you to feel uncomfortable.

Phantom
It’s a gimmick, in other words,

Justin Dougherty
Well, in this case, yes I suppose you could say that. Xenakis was an architect and mathematician who structured music in an obscene way. But I find his music interesting for different reasons than you might, or how another composer might. I don't "enjoy" it in the traditional sense, but I am fascinated by the sounds that he can create.

Phantom
But why should anyone expect audiences of any size to actually come to listen to things like this? You can make someone listen to it once...

Justin Dougherty
For the life of me, I can't answer that. I don't know why people go to concerts and listen to music. (I for one don't go to hear live classical music all that often!) Can you name one pop song that seeks to elicit some level of discomfort from it's listener? (and I don't mean the text. I mean discomfort via musical notes.)

Phantom
That's not the point of Pop music, I grant you. Pop music is meant to be enjoyed while drunk at clubs, pure sugary pleasure.

Justin Dougherty
Right, and over the years the pop music has gotten sweeter and sweeter, and more and more pleasing. Compare Call Me Maybe to Strawberry Fields. The musical differences are striking.

Phantom
Yes of course, and your point is that this has skewed the public's taste in music generally
and I'd agree with that.

Justin Dougherty
I argue that the continued dumbing down of popular music has hurt classical music, because classical music has always been complex.

Phantom
But that's the general public. There are plenty of very healthy niches out there that are different.

Justin Dougherty
For anything to succeed (and thrive) it needs the support of the general public

Phantom
Aw hell no! If you can be the master of a nichey community, you can absolutely thrive -
not even the master! If you have a devoted small group behind you, that's enough (again, Bluegrass. or Newgrass, as it's becoming called).

Justin Dougherty
In the case of the classical music area (niche), the small group is getting older and dying, and it isn't replenishing,

Phantom
That's true. (And simultaneously the number of performers is increasing, and that's a whole other problem!)

Justin Dougherty
I don't even want to discuss that!

Phantom
But why isn't it replenishing? You can't blame it just on pop music. 

Justin Dougherty
I blame musical taste on pop music, I blame willingness to hear something different on pop music (because all pop music is inherently the same), 

Phantom
Maybe it's just that your team isn't doing a good job at PR. Maybe it's that simple, actually.

Justin Dougherty
Ahh, and here we meet! I blame the PR on the musicians.

Phantom
To be honest, the modern/classic music community has really bad PR, and even worse branding!

Justin Dougherty
Sure does.

Phantom
Maybe the perception is that it's inaccessible, not that it is, in reality!

Justin Dougherty
That's definitely the perception. People often make up their minds when they walk in to the hall...

Phantom
Or long before! There is certainly a feeling in the public that classically trained musicians and composers don't give a damn about what their audience thinks, or that they are making music for a high-brow, snooty audience, and those are some really bad optics.

Justin Dougherty
There are folks like that, for sure.

Phantom
And maybe the concert halls and high ticket prices and dressing up does nothing but cut out 95% of your potential audience right off the bat!

Justin Dougherty
I know a number of composers who call audience members who don't like/understand their music "the uninitiated."

Phantom

That's really bad. Don't let them out in public, ever.

Justin Dougherty
Back to the formality: the San Francisco Symphony did something awesome last year with programming. They allowed drinking in the hall, live blogging with cell phones, and they played new music.

Phantom
Ha! That's cool!

Justin Dougherty
So audience members got drunk, tweeted how they were feeling, and listened to BRAND NEW music. It was a wild success. As far as I know, they didn't offer it up as part of subscription series (meaning: old people who come to everything anyway), and they still sold out. So individual people bought individual tickets.

Phantom
Fantastic!

Justin Dougherty
There are those awful classical musicians who could give two shits about what you, the audience member, thinks. But they are absolutely the minority, unfortunately a very vocal one! And as an aside, why does formality have to be such a problem?! I think there's something about a formal event that is so wonderful. For that matter, check out www.opusaffair.org.

Phantom
Sure, but formal events are "sometimes" events. So it's a tradeoff. And here's another question. Do you folks have any idea how to use the Internet?

Justin Dougherty
No. Very simply. No, we don’t. 

Phantom
Because every other kind of musician is kicking your asses at Internet.

Justin Dougherty
We haven't a clue. Even those who know have no idea!

Phantom
That's probably a BIG part of the problem of the last 10 years, don't you think?

Justin Dougherty
Yup, but Britney isn't popular because she has a bangin' website.

Phantom
The Newgrass movement couldn't have happened without the Internet, bringing the handful of bluegrass geeks together to make magic. Really, you need to stop fixating on Pop music. There is more music out there than what they play in the Castro (thank god)

Justin Dougherty
Haha, I'm just saying!

Phantom
The number of independent musicians out there, literally random guys or girls with guitars, who have achieved great success simply by getting on a podcast or releasing some free tracks or having a few videos is huge.

Justin Dougherty
we don't know how to use youtube. we don't know how to use social networking, and our websites are pompous as shit

Phantom
there's a new class for the conservatory: Marketing for Musicians

Justin Dougherty
There is a big difference between classical musicians and independent artists and bluegrass musicians though. That is, we study our craft for decades before we start to make any kind of money. It’s easy to talk about releasing free tracks, or getting on a podcast when you’re a poor up-and-comer, but most classical musicians (the majority of whom have Master’s degrees or higher) are deeply in debt and need to make money - any money - NOW. We - unfortunately - can’t afford to experiment in the way these independent musicians sometimes can.

Phantom
Do you think the disconnect between the music creators and the music performers is a structural problem? No other genre I can think of really does that.

Justin Dougherty
Composers to performers? I think that - other than the dead guys - the process of creation is remarkably collaborative, but that isn't seen by the greater public.

Phantom
Interesting, definitely not. I know nothing about that process. But the songwriting process for other musicians is just as opaque.

Justin Dougherty
I find the creation process for many other musical genres to be kind of fake.

Phantom
Fake?

Justin Dougherty
A songwriter is composing for a performer who may not understand at all what that composer is writing, or that composer may be composing a piece of music based on how many (or how few) chords the performer can play on the guitar. Fake is the wrong word - limited is probably better. There is no boundary pushing. In fact, there are many boundaries set. I don't mean to insinuate that classical musicians understand what composers write for them - many composers I’ve worked with and who’ve written pieces for me would certainly tell you that it went right over my head.

Phantom
The goals are different for different genres.

Justin Dougherty
But usually, those in classical music have nothing to do with lack of understanding/ability/etc.

Phantom
Pop music producers want to make a piece of sugary candy that will stick in people's heads.

Justin Dougherty
I-IV-V-I

Phantom
Folk songwriters want to tell a story, and music is just a medium for that.

Justin Dougherty
(And the music is limited by the ability of the performer)

Phantom
Sure, but it's less about the music and more about the story and the feeling.

Justin Dougherty
Then it's storytelling and not music. Rap music is really just poetry with a beat.

Phantom
Is a painting of a scene from a bible not art?

Justin Dougherty
Granted. All I can say is that I don't have all of the answers to "save" classical music. I'm just trying to keep my head above water.

Phantom
I understand. It's a problem that frustrates me too. I want classical music to survive and thrive. There's plenty of blame to go around though, both within the community and without.

Justin Dougherty
Absolutely. My teacher, Rhonda, is a huge proponent of talking to audiences, both before and after performances. It's shocking the audience base she has managed through these efforts.

Phantom
Yeah, this is something that everyone else has already figured out. Tell the audience a little something about the song you're about sing, and they eat it up. And can't we have classical music concerts in places other than giant music halls? Like, the best concert I ever went to was for a string quartet in an old church. It was magical, and personal in a way that concert halls never ever are.

Justin Dougherty
http://www.gregsandow.com/old/haimovitz.htm

Phantom
YES, exactly! There needs to be more of this!

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And this is where we end. I hope you enjoyed, I hope you have opinions, and I hope that you'll share them by Tweeting me (@justindcellist) or heading over to Facebook and commenting!

Listening to Yourself

The past week has been incredibly busy. The past month, really! My last post was more than one month ago. Since I last updated, I've taken (AND PASSED!!!) my final doctoral exams, and played all sorts of weird and wacky concerts, culminating with the past week:

1. My last 'Great Britten! The Suites for Cello' recital of the spring
2. The semi-annual Hodgson String Quartet concert on the UGA campus
3. My final doctoral degree recital with pianist Greg Hankins (clips on the Listen page)
4. A weekend of recording with Meredith Mecum

And really, that last little thing is what this blog is about: listening to yourself play. 

Meredith dropped in to town last week to prepare for our recording session with Brian Kelly in the Dancz Center for New Music here at UGA. We set out on Saturday on a sixteen hour adventure to record the four works that we commissioned for the second part of my Queering the Pitch recital project.

This was my first real adventure with chamber music recording. I've always known that recording was difficult, but thought it would be easier than live performance. I mean, how can you go wrong when you're just splicing everything together?! IT WILL ALL BE PERFECT!

False.

Recording is hard. You walk in to the room with your music learned and a plan. You begin with whatever you've scheduled first and do a run through. Then, you go back and fix some of the problems by re-recording sections and splicing together. Except you can't splice EVERYTHING! There are limitations. Sometimes you have to live with those few out-of-tune notes. Oh, and you hear every one of those notes. (at least, we did, as we were privy to every take of each run through and splice.)

As you go on, things get worse. Inherently, the first take will be the best, and as the engineer or producer tries to improve things by recording more takes, you start to play like poo because your brain has forgotten how to read music and your fine motor skills are gone. By the end of the day, you just want to crawl in to a hole and die. After two days, you're completely shot. May as well just give up your career at this point. To deal with the feelings of inadequacy, I bought cookies and beer. There are pictures on Twitter. Go look.

You have to hope that the session has been productive, that all mistakes have been caught and fixed. While perfection isn't always possible, doing justice to the music is the ultimate goal. But listening to yourself is the worst. I was lucky enough to hear every mistake that I made on every take we made, for sixteen hours.

It was torture, that I paid for, using my own cello playing as the weapon.

Cello On Board: Traveling

I love traveling. It's easily the best part of my job. In what other profession do you get to set your own hours, pick your projects, AND travel all over the world?! That's a rhetorical question, so don't answer.

Traveling with Cello Dougherty isn't always the easiest thing though, and let's talk about a few reasons why:

1. TSA Security. 
Have y'all seen the terrible thing that happened to Alban Gerhardt's bow in a security check at O'Hare Airport? It's terrible, but unfortunately a danger of carrying the cello on to the airplane. Apparently Mr. Gerhardt checks his cello in baggage on these trips and uses a Stevenson flight case to do so. I understand why he would feel secure doing this, as Stevenson cases are outstanding. One would never think that it would be TSA that would cause such damage to an instrument, rather than the baggage handlers who so often toss musical instruments on to the conveyor belt with little care. 

I've had problems in the TSA security line myself, carrying my cello on to the plane. For a while in 2011, I was flying in and out of Atlanta on a weekly basis for performances. I became very good at scanning security lines to find the shortest, fastest moving line. After a while, I noticed that the same TSA fellow was working the line that I always seemed to choose. He also started recognizing me as I came through his line each week. This fellow became interested in what I was doing and why I was traveling so much. Unlike other TSA people who would often force me to open the cello case and hand the instrument to them so that they could examine it - often in a very rough manner - this nice fellow seemed to appreciate the stress of traveling with an instrument.

2. Airlines.
There is nothing worse in travel than an airline. Nothing. They are the WORST. Here are a few examples of why:
-Paul Katz and his cello
-Lynn Harrell and Delta Skymiles
-Alban Gerhardt and his cello (even more from above)

I've been a loyal Delta Airlines traveler since 2008 when I moved to Boston. The sheer size of the airline makes Delta the easiest airline to travel. Unlike United, Delta has never forced me to check my cello at the gate - and then leave it on the tarmac - and they often upgraded both me and Cello Dougherty to first class on many flights. Until recently. In 2010, flying direct from ATL to BOS, I volunteered to put my cello underneath the plane to open a seat for a traveller flying on a standby ticket. I received a free flight and an upgrade in exchange. My cello was in a Stevenson flight case - kevlar AND carbon fiber - and I felt secure with the decision. Getting off the plane, I found the indestructable case destroyed and a large crack on the top of the cello. Delta paid for the repairs but not for the depreciation of the cello. 

Since then, Delta has removed Cello Dougherty from their SkyMiles program, often refused me the opportunity to board - claiming everything from a full flight (despite my holding two tickets) to seats that are too small to accomodate the poor cello - and never even offer Cello Dougherty a refreshing beverage if we both actually get on the plane! A cellist acquaintence of mine carrys his cello on to the plane in a soft case, without buying a ticket, in hopes that it will fit in the overhead compartment. Even though I hate buying a ticket for my cello, I'll take the general security of the boarding pass over the uncertainty of the overhead bin size any day of the week!

This is not to say that Delta is the worst airline to travel with; they certainly aren't. But there are pros and cons to each airline. For example, US Airways will NOT allow a cellist to check their instrument with regular baggage, whether or not a liability waiver is signed. We found this out when my teacher, Rhonda Rider, was forced to purchase a seat AT THE COUNTER for her Luis & Clark carbon fiber cello for a trip to Arizona. United DOES offer frequent flier miles to cellos, but is generally incompetent with baggage handling if you choose to check. Continental used to be the easiest and best airline to deal with, at least as far as onboard customer service was concerned. I find that Southwest (with their cattle call boarding process) and JetBlue (with their general awesomeness) are at the top of the heap right now, of course, I haven't flown either airline enough to make a decision quite yet.

3. Schlepping
This is pretty simple, really. As a recitalist, and a low-on-the-totem-pole one at that, I don't have a personal assistant traveling with me. There aren't private cars waiting for me at the airport. Therefore, I must be in complete control of all of my travel things, schlepping them from my apartment to the concert hall, no matter where in the world that hall is. For a recent performance of Queering the Pitch: music for soprano and cello in Houston, I schlepped the following things from Athens to Houston:
-Large sized rollaboard, carry-on suitcase
-Messenger bag with laptop, plugs, cords, cables, reading material
-Metal laptop stand, with tripod legs

Oh...and...

-Cello Dougherty

This is a ton of stuff. For a typical weekend performing, that carryon is 30 lbs. The messenger bag is heavy, though not more than 5 lbs. The laptop stand though...ugh. No less than 15 lbs. When thrown on top of the rollaboard, I'm dragging almost 50 lbs behind me! Thankfully, Cello Dougherty is at home in a superlight Accord cello case, so that's no more than 8 lbs. Still, though, that's a lot of stuff to carry around an airport, on to subways, etc. I really would love that personal assistant...

Even when airplanes aren't in play, there's still a lot of schlepping. When a quartet is traveling, you've got four people, luggage, and instruments piling in to a rental car. Hopefully that car is a nice big SUV, but in many cases, that car is a Ford Focus. Yuck. Quartet musicians are really good at the game of tetris - that is, fitting everything in the trunk. As a soloist, a Focus is fine for me, just as long as the cello fits across the back seat!

Anyway, no matter what the negatives of travel are - and there are many - I love trekking off around the globe to play the cello. There's simply nothing better than exploring the world and playing music at the same time!

Ruthless Self Criticism

Let's talk about…criticism. It's a difficult topic to discuss even though so much of the music business literally revolves around criticism. In October of 2011 I wrote a BLOG about my musical ego and the place that it has in my life. Some of that post is mixed in here, where relevant. But really, criticism shouldn't - SHOULDN'T - be ego bruising. It should inspire the party being critiqued to correct problems or, when the criticism comes in the form of music reviews, spark a spirited debate (about interpretation, quality of music, etc.).

In its worst form, criticism can be cheap or mean. This is a trap I have often found myself falling in to. One could generously call me unfiltered, blunt, or harsh. Really, any nasty adjective or reality TV synonym for 'jerk' will do. The reason for this certainly has to do with one of my favorite practices: ruthless self criticism. What I mean is: nobody thinks I play more out of tune than I think I do. There isn't a person around who thinks my rhythm is worse than I think it is. I'd challenge you to search out a person who finds my cello technique to be as subpar as I find it to be. As such, I think that my criticism of others tends to be just as harsh as my own self criticism is. Conversely, I really enjoy when others criticize me, though I might disagree with it at times, especially concerning musical decisions. 

This is a product of my very healthy ego. I don't believe that performers would be able to accomplish much of anything without a well developed sense of self, a large ego. The problem, sometimes, for me is that my level of shame(lessness) is not appropriate for both the real-world performance process (promotion, performance, convincing an audience of your musical choices) AND every day life. There are so many ways to bruise one's ego, especially in music, where constant criticism is prevalent. With newspaper reviews, weekly lessons with constructive teachers, feedback from ensemble leaders, musicians are faced with a barrage of (mostly) constructive criticism. The successful performer processes all criticisms - both gentle and harsh - and improves upon the areas most critiqued. For me, when receiving criticism it is sometimes hard to push past my bruised ego, but even in my most fragile state, one could not accuse me of falling down on the job. 

I really do believe that I can take even the harshest criticism, break it down, learn from it, and use it to get better at what I do. It wasn't always this way, of course. We all have cracks in our armor. It's incredibly difficult to hear a teacher or colleague tell you that something you've worked so hard on sounds bad but I really believe it's even harder to hear that from the New York Times. This has been my experience. In 2010, I was performing the Schubert C Major String Quintet in California. After one particular concert the group that I was performing with received a great review in the local newspaper (no specific names or locations mentioned). The members of the quartet and our collaborator were pretty happy after reading the entire review, but they were also keeping their distance from me. Probably because of this line:

"The obvious weak link was first cellist Justin Dougherty, who at times seemed far removed from the virtuosity of the rest of the group."

Ouch!

Certainly that sucked. That was the only time the review mentioned my name. I wanted to say that the critique was very general. What does it mean to be far removed from the rest of the group, anyway? And the virtuosity? If I'm so bad, how is the rest of the group virtuosic?! However, it wasn't the first time that I had heard that criticism, that it often seemed like I was out of my league in our quartet, that the others technical finesse and musical ideas far exceeded my own. The problem with the review was that it was the first time people I didn't know were hearing about it. You see, this criticism had come previously from teachers or colleagues in a safe environment. Instead of taking their critique to heart and working harder to become the best cellist I could be in our group, I began to feel bad for myself. 

That wasn't the case this time. The group performed in a different city later that week. Now, I was prepared. I spent some time alone in my hotel room, studying the score, practicing things that weren't quite right (side note: don't ever become complacent. Good enough -- isn't.), marking my part so that I knew exactly where I was in the hierarchy of musical importance. The result was another positive review for the group, however it also included this little tidbit about me (again, the only time my name was mentioned):

"Justin Dougherty is astounding, pulling a sound from his cello that is both sumptuous and beautiful. He is the obvious leader [of the quintet]."

My point - and there is one, amidst my shameless bragging and ego fanning - is that criticism is good. It should push us, as musicians, to do better. Take the critique and figure out how to get better (hint: intelligent PRACTICE). In my case, I couldn't overcome my lack of technical prowess in one day (I'm still fighting with that, and always will be), but I could become more engaged. That second performance was the most connected I had ever been with the other members of the group. Because I had renewed my knowledge of the score, I was aware of what was going on all around me. I was able to play off of my colleagues, blend my sound with others who were playing similar music, and generally be a better chamber musician, which led to a much better performance. This should have been obvious, something I should have been doing all along, but it (and I) wasn't. It took a swift kick to my musical butt to get me on board.

Had the criticism of my playing in the review been, "Justin plays out of tune in the second movement and really everywhere else, too, like all the time, always," you can bet I would have used my practice time playing long tones with a drone and slowly mapping out distances from one position and the shift to the next. Don't allow criticism to slow you down, quite the opposite. Make criticism work for you. Figure out why you are receiving a comment (especially if it keeps happening) and find a way to fix it. If your musical choices are criticized - like mine were in that review - really sit with the music and consider your musical decisions. If your fast playing is sloppy, consider the mechanics of playing quickly, with facility, determine where the problem lies - right or left arm - and take steps to get better. Don't let critique slow you down and don't waste time critiquing the criticizer. Instead, use your energy putting yourself to work getting better! The sooner you do it (and it should be straight away!), the sooner you'll start hearing from others how great you are!

Old Guard, Young Guns, and $$$

My name is Justin. I play the cello. You knew this already, after all, as you're reading this blog. You probably also know that I'm a big fan of new music, chamber music, and young performers who are awesome, but may be struggling to build careers in the 2013 marketplace. This will be the point of this blog.

You might wonder - or maybe you wouldn't - why I would write a blog about performers and money (or "making it") at a time like this. I, for one, have the luxury of living in a town - Athens, GA - where the cost of living is low; where I work for a huge university - the University of Georgia - and make a modest living; and where I spend my days practicing for the next gig that takes me to wherever said gig is located. Why would I be worried about struggling during a time when I most surely am not?

This is the Age of Obama! Hope! Change! Yes we can! And while that's all well and good, I worry about the future of things for the arts and music performance. In the Age of Obama we focus on education, where STEM fields (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) are not only emphasized, but given priority over the more "creative" fields, such as art, music, even shop classes. I'd like to spout off about how studying music helps students with their critical thinking skills, or how students who study music score higher on the SATs and other standardized tests, or even the organizational benefits that come from studying in a high quality music program.

But I think that it's all garbage when the actual music comes in to play. Sure, it's fantastic that I scored decently on the SATs (if you wanna know the number, ask Meredith Mecum), and I'm pretty organized and think critically about some things, here and there, but to be frank, these things have had little or no effect on my life. I think - in the Age of Obama - we should teach/study music because music is awesome. We should go to classical music concerts because THEY ARE AWESOME. We should support classical musicians because (…they are awesome…) if we don't, music and musicians will be gone, and then who is going to write the score to your video game or teach Beyonce how to lip synch to the National Anthem?! (another aside: the United States National Anthem is in 3/4, not 4/4, time. Let's try to sing it as it was written. Also, don't breathe in the midst of a word. Learn how to phrase, people.)

This brings me to my point: awesome classical music is going away and it is our fault (EDIT: I am refering specifically to presenters and consumers of classical music). It really is. Major symphony orchestras are dying or are on life support (see: Philly bankruptcy, Chicago musicians strike, Louisville…catastrophe, etc.) and younger musicians are having a harder and harder time just getting started. The best music schools and conservatories (shout out to my alma mater, The Boston Conservatory…holla!) are graduating immensely talented performers who, while incredible, have no place to perform. Those who want to play in orchestras are finding that jobs don't exist and those who'd like to be recitalists (like me) or chamber musicians (like me) can't find many places to play that are financially viable.

I have a beef with performing arts centers and concert series who blatantly program "old guard" performers with profit in mind, instead of encouraging the proliferation of amazing "young gun" performers. At the University of Georgia, the past year has seen the Emerson and Tokyo String Quartets, Yo-Yo Ma, and Itzhak Perlman on the stage in the UGA Performing Arts Center. Also presented are the Blue Man Group, Bela Fleck and Igudesman & Joo. While I don't begrudge these groups or performers - and to be sure, the Emersons, Tokyos, Ma, and Perlman are at the top of their games - I would much rather see groups like the Calder, Escher, and Jupiter String Quartets, ETHEL, Benjamin Beilman, Josh Roman, hear composers like Nico Muhly and other fresh and exciting performers in Hodgson and Ramsey Halls (to be fair to UGA, and I should be since they pay me the moneys, the PAC did present the amazing violinist Bella Hristova in 2012, a choice that should not go unnoticed or unappreciated here).

The problem with Ma, Perlman, and the Emersons is not their lack of excitement or virtuosity, no one could accuse them of either. My problem is their status as performers who bring sure sell out crowds. They line the pockets of the venues that present them, and are GUARANTEED to do so. They also have the luxury of 'phoning it in' on stage (be serious, they totally do it. You KNOW I'm right.) and nothing negative comes of it. The seats are still full and the reviews are always rave. Additionally, they aren't hurting. No one assumes that Yo-Yo is cutting it close on the rent or that Perlman is rationing his Ramen (not that either one should be -- NONE of us SHOULD be.). Benjamin Beilman, or his CMS Two colleague Sean Lee, are outstanding and certainly on their way to the top. I, for one, want to see them play. Josh Roman is a hotshot young cellist based in New York City. If it comes down to it, I - personally, no offense to anyone, of course - would rather hear Mr. Roman play Bach than Mr. Ma.

Certainly there are others that I haven't heard of! That's the point, though, right? I understand that by scheduling Mr. Perlman on the calendar, the UGA PAC is guaranteed a sell out crowd in the largest hall with three figure ticket prices. It's a windfall for the Center. At the same time, if the blue hairs of Athens perused their Performing Arts Center calendar and saw Eighth Blackbird, I'm not sure they'd be hustling to buy the ticket. It's a shame. (Especially shameful that the University of Georgia Performing Arts Center enjoys the backing of a major university whose role is to nurture and educate, and should probably be promoting the young guns, right? Just sayin'.)

I made my San Francisco debut in 2009 or 2010. I don't remember the name of the venue. I do remember the audience size. I won't mention it here so as to save face (hint: it was small). I currently enjoy a moderately decent performing side career and pay some of my bills by traveling and playing the cello, but basically, I am a nobody. I am not Yo-Yo Ma. I'm not even the best cellist in graduate school at UGA. But I hope to make a living some day. There are plenty of musicians just like me - the majority much better - who deserve top billing all across the country and the world! If a performing career requires that I play the Dvorak Cello Concerto at 4 years old with the New York Philharmonic, and a cell phone video is posted on YouTube for all to see, then I'm never going to be successful. It also means that many of the awesome young guns I mentioned above aren't going to ascend to the ranks of old guard for another thirty years. That's just too long to wait. I WANT TO HEAR THEM NOW! And you should too.

So, finally, I urge performing arts centers, concert venues, and performance series to become a little less conservative in their programming, ESPECIALLY if the need to bring home the bacon isn't so urgent (I'm looking at you, academic institutions). And I absolutely encourage audiences to start going to any and all concerts, whether or not the performer is someone you saw on Sesame Street twenty years ago. You'll thank yourself. Trust me. I'm almost a doctor (of musical arts).

||: practice :|| (how you bow): Stage Presence

A few weeks ago I attended an undergraduate recital here at UGA - something that, frankly, I haven't done much since I've been in Georgia - and enjoyed the playing quite a bit. There was one thing that bothered me about the recital though, and it is still gnawing at me: the performer's acknowledgement of applause from the stage, that is, the bow. It was so awkward and distracting, albeit a bit silly! (an aside: I've already had this conversation with said performer, so I don't feel bad telling this story, but I may as well a give a shout out! You know who you are!)

I believe that stage presence is something that absolutely does not come naturally. Being on stage, especially as a soloist, is a nerve wracking situation that can test the moxie of even the steadiest person. When I'm an audience member, I begin to absorb the performance from the moment the performer emerges from the wings. If said performer looks nervous when s/he walks on to stage, if the first bow is a mixture of elephant squat and gazelle leap, I will be immediately begin judging you (not really, but kinda…) and it probably won't be pretty. That sucks, but it's the reality of things.

That said, if a performer walks onstage full of gumption and cheeky sass, I'm immediately in your corner. I'm rooting for you, and I'm probably going to enjoy your performance just a little bit more. That's because I'm coming to watch a show, and let's be serious: a classical music performance really is just a show! The confidence that you (surely) exude while playing your fiddle or tickling those ivories should also be exhibited when you aren't tooting your horn or strumming your guitar. If that conviction isn't on display, well, again, I judge.

So how to fix your tragic bow? Easy: practice.

I feel no shame in telling you, dear reader, that I practice my bow in the shower, in my living room, in front of a mirror, and many other places that a normal person (one of whom I am certainly not…) would find embarrassing. I also practice my stage persona. I think about how I am perceived on stage. It's not difficult to practice:

1. One must practice their gait and posture: you can't shuffle and you can't sprint. Otherwise, everything else is fair game.
2. Think about what direction your eyes are looking (scanning, staring straight ahead, etc) after you've walked - CONFIDENTLY - on to the stage and begun to acknowledge the applause.
3. Come to rest with your feet together, or pretty darned close. (if your feet are shoulder width apart and you start to bow, you will look like one of those little drinking bird toys.)
4. Now, bow. Bow like your performance depends on it. (it does.) That is, bend slightly at the waist (let's not over think this…) and stare at the floor for like, two seconds.
5. Stop bowing. Smile. Look around. Check out all those people who paid money to hear you. (and SEE you!)

That's it. Not hard. Now, go do it. If one is confident in their time on stage the performance will come across as polished and really just kind of outstanding.

Being on stage isn't easy. It's performing a one (wo)man show: EVERYTHING is up to the performer. So, be a total weirdo and decide how you will walk when you're on stage. Practice your bow in the shower while singing the composite rhythm of that Webern quartet you're playing. It'll be worth it when I watch you from the cheap seats.

||: practice :||, graduation, and jobs

It's November. It's here. The temperature is cooling, the leaves have changed and fallen off of the trees (unlike that pretty photo at left), and my pants are getting a bit tighter (eek!). This is the time of year that my motivation starts to wane and my practice time gets more and more infrequent. (and I exercise…never)

What isn't helping my motivation is my somewhat quiet performing schedule this year. While in 2011-12 I performed more than 40 recitals, this year I purposefully took it easy to finish up my doctoral degree requirements. Usually - over the past few years - I have concert deadlines with short preparation times. This time, those deadlines aren't really looming over me. So, I'm trying to combat my laziness this year with larger projects with more lead time. I've also decided to undertake some public accountability measures.

When I was dieting and losing weight a few years back, I found it helpful to post my weekly weigh in on Facebook. It was incredibly embarrassing (and those posts have since been deleted!) but it kept me motivated. Starting on Monday (tomorrow!) November 11, I'm going to publicly post - via Twitter, mostly - the number of hours I practiced each day and what - if anything - I accomplished. Here's how I think these Tweets will look:

@justindcellist: Todays ||: practice :|| time: 4 hours. Accomplished: memory work on B1, mvmt 3; Popper 28 pitch work; Carter mvmt 4 rhythm/pitch. #motivation #wwrrd

It's an experiment, but one I think will be useful. I have friends - in particular, trumpeter @louieeckhardt - who have begun journaling about their practice. I've tried long-form journaling in the past, but now, I want to do something different, something that will keep me accountable to my followers (shameless plug, follow me on Twitter) who will hopefully keep me honest. This micro-blogging will be fun to experiment with. Also, are Louie and I the only ones who have been using ||: practice :|| in our Tweets? Anyone else?! NO?! Start!!

Practice is what I have to look forward to for the next few months. My Great Britten: Suites for Cello recital project is coming down the tracks, but it's still far enough off that I'm not having heart palpitations. (and I'm sleeping through the night; always a good thing) What I do have to look forward to this year is graduation. If all goes as planned, I'll have my degree no later than August 2013. This is a little later than expected, but not much, and not long enough to really bother me. 

Graduation is an exciting prospect, but what excites me even more is the possibility of landing a college/university teaching position almost immediately. This year I've been teaching more college-aged students and consulting with colleagues about technique, musicality, playing posture, and the like. We used to do this a lot when I was in graduate school, but here at UGA, everyone is pretty isolated in their practice, as though self consciousness trumps progress. I'm hoping to change that mentality by both sharing what I know and accepting what my colleagues have to offer.

All of this knowledge and practice critique have proven to me that I pursued the correct path in my career: I enjoy teaching and connecting with cellists/chamber music groups at a high level. I love performing and sharing my music with audiences and I will always perform as much as I can, but teaching whets my penchant for cellistic and musical analysis. 

So, pardon my digression, I cannot wait to finish my degree and find that perfect job for me where I can share what I have learned over the past decade in my formal education. I've had outstanding teachers - most certainly my mentor, Rhonda Rider - and tremendous colleagues. These people have taught me so much. I can't wait to pass it all on, while continuing to learn from all of my new friends and collaborators and develop a fulfilling performing career that satiates my love of musical performance.

Wow. After that, I'm motivated to practice! Off I go!