Diversions and Oakley Yale Launched,  September 6, 2010

I have posted the next section of Anecdotes - Oakley Yale and ElCamino.  Diversions is a collection of non-accordion activities and MP3s; a little bit of everything.
Tito and Fabian Return,  September 10, 2010

I have started working on Hollywood Fantasia -- the first of the major compositions Tito Guidotti wrote for free bassetti.  I played it in the AAA International Invitational Competition in 1962 or 63.  I have said many times that I consider Tito one of the accordion's all-tme greatest geniuses and I am amazed at the sounds that come from the instrument.  Of his three major compositions for bassetti, Hollywood Fantasia has the heaviest jazz influence.  Usually when I start learning something new friends decide it is a good time to do anything other than be in earshot of my practice - but this has been an exception.  They ask what it is and want to hear more.  It is also very challenging -- lots of legato left-hand arpeggios in the first part and a prestissimo at the end with sequence of asymmetrical patterns that only a person with a mind like Tito's could create (and make work).
Fabian (the Giulietti Super 6/3) returned from Petosa this morning having undergone some well deserved restoration.  Some of the keyboards on the Giulietti Supers from the 80's used plastic key tops and in time they were prone to crack and also develop dimples from the glue.  The extended key Giuliettis also used full size keys, unlike the keyboards on current models that use a slightly smaller key.  Replacing the plastic with Lucite is an extremely labor intensive job.

But the keyboard is now fully tricked and ridiculously fast and quiet.  So the patriarch of the Giuliettis for this house has returned.  The real fun is going to be between Sebastian (the new Giulietti Classic 127) and Fabian.  They are so completely different; but make no mistake they are both Giuliettis.  Elizabeth does her own thing and I don't know if it is a good idea to mess with her because she will bite back.
In the Loving Hands,  Monday, September 13, 2010

Fabian returned last Friday.  So when it came down to playing or writing this blog, the playing won out.  Earlier in the week I was home fighting some kind of bug, but knowing the accordion was coming back, I was still practicing rather than writing.  But this morning I am again on my way to work - and not having found a way to practice on the commuter van, it is back to the blog. 

To me, the signature of an instrument of true excellence is one that will survive the routine of hard daily use, and improve as it ages.  But any instrument with the complexity of an accordion will need at least a minimum level of regular service, and eventually will require major work.  Fabian is an example.

I get a lot of questions about the Giulietti brand: Julio Giulietti, the accordions, and of course, the bassetti.  I have written a lot about all these in both Anecdotes and in the Blog (Saved Rounds).  Many years after the end of Giulietti Accordion Corporation there remains a mystique about Giulietti.  Last year's reintroduction of the Giulietti accordion has rekindled this interest even more.

In my first career as a young accordionist, I really didn't care about the technical details or a history of the brand.  I was only interested in what it did; how it responded when you played it, and how well it held up.  I was always content with Giulietti to the point of never feeling the need to even consider another brand.

Moving ahead 40-50 years (especially for those with a break in playing) many of us remain frozen in memories of yesteryear, convinced that when we find that perfect 1950's or 1960's accordion we can pick up right where we left off.  Not only that, we can do this at a fraction of the cost of a new instrument.  So we start scouring Ebay.

When I re started my journey I had another problem.  I played only free bassetti for many years, and the dual-system system I knew best was no longer made.  So in the interest of getting back to the task of playing as quickly as possible I started looking for a 6/3.  Making the adjustment that would be required to adapt to the contemporary converter did not seem like a good option. 

I consider myself blessed to have found two dual-system Giulietti Supers; but quickly realized that finding them was just the first step.  The real challenge was to restore them to serviceable condition.

So why all this extended dialogue?  As I said at the start of this entry, I get a lot of questions and discussion.  "What do you think of this or that?"  The only thing I can share is my experience, and that may help someone make their decision - so here goes.

For the person looking to have some fun and explore the free bassetti, there are some opportunities in locating one of the Giulietti bassettis.  The cost will likely be more reasonable than purchasing a new converter.  But I would suggest you remember you are buying an instrument that is a minimum of 25 years old, and typically much older.  Given the original quality of these instruments, age alone is not a problem; but many of these instruments have been neglected.  So if you will be bothered by notes being out of tune, or some personality traits brought on by time, you will probably drive yourself nuts because your attention will be more drawn to the condition of the instrument than having fun with it.  And once you get into that mentality, a major concern will be if the money and time to make it right are worth the investment.

Now if you are a young student making the decision to start the serious study of free bass and have the talent and backing to do so, your teacher will help you select the appropriate instrument.  Or sell you one they are trying to get rid of. 

And the final question I often answer - and this one relates to the new Classic 127.  "Is it as good as the original?"  And people are sometimes surprised at my answer when I say, "No."  But they are even more surprised when I continue.  "It's probably better."  Though interest in the US declined, improvements in accordion technology continued. 

I am delighted to have Fabian back.  After some major restoration at the loving hands of true craftsmen, he has become fully capable of returning once again to the concert stage as a truly outstanding free bassetti instrument.  But there is an equal joy in the new 127.  From the day I took Sebastian from the case for the first time he has been played - and though he has never been abused - he has been played hard.  I haven't worried about notes being out of tune, noisy keyboards, or quirks in the switch mechanisms; and probably won't have to for a very long time.  The more I play it, the better it gets.  And beyond the technical and musical capabilities, that's what Giuliettis are really all about.
General Bill and the Ducati,  September 14, 2010, Tuesday

I perform dog duty on Monday nights.  Jim has left to teach ballet classes by the time I get home from work so I get to rotate the dogs in shifts from crates to the backyard and finally into the downstairs area.

All of this could be quite simple if our dogs got along.  But they don't.  Two of the Afghan girls are litter-mates and were inseparable from birth - until the day they decided they hated each other.  Tyler carries the Afghan aloof thing a little too literally and none of the Ghans like Luke, the young Alaskan malamute.  Luke is a big goof ball that wants to play constantly and is way too rough and doesn't know when to quit.  So on Monday nights I practice downstairs and share my time between General Bill and responding to the demands of the dogs. 

In younger days I avoided multiple accordions like the plague.  I was always impressed at how seasoned pianists could switch between instruments and were often required to perform with little or no time to adjust.  Heavy actions, light actions, out of tune, rough key tops, dead notes, uneven dampers, big sound, no sound, harsh, unresponsive; and any combination of all these and more.  Unless you took your own piano with you, it was all just a day in the life.

But I sometimes I wondered if there was a value in being able to adapt to different instruments, and in the last year I have explored this curiosity.  General Bill is an 82-year-old Rocker Switch Excelsior.  The keyboard has a single axle and the black keys are narrower than on the Giuliettis.  The key action is deep but not particularly heavy.  It doesn't have a chamber.  The reed response is fast, but it does not have the razor sharp precision of the Giuliettis.  It is loud.  The left hand is somewhat clunky.  It takes increased concentration to play clean - and also forces me to focus on specific kinetic aspects - to really ramp up the discipline.

Along these lines, I find the adjustment from the 6/3 to to the 5/4 bassetti position less problematic than one would think.  However, going from the 6 to the 5-row stradella is much more difficult; something I will likely avoid.

So for the first part of Monday night practice on General Bill, I direct my obligatory attention to methodically practicing the more complex stradella sections.  At least for a while.  But in short order, I usually find myself playing things full-out; seeing how far I can push the limits of the accordion.  It is fun to play an accordion that was the 'gold standard' of its day.  But going from the Excelsior to the Giulietti is like going from a Pan head Harley to a Ducati. 

At this point I haven't found the rotation of instruments to be a detriment.  In fact, the required increase in concentration is probably good.  In any case it forces me to really listen and 'play' the instruments, rather than 'play at' them.

I used to say that my favorite motorcycle was whatever one I was riding at the time, which was appropriate when I was working in the motorcycle industry; but it wasn't entirely true.  And I am much more selective when it comes to accordions.
Cool Points,  September 15, 2010, Wednesday

I spent over 20 years training trainers for hands-on motorcycle riding courses.  There is a lot of passion related to riding motorcycles.  That is one of the things that initially attracted me to an avocation for teaching new riders.  I soon became engulfed in a full-time career in motorcycles and at times I felt there was no escape.  People who knew my background in music and accordions were often curious about the diversity of my passions and how these could really coexist.

As a part of an instructor certification process, I often watched the instructor and students from the back of a motorcycle training course.  There was always a certain energy from both students and instructor, especially in the earlier training modules; before the students had their first riding session on an actual motorcycle.  An early topic was protective gear, where the one of the instructor's objectives was to emphasize the positive aspects of selecting appropriate riding apparel.  A good instructor would bring examples of riding gear into the classroom and pass it around for the students to touch and feel.  I remember one time when a particularly a good looking instructor handed his heavy black leather riding jacket to a young girl and she nearly swooned as he said, "motorcycles are so cool you even get cool points when you put on a motorcycle jacket."  It is like the saying, "you will never see an unattractive girl driving a Corvette."  Corvettes were another passion of mine for a long time. 

When I first started playing in the 1950's accordion was cool.  Very cool.  But when guitars started to replace accordions in popularity and the entire culture was turned on its head with rock music, accordion became less cool.  And while part of this was external, there was an internal aspect also.  Stradella wasn't enough.  There needed to be more.  So for some there was a self-imposed caste system within a community that was already drifting away from coolness.  But perhaps these new instruments would make us cool once again - or at least let us coexist among what we considered legitimate instruments.

By the time I was half way through high school I was not as willing to blurt out that I played accordion.  When asked, I would most often say I played bassetti, and when people would ask what it was I would explain that it was a special type of accordion, but more.  No matter how many ways I tried to get around a direct answer to the question and deal with the 'a' word, the reaction was the same.  There was the look of confusion on why I needed to explain all this anyway, but there was also the un-coolness.  I had labeled myself.

I found myself having somewhat of a deja vu twice in the last several weeks.  One when I was discussing early bassetti years with a fellow old-timer and the second when I was listening to Michael Bridge's performance with Boston Pops.  Michael is one of my favorite players - a brilliant young accordionist who I am sure will evolve into a superstar.  When asked about the accordion he was playing, he went into a discussion about how it was an accordion, but it was more than an accordion.  It was a bayan with extended range and what he needed to play to be a serious contender in music.  However when he actually played, there wasn't anything that could not have been played on a well-tuned stradella.  I am probably reading something into his explanation that he didn't intend, or perhaps some of the need to legitimize remains.

Years ago I would never have listened to pop and very little ethnic accordion.  Today it is often what I am drawn toward the most when scrounging around Youtube.  I enjoy it.  I guess part of it is the honesty of the players and the music that flows from that honesty. 

I also had a recent discussion with a young player about the need to explain music, especially contemporary accordion music, as a part of a performance.  Though I avoid conversations such as this with people other than very close colleagues that I am not worried about offending, I challenged the player to try letting the music stand-alone for what it is; let the audience figure it out.  Music played well is music played well.

I also know when I suggest something to someone else I need to listen to my own words and do the self-evaluation on what I am doing.  So today at the task of performance I will just play.  It doesn't matter if it is stradella, bassetti, or something between.  It is an accordion, and though it may cross a lot of genres and there may be challenges on making it work musically, ultimately it must stand on the music.  And when that truly happens, it will be cool - no matter what - and I won't have to explain or justify it.

I stopped riding motorcycles shortly after I started playing again.  I guess I don't have as much need to show I am cool anymore.
When No One Says You Can’t,   September 16, 2010, Thursday

I have been working on Preludes and Fugues from the Well Tempered Clavier and a bassetti etude by Gregory Stone, but most of my attention with the return of Fabian has been on Tito's Hollywood Fantasia.  Since my return I must admit I have been hesitant in my willingness to dive head-first into one of Tito's major works. 

Tito's music is different than anything I heard played at the Galla-Rini International Competition, or for that matter anything I have heard - period.  It is 180 degrees out-of-sync with the Russian bayan sound; especially the jazz style of Hollywood Fantasia.  Imagine Frank Marocco playing his jazz repertoire on a Jupiter.

From a kinesthetic standpoint it is also very different than much mainstream contemporary piano music.  I typically approach music from the form and structure and Tito's music exudes all kinds of form and structure.  But for Hollywood Fantasia that approach doesn't work.  The form and structure are there, but they exist more like a fourth dimension, driven from the sonority and sequence.  That requires understanding the jazz style and how to produce the correct sound from the instrument.  To this end, Tito draws from a very rich palette.

When I first opened the manuscript and placed my hands on the keyboard, my first thought was, "how did you ever do this as a 15-year old?"  But in those days no one told me I couldn't do something, so I just did it.  It's been a lot of years since I seriously played jazz, but Tito's training has stood the test of time.  That part is still inside.  But I was more worried about the technical challenge. 

I once read a review from a performance of the Brahm's B Flat where the music critic said playing the work required either an enormous amount of technical facility or a tremendous amount of musicianship.  In this particular review he concluded that unfortunately the player didn't have either. 

For Hollywood Fantasia, I would say the player would need to understand the jazz style and how to produce sound on the accordion.  The technical challenge is also unique.  Everything on this playing field is different.  I have been surprised that much is falling right into place.  And after nearly 50 years, some of the apprehension is leaving.  At least for now.
Repaired With a Single Stroke,  September 22, 2010

Back in my Harley Davidson days, before motorcycling became the pass time for the in-crowd, one of my buddies had purchased a chrome cover for his starter motor.  Sometimes the fit of aftermarket accessories isn't quite perfect.  In fact, sometimes it isn't even close.  Anyway, not wanting to scratch the chrome, he had removed the starter from the bike and had sat on the floor in his apartment for several hours trying to figure out how to get the chrome cover properly positioned.  I helped him for a while, but was smart enough to back off lest I might be the one to scratch the shiny new chrome.  This final touch to his motorcycle was important for him and a scratch was going to ruin it.

Being a life-long motor head I understood his dilemma.  My mind returned to a variety of projects where things hadn't been quite as simple as promised.  With certain projects it was a given, like installing headers on a Corvette.  But I had been surprised when installing headers on a Mopar pick-up was one of the absolute worst experiences I ever had.  Before I was done I was removing motor mounts, transmission linkage, and even cutting the frame.

A friend of mine did a project of installing dual turbo-chargers on a Yamaha V Max motorcycle.  The V Max was a true muscle bike; absurdly fast as long as you were going in a straight line.  Throughout the stages of the project he let select members of the motorcycle press take the bike out for test rides - but would not let them take it to the drag strip.  They wrote about their experiences, about how the bike that was already a terror became something beyond description.  For the final part he took the bike to the drag strip to confirm all the seat-of-the-pants reviews.  When the burning rubber had cleared it was slower than it had been in stock form.  But on the upside, the power band was now like a light switch and the bike was much less reliable.

My project experiences usually followed the same path.  The headers leaked.  It became nearly impossible to change spark plugs.   The air-fuel mixture was inconsistent throughout the RPM range and would change with even the slightest atmospheric variance.  Things would vibrate loose, even with lock-tite.

So back to my friend with the chrome starter cover.  Becoming discouraged, he took it back to the dealership.  The young man at the counter said no problem, go back and let Flex put it on for you.  Flex (not his real name) was a monster of a man and enjoyed a God-like reputation for being all things to anything mechanical on a Harley.  I rarely heard him speak, just an occasional nod usually accompanied by a grunt.  But I had seen him pick up a Harley drag bike (okay, so it was only a Sportster) and place it over a small fire to warm up the oil for an easier start on an exceptionally cold day.  He took the starter motor and chrome cover from my friend and placed them on his workbench.  Then with the skill and finesse of a true artisan he reached into his tool box and pulled out a large hammer - the kind any good Harley mechanic would use to true connecting rods.  With perfect aim it took only a single blow to position the cover on the starter.  On the downside, it was not without some rather serious cosmetic damage to the cover.  On the upside, I doubt the cover would ever come off.  Ever.

My friend gave Flex an obligatory 'thanks', no other words were necessary, and probably not too wise.  Flex gave his obligatory grunt and we left the dealership.  The young man behind the counter waved as we walked by, his attention now occupied by another customer.

As years have progressed I am typically very hesitant to make changes to a car or motorcycle.  I have always been cautious about modifications to my accordions.  Even when Julio might occasionally say, "we could", I would usually decline; deciding it was best to leave it like originally designed.  Changes that were made were in the form of adjustments, and relatively minor. 

Several modifications were made to my two Supers over the years, thankfully nothing too major.  And General Bill had an adjustment wheel installed for the left hand strap.  But my inclination today would be to keep them as close to original condition as they can possibly be.  And should Flex reach for his hammer in an offer to fix my accordion, I would politely decline.
Totally Cool, September 27, 2010, Monday

For the past week or so I have been working on Tito's Hollywood Fantasia.  It represents one of the most difficult challenges since starting to play again.  Jazz Scherzo was Tito's first work for bassetti.  With Hollywood Fantasia he expanded it into a true concert piece.

I was 15 when I first learned Hollywood Fantasia.  After I had my falling out with Tito a couple years later I really had no desire to play it.  It was an uncomfortable situation, and to be honest, I don't know if he wanted me to play any of his music.  My interest in jazz faded, and while I still continued to play a lot of weddings and combo gigs, the emphasis was on typical commercial gig schlock.  Anecdotes provides the complete story.

By the time I was in my final years at UCLA, my non-classical music tastes had turned to rock.  Not the Muzak, elevator kind I would play on my accordion at an Italian wedding, but the rip-your-head-off 'underground' 'psychedelic',  stuff.  At the time it made much more sense to me than jazz.  It was rough, primal, sexual, and dark.  It didn't titillate the senses, inviting the listener into a delightful intellectual exchange, it ripped at the core of one's immediate existence with such intensity it was impossible to ignore. The options were to escape, or to surrender.  That was what rock was about in 1960's Los Angeles. 

I wanted to find a way to carry that energy into all my music.  To take away the choices.  I remember the managers (very short time) of Music Emporium (my rock band) describing a concert they heard by a group called 'Touch'.  They said the group was mis-named.  It should have been called 'Grab'.  That made sense to me.

Experiencing what it was to 'live' in that rock world changed my concept of music performance.  I now realize, however, that it doesn't have as much to do with how loud something is, or that it must be brutal or violent.  It has to do with the conviction of the performance.  There are no doubts in what the performer wants to do.  I often say that some people play an instrument while others 'play at' an instrument.  I have heard similar things said of dancers or opera singers.  It is 'I am now acting as a dancer' or 'look, I am transformed into an opera singer' vs. dancing or singing opera.  It is one of the primary reasons I am so opposed (and vocal) to affectations or choreography. Even though it may not be intended as such, it comes off as a excuse for playing-at rather than playing the music.  Which, unless it is intended as theatre, can equate to an excuse for the inadequacies instrument or fear of performing bad music.

So back to where I started in this blog - why is Tito's music so challenging?  Tito was a superb teacher.  I understand the style and can play it.  But is that enough?  Do I tap my foot, act cool, and transcend into what I think a jazz player is?  Is that enough or is it yet another display of affectation or choreography?  Or do I have to live up to what Aube said: thoroughly understand every detail of the musical essence and everything else will take care of itself?  For Tito's music that is a big challenge as both the musical and kinetic structure is complex.
The Great Adjudication,   September 29, 2010, Wednesday

Among other adventures during my first return year was being one of the adjudicators for the Galla-Rini International Classical Accordion Competition.  It was quite an experience, and looking back in retrospect three months later, adjudicating would be something I would likely decline should I be asked again.  The reasons are mostly personal, which most reasons usually are; and there is a lot of personal baggage that would influence the decision - which is also not uncommon.  And whereas I recognize the bias, at this stage of my life I have also learned to embrace it.  The sum of that bias is what ultimately defines my existence at this given moment.  And to loosely quote Shakespeare, 'tis not good or bad, but our thinking that makes it so'.

Declining to adjudicate would not be based on my opinions of competition.  Throughout life I have participated in competition, formal or otherwise and loved every moment.  If I had the opportunity to do it again, I wouldn't change any of it.  There were joys, there were disappointments.  But from Sylvia Prior's comments at her recognition luncheon, when she quoted herself after the first Accordion Association of Southern California Festival in 1956, "somebody has to win."

I recall my own experience with accordion competition, especially in the earlier years.  It is impossible to separate it from some of my overall views of the accordion culture of the time.  More than once I wondered, 'who are these old people (anyone over 30 was really old, over 50 was ancient)?  Do they even have a remote clue?'  If I had won, they obviously did.  If I hadn't, they obviously didn't.  And if they talked to me I pretended like I actually cared, especially when they were offering some type of corrective comment rather than just telling me how great I was. 

I made the effort to talk to a couple of the Galla-Rini competitors in the interim between the conclusion of their performances and the announcement of the results.  I am sure they wondered, who is this guy - one thing for sure, he is really old!  They were polite, but bottom line, I am sure they had minimal regard for what might have been intended as constructive comments - just like I would have been at their age.  Their concern was whether they had won or not.  In competition, that is the long and short of it.

It's not at all different than another leisure time activity I occasionally have time to enjoy - dog shows.  It is a difficult challenge to determine that one person's pet is a better representation of the breed than someone else's.  If I win, the judge obviously knows something about the breed.  If I don't win, it's all politics or I rationalize that I am breeding to the standard rather than stooping to the ring politics. 

But like Sylvia said, someone has to win.  And following that logic, someone has to determine the winner.  There is an additional layer in this dialogue that I have avoided, and that is the politics behind the politics.  But at least for today, I think I will elect to play my accordion rather than get involved in the politics.  I is more personally rewarding to love my own dog than to tell someone their dog is inferior to someone else's.  Of course, this works better if you actually have a dog.