Why another blog? Then and Now??? Thursday, 21 April 2010

I am sitting in my hotel room in Baltimore, MD – here courtesy of my day job.  After we finish on Friday I am off to Albany to pick up Fabian (the Giulietti 6/3) from Tony Grieco, who has been doing some rather complex restoration (that is a long and complex story – but not tonight).

All my accordions have names.  Fabian was originally Connie, but renamed when I got the 5/4 — who claimed the name of Connie.  The new Giulietti Classic 127 is Sebastian.  The Excelsior is General Bill.  You can see pictures of each of them on the website.  There are stories behind all the names.  I also name cars.  Some names stick, some don't. 

I am anxious for the return of Fabian.  There are special things about each accordion.  Fabian can reach into your primal side, often exposing the darkest parts of your soul.  He can be savage, uncivilized.  Don't even try to hide any part of yourself.  But I have also literally watched tears run down the cheeks of  grown men, retired Army officers,  non accordionists, when playing single reeds with  pp melody lines.  There is a sheer beauty of tone that is hard to describe.  

Fabian is an accordion with a pedigree – but much of his past is unknown.  Somewhere in his early years (certainly before Frank Petrilli.), he was most likely subjected to some very rough handling and some questionable repair work.  But even so, he still performed.  He would sit crouched in his case, like a wild animal daring to be set loose.  But once engaged, he became your most trusted companion.
So why another blog?  To share some of my thoughts and opinions.  Uncensored.  Returning from my 30-year isolation is like coming out of a time capsule.  So as I discover things, it is a chance to share my reactions with you.  As I get warmed up, I am sure to hit on a lot of topics – even though sometimes with a distant relationship to accordions or even music. 

Bill
A new name for Connie, 22 April 2010, Thursday

I was told by Jim that Connie (The Super 5/4) is not a Connie.  Fabian was originally named Connie after the Lockheed Super Constellation (close to Continental), resplendent with the 3 tails (like the 3 rows of bassetti).  Powerful engines running at low RPM - TWA's "Queen of the Sky".  I know, the connection is lame.

And though Fabian (originally Connie) and the 5/4 (Connie awaiting a name change) are of similar Giulietti pedigree, the accordions are very different - far beyond the obvious difference in the number of respective stradella and bassetti rows.

Whereas Fabian has an unknown and possibly dark past that very likely included some rough handling and molestation by questionable technicians, the 5/4 existed in a happy and secure environment - lovingly cared for by her original owner, Kim Doogan, a university student of one of Canada's finest and most respected accordionists, Joe Macerollo.  The 5/4 is a very late instrument, and the finishing work and detailing from the original construction are impeccable and basically untouched.


Where Fabian is primal, the 5/4 is refined.  She speaks with a wonderful clarity and a certain purity.  But there is no mistake they are both Giuliettis.  A difference in instruments is not foreign to high quality craftsmanship.  In purchasing numerous new Steinways from the Steinway in the New York City showroom (for myself, for West Point, and even one for a neighbor) I was amazed at the differences in the instruments.  But there was never any doubt they were all Steinways. 

I also find myself approaching each accordion differently.  Sometimes you just know immediately.  Sometimes there is a process of discovery.  You listen, you feel, you respond.  I don't think about what kind of reeds are inside or other details of construction.  I am more interested in what it does than what it is.  Because if it 'doesn't' - it doesn't matter what it is.  But that is a topic for another blog.

Back to the 5/4.  When you reach a certain level of refinement with an instrument, it may not necessarily improve your playing.  When you do things right - it will reward you with extraordinary results.  But when you do things less than right - it will likely heighten that also.  With that type of refinement and clarity - the interface is more transparent.  I would use the example of an American Steinway vs. a Hamburg Steinway.  To me, Fabian is more like the American Steinway.  The 5/4 is more akin to the Hamburg Steinway.

So she needs a name.  Under consideration right now are Elizabeth or Margot.  Send me your thoughts or suggestions.  Then Jim  will most likely decide her name.

Journey to Albany April 23 2010, Friday Night

After my work was finished for the day I drove from Baltimore up to Albany to pick up Fabian.  I was lucky in terms of traffic, though I don't know if anything is as bad as Washington DC - that being said by someone who grew up in Southern California!

Having lived for 23 years in Cornwall-on-Hudson, New York, it is always a little like coming home. 
So Tony is finishing up Fabian tonight and doing a few adjustments on Elizabeth (I am going to use that name for now).  Sebastian (the Giulietti 127) is home with General Bill and Jim (who is now tearing into Palmer Hughes Book 2).

The next order of business when I return will be completing the 'stradella' album.  I will be recording it on Sebastian.  It has been very interesting playing a true Giulietti stradella after all these years.  In some ways, the big bassettis don't make particularly good stradellas - or perhaps more accurately, you have to approach the music quite differently and run the risk of loosing something in the translation.  I can certainly work, but it requires a different playing style. 

The first thing is in the response from the lowest bass reeds.  The bottom is great in the big bassetti accordions, but they take longer to respond.  Big bass reeds also use a lot of air.  That changes the bellowing.  There is also a difference in the response of the chords.  In my experience, the chords in a dedicated stradella accordion have much more capability for a sharper or crisper 'punch'.  I can still hear Tito singing a 'bap' to demonstrate.  That punch can be used to add percussive nuances, not only in the many applications of 'Om Pah', but as accents in certain jazz styles.  Sometimes getting that percussive effect is more important than the actual notes being played in the chord. 

So combine an extremely tight compression, fast and quiet keyboard and bass machines, great reeds with a wide dynamic range, good tonal and physical balance, and fit it into a 26lb package and you have described Sebastian (the new Classic 127).  Sebastian is physically very easy to play and extremely precise and responsive. 

The last Giulietti stradella that I owned was in 1959 - 1960.  In the late 1970's I told Julio I wanted buy a stradella without a bassetti system, but he was far from enthusiastic.  At the time I had been exclusively playing bassetti for over 15 years.  He would scold me, 'Why would you want to go backward?' 

But today, while the Continentals fill certain expressive needs, Sebastian fills others. 
At this point, I see it is another part of the accordion's versatility.  And perhaps the biggest realization I have experienced in my return is that the versatility of the accordion may be more important than proving the legitimacy of the accordion as a classic instrument.  Perhaps the versatility is the greatest asset - firmly establishing the accordion's real legitimacy.

It has sure made it a lot more fun.

Choreography - Part I April 24, 2010, Saturday afternoon

Waiting to go pick up the accordions from Tony this afternoon - then the 8 hour drive back to Fredericksburg.

After I finished writing about Sebastian last night I started looking at some online videos of current accordion players in Europe.  It brought up one of my favorite topics - something I call choreography.  I don't know how many people use the term, but it has meaning to me. After reading some of my views and rants on the topic, you may discover it is something that you have also observed, though you are likely to have called it something else and have your own views and reactions.  So I would make a serious caution: this may change the way you view performances - forever.  I would also quote one of my professors from UCLA who for many years was the music critic for the LA Times.  "Throughout history, musicians have never supported music."  Of course, he was referring to the musical performance of other musicians.

Roll back a few months.  I had not played accordion for nearly 30 years and was going to play a musical interlude for a performance by the West Point Alumni Glee Club in Arlington, Virginia.  I was still acting as the Musical Director and Conductor of the WPAGC at the time and the purpose of the musical interludes are to give the singers a break.

After I had finished, Jim, who had never heard me perform in public, said he was very surprised.  He didn't know that choreography was part of it.  It looked like I was trying to convince the audience (or myself) that I really was into the music.  I didn’t think I was doing that much choreography, and wasn't giving it conscious thought, but evidently there was enough for him to notice.  I was as surprised by his comment as he was by my choreography.  He asked if choreography was part of a musician's performance.

A word of background, Jim was a principal soloist in classical ballet with several companies, and only stopped dancing a few years ago after completely ripping an Achilles tendon several days after a performance with the Virginia Symphony orchestra.  Through many long discussions I have come to realize the close parallel between his Russian training in classical ballet and my Russian training on the piano.  However there is one significant difference between musicians and dancers, a musician gets to hide behind an instrument.  For the dancer, it is all on the line.  The instrument is the movement of their body. 

As a young player, I quickly realized that I was not good at choreography.  Even after a year or so I recognized I didn't have the charisma required for the 1950's accordion pop genre.  Teachers could tell me to smile, be pleasant, be relaxed, and my mother could make the requisite satin shirts with the billowy sleeves; but I knew it didn't work.  I was never going to have the stage presence or pizzazz of a Dick Contino or Myron Floren.  For me, I was going to have to play my ass off.  That kind of showmanship was not my thing and I felt stupid trying to do it.  (Not that feeling stupid has kept me from doing certain things in my life.)

So back to the online videos I was watching last night.  The first thing that would grab my attention was the choreography.  I could be so drawn in by the choreography that I could care less about the music.  It could be a major distraction.  Choreography relates to the music, interacts with who is playing it, and may or may not be part of what is required in the venue. 

A while ago someone referred me to a particular online video to check out.  As I watched, I couldn't really focus on either the player or the composition as I was so distracted by the choreography.  The player was great but I hated the piece and saw the choreography as the player's attempt to convince at least himself the piece was worth playing.

Maybe I should have tried that on some of the Coupe Test pieces when I was competing.  I should have tried using choreography to convince myself they were great compositions.
More to come.

Return Home - Sunday, April 25 2010

Got away late from Tony's home in Albany, New York.  Didn't get home until almost 4:00 a.m.  I used to late nights like that in stride, but it is rougher now that I am older.

Fabian is still the grand patriarch of the Giuliettis.  For me, the 5mm key depth really makes a difference.  It was something that several of us encouraged Julio to do on the bassettis.  In contrast, Tito liked an extremely shallow action, most certainly because of the jazz style.  It was probably less than 4mm.  For now, Fabian has the fastest right hand keyboard, Sebastian is clearly second, and Elizabeth is third.  But here we are talking ultimate speeds – they are all extremely fast.  Elizabeth needs to be played in more.  Sebastian has the fastest (and certainly the quietest) stradella section.  Elizabeth has the biggest bottom end (that doesn't sound right).  Eilzabeth is also an 'E' system.  Fabian is 'G'.  and Sebastian is 'A'. 

I want to get back to the topic of choreography.  A parallel concept in dance would be affectations - after all, how could you have choreography on top of choreography?

So maybe what I am talking about is more appropriately labeled affectations.

But if choreography is 'acting' then there is the possibility of having both choreography and affectations in musical performance.  The entertainer part could be the choreography that might be expected for a particular venue but there could still be affectations on top of that.

More later...  I'm tried and just finishing unpacking. 

Jo Ann Castle - April 27 2010, Tuesday morning


Back into the routine this morning.  I am currently in the back of a 15-passenger commuter van careening wildly up Interstate 95 on my 54-mile commute to work.  I like my job but detest the commute.

Several months ago I bought an accordion album off Ebay that was recorded by Jo Ann Castle in the 1950's.  In his quest to learn everything he can about accordion Jim had uncovered some early performances on You tube by Jo Ann on the Welk show and he insisted I bid on the album.
Upon playing the album, I must say I was totally blown away.  Such an amazing technical facility, so much fire, so much life.  I was at once reminded of the absolute brilliance of her artistry. 

My next thoughts turned to 'Tito'.  I remember sitting in Tito's living room one time waiting for my lesson when Jo Ann dropped by to visit.   Also, Tito's influence was apparent in the improvisations for several arrangements and throughout the album in the way Jo Ann locked into the groove of the rhythm.  That is an acquired skill and Tito took the time necessary with his students to master the technique.  On the up-tempo arrangements it allowed her to combine with the rhythm section with a driving synergistic energy.  This isn't about playing fast or loud.  It is about locking into an internal clock with a final result beyond any digital quantifying process.  

Last night I called Sylvia Prior to confirm that Tito had, in fact, been one of Jo Ann's teachers.  Back in Tito's living room in the late 1950's 'teacher' may have been mentioned, but Tito was not into self adulation.  For him, it was always about the music - and his approach to music was realized in his enthusiasm about life and all the things to be enjoyed.  Never once was there a hushed conversation about this performance or that - the greatest accordionist or greatest accordion - or making the accordion legitimate - or playing homage to someone.  For Tito, everyone was accepted on an equal playing field - which in my experience is a characteristic of a truly great artist.

So as I listen to dueling Libertangos on Youtube (mainly from Europe), I am reminded of great American accordion entertainers of the 50's and 60's like Jo Ann.  In terms of pure talent and showmanship she was certainly among the best!  It was pure fun then, and it is certainly pure fun now.  Jo Ann could certainly have taken on any of today's pop players, and what a duel it would be.  In fact, I am not sure she couldn't still do it... 

Accordion Lessons - April 28 2010, Wednesday

Jim accuses me of being a horrible teacher.  Absolutely no music-stand (bed-side) manor.  Mean.  No patience.  Always yelling.

Maybe all this is akin to teaching a family member how to drive.  I remember when I was getting ready to go into the Army.  In our newlywed bliss Carolyn and I had decided to buy a new car.  It was May of 1969.

Our 1963 Dodge Custom 880 station wagon had close to 160,000 miles on the odometer and had certainly served me well - but was it really up to a cross-country trip and future New York snow-filled winters?  The local Plymouth dealership had a loss-leader sale on a Forrest Green Road Runner with the high performance 383 and the horn that went 'beep beep'.  It also had a radio, but that was about it in terms of options.  Oh yes, it also was a four speed.

We picked the car up and were on the way home from the dealership when I asked Carolyn if she would like to 'try 'er out'?  It was then that she informed me she had never driven a standard transmission.  Though I had that moment in time when my heart had stopped on cue, I calmly remarked that there was nothing to it and she would be up and running in no time.

I pulled into an alley behind our apartment and she slid into the driver's seat.  Any motor-head worth his Pennzoil realizes that the heavy-duty Mopar 4-speeds from that era were not user friendly.  The stiff Hurst shifter would challenge a weight lifter and the clutch was exceptionally heavy and unforgiving.  After at least a half-dozen stalls and some very erratic transitions between acceleration and deceleration the lesson ended in some tears and some harsh words.  Scariest thing; I was leaving for Fort Ord in several days and I was certain there wouldn't be much left of the transmission or the clutch by the time I returned from basic training.

My dad came to the rescue and calmly said he could teach her, and within a couple days she could manage the stick with minimum stalls.  The trade-off was some very spirited departures from the stop position.

While in basic training, Carolyn often told me in her daily letters all about her improvements.  I became more concerned when she told me that Dora (our drummer from Music Emporium) was also helping her improve her skills.  Dora's incredible athleticism carried over to everything she did - whether it was playing some form of baseball burn-out with one of the neighborhood high school kids or full-throttle-power-shifting a car.

The tone of the letters gradually changed.  Soon there were stories of shutting down a Corvair, and eventually even to some Firebirds and Camaros.  Dora had worked her magic.

Perhaps the same cautions in teaching family members to drive should be applied to music lessons.  But I must say that Jim is progressing quite well in spite of me.  He is now starting to tear through Palmer Hughes Book II.  Last night we started on alternating the basses .

Alternating Basses - April 29 2010, Thursday

I goofed a bit in yesterday's blog about teaching family members to drive (or learning to play an instrument).  But drill down a bit further and you have the larger topic of adult learning - doing something new - and in some cases, learning a new motor skill.

I was a Chief Instructor / Master Train-the-Trainer for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's RiderCourses for the better part of 15 years.  The core of the training curricula is hands-on, so I had a lot of opportunities to participate in the process of teaching adults new motor and mental skills.
Over the past several years the MSF courses have become much more centered in adult-centered learning techniques.  In earlier days the focus was on teaching the skills in the classroom, first in theory and then through visualized practice.  As the training program progressed, it was found to be much more effective to have the rider experience the complete skill, and then fine tune it.
I have played piano for many ballet classes.  Often the teacher will demonstrate something and tell the dancers to repeat what they did.  There is no great introductory explanation of the techniques or kinetics - just do it.  After that it becomes a process of refining their technique.  As part of the process of refining the technique there may be discussion of why this or that will improve performance.  Rarely does the teacher say something is hard.  And bottom line, it may not be hard for that particular dancer anyway.

Same thing in teaching people to ride a motorcycle.  Skills are presented in a sequence - you demonstrate - have them experience it - and refine their technique.  Nothing is really 'hard', though you may spend the rest of your riding experience refining the skill.  In fact, I may say something like, "this may look more difficult than it is."

The other component of adult learning is helping the student discover his or her own method that achieves the result.  Let them learn what works for them, and use that.

So in teaching alternating basses or in almost any other physical skill, the first thing (for me) is to have the student experience motor skill.  Let them see what it feels like.  Then start providing the background and nuances as necessary.  Perhaps that is why I sometimes seem impatient.  I don't want the student to spend a lot of time 'figuring it out' - just do it.  I don't want them to confuse themselves with details that will impede their progress at that point in time.  However, I sometimes have to remind myself that students learn in different ways and some may need to understand more of the background at an earlier stage than others. 

Another aspect of music is that it occurs in time.  I have found the concept of rhythm and (music existing in) time are the most difficult concepts to apply.  Therein is the baseline of ultimate artistry.  So the concept of time and sequence needs to always be part of the experience - to where it is integral to every aspect of making music.

40 years ago I was sitting in a hotel room with Stephen Dominko and a few other friends.  He remarked about one passage from the Liszt 19th that I had played earlier in the evening as seeming nearly impossible.  I picked up my accordion and played the passage for him.  It was a 5-note handset; something more common to piano technique.  He repeated it flawlessly on the first attempt.  "That's cool; it sounded a lot harder than that."

So remember, it's never hard.

PPB - May 2, 2010 Sunday

Ruthanne Schempf, one of my all-time closest friends, accompanied the West Point Glee Club for many of the years I was the Conductor and Music Director.  Throughout those years we spent countless hours on busses traveling to concerts.  Spirited conversations helped pass the time and the mere mention of certain topics could keep us going for hours.

The first was Wagner.  Wagner has always been my second-favorite composer, second only to Mozart.  That Ruthanne and I did not share a common appreciation of Wagner is an understatement.  Another favorite topic was Hanon.  I was raised on Hanon and always thought it was an absolute staple, good while having the morning cup of coffee or reading the morning paper.
Ruthanne was more into achieving technical milestones through challenges in the actual music.  In recent years she has finally started to appreciate the true value of Hanon, though I have yet to convince her of the necessity of practicing the first 31 exercises in all the keys with both diatonic and chromatic fingering.  (As a side note, Ruthanne has a PhD in musical performance on piano from Manhattan School of Music and has successfully supported herself as a concert pianist and teacher.  Her playing and vast repertoire are technically and musically brilliant.)

Another favorite topic was PPB, or in laymen's terms, the dreaded 'piano players butt; when years of practice combine with basic genetics to produce a rear end that will challenge any piano bench ever designed.  A counterpart is APB, or 'accordion player's butt.'  And when it is all said and done, butts are always a much more fun topics than Wagner (who can be way too political) and Hanon (which can be way too boring).

Playing the accordion in the 50's and into the early 60's was totally cool.  But the steps I thought necessary to develop an acceptable level of competence were exclusive of everything else.  What was unusual is that I came from a family of athletes.  My father was a coach for many years.  In college he had lettered in football, basketball, ice hockey, track, and baseball; in his senior year being the team captain in several of these sports. 

But on the first day of high school gym class, I thought I was literally going to die after a single lap around the track.  I didn't think being in shape could coexist with becoming a world-class musician.  The day I entered the Army my life changed in ways I could have never guessed.  Staying at West Point for 23 years imprinted these changes forever.  Physical fitness was a critical part of the West Point experience, for cadets and staff members alike.  I remember one concert for the Viet Nam Vets on Long Island.  The morning activity was a 5-mile run with the Vets.  Several of the cadets completed a second loop and caught up with Ruthanne and I before we finished.  But on that day, we had done our part to combat PPB or APB.  I embrace the value of staying in shape for both body and mind.

So today, staying in shape remains a top priority.  I started with a 3-mile morning run through the Fredericksburg Battlefields that are adjacent to my home.  It is something I do every day.  I also know it is even more important when I don't see how I am going to fit it into a day with a completely insane schedule.

But I am now facing a new challenge - man boobs; another gift that comes with age.  I find this issue much more difficult to resolve than APB.

But what will you be doing in 20 years? May 3, 2010, Monday

I still remember most of the details with pretty good clarity, though it was nearly 55 years ago.  I was talking to one of the neighborhood kids who was probably two years older than I was.  It was typical kid talk.  I was most likely babbling about something accordion, because even at ten years old, accordion had consumed most of my identity.  I was convinced I was going to become the next Myron Floren, or next somebody.  I knew accordion greatness was going to be in my future.

Leroy (not his real name) listened somewhat indignantly before replying, "But what will you be doing in 20 years?"  It were as if he had poked a hole in my bellows.  In my mind I could see Leroy and his parents sitting at their 1950's Formica kitchen table on plastic-covered chairs with chrome legs, father saying, "All that silliness about playing that accordion.  Why would any parent let their kid waste so much time thinking there was a future in it?"  I am sure Leroy's mother nodded her head in agreement as that is what 1950's housewives did.  And Leroy sat there taking it all in ready to repeat it at exactly the right opportunity.  Even in my early years I knew these thoughts were not from Leroy.  But I was not influenced.  I approached accordion with even more vigor.

I experienced a similar reaction from my own parents during my last years in college, when I had decided I wanted to be a rock-and-roll star.  "Do you really think people are going to want to hear all that noise in 20 years?"

Looking back, rock survived better than the accordion did - at least in the United States.  By 1979, when I snapped my bellows strap for the last time for 30 years, there wasn't much interest in accordions.  There was the occasional performance at a festival, but even the interest in these had declined.  In the early years of the Western States Accordion Festivals there had been close to 5,000 contestants - all at one place at one time.   

In 1979 I had already been at West Point for almost ten years.  In that final year I played and judged at the ATG Nationals in St. Louis, the Western States Festival in Santa Monica, CA, and played several full recitals in and round West Point.  But that was it.  I was still playing casual gigs, but would face serious disapproval from other members of the combo if I even thought about showing up with an accordion rather than an electric piano or organ.  At one time I even had one of Hohner's early versions of an organ crammed into an accordion shell (Electrovox).  But even that looked like too much like a Cordovox, which carried its own baggage.  As I saw it, accordions had reached the height of being totally un-cool.  They were the things jokes were based on.  I wanted to play music - not fight dragons and chase windmills.  It wasn't worth trying to prove something to people who basically didn't care. 

The world is a much smaller place now.  I can watch what is happening world-wide in real-time through the Internet.  I can talk to people all over the world.  I watch with fascination at the accordion's popularity outside the United States.  Maybe the instrument never took the face dive there that it did here.  Maybe there was a better resilience, more reasonable expectations, whatever.  But there is certainly a lot of excitement.  The accordion is certainly cool and there are a lot of cool and very hip people playing it.  It is such an exciting time. 

An interesting note; I had started to play again before discovering all these things.  So maybe a deep seated love for the instrument had finally overcome a need to be cool.  I am also discovering a certain interest in this country - almost like an undercurrent - but I don't know if accordions in the US have found their niche - yet.

However, there is one thing I muse about; though I may not be around long enough to see how it plays out.  Years ago in the US there were accordionists who played both classical and jazz or pop (I hate that word but can't think of a better one).  There were others who just played classical.  There are still some survivors who played primarily classical repertoire who still play classical repertoire.  But when I think of those who played both styles, I am having a harder time thinking of those who played both who still seriously play classical repertoire - their focus seemed to turn primarily to pop.  As an example, Donald Hulme was a phenomenal player, perhaps one of the most impressive I have ever heard.  Ever.  But after winning the Coupe, I don't ever remember hearing of him dragging out that behemoth custom-made-dedicated-quint-system 200-bass 49-piano key Gola to knock out a few from WTC or a Liszt Rhapsody or two.

So I really wonder as some of today's young superstars demonstrate such brilliant proficiency in various styles.  What will they be doing in 20 years?  But today, I am not asking if they will be playing, but what they will be playing?  I have some of my own theories, but I am not quite ready to share them yet.  I would rather hear some of yours. 

And does it really matter?  Absolutely not; at least to me.  It's all fabulous and it's all cool.