Out of Pocket - August 9, 2010, Monday
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.
Saved Rounds and Sylvia Prior, August 11, 2010
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.
The Gift of Music, August 17, 2010, Tuesday
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".
No Tambourines, August 18, 2010, Tuesday
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
Gramps Birthday, Monday, August 23 2010
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.
No Fault Teachers, August 24,2010, Tuesday
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..."
Details, August 25, 2010 Wednesday
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.
Celebrations, Aigust 29, 2010
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.
The Army Way, August 30, 2010
On a Friday the 13th 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?
Point of Reference and Non-Musical Foreplay, August 31, 2010, Tuesday
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.
