jupiterjenkins.com

Wednesday morning and already it’s been a busy week.

I finished all the scores for my August 15th gig. I am expecting all of the musicians to come to my house today to rehearse. That will be fun.

I sent out a press release to our local paper, the Holland Sentinel:

“Words and Music Mostly by Steve Jenkins,” is a free concert featuring the compositional works of local street musicians, Steve Jenkins and Jonathon Fegel. It will be given on August 15, 2008, 7 PM at Grace Episcopal Church, 555 S. Washington. Included in this event are unusual settings that range from songs like the satirical “Moneyland” by Jenkins and the whimsical “I’m Okay” from Fegel’s recently released CD. Oboist, “Debbie Coyle,” and flutist, Teresa Hitner, will be assisting on Jenkins composition, “Drunken Waltz” from his “Suite for Five Instruments.” Jordan Van Hemert will be featured as saxophonist on several numbers including the world premiere of “Nothing, nothing, nothing for saxophone, marimba and electric guitar” by Jenkins. In addition to compositions by Fegel and Jenkins, works by the minimalist, John Adams, and the late Frank Zappa will also be performed. Admission is free.”

If anyone knows of anywhere else I could publicize this thing (for free) I would appreciate be pointed in that direction.

I have confused feelings about the audience for my work. First of all, I have done little to no self promotion in my life. So I haven’t really sought an audience. I don’t work in clear usual distributive areas of music and art. I basically hide away and do music. So when I occasionaly come out, it’s interesting to see who shows up and looks like they are listening at least part of the time. This is not a huge number of people.  Often I think when locals show for a gig, it’s very much out of personal support. I’m no exception I’m sure. I just don’t know that many people well these days.

On the other hand, I am very excited to perform an evening of my own music without smoke and with minimal competing noise.

I finished off the last loose end of pulling together my parents finances yesterday. This means that we have contacted the numerous institutions where Dad has his money spread around and consolidated it into one bank. This has taken over nine months. Whew. I’m sure glad this is done.

Also I have been cooking. Made blueberry pancakes for Eileen and me yesterday as well as Beer Bread (a quick bread from The Clueless Baker). Also made Whole Wheat bread from fresh flour purchased locally. I used the recipe the lady who sold the flour to me gave me at the farmer’s market. I also have a bag of cornmeal waiting to be used. This stuff is good but expensive of course (5 or 6 dollars for two pounds).

Besides this afternoon rehearsals, I have two church meetings. Staff in the morning, and Worship Commission (or WC as we like to call it) at noon. Having recently completed the book, “Take Our Bread,” by Sara Miles which takes a radical stand on Eucharist as food for everybody, I am bringing food to both of these meetings (after checking with the boss of course).

I have in mind fresh fruit (which I am about to go purchase at the farmer’s market) for the staff and probably little sandwiches for the WC. I have about 30 minutes between meetings during which I am planning to assemble the little sandwiches at church. Oh yeah, I also made pesto yesterday, so I’m thinking of making pesto/cheese sandwiches as well as pbj with fresh homemade raspberry jam.

As I get older I have more and more difficulty imagining much of the silly stuff of religion like afterlife and God, but I do believe in people and eating. So praise the lord and pass the pesto.

Wow, this is cool. I’m writing today’s blog on my new fancy schmancy computer with the wide monitor.

I had a busy day messing with my music for my upcoming August 15 gig: “Words and Music Mostly by Steve Jenkins.” Finished preparing all the scores for my sax, flute and oboe player. I have one piece left to prepare. I am writing a little piece for marimba, sax and elec guitar. It’s the last little detail on this gig.

Rehearsed for two hours with Jordan V. the sax player. He is working on a concert for August 10. He had asked two piano players to play on it,  but his other player broke her thumb (!). So we were regrouping today just a little bit as well as running through the material he has already chosen for me to accompany.

The August 15 gig will be in the commons area of the church where I work. I will set up tables for the listeners and provide some refreshments. The main goal with this gig is to play a gig where it’s not so loud and I can hear what I’m doing.  The pieces not by me include two by my friend and co-performer, Jonathon Fegel; one by Zappa and one by John Adams.

I want to provide a program with all the words (except for Zappas) and I need to get moving on a little posterette.

But now I need to take some time off this evening and read the NYT on this cool screen.

Life is good.

In his book, “Piano Notes” Charles Rosen makes the interesting comment that the technology of recording coincides with and influences the dominance of the concept of the composition versus the performer. I have been thinking about this because it describes the way I generally see many classical pieces, as compositions rather than performances. Intellectually I know they are both, but I do think of the composition first even when I am listening to a performance.

I think Rosen is saying that the freezing of music into a repeatable performance has changed the way we listen and perform. In a sense spontaneity goes away the second time we listen to a recording. The exciting feeling of risk and adventure that can accompany a live performance is difficult if not impossible to capture in a recording. Mistakes become a focus of our attention ina repeated performance in a much different way when they occur in a one time live performance.

So while I have listened to recording all my life and am a child of the effects whatever they are of the recording process, at the same time I grew up improvising. At first I though of this as “fooling around.” I remember the immense satisfaction of sitting and playing at the piano in my Dad’s church in Flint. Later I would improvise with the groups I played with. The wedding band (Guy and the Versatiles), the band from my high school which mimicked Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass (The Continental Combo), and the band that played rock and roll up north in Oscoda on weekends (I’m not sure it had a name at that time). These three bands represented group playing and opportunities for “fooling around” in public. They made a lasting impression on me that sort of balanced the godlike pristine sounds coming from my record player and radio. The music was messy and often bad, but also I have many fond memories that tell me it was a fun and worthwhile experience in each case. I played with these groups from about the age of 16 to 18.

This week as I accompanied ballet class, each time I played I improvised most of what I played. Ballet is a bit like marching band in this sense. The melodies need to be regular and easily understandable and move at 8 measures. (Marching means eight steps from yard line to yard line as I remember). As I improvised I remembered the idea that as a composer I am sometimes stymied about what to write, but as an improviser I don’t remember hardly ever not having musical ideas.

It has also occurred to me recently that the plane of my musicality is one of the achievable not the realm of the highly advanced virtuous composer or performer.

Played my last ballet class rehearsal yesterday morning.

Went right from there to drop off my Mom at the local Family Fare grocery store. We (I) usually go to one of the other grocery stores but Mom had been talking to her friends at the apartment building where she lives and eyeing the sales at this one. From there, I went to our local health food store. They do the best they can, but they are no Whole Foods or Trader Joes. Came home and put those things away.

Talked to Eileen a bit. She was going to spend much of the day contacting people to get estimates on replacing the roof and siding. We are also considering spending 1 K to refurbish the rusting parts of the her Suzuki. In fact I guess we’ve decided to that.

Went back and sat in the Family Fare parking lot reading and waiting for Mom. Took Mom home. Went directly to the other grocery store, Meijers, and spent a grueling couple of hours doing both my shopping and Mom’s sale shopping. Dropped off Mom’s groceries.

Came home and tried desperately to relax a bit. Went and practiced organ at church. Blah blah blah.

Somewhere in there I finished reading “Take this Bread” by Sara Miles. My boss assigned this book to the worship commission to read. It’s the story of a reasonable person’s discovery of Christianity via the open communion of the hippy dippy community in San Franscico, St. Gregory’s. There are some good parts (”What the fuck would Jesus do?” & “The public is a motherfucker.”), but ultimately I think it was a bit of a depressing book for me. Reading this person’s take on Jesus rehearsed so much of my own ambivalence and confusion around stupid stupid church. Oh well. I’ll try to be a team player when it comes time for the silly discussion. I do like the author’s preoccupation with food. I’m thinking of bring fresh fruit to next weeks silly staff meeting and maybe some cheese bread for the stupid stupid worship commission meeting. The chair person asked me to do what I’ve been suggesting to people to do: that is lead a couple of hymns from one of our new hymnals for opening and closing prayer. Bless her heart.

After practicing yesterday I felt an urge to cook (thank you, Sara Miles, I guess). Even though I was exhausted I put Dizzy Gillespi on the CD player and made these silly little quick bread dinner rolls. The only interesting thing about it was that the recipe called for mayonnaise and I got the idea to make my own. It worked pretty well, but I think the oil I used was canola oil and wasn’t entirely pleased with the taste of the mayo. But I think it worked in the rolls which were kind of bland. I used the last of my wonderful homemade marinara sauce on some funny feta/hazelnut ravioli (bought at the health food store). Eileen put some of the chicken my Mom sent over for her on hers.

After supper I set up the silly computer we bought. Eileen really likes the size of the monitor screen. I like that it worked. Spent the rest of the evening playing piano (finally) and reading.

I have been listening to these chimes moving in the breeze the last few days.

I love the sound of them.

They were made by a young woman named Brynn Kookier and are tuned to a scale called Hirajosi ( C Db F G Ab C). I have been tempted to write a piece incorporating them.

But if I do that, I think they will lose their ephemeral charm. So, naw, not gonna do that. At least not now.

Here’s a couple of quotes I have been thinking about. In the first, Ku’oosh is a medicine man talking to Tayo in the native American language of his people.

“He hesitated then and looked at Tayo’s eyes.”
‘But you know, grandson, the world is fragile.’
“The word he chose to express ‘fragile’ was filled with the intricacies of a continuing process, and with a strength inherent in spider webs woven across paths through sand hills where early in the morning the sun becomes entangled in each filament of web. It took a long time to explain the fragility and intricacy because no word exists alone, and the reason for choosing each word had to be explained with a story about why it must be said this certain way. That was the responsibility that went with being human, old Ku’oosh said, the story behind each word must be told so there could be no mistake in the meaning of what had been said; and this demanded great patience and love.”

and this one

Tayo used to stand in the big sandstone cave and hold the siphon hose under the water in the shallow pool where the spring water splashed down from the west wall of the cave. The water was always cold, icy cold, even in the summer, and Tayo liked the way it felt when he was sweating and took off his shirt: the splashing water made an an icy mist that almost disappeared before it touched him.

“You see,” Josaih had said, with the sound of the water trickling out of the hose into the empty wooden barrel, “there are some things worth more than money.” He pointed his chin at the springs and around at the narrow canyon. “This is where we come from, see. This sand, this stone, these trees, the vines, all the wildflowers. This earth keeps us going.”

Both from “Cermony” by Leslie Marmon Silko

Got up early early this morning and prepared about 3 lbs green beans and almost 5 lbs of blueberries for the freezer. I’m keeping a clip board by the freezer in hopes that it will help me manage the contents better.

Cut up the watermelon that was spoiling in the basement and put it in the compost. I’m a regular domestic dude.

It’s kind of warm here in Michigan today.

I did my third ballet class this morning. I do enjoying doing that. I find it challenging to come up with just the right music that fits the ballet technique combination the teacher sets up. The sheer fun of being in a room with young people so dedicated to such a high calling is always a pleasure. A few of the dancers caught me playing on the street yesterday. Aren’t you supposed to be playing for classes one of them asked me. I replied that I just had to play for four classes this year and that each one met at 9 AM. They seem very amused to find me on the street after seeing me as the rehearsal pianist.

Took my Mom for an MRI today. Met with my boss. Then back to Appledorn where Mom and Dad are living for a blueberry ice cream social.

An elderly man lying on an operating table. His face is covered by a soft white piece of paper. I can see his eye. Water drips down the side of his head.

I imagine the young sax player standing in the band shell. He plays an Irish dance and the band jumps along with him in cool evening.

A large elderly woman honks at me from her white car. She pulls over and looks up at me. She has something for me to sign. She points to the book on the dash. Looking at me carefully, she tells me she has to hide in order to read it.

I am sitting on the old man’s bed. He lays on his side. His body is delicately frail. I hold the clean white wash cloth to his wound. The blood pools in his ear.

The lean banker uncrosses his legs and smiles with self satisfaction. He tells me there is more oil to be found in off shore drilling. Enough to bring the price of oil down. He looks forward to the Texas oil men losing power in November. What do you want to talk about while we wait, he had asked me, the market or oil?

I hear the voice in the message on my phone. A voice is telling me things are going better.

Thirty young students of dance are lying on the floor. They turn and flex at the direction of the teacher clad in black. Thirty legs slowly rise into the air in almost perfect unison. The room is silent except for her voice.

Mouse Guard by David Petersen (web site) I read this book because the author is a friend of a friend. The pictures are nicely enough drawn but I admit to not being sucked into this book. It’s a graphic novel but it still reminded me a bit of the Watership Down premise only in this case mice instead of rabbits. MY friend’s name is Jeremy Bastien and I think I like his books much better.

The Forever War by Joe Haldeman Not sure how I latched on to this book. It involves following one soldier throughout a thousand years or so of war. His life span is inadvertently extended because of the long trips through space to the fighting fronts. So his body ages very slowly when he’s not at war or on leave. Although it’s a kind of space opera there is some wry satire on sexuality. This was just what the doctor ordered for me: a light sci-fi book with a sense of humor and doesn’t take itself too seriously.

Palestine: The Special Edition by Joe Sacco This book, however, was quite a read. Another graphic novel, the author does one of those self-referential stories that these guys like so much.

This book tells the story of Joe Sacco traveling throughout Israel, Gaza and Palestine looking for material for the book you are reading about him traveling throughout Israel, Gaza…. well, you get the picture. This guy is heavily influenced by Crumb’s drawing style, in a good way. He talks mostly to Palestinians and visits with them.

He chronicles their stories, eats their food (even though they are dirt poor, he plunges in and eats the feasts they provide for him while many of his guides and translators refrain. This is that brutal self honesty that so many graphic novelists seem to pride themselves on.), drinks tons of tea. You get a very interesting idea of how people on the ground in the area see the situation. Although Sacco initially has refused to go anywhere outside of the occupied territories, he does get sucked into a visit to Tel Aviv. The conversation he has with the two women is a study in how ambivalent and reasonable people can be and still end up spouting nonsense about themselves and the other side.

Israelis and Israeli soldiers especially end up looking thuggish or ominous pretty much all of the time. I enjoyed this quite a bit.

Up early and composing this morning. Trying to get ready for my meeting with Jordan at 9. I re-wrote several measures of the sax part to Smoke and did a working incomplete version of the piece I call “Come Creator.” I am adapting it for the available instruments I will have at my recital. It’s so easy I’m thinking I can rehearse separately with the different instruments and then put it together with one rehearsal with everyone. I am still thinking about the improv section. In the original version this was just two chords back and forth. I’m thinking I might change that. Or I might not. I am working on changing the date of this concert (”Words and Music Mostly by Steve Jenkins”) to Aug 22. I have not heard from two of the invited musicians yet.

Yesterday went well. Two flute players were invited to play at the service. They did these lovely baroque (?) flute duets, one at communion (”Adagio” from Quatrième Sonate by François Devienne) and one at the postlude (”Rondeau” from Quatrième Sonate also byDevienne).

Once again I watch how music works in our society. Some people listen, most don’t. I was thinking as they were playing the postlude about how recorded music might have contributed to this. It makes sense to me that you would easily throw on a recording and sometimes treat it as background music. It’s something I do myself. But to ask live musicians to play while you do something else is a different story. I think when this occurs it might be sort of an upside down use of music. By that I mean, that live people are treated as if they were a recording. Interesting. I apologized to the two flute players by saying how innervating it is to play when people are talking. I assured them that they had many appreciative listeners despite the noise. They are big kids who have played in church for years. I think they expected as much.

I read an article in the NYT yesterday in which Ralph Vaughan Williams was described as being thought of by Americans “…as an exemplar of avuncular British parochialism, for his folk-tune rhapsodies, dreamily rendered landscapes and Anglican hymns.” Sheesh. Although the article was a defense of Vaughan Williams, it had some brutal quotes in it like

“Aaron Copland is supposed to have said that listening to Vaughan Williams’s Symphony No. 5 was like staring at a cow for 45 minutes. ”

&

“Elisabeth Lutyens, an English modernist composer, dismissed the British pastoral school, of which Vaughan Williams was the most prominent figure, with the withering term “cow-pat music.”

Heh. I think Vaughan Williams would have been amused. I like his music. I own vinyl recordings of several of his symphonys as well as CDs. I play his organ music and when I can I schedule his choral music at church. I’m probably one of those avuncular anglo types. Heh.