Recording History

I'm starting a new project involving some of the tuba/euphonium community's most important figures. It is a mix of interviews and pedagogical articles. I started phase one with my first interview earlier this afternoon. Hopefully within the year, I'll be published!

I used something called Screenflow and I am crazy about it. It is a program that records your computer screen and audio. And since my first interview was done using Skype, it was perfect. The trial version is free (has a watermark on exported video) and the full version is $100. It is totally worth the money. So if you're into making instructional videos or tutoring or give music lessons online, this program is quite useful in documenting your work and/or your students' progress.

Screenflow's Website

It's Great To Be

A Michigan Wolverine!

Talk about rising to the occasion... I mean, damn.

Gender Roles in Art Music

I just read an article today that made me want to comment on it. My response to the article is below and so is the link to the article.

http://www.symphonynow.org/2013/03/harpist-in-the-lions-den/


The opportunity for women has definitely increased in the art music community. Unfortunately, I believe these increased opportunities to be lacking still. The first reason I say this is because of the extreme male dominance in "positions of musical power" (e.g. concert masters(mistresses), principal flutists, timpanists, trumpeters etc.).  But this is pretty obvious. Something concerns me more, however.

There seems to be constraint on how a woman can express herself depending on what sort of position she holds. For instance, successful female soloists seem to take on a more sexualized or traditionally feminine image (e.g. Amy Porter, Hilary Hahn). The same goes for high positions in orchestras (who often serve a soloist function) such as concert masters. Famous female conductors, on the other hand, insinuate a more androgynous, and at times traditionally masculine, image or persona.  What is interesting and unfortunate is that these two expressions of feminine energies are virtually mutually exclusive. It is irregular to see a "traditionally feminine" conductor or more masculine concert mistress. Shouldn't be that way.

Males, on the other hand, have been afforded the privilege to express themselves however they want in any art music arena. Whether you talk of the brilliance (and flamboyance) of the late Leonard Bernstein or the stolid demeanor of some principal male woodwind players, the fact remains that there has always been freedom in all art music arenas for a man to express himself in anyway he felt. It would be great if women openly had this freedom too.

DONE!

Thank you to everyone who came to my recital and to those who encouraged me along the way. I had some fun (and some disappointments). But mostly I learned a lot and am most certainly happy it's over. Spring Break is here! Thanks for being apart of a growing experience with me. -SJB

The Delight of a Bad Habit

My recital is close (8 days). My anxieties are high. But this has made it better:

My grandfather maintains til this day that coffee turns you black inside. So by standards of old people, I have no business drinking coffee. It's funny though, he drinks it everyday and is the sweetest man on Earth.

I am in love with this coffee (the one on the left). It has made every morning (and some late nights) both delicious and easier to deal with. I have been drinking coffee since I was about 7 years old, thanks to my mom. It was a tradition for us to drink coffee on Saturdays. Only a cup or two, though.

If you're a coffee lover, you've gotta try it. Or maybe you've discovered it already. I'm generally late to parties.

Tuba with a Side of France

Thomas Leleu is one of France's rising classical music stars. He won a professional orchestral job in France at the age of 19 and recently won a French Grammy. He's 25, funny, artistic, and pretty damn cool.

Upon seeing this picture a few months ago, I was certain that this guy was going to be as exciting as a hole to the head. I mean, if Pauly D and Robert Pattinson could produce a child, I'm certain that Thomas would be the disastrous result.

A disaster was not what I got, though.

I got to meet him on Monday. He, my professor, a studio buddy of mine and I all went out for pizza and beer (naturally). I'll spare you the inappropriate details of dirty French jokes about Katie Holmes and other American celebrities... But I will say that Thomas was a very polite and interesting person. He likes talking about things besides tuba, likes to drink beer, and loves Latin music. I can't be mad at that.

On Tuesday, Monsieur Leleu performed at The U of A. Before I start on my worthless criticisms, I would like to say that Leleu plays and sounds incredible. The ease at which he plays softly and musically is enough to make me want to quit the tuba forever. The virtuosity exhibited over the course of the hour he performed was also impressive. My foremost issue, however, was with the program. Aside from a Latin piece he wrote himself and a piece composed in tribute to another famous French tuba player, everything else was written for other instruments. The recital was full of songs from Carmen and from Samson and Delilah. And of course there were show pieces like Czardas (he can double tongue like no body's business)... It was as if he programmed the recital for an audience who didn't want to hear anything other than the classical music that plays during holidays, commercials, or movies. Mind you, Leleu's tour consists of several colleges with renowned talent and musical excellence including The New England Conservatory and Eastman School of Music.

On top of the fluffy programming was a very awkward moment in the recital. After playing two movements of an oboe concerto, two songs from Samson and Delilah, and three minute Elgar piece, there was a piano solo. It was an excerpt from Carmen. I thought it would function as a long introduction to the other Carmen song following it. But no. Besides the fact that it was from the same opera, it had nothing to do with what came next. There was applause, a shuffling around of sheet music, and then the next (unrelated) thing started.

I've never witnessed anything so bizarre in my life. At least not at a recital.

The second half had Piazzolla's Obilivion to open and it was followed by the tribute piece to a famous French tuba player named Marc. This piece was very jazzy and had some pop references in it, an improvised solo, multiphonics (playing the tuba while singing). Even though I'm no purist, I really wanted some standard tuba rep. Could I get a movement from the Vaughan Williams Tuba Concerto or a Broughton Concerto? Something traditional and written for a tuba? Just one thing!?

Nope. I got songs. Songs for every other instrument and voice type under the Arkansas Sun. They were really pretty, well-played songs. But songs. I guess there was a concerto but it was for oboe. And frankly there was a touch of blasé stage presence mixed in there too. I am not sure if it was meant to display a cool, collected demeanor. If so, I didn't get that and I did not care for it at all.

In spite of my many gripes, I really liked Thomas on a personal and musical level. Honestly. While I would have loved a completely different program, his high-level abilities and the musicality with which he played was something I aspire to achieve. It was inspiring to meet someone who is young and more successful than I am. This was a great experience for me.

And there was beer.

Wise Man or Man Down?

Everyday that passes is a day that I near the night of my recital (and spring break; thank God that's coming). I decided that I wanted to play a tuba staple on my recital: Capriccio by Krysztof Penderecki. While it's a standard piece of tuba repertoire, it is also one of the most difficult pieces out there for us. It involves a lot of fast jumps between registers, necessitates technical ease, and a wide range of dynamic control.

It's like Billie Holiday song, you'll probably be really old before you feel you can do it justice.

Generally, people play this on an F (or Eb) tuba. I thought, "hey, why not play this on my C tuba?" For those of you who don't know, the difference between the F and Eb tubas and the C tuba is like the difference between a cello and a string bass or baritone voice vs. bass voice.... sorta.

Anyway, my "brilliant" idea and strange aural concept of this piece led me to make the choice to do it the harder way. Inevitably, my performance will be less accurate than if it were on the smaller tuba.

What I'm struggling with is a two-part problem: 1)Do I accept that the standard of my performance will be not as good in terms of objective execution? Or, do I maintain an ideal nearer to the perfection that I would achieve on the smaller tuba? 2)Is "accepting" my limitation being being realistic and wise or am I manning down?

I feel that no matter if any of you reading this understand anything about tuba music or not, everyone can relate to the reality that they all possess limitations. Is the purpose of limitations to constantly strive to transcend them? Is it to work "within the system" ultimately creating something unique to you because of your limitations? Or is it that we should always be cognizant of what battles we choose to fight?

To put it concretely, I have three choices:

1) Man up and go for the same standard of performance as if I had it the easier way, with my small tuba.
2) Work within my C tuba limitations and make something really musical and passionate, accepting the technical flaws that will come along.
3) Familiarize myself with my limitations and never attempt performing something that will cause me to choose between the two previous choices.

I think that the choice I make, and that everyone makes in situations of recognizing their challenges, is largely telling of what kind of person I am and what I value. Someone can play a sport with great statistic success.  Dedication, discipline, results. But lacking heart and passion. No vitality. They represent choice one. There are great businesspeople with damn good know how but who possess even better people skills. They are easy to like and connect with; there is an organicism about them. They represent choice number two. Then there are people in the world who live in a manner that keeps them secure. They do just enough to be better than half assing the job but they don't stand out. Not good. Not bad. They represent choice number three.

The question at my ripe old age of 24 is who do I want to be? Who does anyone want to be?

Someday, I'll listen to my recording of this piece and wonder what all the neurosis was for. I can't say for sure that any of it even matters.

O! absurdism, how you haunt me.

But that's a philosophy for another day.

So long.