I finished Kate Atkinson’s novel, “When Will There Be Good News?”, last night. Very satisfying read. This author seems to enjoy developing intricate basically preposterous plots and sucking the reader in. At least this reader.

This is the third novel I have read by her. I plan to read the rest of her work when I can get a hold of it.

Authors (and composers and poets) are very real people in my life. A couple nights ago I dreamed about Anthony Burgess.

I have read most of his work. I dreamed about meeting him in a coffee shop. I knew it was him. Weirdly thought he looked like Alec Guinness.

I woke up without speaking to him. Fell back asleep and the dream began again. This time I engaged him in conversation about his books and had him autograph one for me. I think it was “Earthly Powers.” He turned the book upside down and wrote in it.

The characters in Atkinson’s books (the ones I have read so far)  are people with a past. People who are working on being in the present but whose past continues to hover about them.

Jackson Brodie (who is common to all three novels by her I have read) is an ex-policeman whose sister was raped and killed and whose brother committed suicide.  There are are two very interesting women in “When Will There Be Good News?” Dr. Joanna Hunter witnessed the brutal triple murder of her mother, sister and brother as a child. Reggie (who is herself still something of a child at sixteen) is dealing with the death of her mother.

All three of these characters keep me connected to this story which hinges on coincidences that keep piling up. “A coincidence is just an explanation waiting to happen,” Jackson Brodie repeatedly says in her novels. And that sums up a lot about Atkinson’s plottting.

In the interview in the back of my copy of this book, Atkinson confronts the problem of Americans needed to slot books and authors into genres and types. She lives in Edinburgh Scotland where her books also take place. She says:

“Once you put a detective into a book it becomes a crime novel. There doesn’t seem to be any way around that. Not that I wouldn’t want to write a crime novel but, you know, that’s it, it’s become one. I still don’t think I write crime novels but everyone else now does.”

Atkinson is one of the few writers I feel drawn to re-read.

I recently re-read “One Good Turn” and it was even a more comforting and entertaining read the second time. Be warned. Her stories are brutal in the way conscious life is brutal. That’s probably part of what attracts me to her and what I find oddly comforting. Escape reading that is situated in something believable. At least to me. Recommended.

I can’t help but wonder if some people I rub shoulders with at church have found this public blog and are lurking here. Yesterday someone stood up in the choir and suggested that it would be respectful if they didn’t sit and chat during the prelude.  And there were some murmurs of agreement. Odd.

I talk to my boss about this sort of thing. The problem is that a prelude in church is not primarily a musical performance. Something is happening at that time. People are gathering, connecting, chatting, greeting. This is actually a good thing when you think how hollow our lives really are (said the atheist church guy).

I do wonder what is going on in people when I offer something musical that I think is quite lovely and valuable and fragile and they don’t seem to notice.

I think it’s a bit societal. I tell my boss that people basically are shaped by their experience of music as something to turn on like a CD. So that musicians are sometimes little more than human loudspeakers. It’s a helpful analogy. It helps this musician understand that the intention behind weird treatment is mostly composed of ignorance and blissful unawareness.

Yesterday I had a brief time to tune the harpsichord between the two services. As I tuned several parishioners were gathered in rather loud conversation about ten feet away. Again the dilemma. I am perfectly capable of ushering people away when I need some quiet. I often do this when I am rehearsing with volunteer musicians. But in this case I didn’t know the people talking loudly. My sense of hospitality and my need to lead with a fragile gentle sense of music and sound kept me frozen in inaction. I kept thinking they would quit talking any minute or walk into the next room which has coffee and room to stand and chat.

But these people were not being willful. I doubt if they noticed what I was doing or if they did it didn’t occur to them that they were making it more difficult.

When I was in high school there was an artist I had a crush on. She insisted that artists create sort of “cone of concentration” when they work.

This was certainly buy valium india online true of the aforementioned Anthony Burgess who banged out his many novels on kitchen tables and other noisy domestic places.

But even as a high school student I pointed out that when people make noise and a musician is trying to concentrate and make music, it is like someone is writing or drawing on the writer or artists creation as they try to make it.

Anyway, the music went pretty well at church yesterday. The post service rehearsal was long but fruitful. I think the recital will be fun next Sunday.

Recently Alex Ross (one of my heroes) wrote in an article in the New Yorker (frustratingly available online only to subscribers) about the people who came up with the great club in NY, NY called “Poisson Rouge.” He says:

“… Justin Kantor and David Handler, two classical musicians in their late twenties, opened a club called (Le) Poisson Rouge, on the site of the storied old Village Gate, on Bleecker Street. They had the idea that classical music would be best served not in the standard configuration–what Handler has called the ‘preacher-and-congregation seating arrangement” of the standard hall–but i a jazz-club setting, with patrons seated at tables, waiters serving food and drink, and performers talking about their work.”

I was able to attend an evening in this club this year and it was a gas to say the least.

I mention it here because next Sunday I am planning to do a choir recital with the audience seated around tables in the “Commons” area of the church. I modeled it on a concert I gave of my own work a few years ago in this same room. I feel it was probably one of the best presentations I have done in my life. I put the music group in the middle of the room, situated the PA speakers to either side facing in towards the musicians and seated the audience around tables around the room.

I have changed this a bit for the choir recital. No amplification of this music. And I have decided to put the singers off to one corner with the instruments between them and the listeners. I have done this in order to allow for a bit of space for the voices to blend better. Or at least not stick out individually. I won’t be able to totally overcome this due (I think) to the way this group now meets to prepare music right after church.

One stop shopping choir work (i.e. rehearsals and performances all in the same time block) has driven this director to think less about blend and more about whether people have learned notes. I spent a good deal of yesterday’s rehearsal re-rehearsing pieces we have actually sung in public, re-teaching notes. There was also some good honest learning of notes going on in some pieces we haven’t performed yet.

But we are a small group (about ten singers) some of whom have a tendency to come late to rehearsal or miss rehearsals. Desperately I have invited church members to drop in and join us to sing for a Sunday. So far very few have done so. Those who have have been cajoled by other desperate singers (not the director).

But I am working to accepting this situation and doing what I can with the time and people who choose to be present. Kind of a rule with me, I guess.

I woke up this morning thinking about my own sense of struggle, consciousness, and awareness. I keep thinking about that movie analogy I drew a few blogs ago.

First of all a line from a hymn has been in my mind recently:

The peace of god it is no peace but strife closed in the sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing, the marvelous peace of god.”

These words were written by William Alexander Percy. I remember the quiet thrill that went through me the first time I read them.  To long for the brutal conflict that consciousness can give rise to was a small revelation for me.

Awareness in my case breeds struggle. This is what I was thinking about as I thought of people living a movie and not living a life. Of course as my son points out I have my own movie. But in my movie one of the themes is trying to get out of the movie and into life.

Not “Second life” but seeking awareness of the brutality as well as the beauty of being alive.

I have owned my own sense of struggle for quite some time. It is who I am. Examining life from several points of view and trying to find the rationale of those I don’t understand and/or disagree with causes struggle.

Not to mention thinking about the complexity of living on earth at this time.

At the same time I treasure being alive. I think Howard Zinn put it well:

“The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory. “

But I realize all of this ranting can give a sense of someone who takes themselves too seriously rather than not seriously enough.

Hopefully that doesn’t describe me, but one never knows. heh.

Found this quote this morning on Realitychex.com (a new web site I have added to my daily regimen):

The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory. — Howard Zinn, 2004

This fits quite nicely what I was ranting about yesterday.

Throughout the day yesterday I kept bumping into obstacles.

Someone had removed all my posters for my upcoming recital at church.

A woman at church asked me if I had any left. I think she was the one who took the others down.  I put up all my posters around town on Friday. I had none left so I had to borrow one to photocopy from a choristers folder.

The copy machine was left tonerless for the weekend so no copies of the poster and I was unable to do some of my prep for this morning and long range prep for the recital.

I managed to go online and print up copies of the ad I submitted to the paper thus circumventing the non-functioning copy machine by printer directly to another printer. The woman who asked me about the posters then put one up on the bulletin board at church.

The bulletin for today has several errors in it.

My attempt to correct something in my article resulted in a word in brackets. In my email, I had put it in brackets so that the secretary could easily see which word was different. I also bracketed an omitted comma and a missing “ing.” These for some reason luckily escaped the bracket in publication.  It’s a bit confusing to me that she managed to omit them and not the one around the corrected word. Hmm.

I also requested that she not print out the music for the descant verse for the congregation on the opening hymn. This would mean omitting a page of music in the bulletin which contained just the third verse and the descant printed above it. I suggested to my boss that she simply type out the third verse like a poem and add it to the bulletin. But instead she attempted to add the verse right under the other two in the music. Unfortunately she didn’t quite get all the words under the right notes.

I decided I needed to lay a board over my harpsichord as a sort of flat surface on which to put music. When I stopped at Menards, a young man who helped me find a board and cut it, quizzed me about music in general.

I’m not sure he ever understood what a harpsichord was. He thought it was an autoharp. When I described it to him, he looked doubtful.

I noticed that he merrily ignored my comments and began regaling me with an entertaining story of his own attempts at recording and studying music. I quickly just listened.

The board worked perfectly.

I didn’t tune the harpsichord yesterday so I have to do that this morning. I’m also thinking of making another set of string parts for a piece on the recital next week. I think it might be nice to have strings on our little closing valentine piece: “It was a lover and his lasse” by Morley.

So I better quit doing this and start doing that.

I  woke up in an odd mood. It’s like an old sci fi story. I live in a time of self fulfilling cynicism. It’s been almost a hundred years since Freud’s nephew, Edward Bernays, created an entire field of “public relations.” I watched his daughter on tape say that one of his pet peeves was stupidity. But he founded his entire career on the belief that people are stupid, blindly following their “animal” instincts as a herd. Literally this seems to be what he believed.

Now I live in that herd. People often do seem to be stupid. Over and over again I witness cynical manipulations in the way public people conduct themselves and lie. It becomes clear to me why I am such an outsider.

I recently watched the movie, “The Ploughman’s Lunch.”

This is a wonderfully depressing movie starring Jonathan Pryce as a shallow, hypocritical climber in Maggie Thatcher’s Britain. Thatcher was sort of like Reagan without the mask. The movie climaxes at an actual Conservative Party convention with shots of Thatcher ranting about the Falkland Islands.

I suppose it’s necessary to remind people that the Falkland Islands War  was a pathetic example of a dying empire reaching out to ruin a final situation.

This movie like the movie of your life is about the continual re-writing of history and facts. A “Ploughman’s Lunch” is a cold pub meal consisting  of cheese, bread, and pickles. In the movie, an aging cynical advertising executive reveals the fact that the idea was developed by the Milk Marketing Board in the sixties. Jonathan Pryce’s character is suitably astonished.

Obviously a “Ploughman’s Lunch” carried the cachet of tradition in the character’s mind. But it’s not a tradition. It was manufactured by people who thought nothing of deceiving the public.

This morning I am seeing stages in deception. First the elite deceive the group. Then we routinely deceive ourselves. We think that celebrity matters. We long for our own celebrity.

Not skill, but recognition. Not thought, but mindless play.

My problem is that I disbelieve in the liars but maintain a stubborn belief in people’s capacity for thought and good.

There’s no place for me in your movie. I think ideas matter more than appearances. I think beauty is real and important. I think fuzzy thinking is unacceptable (especially in myself, but in you too). And I think it matters how you treat the people you love, whether you are honest with them and yourself.

So I see myself opposed to falsity which seems to be the substance of much if not most of what passes for contemporary society and culture. Our public rhetoric has devolved from a cynical manipulation of the herd (Bernays, “The Ploughman’s Lunch”) to total dishonesty in public platforms such as politics, television, pop music and the movies.

Avatar is a good example of a movie I don’t want to be in. It’s insipid music score frames a story told many times before and in better ways. Also, the Pocahontas plot is a mini Falkland’s Island white man’s condescending idea that he can “help” “primitive” people. In this case, the “primitive people” seem to be a hippy dippy idea of what culture can be. And I can’t help but smile at the fake “unobtainium” substance the bad guys are after. This movie is contrived from start to finish. But it is popular. Not only popular but hailed as one of the best movies of the year.

These are lies I can’t believe.

I’m not angry about all this. In fact it calms me down because it solves riddles that I ponder. Like why people don’t seem to know things. About history or literature or music. I feel like a character in a Ray Bradbury story: isolated from the present but connected to larger ideas and story.

At the same time I have a strong compassion for people. I think Bernays and political consultants are pathetic. They are wasting the greatest gift which is the gift of being alive. Every human gets this gift and every human has the possibly of transcendence and love.

These ideas won’t fit into a PR campaign or an advert. They are real ideas.

So I think I am happy to hover on the sidelines, loving my family and loving music, literature, poetry and ideas.  I know that I can be interpreted as a grumpy out of step old man. Okey dokey. Leave me out of the movie please.

Thursdays seem to be turning into a good day in general. I meet with my trio and my boss on this day.  Both are a delight.

The trio walked through music for Sunday and the upcoming 2/14 recital. I consulted with them about trimming the number of pieces on the recital down a bit.  We decided to do one of the Gibbons Viol Fantasies instead of two. We ran through a little transcription I did of William Byrd’s Wolseys Wilde (without the viola).  I had them listen carefully with me to how I am playing the second violin part in the Lotti Sanctus. We are doing this piece Sunday as well as a movement from a Lotti trio sonata. In each case my right hand is playing the second violin part.

Bach does this with some of his Flute sonatas.  The problem is that the modern instruments are much louder than my old klunky harpsichord. After some listening and discussion, Amy and Dawn helped me decide to double the R.H. in the choral piece but just play it normally in the “trio.”

I tuned my harpsichord before our rehearsal. After my meeting with Pastor Jen, I sat down and played for about an hour. I find that making adjustments (which is a royal pain) does pay off. I did some switching of jacks and adjusting the lengths of the plectrum yesterday.

I played Bach’s A major suite all the way through. This is something because I find that Bach’s music exploits the harpsichord in a way that if it’s not in top running shape is quite frustrating. Yesterday not so much frustration. Nice.

Went grocery shopping afterwards. Came home and made wraps for Eileen and me for supper. Peanut Butter and Apple for her, homemade guacamole for me. Mmm mmm.

This morning I did one of my errands sitting at the computer. I contracted with the local paper for an Ad for my concert. I do like doing it that way.

Called my Mom and invited to take her to lunch (she usually pays, but I drive, heh). She was game  so that’s the plan. Also planning to distribute posters for my concert this morning and take her to Dittos (the used shop) this afternoon.

Hey life is good.

Yesterday afternoon found me sitting at a piano in a high school band room going over Real Book tunes with some high school students.  Actually I was playing from some scores that seemed to be for Music minus one type playing, by that I mean playing with a pre-recorded CD. Each score has neatly printed on the top how many choruses one takes. It’s a weird blend of spontaneous and restriction.

I’ve always felt that improvising needs to have a strong element of the moment in it. Relying on previous tricks is something to be avoided. Using a completely worked out dealy changes the nature of what you are doing from improvisation to composition. Paul Manz who recently died was a big Lutheran church guy. He had been know to play an “improvisation” that was note for note something he had written years ago.

I do question the whole nature of Jazz and it’s continued presence as a performing art.

It reminds me of improvising as sometimes taught to organists and others. It must be done within strict parameters. Dupre developed an entire pedagogy around essentially improvising music that could have been written in the 18th/19th century.

I find it ironic that people get stuck in Jazz because the whole aesthetic is one of evolving. But now that evolving seems largely stuck in amber to me.

I told the kids yesterday I never know what jazzers expect. By that I mean I can’t really “play-in-the-style-of” the great pianistic improvisers. I basically just play my own stuff.

The young drummer tried to reassure me that they were basically new age anyway. Whatever that meant.

I think my improvisations threw the sax player off a bit. A bit too free form or something.

So once again I’m sitting in a room with musicians and am the weird guy. Now I’m the old weird guy instead of the inexperienced goofy wet behind the years weird kid. Some change.

I read a few years ago where some jazzer dude (Pat Metheny)  said that it was no longer the time to play from the Real Books.

In case you don’t know what that is, these books evolved  from illegal Fake books of tunes jazzers improvised on. Now they are text books in college classes. And high schools.

The drummer yesterday was curious about my Real Books so I let him look at them. Apparently I am filling in as the pianist for a high school jazz quartet. the director has ordered them a set of Real Books. At least that seems to be the case. Hard to tell what’s going on.

I feel out of my depth posing as  a jazzer.

However I think I play interesting enough improvs. I’m just not as into it as I figure you’re supposed to be. I like Jazz but I also like other kinds of music. And seem to have a need for something that has been written (or improvised) from a contemporary point of view. I called it music by people who are breathing.

Even my little upcoming mostly Renaissance/Baroque recital has a piece by a living composer.

I chose a postlude for Sunday yesterday as well. Since we are singing a setting of the Sanctus I thought it might be fun to play a couple of French Baroque Mass couplets based on the Sanctus. I chose a couple of movements from Couperin’s Mass for the Parishes.

The reason for all this Sanctus stuff is that the first reading of the day Sunday from Isaiah quotes the Sanctus text. This paved the way for me to choose a charming little setting by Lotti of the Sanctus from his Mass a Tre.

We will play an instrumental piece by Lotti for the prelude (and also at the recital). It’s actually a trio sonata. But since my many instrumentalists in the pew at this church choose not to be available for performing I have been working with only a violinist and a cellist.

It struck me that I could render the second part of the trio sonata with my right hand. This is the way Bach has written a couple of his Flute Sonatas (and I suspect this is what is going on in some of his Violin sonatas as well). So that’s what I’m planning.

Unfortunately my harpsichord is not terribly loud. So I’m not sure how it will come out in the long run. But it’s certainly a coherent approach.

I changed my harpsichord pieces for Feb 14th. At this point I am planning on playing Dowland’s Lachrymae set for harpsichord by Thomas Morley and Morley’s La Volta set by William Byrd.

And I want to do one piece which would include my viola player. I was thinking of arranging the Irish Ho-Hoane but decided yesterday there is a bit more meat to Wolseys Wilde by William Byrd.

Interesting how I am involved in Jazz and Renaissance music. Somehow it seems pretty logical to me.

Anyway, this morning I am planning on finishing up my arrangement (basically a transcription) of Wolseys Wilde for violin, viola, cello and harpsichord.

I am thinking I might have a bit too much planned for this recital. Will discuss with my violinist and cellist at today’s rehearsal.

Immersed myself in Schubert piano sonatas yesterday.  In between I took my Mom to the doctor and fielded her financial matters. The latter entailed a trip to the bank to mess with CDs and Money Market accounts.

Made bread. Whole wheat this time. It was baking while I was giving a guitar lesson in the living room last night.

Feeling a bit isolated lately. Realize how little I seem to have in common with most local music types. Feeling seems to be largely mutual. Ah well. This is probably just good old fashioned self pity. But I have lived here for over twenty years and still haven’t seemed to connect with the local college and church musicians. I know that a lot of this is my own doing by insisting on going my own way. Wouldn’t do it any other way actually.

On the other hand, I did get an vague email invite to consider playing a benefit for Haiti. More encouragingly a young high school student recently contracted me to play a Valentine’s day dance with a little jazz pick up group. We rehearse today at Zeeland High School. I have a feeling everyone else in the group will be in high school. This is just fine with me. So many people over twenty seem to be locked in a kind of amber around here.

Not everyone of course. But I do find myself seeking out the passionate ones in nooks and crannies where they linger or occasionally appear. Often I am alone in a nook. Alone, but I still have Schubert and company.  And my fam of course.  Poor me.

Finished re-reading Kate Atkinson’s “One Good Turn” last night. Comforting somehow to re-read a well written crime novel. Now I’m sipping bad coffee in the dark morning listening to Mozart.

Life’s not so bad. In fact, it’s pretty good.

I have to get up the gumption to write my weekly bulletin article on the music at the service. Also, pick out a postlude and submit it. I need to put an ad in the local paper for the upcoming Feb 14 recital.

In the meantime Mozart and coffee and the lingering night sky.

I tried to take a day off yesterday. That is, I tried to do a lot of nothing. I guess I sort of succeeded. I went over and got my Mom’s internet working again. She seemed to have a dozen or so open Mozilla and Explorer windows that had completely confused her laptop.

I deposited money from accompanying. Spent quite a bit of time playing Scarlatti, Schubert and Bach on the piano.

I continue to ponder how people relate to music and literacy.

I can see that my own interest in historical music stems easily from an early fascination with Bach. I say early, but I’m not really sure when I first heard of Bach. I would imagine my father had mentioned him to me at some point.

I do remember my cousin, Jerry, playing a recording of the Bach inventions for me in his living room in West Virginia. Hard to say how old I was. Probably early teens.

I was thinking of the first Bach cantata I performed this morning and realized it was before I had most of my musical training. I was in my early twenties and running a delightful failing bookshop with my wife, brother and  his wife. I had had a year or two of piano training before I switched courses, left my first wife and began playing bar music for money.  Interesting to me at this point to realize how rootless and undirected (by others) most of my life has been.  At the same time I have been inexorably drawn to music and literacy. I’m not sure exactly from whence this comes.

I used to think it was a desire for beauty in general prompted possibly by “nature walks” a woman called “Sister Elizabeth” was supposed to have taken me on as a toddler. I only vaguely remember any of this.

Now I just feel the connection to beauty and art is cemented into my personality. I assess my abilities as about average or a bit below. However, my determination has been pretty high at points. Interestingly usually divorced from any coherent or otherwise ambition.

I have noticed recently that fewer and fewer young people I cross paths with seem to be that interested in beauty and art and literacy the way that I am. I often feel that many perceive a musician as a sort of idiot savant or human loudspeaker.

I was reminded of this Sunday as two reasonably bright young people were blissfully unaware that I was trying to make beauty within a few feet of them. At least I suspect they weren’t too aware since they were talking a bit louder than I was playing.

My experience of this kind of “blind spot” reached its peak at a July 4th celebration when I was asked to play marimba in a park. There were multiple sound environments competing. But the funniest (saddest?) was the fact that I was stationed near a blasting P.A. speaker over which they played music or fed the sound system of nearby electrified live music. Repeated requests to turn the music down were of course ignored. They did, however, pay me and indicated they wanted me to play again the next year. I respectfully declined.

Besides this slightly morbid musing, I listened to Obama’s public discussion with the Republicans on Friday and then watched his Youtube interview.  I find myself wondering if Obama is genuinely trying to do something a bit different as he reaches out for a less extreme driven discussion. I don’t agree with him (much less the Republicans) on much of the agenda. A lot of it I simply realize I don’t understand enough about. Especially money issues. But I wonder if he might pull off a change in tone. Probably not. But still it’s interesting to watch.

I do think he uses language differently from the way I am used to hearing public political figures recently in the U.S. His mind is obviously engaged. I thought he danced around the Republicans mostly because it was difficult for them to find a reasonable response to reasonableness that didn’t undermine their own political needs. Very interesting to observe.

The youtube interview was pretty much waster. I was hoping Obama would fill in some more of his ideas from the State of the Union. But that not exactly what he did.

Fittingly, Eileen and I listened/watched to the first of four parts of “Century of the Self” on Google Videos. I actually had no idea that the nephew of Freud was instrumental in advertising and government manipulation in the twenties. This is a four part BBC series that really bears checking out. I tried to embed it, but it didn’t work. It worked better for me to go directly to Google Video anyway. Here’s a link:

link to The Century of the Self on Google Video

I found this video almost shocking to observe the cynical simplistic thinking behind manipulation of the masses. Shocking to hear that Freud “hated” America and that his cynical view of humans became more intense as he aged. I find it interesting that believing that humans barely are able to repress their darker “animal” urges might be an example of individualism at its extreme. After all, Freud obviously probed his own animal stuff (hence the fixation of penises, heh). So how did he repress his stuff in order to arrive at his insights?

I know, I know, another naive dumb question from jupe…. heh

After not blogging for four days, I think it’s time for a post. Heh.

Saturday and Sunday took a lot out of me this weekend.

Saturday I drove an hour and a half to Grant Michigan to accompany five students at the District Solo and Ensemble Festival.

My first player managed to get pushed up to 8:08 AM, so I left the house at about 6:15 AM. It was a beautiful night: a dark deep sky with a huge magnified low full moon.

I arrived early. I noted that since my last visit to this school for the same event, Google had corrected the name of the cross street in its mapping. Nice to see. Last time I took extra time determining that the last cross street had two names: one where you turned and one for the address of the school. Had to stop and ask someone at a grocery store.

But not this time.

Four of my five students played before lunch and I basically whisked from one performance to the other. The tuba player played an interesting little rag by Arthur Frackenpohl called “Tubarag.” I actually did my worst playing due to a mixup with the page turns (it had repeats and DSes and Codas…. ). But the player remained “unflapped” and did well.

My two string players played learning concertos.  These pieces are ones that I have been exposed to through my accompanying. Apparently the composers carefully think about the positions and ease of the part they write and compose pieces that are just challenging enough for a mid-level player. The music is a bit showy and doesn’t have a lot of content. But it’s fun to play. My viola player’s piece was  a bit more interesting. I pointed out to her a rhythm she was playing incorrectly in the course of our rehearsals. It was satisfying to me to hear her nail it in performance, even I realize that this is not always possible with young musician’s learning curve on relearning sometime. More distressing was watching her and the others go through the extreme pressure this kind of event puts on the players.

I usually point out to anyone who will listen to me (after the fact) that this is some of the most stressful playing musicians do in their lives due to the juxtaposition of the pressure and that time of life when you are so off balance.

The other two players were clarinetists, one advanced and one less so. They both played well. And they both played some interesting music. The advanced one played two movements from a surprisingly effective violin concerto transcription by Tartini. The other played a lovely Fantasy for Clarinet by Schumann which I have mentioned in the blog before.

So I madly jumped in the car and drove home to tune the harpsichord and prepare for the next day’s service and rehearsal.

I have been spending a lot of time preparing music scores with Finale lately.

Last week I put several pieces into files for my string players. On Saturday evening and early Sunday morning, I made performance scores for myself.

I took the many pages of the Tallis piece we sang yesterday and reduced them to three pages by omitting the four staves of the singers and just entering the piano reduction and the words. That way I could see clearly what they were supposed to be doing but still could manage the pages and conducting from the harpsichord. Which is what I did.

This came off pretty good in church. Due to the nature of our reduced rehearsal times (one stop shopping Sunday AM service plus rehearsal), I am less able to shape the blend and subtlety of performances. But this approach seems to be the ticket these days in a time when it is hard for people to give more time and commitment. But as I mentioned to the group yesterday, we gave our best performance in service which is always the goal.

I also prepared a version of the Lotti Sanctus we are learning for me to conduct from. I reduced the size of the lines I wasn’t planning to play (1st violin, Soprano, Alto, Baritone) and retained the larger size for the two I was (2nd violin & cello).

I know this is one of those posts which is mostly shop talk but it’s what’s on my mind.

I also performed Ned Rorem’s Sarabande in G# minor. This is a lovely piece and several choir members commented on it. But the young acolytes were totally oblivious to the fact that I was playing the prelude and sat and chatted loudly right next to the piano. I managed to keep most of my concentration despite this and do the interp I had planned.

I lost this score this week for a couple of days so I didn’t get to rehearse it as much as I wanted to. I had accidentally straightened it away with a bunch of choral music. But it is one that I quite like and basically had in my fingers.

I found my energy ebbing in the post service rehearsal. Usually I try to keep others’ energy up, but I had difficulty just keeping my own up. We rehearsed with the violinist and cellist for the pieces they are playing on and then managed to get through the music we are planning to perform at the recital on the 14th. The group’s morale seemed good despite my own exhaustion.

Well that’s enough for today. I have some serious goofing off to do. Heh.

Listened to the State of the Union last night. I followed the last part of it and the first part of the GOP rebuttal on Twitter last night (#SOTU in the Twitter trending topic lingo). I haven’t used Twitter exactly like this before. It is interesting to watch all of the various comments go by.

I admire Obama’s continued attempts to lead this fractious country. Plus as I keep insisting, words are important. Meaning is important. So many politicians (and journalists) use a devalued language that veers between dissembling and manipulation of the listener that is disconnected from their conscious purpose and the historical conversation of their ideas. Basic clarity and honesty are difficult to achieve in this environment, but I think that President Obama is going after these more than most of his fellow politicians.

I mentioned to Eileen that sometimes a president is primarily talking “past” the congress directly to his audience of the country and/or the world. I got the feeling last night that Obama was addressing many of his ideas directly to congress.

Yesterday was a fruitful and satisfying day for me. After finishing my blog, I worked on developing a program for the Feb 14th choral recital. I took the choral works I had the choir more or less ready to sing and added possible instrumental works. Here is how it looks this morning:

O Lord, in thee is all my trust by Tallis – choir/harps.

Fantasy 3 by Gibbons – violin cello [fantasia 3 link]

O Lord, Increase my faith by Gibbons choir/harps.

Fantasia 1 by Gibbons – violin cello [link to gibbons fantansia 1]

Sanctus by Lotti choir/strings/harps

Trio sonata mov by Lotti – violin/harps R.H.  on 2nd part…/cello

“O most Holy Birth-giver of God, Save Us” by Arvo Pärt (from triodon) choir

Irish Ho Hoane anon dance from Fitwilliam Virginal book – violin, viola, cello, harpsichord

Purge me, O Lord from all my sin by Tallis – choir

Andante from BWV 1014 Sonata in B minor for Violin by Bach

Ach wie flüchtig, ach wie nichtig BWV 26  by J.S.Bach

A second movement from BWV 1014

My Soul Longs for Thee by Dowland

Dowland harpsichord piece

Fantasia by Morley harpsichord

It was a lover and his lasse by Morley

Damn! It’s almost ten AM local time (W. Mich USA) and I still haven’t blogged yet.

Today  I seem to be in a much better space for some reason. For no discernible reason, actually.

I have Tallis playing in the background to remind me I need to sit down and do some work on my upcoming choir recital.

I have decided to call it something like “Voices, Strings, & Harpsichord.” I am planning to alternate choral pieces with instrumental. The choral will be mostly renaissance (Tallis, Dowland, Gibbons) but also a lovely Lotti  Sanctus, a short Bach cantata movement and an Arvo Part piece.

These are in preparation already. I managed to go through all of them this past Sunday with the crew.

Today I want to work on a poster, choose some pieces for the instrumentalists, & work on the Lotti string parts.

I will have a good violinist and cellist. Also there is a viola player but she is one half of the soprano section.

I am thinking of arranging some Fitzwillian Virginal book pieces (probably dances) to put in between the Renaissance choral music. I also want to play a couple of harpsichord solos. I will look for an easy violin sonata. This is what I need to do today.

Also I have a Worship Commission meeting. For some reason church stuff has really been depressing me. I still enjoy doing the work very much. But the whole believing end of stuff is very trying. Last night my guitar student (the woman I am helping get started on guitar…. I really don’t feel comfortable in the role of guitar teacher for someone who is basically learning chords) asked me if she should attend the Worship Commission meeting today or skip it.

I smiled and said, “don’t ask me that.” I told despite my professional position as church musician I had problems with religion. Since I was sixteen. She said she was going to attend. What did I say?

I got a disturbing email from my grad school organ teacher, Craig Cramer, that his wife who is battling a tuberculosis type disease is in critical condition this morning. Bah.

I spent most of the evening last night rehearsing with high school students for a solo and ensemble festival this Saturday.

By the end of the evening I broke my general alcohol fast and has some wine. Heh.

I also did some comfort reading in Ulysses by Joyce. As I read it, I can’t believe I actually read the whole thing as a younger man. Much of it must have slipped past me. Much easier reading at this stage of my life.

Anyway, that’s all I have time for today.

I think I woke up grumpy today. For no reason I can think of. Male menopause or something.

I tried to alleviate it by playing a fugue from Bach’s Art of Fugue. That did help a bit, I think.

As I treadmilled this morning I read most of a short story in the recently released Best European Fiction 2010. The story is called “The Sky Over Thinkvellir” [link to Googlebooks rendition of it] and is written by Steinar Bragi. I think Googlebooks let me read almost all of it. There might another page. Anyway, I think  I will probably purchase the anthology or something. I want to re-read it and think about it some more.

Sample:

“Musicians and artists have always known…. [t]here is no reality. Everything is beauty. Impressions are made on our neural receptors–across clouds. We’re clouds wearing pants! The earth we’re sitting on is a cloud, and our brains are crackling clouds full of lightning!”

I quite like that. The story is about a couple. The girl is getting ready to break off the relationship, the guy is a stupid guy getting ready to give her a gift to show his “love.” The story oscillates between both of them having interesting and dumb  points of view. By the end of the Googlebook excerpt they have left the story and the omniscient narrator is talking about the midges on the mountain… pretty cool.

Couldn’t find any books on Amazon by Steinar Bragi.

I should be working on church stuff. But I’m feeling grumpy and truant. Yesterday I read quite a bit in my recently received copy of “The Metaphysical Club” by Louis Menard. In chapter nine, after setting up some of the members for the previous eight chapters, he finally introduces the club itself. The club is more of a metaphor for conversations that went on between Oliver Wendell Holmes, William James and Charles Pierce after the Civil War. Dewey gets in there also and a new guy for me: Chauncey Wright.

The idea is that these men were thinking about society and science right after the war. William James concludes that “certainty breeds violence.” But the exchange of ideas they have is quite interesting. I’m enjoying the read.

I need to quit and do work. Bah.

The clock is loudly ticking in the silence of this Sunday morning. I thought I had better blog a bit before the morning gets entirely away from me.

Yesterday I did a lot of cooking. Blueberry muffins, fancy rice, anadama bread. I also sat down at the piano and did some singing. A bit of Dylan’s “Tears of Rage” and my own “Black & White.”

I think I was remembering in the back of my mind that today was a local singer songwriter workshop sponsored by a coffee house that has asked me to perform (Lemonjellos) & the local arts society. I think I was a bit disappointed not to be asked. Or at least thought I would have something to say about songwriting.

I did notice the last time I played the coffee house the other band seemed totally unimpressed with my work. Ah well. I still think it’s good but wonder if it has much commercial appeal to any one who might actually listen to it.

And then there’s recording.

Oy. I think I am totally buffaloed by the idea of trying to make a good recording. I think I could do it. At least close to my own standards. But it takes so much time and, yes, equipment.

Since it’s not that hard or expensive to make a digital recording these days, it might seem a bit odd that I think it’s expensive. But using the best (or even acceptable) mikes and software does run quickly into money.

My little shure M57 does great for voice and acoustic guitar.  And also anything one can plug directly into it like elec piano or guitar. But say for acoustic piano…. yikes. More and better mikes needed.

This morning I am performing two organ pieces from Bach’s Orgelbuchlein. I put a little note into the bulletin today:

“A note on the today’s organ music Today’s organ prelude and postlude are drawn from J. S. Bach’s Orgelb?chlein or “Little Organ Book.” This is a collection of miniature masterpieces Bach wrote around 1714. The purpose of these compositions is not known. They seem to be short meditations on hymns illustrating Bach’s understanding of the texts. The prelude, “Wir Christenleut,” is the last in a series of Advent Christmas tunes Bach put in his little book. The title is the first line of the hymn: “We Christian folk rejoice now.” “Helft mir Gotts G?ten preisen” follows this setting immediately in the collection. (This is the reason their “BWV numbers” are consecutive.) The words of this hymn reflect “on the time of the winter solstice and on God’s gifts through the past year” (Clarke).  I will introduce each of these settings with a complete play through of the tune unadorned before proceeding to Bach’s setting.

Nothing like quoting yourself in the blog, eh? I notice that the umlaut is italicized or some such shit. Oh well. This is the way it is in the bulletin.

Last night I helped Eileen figure out how to manipulate her new MP3 player.

It entailed installing Windows Media 10 or whatever.

I also spent a couple hours putting the notes to “It was a lover and his lass” by Thomas Morley (solo lute version) into Finale. After I printed it up in the key I would like to do it, I realized that Noah Greenberg’s version of the keyboard rendition was not what I wanted. So I had to redo that.

I am planning to use this at the choral recital on Feb 14th. Get it? Valentines day and all.  What a lot of work for that.

Afterwards I went over to church and prepared for today. I didn’t have the heart to do more than rehearse the prelude, postlude, and hymns. Also made sure I had multiple copies of music for today’s post choral rehearsal. The youth choir is singing today so that makes a bit easier Sunday for me (I don’t direct it).

I realized that I was pounding away on 16th century madrigal music at the same time, the group I played with last time who seemed to disdain my work were giving a workshop in how to write songs.

Hmmmm. I guess I am a bit of an anachronism.  But it’s the way I prefer it. Thank goodness I have a gig.

Eileen just left for work. I got up and made fancy brown rice and blueberry muffins this morning.

Neither was ready for Eileen’s and my breakfast.

I re-attacked Neil Stephenson’s novel “Anathem.” There is really a lot of word play in it. He invents a situation which preserves the  surface features of monastic Christianity but situates it in a fantasy world where Saints are not Saints, but Saunts. Saunts are revered people from the past. But not necessarily holy. Saunt from Savant? There are “concents” instead of “convents.” “Upsights” instead of “insights.” Fraa and Suur instead of Brother and Sister as honorific titles.

I had decided to have another whack at this book despite the lingo, when yesterday I was sitting and waiting for my Mom and Eileen at a new local restaurant we are getting to like.

When I discovered there was a glossary in the back. Ok. That will help.

I grocery shopped, had lunch with ladies, did Eileen’s and my bills, did my Mom’s bills, dropped off stuff to the post office and then went and practiced organ.

I also got a little bit of piano practice in there.

Today I need to solidify plans for an upcoming choral recital. Oy.

News is depressing these days.

Here are some stories I have been reading:

[link to] “Firm to Remove Bible References From Gun Sights” – NYTimes.com This religious Michigan firm that makes gun sights is getting heat because they put little Biblical references on their sights. Admittedly a dopey practice. But this preceded their military contract. Now they are the scapegoats. Although Christians drive me nuts, I say caveat emptor.

[link to] “To Heal Haiti, Look to History Not Nature” in which Mark Danier does some educating about the history of Haiti. Surprise, surprise. The US has done its share of screwing up this country. Not to mention the fact that when the old white bosses were killed or driven out of the country, new bosses emerged to continuing exploiting the general population.

In [link to] “Some Frank Talk About Haiti” , Nicholas D. Kristof explodes some myths and gives some more sad facts.

I continue to find New York Times coverage interesting and informative. I won’t have any problem paying for this service when they start charging next year. In fact, I have already tried to pay for it. But that’s another story.

I think David Brooks is onto something when he suggests that Americans are reacting to the current government with distrust not reactive conservatism. Posted yesterday: “Politics in the Age of Distrust” by David Brooks, NYT Link.

Mark Danner (link to Markdanner.com) writes a fascinating synopsis of the history of Haiti in his NYT op ed piece: “To Heal Haiti, Look to History Not Nature” [link]. I was aware of some of this history but certainly not all of it.  Here’s a link to audio of interesting people talking about Haiti and what is happening right now.

On the phone last night, a young tuba player matter-of- factedly requested my email address in the same tone of voice usually used to request a phone number. I like this. Unfortunately this is not necessarily an age thing so much as a literacy thing. Recently I wanted to send a PDF to a high schooler. She confessed that she would not be able to access it. I wasn’t sure she knew what the heck I was talking about.

This sort of leads to a quote I marked in Kathryn Davis’s interesting novel, “The Girl Who Trod on a Loaf” last night:

“It used to be that children believed in ghosts, but modern children are too smart to be taken in by such nonsense; they’ve watched enough television, seen enough movies, to know there’s nothing more to this world than what meets the eye. The eye, that coolest of organs, opaque and calculating. Who needs a window to the soul when it’s generally agreed that souls don’t exist?” Kathryn Davis, The Girl Who Trod on a Loaf

As I ponder the recent victory of Scott Brown in Mass, I think about what is happening to our public rhetoric. For me, coherent rhetoric goes hand in hand with civic action and responsibility. This is kind of an American orientation.  Jefferson’s strong words about educating people and they will govern themselves affect me deeply. Learning is important to societal survival. We are deep in the throes of a total erosion of ideas and public discussion. Demonizing those we disagree with, distorting our own positions to score points, hiding our true motives and associations, and utilizing cynical techniques of crowd control and propaganda seem to be the order of the day.

This is one reason, despite his many missteps, I continue to have hope for Obama’s leadership. I don’t think he is the King of America.

Just someone who seems sort of rational and eloquent in a niche of power. Not as big a niche as many seem to think. He is only one man. He does reflect the situation much more than he is able to shape it.

Anyway.

I close today with this quote from Menard’s “The Metaphysical Club.”

“A  great nation is not saved by wars, [William] James said; it is saved ‘by acts without external picturesqueness; by speaking, writing, voting reasonably; by smiting corruption swiftly; by good temper between parties; by the people knowing true men when they see them, and preferring them as leaders to rabid partisans or empty quacks.”  from an 1897 speech William James made when the Commonwealth of Massachusetts erected a monument to Robert Gold Shaw on Boston Commons. The Commonwealth of Massachusetts giveth and taketh away, eh? Shaw was a Civil War hero.

Woke up for the first time in several days to a dry kitchen floor. My kitchen fridge freezer unit has been freezing up and leaking. The repairman managed to get the leak stopped yesterday.

Before I went to sleep last night, Twitter was saying that Brown had handily won his senate seat in Massachusetts. I don’t understand all the ins and outs of this election, but find it ironic that it is being played as a referendum on health care. Massachusetts voters have little stake in this national discussion since they already have universal health care as a state.

Of course it’s also being described as a referendum on just about any issue you can name.  Needless to say, Obama and the issues he represents in the minds of those writing are the subjects of  most comments.

So difficult these days to navigate the bias and distortions of any public comment. I find the ease with which commentators slip into language of “us and them” disturbing. But when you combine advertising theory with the “framing” of issues (“don’t think of an elephant” stuff) the noise is so loud, it’s hard to hear any melodies on any side of an issue.

So I treadmilled listening to the famous pianist, Lang Lang, play Mozart, Rachmaninov and Chopin. What a player.

[link to veoh.com of this concert]

I’m replaying it right now.

Spent the evening last night giving a guitar lesson and rehearsing solos with a young viola player and violinist.

I feel a bit guilty about taking money to teach someone guitar. I don’t really know enough to be a good classical guitar teacher. I could easily fake it, but I’m not really a classical guitarist and am totally self taught at the guitar (which includes some classical technique learned from teaching books).

But usually students who talk to me aren’t interested in classical anything, much less guitar.

The person I am teaching is satisfied that she is getting something out of the lessons. Mostly what I am teaching her is how music works (theory). She is very receptive to these kinds of insights. At her interview, as I tuned her guitar I walked her through forming all major and minor triads at the piano. Last night, I introduced the idea of 7th chords. She is looking at guitar chords and is beginning to put together how chords work. I guess that’s worth something in a lesson.

I thought I had lost pages 5 & 6 of the viola concerto I am accompanying. I found them under a stack of music at church. I must have accidentally grabbed them with some other music.

I like accompanying the viola student. She has a clear intentionality as she plays. Not afraid to take charge musically. I think I might have helped her with a hemiola rhythm in last night’s session.

Both she and violinist seem to be playing teaching concertos. An interesting concept. Pieces written to stretch the players just enough toward performing the literature.

Well I need to stop and do some work for church. Later I am taking my Mom shopping again today. I drive. She shops. Glad to see her taking a bit more interest in life.

I am still fighting a bit of depression. But no whining! Toujours gai, archy, toujors gai!

Chatting online with my quasi-son-in-law, Jeremy Daum, yesterday. He mentioned and linked in Wim Wenders movie, “Alice in the Cities.”

I like Wenders’ movie, “Wings of Desire,” quite a bit so I watched this one last night.

What a difference after Avatar in 3d.  Jeremy neatly summed up Avatar as “Dances with wolves with Space Indians.” Not sure I ever even saw “Dances with Wolves.” Probably.

Whereas Avatar left a bit of a void in my head, “Alice in the Cities” keeps gently nudging me to think as it did even as I watched it. The main character, Philip, is a German writer wandering the U.S.A. gathering material for an article. “Pop culture leaves a void” seems to be a bit of what Wenders was thinking about in this movie. Philip snaps pics via his polaroid and waits expectantly for the exposure to develop, turning whiteness into  blurred photographs. “It’s empty,” Alice remarks at one point after his shot develops.

Philip searches for America and his own sense of identity (specifically observed to be lacking by his friend who will not let him spend the night in her apartment after he is stranded in New York waiting for a plane home). He finds Alice.

Their friendship solidifies as the rest of the terrain of the movie (New York, Amsterdam, Germany) fades into an echo of pale American pop culture. Philip hums pop tunes, drinks Coca Cola, goes to a Chuck Berry concert. But he is never more real than when he is interacting with Alice.

In the end, they rescue each other and continue their journey together looking out of a moving train on its way to Munich where Alice will supposedly be returned to her mother who had abandoned her to a stranger’s (Philip) haphazard care in New York.

Shot in B & W, the music is calculated to pull you in. Philip begins the movie singing “Under the Boardwalk” as he sits under a boardwalk on a beach somewhere in America taking polariod shots. There is a recurring simple tinny guitar theme that carries the emotional weight of the movie.

I liked this movie. [link to online viewing of it]

Thank you, Jeremy, for reminding me of it and recommending I watch it immediately.

Dealt with the usual Monday mild depression/melancholy yesterday.

I find it helps if I just name it and avoid whining both to myself and my lovely wife and others.

My spirits lifted a bit last night while I was rehearsing a Schumann Fantasy with a ninth grade clarinetist.

She arrived with her Dad and little brother in tow. This was actually our first run through together. Last week she showed without a Bb part. This week we went through it a couple of times. I began counting out loud because the accompaniment is complicated interleaved with the solo part (typical lovely Schumann stuff).

When she first got there I offered to burn her a CD of a recording of the piece I had found on the web.  She wasn’t too interested.

As we rehearsed I realized I needed to take old guy initiative and just make her listen to the recording. Which I did. Then I set it up to burn while we went over it again. What a difference!

As my wife later remarked when I told her about it, it went from notes to music.

This interests me because I have resisted too much reliance on recordings where classical music is concerned. I knew a woman once who was completely unable to shake interpretations she learned as she had listened to recordings of great artists. When I accompanied her it was like the Music minus one series. Very weird.

But there are many times when listening to a recording is helpful. Last night was one of those.

Her little brother was charmingly oblivious as he kept up a bit of patter while he and his Dad waited for us. After we finished one run through, he said, boy that was long. I told him it was only three minutes long. (Does a six or seven year old have a sense of minutes?). I said not three hours like AVATAR.

At first the kid didn’t quite get what movie I meant. When he figured it out he blurted out: Yeah! My butt hurt.

I rest my case. Heh.

I read two short stories, an article (or two) and saw a movie yesterday.

The movie, “Avatar,” seemed the weakest piece. I like the Kentridge video at the top of this post much more.  These are examples of his drawings.

“Avatar” was full of CGI and synthesized music.

It was also 3D which I enjoy. But. I found it oddly unsatisfying. Came home and read an article about the artist, William Kentridge.

His images (as well as the writing of J.G. Ballard whose short story, “The Voices of Time was one that I  read last night) made clearer to me that if I should have to choose between them, I prefer the rough images and sounds of life to the slick sounds and pictures of  many highly produced movies and music.

Yesterday we did a gospel arrangement of “This Little Light of Mine” at church. I played the piano accompaniment  in an intentionally rough manner approximating the sound of a Chicago gospel pianist. It was a stark contrast to the musical language of Durufle’s setting of the Introit for Epiphany which I played as a prelude.

Both pieces were satisfying to me.

The gospel piece was able to draw the listening attention of the congregation in a much more direct way.  The Durufle resonated with the musical language of his Requiem: melodic, subtle, chant like, mournful.

Durufle wrote the Requiem and based it on the simple Mass chants in honor of his dead father who loved them.

The other short story I read yesterday was Updike’s “My Father’s Tears” which is not near as maudlin as it sounds in the title. [link to the story] Updike continues to draw me in. This buy diazepam dubai story is about the estrangement between a son and his real and symbolic father figures. This estrangement is a believable subtle small distance not a huge gaping alienation or anything. The older men seem fragile, flawed but less culpable than the narrating son figure who ends up depleted and unable to feel life. Updike’s story has the subtle irony of the unaware narrator. Or less aware. Or something.

So this morning I got up thinking about how I am more attracted to what appears to be flawed than perfect. I thought of Erik Sanko’s song (which I can’t find online), “The Perfect Flaw.”

I know that I am looking at life with a different point of view. More like the old man who I am becoming, than the young man I have been. I am re-examining my life and my story and the story of my family of origin (as the family systems psychologists say).

It turns out that risk is interesting. More than that. Vital. Also letting go.

Kentridge observes that the madness of 9/11 looked different frm South Africa:

“In South Africa, there is never an assumption that a calm and gentle death is one’s birthright. September 11th in America had an interesting effect here. It helped lots of us understand that living in a dangerous, unstable world was not only a South African phenomenon, and that made people less anxious to leave.”

William Kentridge quoted in “Lines of Resistance” by Calvin Tomkins available online only to subscribers (I’m not even bothering to link it in. Fuck em. But it is a good read and he is a fascinating artist)

Walked into the kitchen this morning to find standing water on the floor.

Bah. It looks like the ice maker in the fridge went a bit nuts. I do remember Eileen noting that the sound from the fridge was a bit different last night. Oops.  Hard to get too upset when people are dying in Haiti right now.  My Mom made an online donation in Eileen’s and my name. [Link to Heiffer International Haiti donation page]

This morning I play a funeral. I went over to practice organ last evening, and there seemed to be mourners fussing about with stuff. One of them looked at me like “who the hell are you?” I get that a lot here in Holland. I ignored him and went about my business.

I have discovered that I have a bit more energy during the day when I don’t treadmill first thing. Especially days where I have to perform or a lot to do. So I’m skipping treadmilling right now.

I have a lovely Durufle organ piece ready for Sunday and am planning to use it for the funeral as well.

While I was rehearsing this week a passing parishioner remarked at how beautiful it was. It’s his Prelude on the Introit for Epiphany. I found it in a recently purchased anthology. It seems to be a stand-alone opus. I have copies of most of his works. I find them tricky. I have been studying his Prelude and Fugue on the name of Jean Alain. Toward the end of the prelude he quotes Alain’s Litanies Theme.

Alain was a brilliant composer who died young. He is a favorite of the AGO crowd. I like him too but haven’t broken down and learned any of his small output for organ. I read through a few pages yesterday.

Speaking of reading through music, I have been playing through Czerny’s keyboard reduction of Bach’s Art of Fugue (ignoring his expressive markings). Bach always seems to be a bit of sanity to me.

I did tasks all day yesterday: grocery store, banks, dropping off stuff at the local charity that has been sitting in my car for ages, doing the bills for both Eileen and me and my Mom, having a little conference with my Mom and her insurance nurse on the phone, two trips to the phone store to purchase a dam cell phone.

I do like what Hans Urlich Obrist, curator for the Serpentine Gallery in London says: “To link is beautiful, to delink divine.”

Actually he is quoting someone named Paul Chan. [link to Edge page for Obrist/Chan quote]

Obrist doesn’t answer his phone at home and keeps his cell phone turned off. I like that.

I had to buy a phone because I checked on my Tmobile contract yesterday and discovered it’s not up until April. I suspended service on my lost phone. They were going to charge me a $200 fee to break my contract early. So it was cheaper to just buy a stupid low end phone for $50. The stupid sim card costs 20 bucks, so instead of messing around online and ordering a phone, I just bought one over the counter at the local TMobile store. Did I mention I hate phones?

We ordered Eileen an honest to God mp3 player this week. This is left over Xmas promises from me. I couldn’t get her little Philips to talk to XP, so I gave up and ordered her one like my daughter Elizabeth has which seems to be a bit more flexible in its interface.

I hate the fact that I spent $350 on an MP3 player and it doesn’t just plug in to any computer. NOoooooo. you have to have the dam software. Stupid stupid stupid.

After Eileen and I watched the confusing movie, “The Draughtsman’s Contract” by Peter Greenway (I don’t know what I think about this movie except I did like parts of Nyman’s soundtrack), I read myself to sleep.

Actually I read until I got sleepy. J.G. Ballard’s “Miracle of Life” is not exactly a bedtime story. His memoirs of his youth in Shanghai are deeply disturbing. It is an odd mixture of insular “colonial” English life and the brutality of survival on the streets in Shanghai. Also, his relationship with his parents is very sad. Very good writing, however.

My brother surprised me this week by drop shipping me Tom Waits latest CD. What a guy.  Thank you, Mark (He doesn’t usually read this blog, but just in case).  I listened through the live takes and enjoyed them quite a bit. But yesterday I put the accompanying CD of Waits telling stories in my car’s CD player to listen to while I was driving around doing tasks. Oh. Now I see why Mark enjoyed this so much. Waits rambling is marvelous.  Recommended.

I have subscribed to an Alexander Technique email discussion group. I  have only perused the resulting emails in my inbox. But one word jumped out at me that a writer used and that was the word: “overthinking.”

Wow.

Maybe I should change the name of my blog to that.

Yesterday afternoon I seemed to be involved with a deluge of overthinking. I got bogged down (not blogged down, that’s what I’m doing now) with several unrelated exchanges and things:

1. emails from an august bride
2. emails from my boss about a funeral
3. searching for a Bb clar part for schumann’s opus 73, no. 1
4.  emails from my brother about my mom’s vacant house
5. emails from a friend whose wife is dying
6. thinking about my fam of origin fam system
7. emails from someone asking me to write & “illustrate” stuff on the web
8.  wondering why I was so deflated by the end of the day

Each of these required cogitation. Most of them involved formulating coherent action or reactions.

Fortunately, I offset this with

1. spending the morning tending my Mom (a good thing)
2. spending time with the music of Durufle & others
3. MAKING a goddam B b Clar part for Schumann’s opus 73,no.1
4. having a nice meal with my wife
5. watching a mind rotting DVD (The remake of “The Taking of Pelham 123” if you’re curious

After wondering why I was so deflated, I began to realize the different directions I felt pulled yesterday. I guess this is more evidence of the down side of my sensitivity which is being thin-skinned.

However, I didn’t over react when I found out that my hour and a half work of transcribing Schumann was for nought. After I emailed it in an attachment to the band director overseeing this player, he emailed me that he had found the part.

But returning to the idea of overthinking, I realize this morning that I spend a great deal of my life attempting to still an inner monologue (this is especially true when I do music) &/or simple releasing or letting go of thought and literal tension in my body.

Even sitting here at my breakfast table in the dark (outside) I find myself instinctively releasing tension in my shoulders when I notice it.

So much of performance  anxiety is allowing one’s entire self to do what it can do best.  I used to say the Xtian office daily. I now believe that this kind of prayer provides a distraction for me, a mis-direction, if you will, that allows me to just be, a deeper form of what I think prayer is.  The trick is to do this without the distraction. I need to go from overthinking to getting over thinking. But at least being able to distract one’s self away from self sabotage can be a step along the way.

Today I must spend the morning choosing hymns, then rehearse Mendelssohn and Mozart with my piano trio, then meet with boss (always a pleasant prospect, actually). Later in the evening Eileen and I are going up to the local Barnes & Noble to hear a friend of her’s play and sing his songs at an open mic dealy. Then I’m planning to look around B & N because my boss gave me a B & N gift certificate for Xmas.

Another quick post. I am due to pick up my Mom in 45 minutes to take her to the shrink, then shopping and lunch. Always fun waiting where I can get WiFi (at the shrink’s office).

My young clarinetist who brought the C score to try to play with the accompaniment called me last night. Her band teacher wanted to know if I could transpose the Schumann Fantasiestuck op. 37 no. 1 down a step so she could play from the C score. I said no. Good grief. I got on the internet and interlibrary loaned a couple possible copies of this piece. During the process I noticed that my local college has some kind of version of this piece sitting on the shelves (it exists for Clarinet in A, Bb, Cello or French Horn).

In the meantime I have fallen in love with this little opus. I linked in free MP3s of it in the last post and have been listening to them myself. Good stuff.

I screwed up my courage and asked my guitar student if she would mind paying me my rate of $35.00 instead of the $30.00 I charged her husband a few years ago.  She readily agreed of course. I am just such a wimp when it comes to these things.

I have been in email contact with an Alexander Teacher who does occasionally come to Holland. He is supposed to email me next time he will come. I will give him a few months and then regroup if he hasn’t come to town by then.

I met with a couple of soloists last night for the first time, preparing for the local Solo and Ensemble festival. They are both playing learning concerto movements. The violinists is doing one by O. Rieding and the violist is doing one by F. Seitz.

I don’t know these composers but the pieces are kind of fun.

I have worked with the violinist before, but not the violist. I was pleasantly surprised by her musicality. She was really using her ears and played with interp. How nice. I do love the viola.

Later I read the first 80 pages of J.G. Ballard’s autobiography: “Miracles of Life.” Published in 2007, it was on one of those “best of the decade” lists I have been looking at. So far, it really is quite a good read.