Bassetti Dreams, February 23, 2011, Wednesday
Jim opened the cardboard box that had just been delivered by UPS. It was apparent that Gerry Kass had done an excellent job in protecting the little accordion that was packed inside.
I first think back to September a year ago when Fabian arrived from Los Angeles. Thirty four pounds of accordion magnificence, cradled in a plush-lined case; not the kind of case you typically see now, but one of the old, substantial ones. Fabian was begging to be played, ready to challenge my musical and technical competencies.
But today was totally different. Beneath the layers of foam was a small, square cornered case, tattered from age and rough handling. I guess I wasn't fully prepared for my reaction as Jim walked into the room where I was practicing and handed me the little accordion.
The accordion wasn't one of the custom built Supers that were the weapon of choice for so many players in the accordion's golden age. And it wasn't like the original Leader 1 bassetti, Serial #001 that Julio had sent me in the late 60s. The early all-bassetti student prototypes were quite similar in quality of the professional instruments.
What Jim handed me was one of the later, production-quality entry-level accordions, 25 notes in each hand; the true bassetti version of a 12-bass. It was the instrument Julio envisioned in the public schools, to be placed in the hands young children.
Most collectors search the best examples they can find of a particular accordion, or look for something with a history. But the tiny instrument that came into my home today had done its tour of street duty. It had been returned to Gerry many years ago for repair. The story was that the owner, a 7-year-old girl, had dropped it, doing serious damage. But the damage was most likely the result of abuse far beyond single drop.
To back up a bit, I had been looking for a student instrument for a local player interested in exploring the possibilities of free bass. I was following a 33-note student bassetti advertised on Ebay, one of the ones that had ended up in a pawn shop, one of the ones that had never been played, when Gerry told me of the unrepaired accordion in his garage. He offered to do what he could to repair it and send it to me.
So the question becomes; what do you do with a surviving plastic-shell accordion that had been subject to the abuse of a young child? Jim handed it to me and I played it - played some Bach and some jazz pieces. It was a good feeling. But as I played I had an unerving realization that I was holding Julio's real dream in my hands. A dream that wasn't the custom-made Supers or even the hand-crafted student bassetti prototypes, those were the realities. The dream was the street veterans; the accordions that would get into the hands of youth. And however Julio's vision might be ultimately be judged, for this moment it didn't matter. This accordion was his dream. A dream that is now scattered about the country in closets and pawn shops, in garage sales and occasionally in an accordion studio.
So for a few moments the little accordion brought the music of Bach to life and the music of Bach brought the little accordion to life. And I wonder where that little girl might be today. She would be about 50. Did the little accordion enrich her life? Did she survive better than the Bassetti 1?
Warming Up for the Fireside Concert, February 24, 2011, Wednesday
There are two days in the count-down until Dale Wise and I present our Workshop and Fireside Concert at the Accordy Inn. The topic is performance preparation, but for our discussions, performance preparation is certainly not exclusive to the concert stage or competition.
Aube Tzerko said we should play every note as if we were playing for an audience and listen to every note we play as if we were the audience. His advice can be paraphrased into two critical skills: the first is concentration; the second is listening to what we play. The skills are interrelated. And as skills they are something one learns how to do, and something one can improve.
In my early years, Glenn Stead introduced me to the elementary preparatory exercises of Aloys Schmidt. As a 10-year-old I questioned the value of the five-note, fixed hand position exercises. I realize now that as I was developing independence of the fingers, I was also developing the ability for extended concentration, and knowing what to concentrate on. In time I came to appreciate the link between concentration and listening.
An often stated goal is the ability to 'hear' the music in our minds as (actually before) we play, without the distraction of excessive attention to the physical movements required to play it. One must master this skill to achieve artistry. Think of the person who can start at a perfectly-defined tempo right from the first note - and maintain it. Developing this skill starts with single notes, concentration, and an aural concept of knowing what we want to hear.
So the topics Dale and I will cover will begin with the basics of performance (what I have been calling the Accordion Barre). But any study of pure technique needs a concurrent balance with activities that will encourage people to continue playing. If my youthful study with Glenn Stead had not included pieces in addition to the exercises, I would have quickly lost interest. So in addition to the Barre, the workshop will include practical enhancements to improve both the effectiveness and variety of improvisation (including Dale's new Pro-notes). All of it is hands-on, interactive, and applicable to players at all levels. Most of all, it is fun. And when the day is over, Dale and I will have learned as much as the participants.
Then we will all move upstairs next to the wood stove (hence the workshop title) where I will try on some of my new repertoire - my opportunity to put into practice the things we have been discussing downstairs.
The Accordion Barre and Self-Assessment, February 28, 2011, Monday
Thanks for all who participated in the inaugural presentation of the Accordion Barre last Saturday. It was a diverse group and certainly one of the most enthusiastic accordion activities I have ever seen. I was amazed at how quickly the group locked in on the initial group exercise that focused extended concentration and listening - two of our most important skills.
The Accordion Barre focuses on the basic skills of playing an accordion. The more obvious skills include tone production, bellows control, articulation, technique, and instrument manipulation. But there are other, equally critical skills that include listening, concentration and self-assessment. And though all the skills are interrelated, individual skills are isolated as much as possible so the accordionist can concentrate exclusively on that particular skill.
The exercises are simple and can be performed by players at almost any skill level. But the exercises are also challenging, and when performed correctly, the better the player, the more difficult the exercise. The ultimate underpinning of the Accordion Barre is proficiency in concentration and listening; the most critical tools for self-assessment.
The Accordion Barre provides a method to first understand what we are assessing, second a standard of how to improve it, and third, a way to measure our progress. When we master our ability for self-assessment (listening and concentration) and understand what we need to do to achieve our goals (understanding the basics of playing) the system can become disciplined and precise; and each of us can adapt it to our own needs.
If I started with an explanation like the one in the previous paragraphs I would likely loose most people very quickly. But when you jump in and 'do' it, like yesterday's participants, the concept is really quite simple. I rarely provide a lot of verbal detail when I teach - I simply tell someone to 'try this'. Sometimes I might need to demonstrate, but it is more important for the student to do it, regardless of their level. The value of watching me do something (demonstration) is questionable. But there is an extremely critical paradox here. I absolutely must have the ability to demonstrate, whether I choose to do so or not. And this can only come from an absolute understanding of what must to be done; and that understanding can only come from the consummate ability to perform what I would demonstrate - and that ability can only come from experience. Feedback is what true pedagogy is about. Without the experience and understanding the experience, my feedback is unqualified and totally useless, or worse than useless. That's the fastest way qualify myself as a hack.
So back to the students; when they do it, they own it. The explanation (feedback) comes later to assist in improving the process. That's why teaching kids is so great; they just do it because no one tells them they can't. Also, they generally don't want to watch you do it for very long - they want to do it themselves.
Learning the basic skills of playing accordion can be compared to other physical skills. The purpose of the Accordion Barre is to provide feedback in the basics to build a solid foundation in the least amount of time and learn self-assessment that empowers someone to sustain and improve their skills.
After the initial presentation, the follow-on questions from Saturday's participants showed they were dialed into the concept. I hope we can develop opportunities to extend the accessibility of Accordion Barre.
After the workshop I got to try a couple new repertoire things in the fireside concert that followed. In addition to the Sonata High Energy, I also introduced several new compositions by Gregory Stone and also Tito's Hollywood Fantasia - something I have not performed since 1963!
My thanks to all the participants and also to Dale and DeAnn for hosting the event at the Accordy Inn!
Interstate Route 40, , March 1, 2011, Tuesday
Thanks for all the comments on last Saturday's workshop and master class. It was a particularly enjoyable event, largely so because I got to visit with all the new accordion friends I have made in this area. When I talk to almost any accordionist, I feel like I am with friends. But for the regular gang at Dale and DeAnn's Accordy Inn, it is becoming more like family.
So now the attention turns to the National Accordion Association events in Dallas week after next. Preparing the music is the easy part. For Jim and I, the real adventure will be getting there.
What a great subject for a reality show: the true story of ten different accordionists trying to get to an accordion event.
If your jaw dropped when you heard the recent news story of, "don't touch my junk," wait until you see how Priscilla deals with the inspectors groping her bass reeds. And the credit card disaster in 'Best In Show' pales to Felecia's frantic credit-card maximum stress test when she is informed she must purchase a full-price coach seat for her accordion in lieu of having it tossed, unprotected, into to the lowest bowels of the baggage compartment.
And don't forget those infamous lines you don't want to hear, "if it is really worth that much money, you should have bought a seat for it," and, "you have to take two pounds out of that bag or pay the excess weight charge, and by the way, it is also over-size by two inches, that will be and additional charge of $250.00".
But I am trading all that for a two-day drive to Dallas. I like driving. It is a chance to relax and enjoy the scenery. I also know the accordions will arrive in good condition. Jim is less enthusiastic: a LOT less enthusiastic - even with XM radio, lots of food, and an internet connection. To me, it is only 1,200 miles. Certainly doable. But to him, it is, "1,200 miles, you can't possibly be serious!" But there are still decisions: do we want the mileage of the Honda Civic or the comfort of the Ford Van?
So at the end of the day, it will likely be somewhere between the 1950's television show (my reality), Route 66, and the movie, 'Vacation' (Jim's reality).
When You Don’t Get a Second Chance, March 2, 2011, Wednesday
The countdown continues for the National Accordionists Association event in Dallas. In yesterday's blog I spoke of the logistical preparation; and there are still lots of unresolved things - like the final decision of whether to drive the Ford van or the Honda Civic. Sometimes I think life would be so much simpler without so many choices.
Someone asked me a few days ago what I was going to play in a recital in May and I honestly told them I don't know; that I will decide when I walk out on the stage. That is partially true. I can't walk out with the Classic 127 stradella and then decide I want to play a bassetti piece. And playing the big stradella stuff on one of the Super Continentals is like driving a school bus around a race track. You can certainly do it, but driving the Ferrari (in this case the 127) would be much more effective. So there are some initial decisions that must be made.
But for now I am still trying to decide what I will play in Dallas. Then I can start thinking about May.
Also critical in the decision process is the length of the performance. A one-hour (or longer) performance is easy. A 20-minute performance is more difficult to plan. A 3-5 minute performance can be absurdly difficult, "when you don't get a second chance to make that first mistake." I heard this expression a long time ago. I had to think about it for a long time to grasp the full meaning, but in this case 'mistake' goes beyond missing a note. The mistake can be in your presentation, selection of repertoire, or any other factor. That's what makes it so hard.
So the decisions continue.
Because It Is So Wickedly Fun, March 3, 2011, Thursday
It is the final van day before the trip to Dallas for the NAA. Van days equate to the work commute which is when I typically write the blog. However, work days also result in limited practice time. I get up around 4:00 a.m. and am out the door shortly after 5:00. If the traffic isn't too bad I get home around 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. I grab a quick dinner and then it's practice time. It is a long day and I feel fortunate when I get 2 hours in. But getting up at 4:00 a.m. means I need to get to bed at a reasonable hour so I can repeat the ritual. On weekends I have more time.
Thanks to some excellent teachers over the years and having played for a long time I usually can be quite efficient using the available time to practice. Another critical thing for me is not missing days. When playing, I have always practiced 7 days a week unless it was literally impossible, like if I am on an airplane or in surgery. The daily routine is just as important as the length of the time available to practice; and this includes holidays, birthdays and whatever else. I have traditionally lived my life with the philosophy that if something is worth doing, it is worth overdoing.
But what matters most is what I can put into the practice. It is that level of concentration I speak of in the Accordion Barre. It is the self-assessment and the ability to rotate and adjust the daily practice regimen adding enough variety to sustain interest.
Practice also helps me appreciate my performance envelope to include the limitations of both the accordion and myself. I am a very strong advocate of Aube's advice that you practice slow to be able to play fast. But there also comes the time when you need to know exactly how fast you can play; and you can't know what 'too fast' is if you don't experience it. And for me it is best to discover that in practice rather than in a performance. Occasionally during a lesson Edith Oppens would tell me to play something, "fast like the wind, and don't stop, no matter what." So sometimes practice is like a stress test. I push until something fails.
During Desert Storm I remember listening as Norman Schwarzkopf answered a reporter's question regarding the combat risk of U.S. soldiers (with something to the effect of), "it's not like you see in the movies. We don't go into a combat situation with a slight chance we will win. We only engage when we are highly confident that we can and will be successful."
I have described 'virtuoso' at workshops and in this blog as ultimate control over the instrument and the performance environment. Whereas some might see the virtuoso as the occasional daredevil, it is most likely the player is well within the comfort of his envelope; it is just that he has expanded capabilities. And when I hear sniveling from some would-be accordion fuddy-duddy about young people playing everything too fast I smile inside and think to one of my favorite comments by Vladimir Horowitz to one of his students; "because we can and it can be so wickedly fun." At sometimes, it's just fun to remain young.
A Very Special Honor, March 6, 2011
We are continuing preparations for the trip to the National Accordion Association activities in Dallas. The practicing is the easy part; getting everything ready to go is more challenging.
Preparing for accordion events sparks memories, and I had one particularly funny one a day or two ago when I was reading some comments on cows and music on Facebook.
On one of our early car trips from Los Angeles to the ATG and NAMM in Chicago we did the obligatory stop by some of the Cosby relatives in Missouri. They had a small farm with a small herd of cows which was always a delight for me. I have always had a fascination for cows. Whenever we returned from a trips there were typically more pictures of the cows than of the accordion events.
Anyway, on this particular trip we arrived when a calf was being born which was something quite unique for a city boy. I was studying with Tito at the time and convinced my great uncle that we should name the calf after Tito's wife Sylvia.
I remember calling Tito and Sylvia from Chicago a few days later to report the results of the competition and I must say that Sylvia was not as thrilled to have a cow named after her as I thought she would. But it still seemed a good idea at the time.
Jim cannot understand why I like to drive rather than fly. I don't mind flying, and through work have done a lot of domestic and international flights. But for me there is just something about driving. I like relaxing and looking at the countryside, but maybe a deeper reason is that it reminds me of the great time I spent traveling to accordion events with my parents. In later years it became our vacations - packing everything into the family truckster and heading off across the California desert.
Last summer we attended a special recognition luncheon for Sylvia Prior sponsored by the Accordion Federation of North America. It was a well-deserved honor for a wonderful lady who has given a lifetime of support to the accordion. And there seems to be a lot of recognitions and honors in the US accordion world today. But how many people had the distinction of having a cow named after them? Maybe someday I will have a cow named after me.
The Bias of a Generation, March 21, 2011
A week has passed since the NAA in Dallas; it is time to catch up on the blog.
The wide ranges of activities at the National Accordion Association's events in Dallas were great fun. It was a chance to link up with old friends and make new ones. The NAA's accordion trade show brought back memories of the accordion's prominence in the National Association of Musical Merchants (NAMM) shows during the instrument's heyday. The enthusiasm in Dallas was certainly contagious.
In addition to playing on Friday and Saturday nights I introduced the concept of the Accordion Barre in a short workshop. New ideas surface each time I present the Barre. The participants often introduce their own topics, sometimes through a direct question, other times ideas surface as a result of something being discussed. A topic that nearly always comes up is accordion position. It affects nearly every part of playing and the variety of the player's positions is often equaled only by the variety of the accordions they play.
There is nearly always much interest in left hand technique and fingering. Accordion position will influence the ability to use the 5th finger. While there are nuances between individual players and instruments, there are certain things that will apply to all. And once again, it comes down to the ability for one to self-assess and to know how to adjust.
One thing particularly encouraging about the NAA was the presence of some younger players. At last year's AFNA awards luncheon in Sylvia Prior's honor, she emphasized that parents should share the gift of music with their children. Interestingly, there were instances at the NAA where grandparents were sharing the gift of the accordion. Perhaps in our time this works even better as kids will be spared the bias of the generation of the accordion's fall from popularity. Several years ago my parents took all the kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids on a Disney Cruise. I was surprised at how many grandparents underwrite these adventures for their families. I am sure some of it is the availability of discretionary money, but perhaps there is also a distant memory of the magic of Disney; a time of Disneyland on Sunday nights and Mickey Mouse Club each afternoon after school - and of course the park. Is it coincidental that Disney suffered a fate similar to that of the accordion around the same time? That Disneyland Park didn't have the real thrill rides and the feature motion pictures were a little too corny? But with time, Disney has evolved and has come back stronger than ever.
Perhaps a similar time of change has come for accordion, and perhaps the activities of the Accordion Barre will help establish a framework to understand and utilize the full potential of the instrument.
What’s Talent Got To Do With It, March 23, 2011, Tuesday
Call it selective listening or call it wishful thinking, most often we hear what we want to hear. Sometimes it is biased toward the positive, sometimes the negative. Sometimes it is immediately forgotten or passed off, but if we choose to give it substance, it can linger. With the passage of time it can even take on a new life. There is a saying you sometimes hear in 12-step recovery groups which says, "What you think of me is none of my business." It is easier said than done.
As an example, a recently I told a friend she was a musical genius. But I went on to say that talent alone had almost no value or could even be counterproductive without discipline. So to begin with, I was guilty of speaking some meaningless social drivel, only a half-step above a mindless comment about the weather. But my friend clung to the musical genius part. To her it was the only real value of my comment. It was what she wanted to hear. The discipline part didn't resonate; it was something she didn't want to hear. She associated no meaning to the shortcoming; even though addressing the shortcoming (lack of discipline) would be critical to realization of a musical talent (genius). So in this particular case I created a cycle I have to live with, "so you really think I am a genius? But you said I was a musical genius." And it never matters how many times I remind her of the second part; that she has absolutely no discipline. So nothing of value was accomplished from my original comment.
Now I could make a similar comment to another person, a person addicted to discipline and order, a person who might have unrealistic expectations of their own abilities or talent, and a person who would never be satisfied with any level of accomplishment. This person could cling to the negative (or constructive - depending on how you look at it) part of my comment. They aren't disciplined enough - in fact, they can never be disciplined enough.
So what's the point of all this? Is it my need to make a social comment intended to make someone feel good about themselves? Is it taking something someone said as literal and spinning it to my own needs so I can feel good about myself or justify my actions? And what of those times when you are actually in a mentoring position and you make a constructive comment quickly realizing it is being blown off; that the person you are speaking too doesn't give you the level of credibility you give yourself? Do you go on trying to convince them, or spend the next several months telling anyone who will listen why you are right and why that person was wrong for not embracing your point of view?
Like the ballet instructor said in the movie, Center Stage, you can always return to the barre, or in this case, the Accordion Barre. Success at the Accordion Barre will ultimately be measured by one's ability to self-assess, but it is an incremental process to learn what you are assessing and how to improve or to reach the goals you assess. A good mentor will be of immense help, but there will be times along the way when you will need to learn to measure the value of a potential mentor and how advice applies to you. Is it social drivel, or is it something you can use? And am I confident enough in my ability to self-assess that I can recognize the difference?
So when I hear someone play, do I say, "you have the characteristics of a wild stallion"; something that might make them feel good about themselves, or do I say "you have some natural talent but you have absolutely no control over what you are doing nor any concept of what you should be doing." Or do I have the restraint not to say anything? And why am I saying it in the first place? Am I saying it for them or for me?
Self-assessment comes from within and can be applied to almost anything. While it can apply to physical skills with a goal of musicianship it can also apply to value judgments and integrity. And a parting shot: don't ask questions when you really don't want to hear the answer and don't answer questions that aren't asked.
Something Old, Sonething New, March 23, 2011
At the recent National Accordion Association event in Dallas Tony Lovello discovered that I was not wearing the back strap on my Giulietti 127. He wouldn't buy any of my excuses - the truth being I hadn't figured out how this particular back strap was supposed to work.
After years of playing, it is not unusual to see an experienced player try an accordion with no shoulder straps at all. It is often with an instrument someone wants to check out. A pre-strap check-out can help determine whether it is worth the time required to attach and adjust straps. But that is outside the scope of Tony's comment to me. As he said, "how can I tell students they must wear back straps when they see you not wearing one?"
It is also rather curious that a few weeks before the NAA I started practicing the bellows-shake. I could do it when required, but after 30 years of inactivity, at only a minimally acceptable level. During my 30 year absence from accordion, conservatory players use much more bellows-shake that we ever did in the 50's - 70's. It has become an obligatory staple of much of the original repertoire and transcriptions. The triple bellows-shake is also widely used - something that I rarely did as I always thought it was unnecessarily hard on the accordion.
But having played on the Florida Smash venue with Tony, I was reminded that he is unquestionably the all-time bellows-shake master (so confirmed by Galla-Rini) and the skill is certainly part of accordion technique. So it was time.
As I age alongside my friends involved in other artistic and athletic disciplines, we often speak of a performer's shelf life - how long can you keep doing something at a high level. Women gymnasts' peak very early and some feel it can be dangerous to continue beyond a very young age. Compared to musicians, dancers generally have a much shorter time they can perform in their prime. In contrast, one of the best performances I ever heard was Arthur Rubinstein who was celebrating his 80th birthday.
I have read where people found it difficult to understand how Suzanne Farrell could continue to dance so brilliantly later in her career when she could hardly walk, and she explained that it was because of the effectiveness of the training and her ability to correctly perform the required physical movement.
In this regard there are similarities between dance and music: total mastery of the required physical skills can extend the time one can perform. Tony Lovello illustrates this with a very unique mastery of not only bellow-shake, but his ability to handle the instrument. I kidded with Tony, telling him I was going to stand and play for my 70th birthday. I have not stood and played since my first Dallape Super Maestro, many years ago. Tony still stands for his entire performance. For years there has been my excuse of very large free-bass instruments, but I now play at least part of my program on a standard stradella accordion. After I told him my goal, Tony gave me some essential tips on standing and playing.
Night before last I played nearly all of Konzertstuck standing. But I should tell the full story; the main reason was to make sure Tyler, our male Afghan Hound, wasn't marking somewhere out of my sight. But I must say, the back strap really does help - both for the bellows-shake and for standing up.
