William Cosby's Blog -- Then and Now

Yesterday I wrote about the rifle range.  I am also reminded of a technique I learned in my Army days to avoid trip wires in the dark.  This required very careful manipulation of the legs and feet.  In retrospect, watching trainees imitate the motions of the drill sergeants must have provided moments of immense amusement.

I am sure I am not the only person who has banged a shin into a coffee table or stubbed a toe on a night time journey to the bathroom.  Avoiding pain in night time maneuvers requires the application of a carefully applied sequence of movements.

This raises a topic that is often called 'point of reference' - a system of relocating the hand from point 'a' to point 'b' with minimum chance of missing the note.  Imagine playing a beautiful, lyrical melody line that includes a jump, perhaps of an octave or more.  You finish the phrase, have built anticipation about what will happen next, and are ready to surprise the listener with an antecedent phrase in a different tonal range -and you miss.  Squawk!  There may be immediate discomfort for some in the audience; others may be amused; or you may even jostle someone from sleep or a day dream that was more interesting that what you were playing anyway.  The result can be similar to what happens when you stub your toe in the dark.

There are different methods for applying a point of reference and the best method will be determined by what you are playing.  It may involve changing fingers on the note to adjust the hand position, or it may require that ultimate leap of faith - the time to demonstrate your absolute mastery of the location and relationship of notes on the keyboard.  And like warnings on medications, there are potential hazards in applying point of reference.  Do you risk destroying the musical line to make sure you hit the right note?  There are so many decisions.

And with a subscription to the school of choreography there is the possibility of exploiting a faux point of reference.  Some of the choreography school employs an exceptionally long passage of time before actually starting to play where the player is fiddling with the hand position or pressing switches multiple times or fondling the top of the bellows.  To me, this is akin to seeing how long someone could hold their breath on stage before starting a speech.  Now where is that left-hand 'C'.  It is marked, but other buttons are marked also.  Got to make sure I have the right one.

I first heard Van Cliburn in the early 60's in a solo recital in Pasadena Civic.  It was my first experience of hearing a world-class pianist.  We sat in the audience for nearly 30 minutes before he finally appeared on stage.  I later heard that he intentionally did this to allow the audience time to mentally prepare for the performance.  But once on stage, he didn't make us wait any longer; he played. 

This reminds me of a visit to the doctors office or DMV where you sit waiting - and waiting.  You may become irritated, but your irritation disappears when you are finally called; grateful someone will actually see you.  

But how would you feel if the person at the DMV sat there staring at their computer screen for a very long time before speaking (I actually have had this happen on more than one occasion)?   Or if the car mechanic opened the hood of your car and blindly stared at the maze of steel and plastic inside?

Perhaps this non-musical foreplay deserves another look as an over-application of point of reference.  Maybe I should find my 'C' bass before I walk out onto the stage, and if necessary, hold onto it for dear life.  So when I walk onto the stage, I can sit, focus my thoughts (which generally takes the amount of time it does to inhale) and play; so point-of-reference, at whatever level, can support rather than distract from the musical experience.

I must conclude by saying that many of my friends do not agree we me on this topic.

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On a Friday the 13^th in June, 1969, I boarded a charter bus for Fort Ord, California.  On that day I headed off for basic training and every aspect of my life took a different direction.  Becoming a soldier required many new skills, but in retrospect, many of the things I learned carried into my day-to-day life. 

A critical part of basic training was bonding with an M14.  Other than a few rounds with my brother's 22, I had never touched any type firearm.  I had (and continue to have) absolutely no interest in guns.  However, weapons familiarization and qualification was a critical, go/no go requirement.  I was expected to embrace my passion for my weapon in the same way I would have felt about one of my accordions.

For the first few weeks, we schlepped the M14s everywhere we went.  We learned how to stack them when we would go into the mess or into other training, and how to rapidly disassemble and reassemble them.  It was big stuff. 

Finally it came time to shoot.  My bunk mate developed a new excitement as we neared the time scheduled for the firing range.  He had been an avid hunter and was even a card-carrying member of the American Rifle Association.  He knew it would be a time where he would excel.  I was more interested in making sure I didn't loose my clinical ear protection left over from my rock band days. 

The day finally came and we started the process of zeroing in the rifles in preparation for the range.  For me it was simple.  The drill sergeant said to do something, and I did it.  I had no reason to do anything different.  The M14s used in basic training had seen a lot of use and were well worn, but they seemed to work okay - I got the expected result.

Donnie's enthusiasm quickly turned to disappointment and continued to segue into a panic when things wouldn't work for him.  He couldn't get his weapon zeroed in.  Of course, it was the rifle's fault, though the drill sergeants kept telling him he was over-compensating.  But with his experience he had the answers and I could tell he wasn't listening to them.  We remained at the range for an extra hour while Donnie, and several other recruits tried to get their sights aligned. 

It didn't improve for him when we started our daily trips to the firing ranges.  Though I knew I had to meet the qualification requirements, I doubted that I was going to be carrying a rifle in the band at West Point.  I also didn"t have anything to prove in terms of hunting or firearms expertise.  So for me, the drill sergeant said to do something, and I did it.  And to be honest, I was continually surprised when the targets would fall.  I rarely missed.  Later we did a quick-kill exercise (something new the Army was testing) where M14 stocks were modified into bb guns and we proceeded to throw small round aluminum disks up into the air for each other to increase our reaction time.  Of course, an occasional bb would strike some unsuspecting trainee in the butt, so there was an element of fun.

For me, the worst part of the training was running 4 miles each way to the beach ranges in combat boots.  M14s have a pretty good kick but I could deal with that.  The targets popped up and I shot them down.  When it was all done, I qualified as 'expert' and had the second highest score in the company.  Donnie needed an extra day to finally qualify as sharpshooter.  He was genuinely disappointed and his sharpshooter badge was more of an albatross than a medal.

But there is a real life message in all this.  Sometimes it is better to just follow instructions and trust that results will follow.  This was true when I was training motorcycle safety instructors - the people who thought they knew everything about riding typically had the most difficult time.  I have also found it to be true with music students.  The ones who question everything often have the most difficult time.  They confuse themselves.  Sometimes it is easiest just to follow instruction and trust the results.  If you can’t trust your mentor, you are probably with the wrong person.  If you are truly that advanced, you can accurately assess what you want to do.

Sometimes I am accused of not having a lot of patience when I teach.  But depending on the skill, I prefer to let people experience what you want them to do.  Show them something and tell them to do it. Typically that makes things happen as quickly and efficiently as possible.  Once they feel that success, you go back to refine, and explain why.  Trying to explain why and refine before they attempt the skill is a much more difficult sequence and has a higher likelihood of failure.  Now where did I put my drill sergeant hat?

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I posted an MP3 clip of "Celebrations" from "Compendium of Description Etudes" on the blog page of the web site. It is still is probably my favorite of the Etudes, written about the same time as the Sonata. Today it is to celebrate a chronological publication of the blog called "Saved Rounds". I am also nearly finished with an annotated and indexed version. 

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The excitement of my 'return' is leveling off and the time has come to settle into a routine.  From a personal standpoint, I have my home on the market and intend to retire when it sells.  In the past few months only three people have looked at it, and I don't know if I can really count one of them as they barely walked in the front door, turned around and left.  I guess it isn't what they wanted.

Anyway, yesterday while working out at the gym at work I saw the announcement that sales of existing homes were down 27% (or something like that) in the last month; the lowest since 1995.  That doesn't sound encouraging.  It seems the two times I have listed my home the market has suddenly come to a screeching halt.  But I guess time will tell.

So for now, my routine continues to revolve around a very long work/commute day.  I am lucky in that over the years I have learned how to get a high return from a small amount of available practice time.  I alternate days between stradella and bassetti.  I use the commute time to write this blog or do other basic correspondence, so I am not quite as resentful about the amount of time I spend in the back of a commuter van.

I have been posting Saved Rounds to the web site in segments.  Saved Rounds is a chronological presentation of the blogs I have written since completing the book.  Whereas Anecdotes (the book) is chronological, Saved Rounds hits a wide variety of topics in no particular order.  At times it adds to content in the book; other times it is intended to just be fun.  I have grouped all the narrative sections of the web site under a section called 'online publications'.  White type on black background can be very tiresome to read, so I reversed to black type on white background; sacrificing coolness for practicality.

Occasionally I look at the statistics for the web site as I am curious how people discover it.  Many times it is the result of a search similar to ones I have made over the years, wondering whatever happened to someone or looking for some details on a particular event.  I sometimes get Emails sharing additional information or asking for more detail.  This brought on the idea of building an index.  I am currently doing some final proof-reads and it should be available shortly.

For now, it is still for fun and for free.  First, I don't know how much of a market there would be for a hard-copy publication.  Second, a commercial market strategy would change the entire dynamic on why I have written it and continue to write.  So if you have stuff you would like to share, I encourage you to write.  I also encourage you to sign the guest book on the contacts page.

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For some reason, this morning I am thinking about the variety of experiences in the music lesson and music teachers in general.  Sometimes it is that first lesson; your new teacher follows you into the room and you have really no idea of what to expect.  Sometimes the dynamics with any given teacher will change based on how many other students are within listening range or if it is that time of the month when you pay for the next month's lessons.  Suddenly your progress is remarkable, and your selection of a teacher and the relationship with that teacher is returning benefits to your playing beyond the fee you are paying.

There can be the insecurity of how well you have prepared, or if you are a hard charger, the confidence that you had been assigned one new song but gone ahead and finished the entire book.

Over the years I think I have learned how to be a pretty good student; and being a good student is not limited to music.  For me, the measure of being a good student is how well I listen and how willing I am to release a predisposition to what I think I should be doing or what I want to do vs. what the teacher is suggesting.  With age, I rarely argue.  I know that when I leave the lesson I can do whatever I want to do anyway, though I also know there may be consequences and I need to be willing to own them.

I have some very close friends who are excellent music teachers.  They have infinite patience and they can always find a way to encourage or motivate a student.  Rather than burning-out from teaching they continue a lifetime of growth in their love of a finely honed craft and what they can share.  And above of all, they really know what they are doing.  They know what will work with each student.  To me, these are the musical saints - the ones you would want to teach your sons or daughters (or even the adult learner) - as long as they have that one critical component: they know what they are doing. 

It is a big commitment to teach at that level, and in this sense level does not correlate to a student's technical or musical proficiency.  It is the teacher's ability to meet the student's needs at a wide range of levels; to have an unending range of solutions for problems, and the ability to capture even the smallest spark of enthusiasm that may help build that bridge to a life-long enjoyment of playing.  It is a challenge that equals the commitment required to develop the technique required to perform a virtuosic repertoire; and the importance of these teachers cannot be overstated - especially in the developmental years.

Some people will ultimately work with a virtuoso, but often this will be as a coach.  In this case, the virtuoso can share something that only experience can provide; be it experience at mastering the most difficult technique or musical detail, or in dealing with challenges directly related to performance.  This will be different with every student and every situation, but when the right things align, the world will be treated to a great artist or an individual will experience a lifelong enjoyment of music. 

Anyway, it has been quite a while since a someone has told me, "you really don't have to tell people I am your teacher..."

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I finally have finished the first run-through in building the index for Anecdotes and Saved Rounds.  I have also made several changes to the web site.  All of the online publications now launch from a single portal.  There are individual sections for Anecdotes (the book), Saved Rounds (the annotated blog) and the Blog.  An additional section will be Accordion Heroes which will consist mainly of personal stories and recollections.

There have been a lot of words written on this site in the last year.  The primary reason is the daily commute to work.  It gives me the feeling of having accomplished something for the 3 plus hours per day I spend careening up and down Interstate 95 from Fredericksburg, VA, to Washington DC. If I can ever sell my home so I can actually retire, there will be less words and more music. 

As a side note, I added an additional set of navigation links at the top of all the publication pages.  These are to help you escape in the shortest possible time should you become totally bored.

Upcoming performances include the Washington Metropolitan Accordion Society (WMAS) in September, with the West Point Alumni Glee Club in November, and at the Florida Smash in November.

Anecdotes will continue to be posted in sections, however complete electronic/indexed versions including both Anecdotes and Saved Rounds are available upon request.  A Paypal contribution to help cover costs will be appreciated, but is not required.

BTW, today was my grandfather's birthday. 

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Several days ago I wrote that I was indexing the blog (new name: Saved Rounds).  Having survived that experience and now having figured out some of the idiosyncrasies of the software I have restarted the process.  The Anecdotes and Saved Rounds will now be combined in a single index.  This effort provides some unique opportunities; the first is seeing how much I repeat myself (especially in Saved Rounds).  Readers interested in a comprehensive index will soon be able to request an electronic copy.

I am also looking at taking the theme of Accordion Heroes to a next level by posting individual pages that will contain a collection of personal stories written by myself and others about those who contributed so much to the accordion or to the people who play it.  As with the general theme of Saved Rounds and Anecdotes, the emphasis is more on the spirit and character of the person than a chronology. 

Attending Sylvia's luncheon convinced me even more of the potential value from this effort.  Sometimes it will be about a musical or technical detail, but just as important are reflections from a life-long commitment to something they considered of value.  No tambourines on street corners here; just a repository where we can share stories and continue to carry the spirit.

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Jim and I just returned from Irvine California where we attended a special luncheon honoring Sylvia Prior, one of the founding members of the Accordion Federation of North America (AFNA).  When it was founded in the 1950's, the AFNA had a different name but was best known for sponsoring the Western States Accordion Festival.

In her remarks, Sylvia talked about the first festival in 1956, and I was one of the 5,000 + students waiting that day for the doors to open at the Long Beach Municipal Auditorium.  It was a challenging day for both contestants and the city, like a 1950's version of Woodstock.  However, in subsequent years, logistical problems were resolved.

The message Sylvia related in her remarks at the luncheon went far beyond her accomplishments with the countless organizations she has supported.  She spoke of a philosophy she has exuded throughout her life in brilliant simplicity as she urged all parents to "share the gift of music with your children.  It is something they will have for the rest of their life, and it is something no one can ever take away from them."

I first got to know Sylvia as Tito's wife when I studied with him, but I became 'one of her kids.'  She still refers to us in those exact words. 

I will always maintain gratitude to my parents for their commitment in support of my music; lessons, accordions, rehearsals, competitions, and performances.  But the encouragement and other non-financial support was equally important. 

However, as I listened to Sylvia's comments, I was reminded of another important message.  Sylvia and Tito loved life - they embraced it.  Music was something that enhanced life; it was not an ultimate 'end'.  Music was something to be enjoyed, and there were no rules or limits on how one could use it.  They often shared this philosophy with their students to help keep things (like winning or loosing competitions) in perspective. 

A mentor helps someone develop the technical facility to achieve a level of success in playing an instrument; and the enjoyment really begins as someone can actually play.  And while the final measure might be the ability to entertain oneself, friends, or even a formal audience (sometimes even with remuneration), there are countless opportunities along the way to improve self discipline, and any number of motor and mental skills.  Parents' support of music can truly be seen as a life-long gift.

Participants in the AFNA's Sylvia Prior Concerto Competition attended the luncheon as did many of Sylvia's professional and personal friends.  A personal highlight was at the end of the luncheon when Frank Marocco performed at Sylvia's request.  "With a Song in my Heart" was dedicated to Sylvia and there are no words adequate to describe the magic created through Frank's artistry or the gifts Sylvia has given to all "her kids".

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It has been several days since I have written in the blog having taken the last week to index what has already been written.  I am going to post what has been written in the blog as the second half of Anecdotes under the title of Saved Rounds.  Saved Rounds is an expression I picked up during my two years at Headquarters Marine Corps - a term sometimes used to call for final comments to wrap something up. 

I have loved working playing computers since my first PC about 25 years ago.  They are like the world's greatest toy, especially when you are trying to figure something out; like the task of indexing in Microsoft Word which had its own set of challenges when it comes time to repaginate and print. 

There are a lot of topics in the blog - some parts akin to oral history, stories of what was happening as I started back into accordion, some humor, and some rants.  I will start posting in a new format to the web in the next week or so allowing the reader to find topics of interest without having to scour through pages of web entries.  For those interested, I will Email a complete indexed electronic copy of either Anecdotes or Saved Rounds (I have yet to index Anecdotes - but that process should be easier having figured out the idiosyncrasies of the process).  If someone wants to contribute through a PayPal donation, that will help me cover costs of hosting the website, but it is completely voluntary. 

We leave tomorrow morning for the AFNA luncheon honoring Sylvia Prior.  I understand many of Tito's students from my era will be there, most of whom I have not seen since the mid-60's.  It will be like a high school reunion.  I also love any excuse to get back to California.

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I have been out of pocket for a few days working on annotations and an index for the blog.  I am even somewhat surprised myself at the variety of topics; some are rather serious, others with an attempt to be amusing, and all kinds of things between.

We leave mid-week for Irvine, California, where the Accordion Federation of North America (AFNA) will be hosting a luncheon honoring Sylvia Prior on Saturday.  I plan to present Sylvia with a hardcopy of the Anecdotes and an annotated copy of the blog. 

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Something different at the ATG from many years past are the accordion bands.  And from looking at other similar activities on the Internet, bands have become an important part of many accordion events.  But prior to the ATG I didn't really give it much thought. 

I was weaned on accordion bands starting at Bettie Thomas Studios where I was officially a Torrance Accordionette - resplendent with my billowy-sleeved satin shirt and sash.  The sashes were color coded to the student's level of accomplishment.  I was also in the Hit Paraders at Glen Stead's Compton Music Center, and if you are brave enough you can hear evidence of that experience from a recorded performance on Ted Mack and the Original Amateur Hour posted in the Anecdotes, In The Beginning, Part II.  There were also brief encounters with the Yale Accordion Academy Symphony and the Galla-Rini Diamond Jubilee Ensemble.

Accordion bands were never my thing.  First, I wasn't terribly excited about playing at someone else's tempo and was even less excited about having to compete with someone else to be heard.  With Bettie's groups there was at least some element of sport as there was no formal conductor.  Bettie, or whoever was leading the group at that particular moment, sat at the end of the front row and decided both the program sequence and determined at least the starting tempo for each song.  Gail or Robyn, Bettie's older daughters sometimes led the groups, but eventually I also got a turn.  And that was fun.

Glen Stead conducted his groups.  He even used a baton.  He was  pretty determined you would play at his tempo and follow the dynamics - and he was often successful in these attempts.  From his smile, you tell he thoroughly enjoyed the experience - and most of his students were enthusiastic.  We played some of the music from original scores, requiring us to transpose parts written for non-C instruments.  That could be a disaster, depending on how much we disliked the piece.  But with all the discipline, it was less fun than Bettie Thomas.

So at the ATG I once again came face-to-face with the accordion band. I played with the Executive group conducted by Joan Sommers.  Joan was very careful to make sure everyone had their music far in advance and that there would be a good balance of parts to players.  Seating position and every other performance detail was carefully planned and meticulously executed.  From my many years experience conducting non-accordion choral groups and musical ensembles, I have a deep appreciation for the amount of work necessary to make this work.  With a total of 4 hours rehearsal, time wasted solving logistical problems can quickly reduce critical time preparing the music.

There are certain things one must deal with in solo performance, but the majority of the responsibility is on you.  In contrast, one reality of an ensemble is that the outcome is dependent on the conductor's ability to coordinate and control numerous talents. 

Though I have performed almost all of my life, I have vowed I will never take another one of my dogs into the show ring.  Regardless of how well trained you think you are (both you and the dog), you never know what can happen once in the ring, and you would be amazed at how easily the dog can can embarrass you.  There is always a similar possibility when you stand with your baton in front of a group.  The potential for surprise is even greater in an unfamiliar venue with players who don't routinely perform together.  

But these are just the logistical challenges - and if you successfully survive them, they can be the center of a good laugh when everything is done.  Making music in spite of all these is the real challenge.  The first part is the accuracy of what is written in the score.  The second part is creating a musical consensus.  For the Executive ATG ensemble, Joan Cochran Sommers took responsibility for all of it - logistics and music - and she was enormously successful in every aspect.  As an aside, it took me three days to get strains of the Video Games Medley to stop playing in my mind.

Another wonderful surprise was the Galla-Rini Ensemble conducted by Esther Lanting.  Galla-Rini wrote and re-wrote arrangements in his later years for his band camps, and the Galla-Rini Ensemble played several of them at the ATG.  I heard the group rehearsing and was overcome by the simplicity and beauty of the arrangements.  I often talk of Galla-Rini's solo arrangements and transcriptions and how these continue to demonstrate the accordion's musical capabilities and potential.  When I heard the Galla-Rini band playing those arrangements, I realized how serious my oversight is in not fully appreciating or acknowledging his arrangements for accordion ensemble and their importance.  Through those arrangements audiences can hear some very beautiful music.  But perhaps the real gift is for the players, who get to be part of the music - music that is not only brilliantly arranged, but also well written for the instrument.  It is music that encourages ensemble playing.  You knew the players were listening to each other without Esther having to tell them to do so.  The result was stunning and powerful.

I often look at my past with some amusement.  I have become perceptive enough to realize that Bettie Thomas and Glen Stead were doing their best to contribute to my development as a musician through participation in their bands.  Perhaps it was more patience than gratitude for them to put up with me honking away trying to constantly prove to everyone that I could play my particular part more accurately, faster and louder than anyone else.

All I know is that when Jim said something to Joan about 'sight reading' the parts he met with immediate resistance, "oh no, he is not going to sight read.  He needs to know the parts before he comes."  And I did.  It certainly sounds like the voice of experience to me! 

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I spent much of my accordion past as one of the U.S. pioneers of the free bassetti system accordion.  I have talked extensively in the book and in this blog about technical and musical paths and how some things worked and how others didn't.  The ATG experience was enlightening as it allowed me to hear some of the best players playing a rather extensive variety of original and non-original music.  It has helped me understand what has happened over the past 30 years.

 When I decided I wanted to start playing again I set out on a quest to find an accordion; preferably a Giulietti with dual system left hand.  It wasn't because I thought it was the best system, it was because it was a system I had played many years previous and I know enough about muscle memory to appreciate the increasing difficulty of learning new physical skills as one ages.  One thing I knew:  I did not want a left hand system that was exclusively free bassetti.

One surprise was when I tried a new converter.  When converted it was chromatic rather than quint (the original style converter).  Julio had experimented with a Giulietti transformer in the 1970's, but limited to 3 octaves I never considered it a serious alternative - but rather something for someone not entirely ready to commit to the switch to free bass.  My personal instruments since the mid 60's were all free bassetti with only the two fundamental stradella rows which could be used as pedal tones.  But an additional reason for the two rows was to move the bassetti section further away from the left hand strap so the left hand keyboard could be played using the hand rather relying exclusively on finger dexterity. 

As the years progressed after the U.S. introduction of the Giulietti free-bassetti, Julio made many variations.  To Julio, the two stradella rows were a compromise as he didn't see a musical need for any part of a stradella system in the left hand.  There are many Giulietti's out there today that only have 3 or 5 rows of bassetti.  They are uncomplicated and relatively lightweight, but given the progression of free bass instruments and the music played on them but they have not fared well - though they seemed a good idea at the time.   Even for a steady repertoire of baroque music, most players would still view them as just too limited.  Today, some of these instruments are subjected to transformation into a stradella accordion.  Others just sit un-played.

As a pioneer, I still get questions from people asking my opinion on left hand systems, but most often out of curiosity from people who do not really play one.  I doubt any of the competitors in the Galla-Rini competition have questions on their left hand system.  Bottom line for them: it isn't what it is; it is what it does - basically the same thing as Julio's quote of 'trying an accordion with your eyes closed'. 

Another reality is that the music (or at least the original music) has evolved in consort with the capabilities of left hand - and the musical and technical application is generally different than what we were trying to do in earlier years.  Based on what I heard at the recent Galla-Rini Competition (using the application of 'what it does') Julio had it wrong with his efforts to completely eliminate the stradella.  And as I watched the converter and bayan players, I came to my personal realization that (and this may be somewhat of an over-simplification) players use the converter like a single note chord section on a stradella.  Lower notes more than the adjacent octave are typically played in the converter's two stradella rows.  I rarely saw one of the players use the lowest octaves of the chromatic converter section in anything other than an occasional solo line.  Sometimes this was at the sacrifice of the proper sequence of pitch, but no one really seemed to call 'foul' even though the notes might not be accurate to the score.  The result was based on the outcome rather than the notation, which in most cases has more musical validity anyway.  (I should note that the earliest arrangements and some original compositions for bassetti were true to this concept, facilitated through the capabilities of the dual-system accordions.  However, all this changed with the migration to all-bassetti instruments.)

Now it seems the primary decision is whether to have the left hand chromatic keyboard inverted to the right hand (Russian) vs. parallel to the right hand.  However this would likely be decided by one's teacher or environment long before the student would know enough to give it much concern.  But in either way, the analytical part of my mind sees this as what I would call a chromatic stradella.  When combined with the evolution of repertoire, perhaps the best of both worlds has evolved - the survival of what might be considered one of the most critical 'core' musical elements of the accordion.

If there is a limitation to this evolution or the technique required to make it work (based on what I heard in the Galla-Rini Competition) it would be seen in performances of repertoire more typical to what one would have heard in the early U.S. bassetti days.  Some might point out that many of these efforts would be best forgotten anyway, but some repertoire of this type that was included (actually required) in the Galla-Rini Competition was not the high point of a given performance.  However, it is interesting that the consummate Galla-Rini performance (for me) was one particular Scarlatti Sonata - which demonstrated an absolute pinnacle of artistic brilliance.  In contrast, some of my least favorite moments were other performances of Scarlatti and Bach.

Accordionists (to include Galla-Rini) talk (talked) of making the left hand an equal partner to the right hand - but the question becomes what is equal?  How that question is being answered today is quite different than 30 or 40 years ago.  Years ago, equal meant (almost exclusively) the left hand could play passages with an equal fluency to the right hand (something with a higher validity in works like Scarlatti and Bach).  Today, the focus is more on the hands complimenting each other musically; each doing what works best based on the capabilities of the accordion and the player's ability to manipulate it.  But whereas this allowed the accordion to catapult forward, new difficulties will certainly surface (the first of which might be similarities in music as successes and musical formulas become repeated, exploited, and eventually even boring) and the quest for new expressions becomes more demanding.  A precursor of this may be seen in the necessity for physically manipulating the instrument through slamming, fist banging, whatever.  However, as most things ultimately cycle, some time in the future players may find themselves one again looking at some of the technical and musical approaches in the left hand used in the early days; but maybe this time with a more realistic balance.

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On the occasion of the ATG 70th Anniversary and the International Galla-Rini Competition for classical accordion, I asked several of Galla-Rini's fellow students to share their personal memories of the this great man.  Amy Jo Sawyer provided the following.  I hope to eventually post these in a special section in memory of the man who contributed so much to the accordion in the words who were fortunate enough to have studied with him.

Anthony Galla-Rini Was My Teacher and Friend

By Amy Jo Sawyer

I had the privilege of being one of Mr. Galla-Rini's students.  He was a true artist with a vast knowledge of the instrument with its capabilities and limitations. He learned how to play it, how to write music for it, and how to instruct others to play it.  His life's work was devoted exclusively to the accordion. He was part of its development, progress and history. He was truly a "living legend" in the world of the accordion and I was very blessed to have studied with him.

I started taking accordion lessons at the age ten in Mesa, Arizona.  Mr. Galla-Rini knew my teacher, Henri Milano, and would visit in Mesa when the opportunity would arise.  Mr. Galla-Rini gave a concert in Phoenix that I well remember. The piece that impressed me the most was "The Lord's Prayer".  He became my idol and I decided I wanted to become a "concert accordionist".

As a young student I would travel from Mesa, Arizona to Glendale, California at the suggestion of, Mr. Milano, to take lessons from Mr. Galla-Rini.

After I was married and lived in Sacramento, CA, I would contact him and take a lesson enroute to visiting family in Arizona.

Anyone that knew Mr. Galla-Rini knows what a wonderful sense of humor he had.  As my teacher, he was ever so patient and kind.  He acted like he thoroughly enjoyed what he was doing.  I remember one particular lesson with him.  The piece was written in treble clef for the left hand.  I don't remember the name of the piece and it was undoubtedly a very early arrangement of an accordion original, as the bass clef very soon replaced the treble clef for the left hand.  I had misread some notes - thinking of them in bass clef.  He said "you know, treble clef - spelled t-r-o-u-b-l-e".  We both laughed and I then read the notes correctly.  This is but one example of his humor and wit.

I did an arrangement of Cole Porter's "Night and Day" and asked him for suggestions.  It had lots of Jazz chords in it and Mr. Galla-Rini. said with a smile "I'm sorry but I can't help you with this one. I am not a Jazz player!" 

I played with Joan Sommer's Accordion orchestra on several tours.  Most of the music we played had been "transcribed for accordion orchestra" by Mr. Galla-Rini.  All of the parts had names that represented all of the instruments in the orchestra.  His arrangements were "master pieces" of the greatest composers, written for accordion orchestra from the original orchestral score.  I think he was the absolute best in the world at transcribing for accordion orchestra.  We performed a piano piece entitled "Danse" by Debussy.

It was a marvelous arrangement.  I happened to find a tiny error in my part and he was so grateful to have the mistake corrected!  He was an absolute perfectionist in every sense of the word.

At his 100^th Birthday Party in Los Angeles I played in the accordion orchestra that he conducted. Upon arriving at the event, my husband and I met his son, Ron.  Mr. Galla-Rini was in a wheel chair.  He turned to his son and said "this man's wife is a world class accordionist".  He helped me become the best that I could be and he was kind enough to list my name in his book "Anthony Galla-Rini, on his Life and the Accordion" by Ove Hahn.  I will forever be grateful for my association with this wonderful man.

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My last accordion event before I stopped playing was at the ATG National Competition and Festival in 1979.  I really didn't know what to expect on my return in 2010, and presenting some of my thoughts is certainly going to occupy this blog for a few days.

30 years ago festivals were almost exclusively about competition.  The focal point of the ATG National Competition was to determine who would go to the Coupe Mondiale.  That focus has certainly changed.  This year's 70^th Anniversary Celebration included an International Galla-Rini Competition for Classical Accordion, but there were no entries in the ATG National Competition.  And there were only three young competitors in all the other categories combined. 

So what has replaced the competitions?  In short, the ATG festival was unquestionably one of the most thoroughly enjoyable and rewarding experiences I have had in a very long time.  It was great camaraderie among a widely diverse and devoted group of people who share a genuine love and passion for the accordion.   And for all those in attendance, I don't think it could get much better.

There were some brilliant performances by both the competitors in the Galla-Rini Competition and the wide variety of soloists.  But some of the impromptu moments really brought home the instrument's true diversity, which may be one of the accordion's most valued characteristics.  One of my favorite moments was an impromptu version of Czardas played by Cory Pesaturo and Michael Bridge, a young competitor in the Galla-Rini Competition, at the one of the evening concerts. 

I don't know if I have ever heard anyone who can surpass Cory's fierce technical facility and musicianship that is so brilliantly and spontaneously applied to a staggering range of pop, jazz, ethnic, and classical styles.  And to watch Michael take him on, after three days and three rounds of 5 adjudicators scrutinizing every detail of his playing, brought a smile to my face.  It was over the top.  I often tell of the Julliard graduate who was helpless when asked to play Happy Birthday in F. 

Another highlight was the last number of the final concert when Cory and Alexander Sevastian (two Coupe winners) did an ad lib duel on the final sections of Konzertstuck - which I had played the evening before.  So much fun; the absolute height of camp from two brilliant musicians.  It certainly goes eons beyond Happy Birthday in F.  Brought to you live by the ATG.

In the next few days, I will share more stories on the Galla-Rini Competition, the special bands, soloists, and the ATG staff who worked so indefatigably to make all this work.  Also, some technical and musical observations from someone frozen in a time capsule away from accordion for the past 30 years!

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Finished the second round of the International Galla-Rini Competition today.  One more round to go.

The competitors are outstanding.  For me, the scoring is difficult.  For the competition, each adjudicator scores independently and the results are based on tabulation of final scores.  So we will all be anxious to see the final result.  Stay tuned to the blog and to the ATG Facebook page for the outcome!

It has been great seeing old friends and meeting many new ones.  My last time at a National event was 1979.  One great thing is being reminded of details from events in the book. I have asked several friends to send me their stories so I can add them in their own words.  So stay tuned.

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