UCLA and Mixed Venues
By the time I started working with GallaRini, my musical world had expanded. There was also an increased connection between my music and personal worlds.
World Competitions
My father was a very competitive and successful athlete. He had lettered in as many as 5 different sports each year in college (seasons were much shorter then) and in his final years was the Team Captain for at least three of these sports. I don’t know how much he really understood or appreciated music or my playing, but he understood what it was to be competitive. My Competitions became milestones; something to prepare for, and something to measure progress. With the exception of my rock band, my parents were totally committed to supporting my musical endeavors.
However, my parents were concerned that I maintain focus. It was also obvious they thought my focus should be on the accordion, or more accurately, on solo accordion. A multitude of events come to mind that illustrate the strength of their influence – even from the earliest years. My middle brother had a phenomenal talent for anything physical and was accomplished at tap dancing. I thought it would be fun, but my parents discouraged it. It would take time from my accordion practice. In high school, I was asked to play accordion in a school play – but that would cut into my practice time. When I was with the El Camino College Chorale and our return flight from an MENC convention in Kansas City was delayed for a day, there was deep concern that I was missing practice. After all, I had already missed three days for the trip (it was one of the few times I didn’t take the accordion with me). There was always the reservation about performing with accordion bands – I was more a solo than ensemble player and band practice time took away from solo practice time. Even many years later when I was studying piano quite seriously – I might finish playing the Liszt Sonata or the Brahms 2nd piano concerto only to be asked by my mother, “Don’t you ever play your accordion any more?” My parents would brag that they never had to force me to practice, that it was something I wanted to do. It was something I wanted to do, but the basis for motivation might be open for discussion.
Accordion competitions fit very well into this scheme. Competition required the ultimate preparation for a given piece or pieces. From an artistic standpoint, having experienced the artistry that ideally is the result ultimate preparation makes it an achievement that can be repeated. But if one has never done it, it is a concept that is difficult to explain and absolutely impossible to teach.
Thus, the actually competition becomes even more of an event. And if the desired outcome is diminished with anything less than 1st prize, it becomes even more complex. As with so many things, it is a matter of balance.
In addition to the actual performance, there is a social culture that surrounds the competitive event. There was a distinct difference between the National Competition sponsored by the American Accordionist Association (AAA) and the competition sponsored by the Accordion Teacher’s Guild (ATG). There was yet another culture associated with the Coupe Mondiale, which was held each year in a different country.
In the 1960’s, the AAA was the more glamorous of the two. It had the aura of the powerful East coast corporate sponsorship. The ATG was more like a Ma and Pa operation; and it often seemed that Fred and Lari Holzhauer were that Ma and Pa. It was said that they kept the ATG alive in spite of almost everything else that happened around it. Though there were committees and elected officers, Fred and Lari did the real day-to-day and year-to-year work. They were an older couple and quite passionate about what they did. One distinct memory was their dedication to Barry Goldwater. For a while, every letter would be signed with a gold-colored ball point pent, and below the signature would be written, “This letter was signed with Gold Water.” I don’t how they ever survived the resounding defeat.
The ambience at the ATG competitions also seemed more somber than the AAA. There were also fewer events that surrounded the ATG National Competition. The AAA was a rather large festival with multiple categories and lots of prizes. The ATG was primarily the single event of selecting the lucky competitor who would have his or her expenses paid to the Coupe Mondiale.
A musical difference in the two competitions was sight reading. The Couple Mondiale included 10% of the contestant’s total score on playing something at sight. The ATG followed the practice. The AAA competition didn’t include the sight reading.
If I remember correctly, at one point the decision was made that it was not acceptable to compete in both competitions; probably a decision of the AAA. For this reason the ATG competition generally trailed the AAA competition by one or more days. In this way, the AAA would not now that you were entered in the ATG. Generally, I don’t think very many people competed in both. For some reason, I gravitated toward the ATG. It might have been because GallaRini was President Emeritus, though he was also highly respected in the AAA.
Each organization also held a banquet and often a concert, or at least the opportunity for the new champion to perform. At least in the ATG, the rules were quite specific and I remember one occasion where the winner was disqualified. It was 1977 or 1978 when I was serving as the head judge. Consistent with the organization’s name, Accordion Teacher’s Guild, the competitor had to be sponsored by a teacher who was an ATG member. In this case, the teacher’s dues were not current at the time of the actual competition, which was discovered after everything was done. Even with offers to pay the back dues, the competitor was not allowed to keep his title. He was an exceptional talent and had played the Liszt 19th Hungarian Rhapsody as his Choice Piece. Ultimately, I think he became discouraged and stopped playing.
I remember playing in the competitions, though over the past 40 years the individual details of each year have blurred together. The actual competition generally took place in a meeting room of a hotel – often not acoustically flattering. Relatively few people listened to the competition. In most cases, I doubt there were more than 20 tops, though some of the competitors had a following so people would be moving in and out between perfomances. Another concern for many was the 10 minute time limit for the choice piece. I know of few things more irritating than an egg timer being started when you play the first note. You were instructed to stop at the end of the allotted time, though I never remembering anyone doing that. I also don’t ever remember anyone being penalized for going too long. The player had the option of standing or sitting (I never saw anyone stand). I can’t remember if the music had to be memorized, but I don’t ever remember anyone using music.
Each contestant was required to provide 3 original copies of their choice piece for the judges. They would make marks on their score sheets as you played – some would occasionally respond in some way, but most of the time they followed along on the music. Sometimes the judges sat at a table in the front of the room facing the audience, the competitor facing them with his or her back to the audience. Other times, the judges sat in the front of room with the contestant facing everyone. The results for the ATG were generally announced late in the day and the winners would play that evening.
For the competitors, a major concern was always the temperature in the rooms where they were to play. It was common for the rooms to be very cold. It was typically a long day – and a year or more of preparation came down to the performance of the test piece that had been selected for the Coupe Mondiale, a short sight reading selection, and the choice piece.
I competed in three Coupe Mondiale and the one International Competition sponsored by the AAA. The Coupe Mondiale followed the same basic sequence as the national competitions with a few differences. First, you had to be sponsored by a member country to participate. In the case of the United States, they accepted two competitors, one from the AAA and one from the ATG. There was a panel of judges. Each member country was allowed one judge. There was some type of numeric scoring system that was used to average the judges’ scores – I don’t believe there was any discussion or a consensus process. Many contestants thought that the some judges would score their person high and the rest low – so if the judge from their country actually tried to be honest, that competitor would be at a disadvantage. I don’t know if there would ever be any way of knowing.
My first Coupe Mondiale was in Toronto, Ontario. Both of my parents went and we flew from Los Angeles to Chicago, and then up to Toronto. The Canadians did an outstanding job scheduling the activities for the event. There was a program the opening night with a variety of performances, one including a small string ensemble accompanying an accordion soloist. They skipped the obligatory accordion band.
The actual competition was well attended – and it was one of the first strong representations of the Giulietti bassettis. When the dust settled, Steven Dominko had won the gold medal and I had the silver, so the United States had claimed the first and second prizes. Steven’s parents were already talking about a world tour Julio had been planning for the new champion. This caused my parents, especially my father, to have some suspicion as to Julio’s motives and his role in the outcome of the competition, but he didn’t voice it. And there was also the underlying battle between whether the AAA or the ATG sponsored the top US candidate. But despite any of that, I played well as had Steven. I never had any resentment toward Steven. I played the 1st Movement of the Waldstein. The test piece was Danza Latina.
I returned home to start digging in for the next year’s competition and to college activities. By now GallaRini and I were in full sync and were collectively working on the transcription of the Liszt 19th Hungarian Rhapsody. The 19th had the reputation of never being finished by Liszt. Some sections more resembled a musical sketch than a finished piano work. Horowitz had included it as a transcription on one of his ‘returning-from-retirement’ recordings. I was influenced.
Following the Coupe, Julio wanted an album – not like the one that had caused the problems with Tito, but one recorded in a studio. The idea was to have Steven do one side and I do the other. I started preparing with GallaRini.
One of the first decisions was where to record. GallaRini somehow made a connection with Armin Steiner – possibly through Gregory Stone.
In retrospect, working with Armin was perhaps one of the most unusual things that had ever happened to me, and perhaps even to the accordion. Armin was an extraordinary string player who had done (and continued to do) a lot of work with Lincoln Mayorga. Somehow along the way, he got involved with recording and spent many years recording some of the top rock performers and later some major motion picture scores. When I first worked with him, he had a studio set-up above his mother’s garage, complete with a live chamber located somewhere below the garage. He recorded a vast number of people there – as an example, he was doing all the stuff for Dick Clark’s “Where the Action Is” with Paul Revere and the Raiders. The place was totally sound proofed, but neighbors eventually started to complain about people coming in and out at all times of the day and night.
Anyway, we scheduled the recording session. For some reason, GallaRini didn’t come to the taping, but we borrowed his Magnatone Bass Amplifier (this huge thing with 4 12” speakers) and headed off to Armin’s.
The best recording engineers are usually excellent musicians as they need to be able to ‘hear’. Armin was as good as they came, and was enthusiastic about the session (though I think that is a requirement of all recording engineers – they have to act like you are recording a #1 hit no matter how bad they really think it is or if it is a style they cannot stand).
Over the years, both Armin and the sound from the studio above his mother’s house became legendary, and the sound that he got from the accordion was truly remarkable. We recorded the Liszt, the Ole Schmidt Toccata #2, Important Event from Schumann’s Kindersehen, Mendelssohn Spinning Song from Songs without Words, and a couple pop things that I had done: Tenderly and a Boogie. It was all done in one evening and off to Julio almost the next day.
By the time Julio got the recording, someone had decided that Steven should have his own record, so Julio asked us to do a second side. Again, we went to work. By this time, Armin was out of the garage and moving into Sound Recording Studios on the corner of Yucca and Argyle. I was one of the first people to record in the new studio – one of the first to have 8-channel recording capability – though the album was still recorded in a live-to-2-track.
With some shifting and the additional material, the master tapes went back to Julio. The album was the first on Neofonic – and had a cover printed on a gold stock with red ink. It was not the most attractive album jacket ever done. Additionally, whoever did the mastering in New York convinced Julio that all the ‘clicks’ from the registration changes needed to be taken out. They also did some equalization changes to the tape which was unfortunate. I guess it was a chance to make some extra money. In any event, the album was released. I never made a cent from it, but it helped get me recognition and some gigs. Most copies were distributed free-of-charge. Recordings were a marketing opportunity for Julio. Neofonic 100 – the most exciting sound today!
I think there was a genuine sincerity in Armin’s like for the album and the accordion. He started inviting me to special recording sessions he thought I would be interested in. He had some friends with interest in big bands, and some of the best jazz musicians in Los Angeles gathered to record great arrangements of the big band era. I had always been interested in all types of recording and this was a huge treat.
Steven’s album came out shortly thereafter. The album design was basically the same, but with blue ink. It was later redone with a new cover and some other enhancements and released under the same number – Neofonic 101. I am now attempting to get a copy of the first recording for over 40 years. I finally obtained a copy of the second one. The services of Charles Magnante were enlisted for the second release. An over-done electronic vibrato was used on some of the slower sections, and even though an overall goal seemed to be making the accordion sound like a stradella, it still didn’t hide the brilliance of Steven’s playing.
In 2006, I finally made a high-resolution digital copy of the original master tapes from the first album. The tape had started to deteriorate and I had to carefully replace every splice before I could play it. I had forgotten the rich, full sound that Armin had captured. I don’t know if anyone has ever topped it. It was also recorded on one of the big bassettis.
Competing in my second Coupe required me to compete again in the National Competition. The choice piece was the Liszt. I don’t remember the location of the National Competition, but the Coupe was in Malta.
I was to attend this one by myself as air fare was quite expense. However, GallaRini was to meet me there, and naturally, Julio would be there also.
Malta was quite an experience. It was a wonderful place to visit, and they had made some good creative choices in how they conducted the competition. Getting there was the first part of the adventure. I flew over-the-pole on a Pan Am 707 to London’s Heathrow and then down to Malta on a BEA Comet. It was a long trip, and one of my first experiences spending an extended amount of time in an airport.
We were treated like celebrities when we arrived in Malta. The Mediterranean terrain wasn’t what I expected, though I really don’t know what I expected! There were photographers at the airport and a lot of attention surrounded the entire event.
Arrangements were made for the competitors to stay at a Catholic Retreat a ways out of the city. There were concerns that the practicing would bother people in the hotels – most of the hotels being resorts. I remember riding from the airport to the Retreat with one of the Canadians and experiencing a strong summer rain. The water was coming up through the bottom of the car, deep enough to where the engine eventually stalled. I had to hold my feet up to keep them from getting wet. I looked over at one of the homes and saw they had the front and rear doors open, brushing the running water out through the front door. The rain finally stopped, almost as fast as it started and eventually we were on our way again – by this time in one heck of a traffic jam.
The staff at the Retreat, both clergy and civilian was as cordial as I have ever met, as were the Maltese in general. We all ate in a big dinning room – contestants, judges, everyone. There were people together that you wouldn’t normally expect. I remember sitting at a large table after the supper meal one evening with Dr. Hohner, Julio, GallaRini, and a couple Russians who didn’t speak much English, eating and carrying on until all hours of the night, having a great time.
The Maltese loved Americans. It was hard to walk down a street without being invited into someone’s home for refreshments. We had the opportunity to see a great deal of the Island. One night in particular I was riding with Jerry Cigler back from a trip into town. One of the priests was driving. I don’t know if the Maltese had ever really decided which side of the street they would drive on. Most of the time it seemed to be more a game of chicken or application of the law of gross tonnage. All I remember is that we were heading at a very high rate of speed directly toward a large truck. It was a very narrow street – certainly not enough room for both of us. At the last minute, the priest careened off into a ditch. Jerry roared with laughter saying to the priest, “Father, you missed him!” Then Jerry wanted to drive. That’s when I protested.
The young Russian competitors were fun. Most had studied English since the earliest grades of school and were anxious to practice speaking it. Their ‘ice breakers’ were very corny English jokes limericks which were too bad to even be amusing. They liked to eaves drop on everything we were saying, but we soon discovered that a bit of slang thrown in, or for higher security, pig Latin, and they couldn’t understand a single word.
While it might have been the most genuine camaraderie I ever experienced in the accordion world, I was disappointed with the outcome of the competition. I again came in second. I don’t remember who won.
As soon as we returned home, GallaRini was working on the transcription of the first movement of the Tchaikovsky G Major Piano Concerto. As I said earlier, it was constructed from scratch – every note written. It was a technically challenging piece to perform. I somehow made time in my college studies to compete in the ATG National Competition which allowed me to participate in my third Coupe in Versailles, France.
It was a very different atmosphere. There were some excursions, and the Palace Grounds were impressive, but the competition was (for me) disappointing. The winner played a version of von Weber’s Konzertstuk – something I had done as a Sophomore in high school. I came in third.
My mother made the trip to Versailles with me, and after the competition, we traveled to Rome for a few days with Julio and then on to Castel Fidardo where the accordions were made. Rome was fun. Julio spent a good deal of time in Italy and knew his way around all of it. We ate at the restaurants “the locals ate at”; stayed in non-tourist hotels, saw the Vatican, and Julio kept my mother amused by tipping the cab drivers and telling them to ‘give her a thrill’. They would have given her a thrill without him.
For some reason, we headed off to Castel Fidardo a day or so before he did. He insisted we take a train – and the one we took stopped at every small village and places between. It was a long ride.
When we got to Ancona, we were to call Julio’s cousin to come pick us up. This far off the regular tourist path, there were few who understood English. In fact, I think some of the youths managing the shops didn’t realize there was a language other than their own.
After some time I realized you needed tokens to use the phone. Then I had the challenge of communicating with the news stand boy that I needed to buy phone tokes. And after accomplishing all that and getting my number, Julio’s Cousins little boy kept answering the phone, and when all he heard was my gibberish, he would hang up. So I would start the cycle again. Eventually he came and picked us up – said he had heard the kid picking up the phone and guessed it must be us.
Visiting the factory was great. They were about 70% done with an all-bassetti accordion that Julio was having made for me. But it was also great to stay with his cousin, having a rare opportunity to experience the family life.
Another cousin owned a restaurant, and that is where we ate dinner and supper. I have never seen people eat so much. After the noon meal, I was stuffed. I was shocked when we went back mid-evening to repeat the process.
The workers in the factory were nice and gave the appearance of being productive. From time to time Julio had explained how crazy the Italian government was and how it affected the manufacturing process. Much of the work was done as piece work in people’s home – such as reed blocks – and then brought into the factory. There were piles of lumber that was being aged on the side of the building.
Another sight that impressed me was the Farfisa factory. Whereas Zero Sette was rather modest in size, Farfisa was huge – certainly an industrial complex.
When it came time to head back to Rome, I asked Julio why we didn’t fly. He said he didn’t trust the planes going over the mountain – but agreed to fly with us. It ended up being a small jet, and was much quicker than the train ride.
We flew back to New York on TWA; got in really late and had missed our connection through to Los Angeles. But after a marathon race through Kennedy, we got another flight and were home the next morning. Any trip with Julio is a marathon. I was exhausted. But at least the entire value of the trip wasn’t solely based on the outcome of the competition.
Once home, I started working with Don Balestrieri. The weekly drive to San Diego was over 120 miles each way, but it was a most rewarding experience. At the time, Don was publishing editions through Ars Nova that were setting new standards in their accuracy to musical detail. Don had established a reputation as both a performer and historian and his reputation extended beyond the accordion world.
Don had been one of the pioneers of the Titano free bass, and urban legend has it that technical problems with the instrument ended at least one performance when the mechanism jammed in the middle of a performance. He taught in a studio located behind his parents’ home. I remember the first lesson – a fan was blowing toward my accordion and the turbulence was causing a strange tremolo. He turned it off as soon as I started playing.
Don was another individual who had a very specific vision for tone production on the accordion. Though it was initially difficult to comprehend, he demanded an even greater level of finger/bellow articulation than GallaRini. With his extensive knowledge of Baroque music, much that was written for instruments with technical limitations, he understood the importance of how the articulation of each individual note could be used to achieve the artistic intent. This required finger dexterity with a higher level of bellows control than I had imagined.
I had been exposed to a similar concept when I first started studying piano with Aube Tzerko. There was absolutely no part of the technical approach to the instrument (how you played the notes) that was tentative. With Don, I came to understand how this could be applied to accordion. Each instrument has its own set of solutions.
In time, I was able to achieve the technical ability to apply Don’s concepts and the results were dramatic. I need only to compare the 1965 recordings of the Bach Inventions to the 1967 recording of Handel’s Harmonious Blacksmith or the examples from the Well Tempered Clavier on the 1978 recording (there are a couple additional WTC examples I didn’t include on the album that I may some day release).
In addition to baroque, Don also established a reputation for his composition of 12-tone and other contemporary music. I never had the opportunity to play any of them.
I must out Don for one thing, however, he did have the obligatory accordion orchestra. I never played in it, but I drove to La Jolla with GallaRini several years before I started studying with Don to attend one of their concerts.
In retrospect, Don provided a wonderful understanding of how articulation should be used on accordion, especially for baroque repertoire. And what he taught complimented and provided a new level of refinement to everything I had worked on with GallaRini.
I brought my accordion to the party, but no one asked me to play
Harmonious Blacksmith - Handel (1967).
Toccata # 2 - Ole Schmidt (1967).
