Making Music With Other People
- Voronwë the Faithful
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Making Music With Other People
As many people know, I play in an ensemble that plays traditional (or at least mostly traditional) West African percussion, specifically from the Mandingue people of the old Mali empire, mostly what is now Guinea and Mali and parts of surrounding countries. This music is truly ensemble music. With a violin or guitar or piano or flute, or harp, etc., etc. one can play beautiful melodic music by her or his self, though of course all of those instruments can also be an integral component in an ensemble. But in Mandingue percussion music, it is the blending of the different voices of the instruments that creates the melodies.
There are typically three dunun players who play bass drums of varying pitch and size with a stick with one hand, and a bell with the other. That is my instrument. I usually play the Sangban drum, which is the middle of the three, and is the heart of the rhythm. All of the other musicians (and dancers as well) key off the Sangban. Sometimes I play the dununba, which is the largest and lowest pitched of the three, and the one which affords the most opportunity for improvisation (the Sangban player can play variations but must be careful to keep the integrity of the rhythm at all times).
Then there are two or three djembe players. One of those is the main soloist (in my ensemble, that is Beth, my partner for those who do not know that). The djembe soloist weaves in an around the foundation of the rhythm set by the dunun players and the djembe accompaniests. The dununba player in turn can follow the djembe player and speak with her. (After the recent benefit show that we did, one of my clients that came to the show told me that he heard human voices singing out of Beth's drum like angels, which was one of the nicest compliments I have heard).
The different parts are polyrhythmic and often fit together in a fine weave. Great care must be taken not to entrain with other parts particularly when one is playing notes which are all off-beat. Many of the rhythms must be played at a very rapid tempo in order to create the correct "feel" and it can be quite a challenge physically.
Playing music in such close collaboration with others can be both exhilerating and frustrating. When it is going well, it is possible to completely lose one's self in the moment, and truly become one with the universe. But it takes a tremendous amount of trust and cooperation that often can strain even the closest relationships when things are not going right.
In my group (which varies from 5 to 7 people), Beth is the acknowledged leader of the group. It is very good to have someone clearly in charge, who everyone respects. But there are still some very interesting and challenging dynamics. One is that Beth is the only woman. That has generally not been a problem, though we did have one member who seemed to resent taking direction from a woman. He is no longer with the group. Having a couple inside the group can be a challenge, since she and I can not help but bring our own personal dynamic into play at times. Having people of varying degrees of experience and committment levels is a bigger challenge.
I would be interested in hearing about the thoughts and feeling of others that play music with other people, both in terms of the rewards of it, and the challenges, and particularly how people have dealt with those challenges.
There are typically three dunun players who play bass drums of varying pitch and size with a stick with one hand, and a bell with the other. That is my instrument. I usually play the Sangban drum, which is the middle of the three, and is the heart of the rhythm. All of the other musicians (and dancers as well) key off the Sangban. Sometimes I play the dununba, which is the largest and lowest pitched of the three, and the one which affords the most opportunity for improvisation (the Sangban player can play variations but must be careful to keep the integrity of the rhythm at all times).
Then there are two or three djembe players. One of those is the main soloist (in my ensemble, that is Beth, my partner for those who do not know that). The djembe soloist weaves in an around the foundation of the rhythm set by the dunun players and the djembe accompaniests. The dununba player in turn can follow the djembe player and speak with her. (After the recent benefit show that we did, one of my clients that came to the show told me that he heard human voices singing out of Beth's drum like angels, which was one of the nicest compliments I have heard).
The different parts are polyrhythmic and often fit together in a fine weave. Great care must be taken not to entrain with other parts particularly when one is playing notes which are all off-beat. Many of the rhythms must be played at a very rapid tempo in order to create the correct "feel" and it can be quite a challenge physically.
Playing music in such close collaboration with others can be both exhilerating and frustrating. When it is going well, it is possible to completely lose one's self in the moment, and truly become one with the universe. But it takes a tremendous amount of trust and cooperation that often can strain even the closest relationships when things are not going right.
In my group (which varies from 5 to 7 people), Beth is the acknowledged leader of the group. It is very good to have someone clearly in charge, who everyone respects. But there are still some very interesting and challenging dynamics. One is that Beth is the only woman. That has generally not been a problem, though we did have one member who seemed to resent taking direction from a woman. He is no longer with the group. Having a couple inside the group can be a challenge, since she and I can not help but bring our own personal dynamic into play at times. Having people of varying degrees of experience and committment levels is a bigger challenge.
I would be interested in hearing about the thoughts and feeling of others that play music with other people, both in terms of the rewards of it, and the challenges, and particularly how people have dealt with those challenges.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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Wow, that was interesting to read, Voronwë!
And a great theme for a thread!
I sing in a choir, and the thing I've always found most thrilling is how all the single parts add up to a whole that is so unexpected as long as you just know your own part, and that also transcends the sum of all the single parts - and yet, each single part on its own can be astonishing, too.
For example, when you are used to hearing a piece on a CD you are only used to the sound of the whole, but when you hear it while performing it, you suddenly think "wow, listen to what that clarinet is doing" - which you'd never noticed before, because it was just part of the whole.
And the other way round, when you stand at the back, as you do in the choir, you see, for example, how the instruments before you have all the music they play in the entire piece on two sheets of paper. Or, depending on the piece, even your own notes don't amount to much.
So you realise how each on their own wouldn't make a big impression, but all together, everbody doing the bit assigned to them, they create this awesome sound!
That's something I'm totally in love with about singing in my choir.
But, of course, it's sometimes as if some people don't have this feeling of the community effort and only focus on themselves. And even that's not the case, we are still all individuals. And there are so many people involved in a big concert that it's almost impossible for the conductor to harmonise so many individual minds and wills.
I think a small ensemble must be much different - each becoming attuned to all the others. In a big ensemble it's the task of the conductor to make it seem as if that was the case there, too.
I'm afraid I'm gushing. Anyway, we had our Christmas concert on Sunday and it was !
And a great theme for a thread!
I sing in a choir, and the thing I've always found most thrilling is how all the single parts add up to a whole that is so unexpected as long as you just know your own part, and that also transcends the sum of all the single parts - and yet, each single part on its own can be astonishing, too.
For example, when you are used to hearing a piece on a CD you are only used to the sound of the whole, but when you hear it while performing it, you suddenly think "wow, listen to what that clarinet is doing" - which you'd never noticed before, because it was just part of the whole.
And the other way round, when you stand at the back, as you do in the choir, you see, for example, how the instruments before you have all the music they play in the entire piece on two sheets of paper. Or, depending on the piece, even your own notes don't amount to much.
So you realise how each on their own wouldn't make a big impression, but all together, everbody doing the bit assigned to them, they create this awesome sound!
That's something I'm totally in love with about singing in my choir.
But, of course, it's sometimes as if some people don't have this feeling of the community effort and only focus on themselves. And even that's not the case, we are still all individuals. And there are so many people involved in a big concert that it's almost impossible for the conductor to harmonise so many individual minds and wills.
I think a small ensemble must be much different - each becoming attuned to all the others. In a big ensemble it's the task of the conductor to make it seem as if that was the case there, too.
I'm afraid I'm gushing. Anyway, we had our Christmas concert on Sunday and it was !
but being a cheerful hobbit he had not needed hope, as long as despair could be postponed.
I play the french horn & have missed being a part of an ensemble for years now. I'm practicing a piece which may result in my auditioning for our local community orchestra, providing they need horns.
I think my best experience playing in an ensemble was a brass quintet, consisting of two very close friends & two of my siblings. We were on such wavelengths that when we finally got down to business very little practice was needed. Just clear, sweet music. It was such a blessed time.
My large family sometimes sings together. We have such a blend of voices that it can be a great experience... provided we can agree on what we sing.
(Great topic, V )
I think my best experience playing in an ensemble was a brass quintet, consisting of two very close friends & two of my siblings. We were on such wavelengths that when we finally got down to business very little practice was needed. Just clear, sweet music. It was such a blessed time.
My large family sometimes sings together. We have such a blend of voices that it can be a great experience... provided we can agree on what we sing.
(Great topic, V )
- Voronwë the Faithful
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Cem, I just knew you were a musician, even though so far as I can recall, I don't think I have actually read that anywhere. Just the kind of energy you have.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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I have sung in choirs, and performed drama which is also a group effort, but the most amazing experience was watching my daughters perform in various orchestras.
Their the conductor really treats each performer as if that person were one of his/her instruments, and it is so amazing to me that he/she can bring all those tones together, control their volume and timbre ... it seems that it would be an absolutely transcendent experience to perform with an orchestra like that.
But iimprovisational work must be even more challenging. No conductor. Everyone has to feel where the other is going ... like being in a chamber group, I suppose, with only the concertmaster for guidance.
I got in the habit of enjoying the rehearsals far more than the concernts.
Jn
Their the conductor really treats each performer as if that person were one of his/her instruments, and it is so amazing to me that he/she can bring all those tones together, control their volume and timbre ... it seems that it would be an absolutely transcendent experience to perform with an orchestra like that.
But iimprovisational work must be even more challenging. No conductor. Everyone has to feel where the other is going ... like being in a chamber group, I suppose, with only the concertmaster for guidance.
I got in the habit of enjoying the rehearsals far more than the concernts.
Jn
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I have played the violin since I was three years old, although my practice has fallen off over the past two and a half years for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, I think that I have lost much skill in that time, and I do not know how long it will take to get it back, later.
Over the years, I have participated in several quartets, the best of which were those organized for adolescent musicians of advanced ability by the Virginia Symphony. (In my b77 post “On Youth and Inexperience,” several of the mentors I was referring to were adult professional musicians, Juilliard-trained and the like, who gave selflessly of their time to coach us.) I also have organized trios and quartets on my own. I have played in concert orchestras (strings) and full symphonies, in high school and college. And of course, since my sister also plays the violin, we have played and performed duets for as long as I can remember – both privately and publicly, everything from churches to nursing homes to large weddings in different venues.
Each type of musical collaboration has its own rewards and challenges.
When playing with trios (violin, viola, cello) and quartets (1st violin, 2nd violin, viola, cello): the quartet is my favorite type of collaboration, and the one in which I’ve played most, so I will just focus on that. I have always played first violin. There is a saying popular among 2nd violinists and violists: A quartet is like a bottle of wine. The cellist is the bottle. The violist and 2nd violinist are the wine inside. And the first violinist is the cork (:roll:).
Ignoring the doubtless-unintentional (:roll:) snipe at first violinists, the analogy successfully communicates the unique, important role that each member of a quartet plays in generating the ultimate goal. I think that the biggest reward is coming together with three other people you respect, and creating a melody in which each of the four individual voices shines through. Voronwë, you wrote, “When it is going well, it is possible to completely lose one's self in the moment, and truly become one with the universe.” Yes, a million times, yes. For me, this experience is most possible when playing with a small group. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.* That is the greatest reward of chamber group collaboration, in my opinion.
There are, of course, challenges. There is no truly designated leader in a quartet. To some extent, the first violinist provides cues, leads off, etc. However, because the first violinist isn’t “officially” in charge in the same sense as a conductor or a concertmistress might be, the first violinist might have to deal with ego-related objections from others. On the other hand, the first violinist might himself be too egotistical, leading to a different set of problems. With a chamber group, the importance of compatible personalities cannot be overemphasized. Also, with any small group, each member bears more responsibility for flawless performance, to state the obvious. If you are one of eighteen first violinists in a symphony, a small error will not throw the entire ensemble off, most likely. However, if you are the only cellist in a quartet, and you err, the entire group may pay for your mistake.
Playing in a symphony is at once the most exhilarating and the most humbling experience of them all. On one hand, you are participating in something grand and magnificent – with dozens of other people, creating something sweeping and beautiful, something bigger than any individual person could create alone. To be part of a group that is performing, say, Liszt’s “Les Preludes” – it is incredible. As the music sweeps over you, you cannot believe that something so beautiful can exist, and it is still more difficult to believe that you are a part of it. On the other hand, the group is led by a conductor (the “benevolent dictator” ). In every symphony in which I’ve played, the conductor bears the ultimate responsibility for coaching the various sections and connecting the pieces of the puzzle. Although it’s helpful and necessary to have a clear leader in a symphonic setting, it lessens the reward of mutual collaboration – the reward found in the chamber setting. Also, each musician’s contribution is lessened significantly, causing the humbling effect I referred to at the beginning of my post.
This is long enough for one post, but I will definitely participate more in this discussion. I now feel wistful for college and the preceding years, fourteen in total, when music was something that took up several hours of each day, without fail.
*Haven’t read the book from which this quote is taken, so I might be misusing it.
PS I have also performed with many choirs, also through college. However, I think that the choral experience differs from instrumental experience in a number of ways. One more topic for further discussion.
EDIT BTW, what on earth was I thinking? From the last week of May...
Edited again because I belatedly caught a typo.
Over the years, I have participated in several quartets, the best of which were those organized for adolescent musicians of advanced ability by the Virginia Symphony. (In my b77 post “On Youth and Inexperience,” several of the mentors I was referring to were adult professional musicians, Juilliard-trained and the like, who gave selflessly of their time to coach us.) I also have organized trios and quartets on my own. I have played in concert orchestras (strings) and full symphonies, in high school and college. And of course, since my sister also plays the violin, we have played and performed duets for as long as I can remember – both privately and publicly, everything from churches to nursing homes to large weddings in different venues.
Each type of musical collaboration has its own rewards and challenges.
When playing with trios (violin, viola, cello) and quartets (1st violin, 2nd violin, viola, cello): the quartet is my favorite type of collaboration, and the one in which I’ve played most, so I will just focus on that. I have always played first violin. There is a saying popular among 2nd violinists and violists: A quartet is like a bottle of wine. The cellist is the bottle. The violist and 2nd violinist are the wine inside. And the first violinist is the cork (:roll:).
Ignoring the doubtless-unintentional (:roll:) snipe at first violinists, the analogy successfully communicates the unique, important role that each member of a quartet plays in generating the ultimate goal. I think that the biggest reward is coming together with three other people you respect, and creating a melody in which each of the four individual voices shines through. Voronwë, you wrote, “When it is going well, it is possible to completely lose one's self in the moment, and truly become one with the universe.” Yes, a million times, yes. For me, this experience is most possible when playing with a small group. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.* That is the greatest reward of chamber group collaboration, in my opinion.
There are, of course, challenges. There is no truly designated leader in a quartet. To some extent, the first violinist provides cues, leads off, etc. However, because the first violinist isn’t “officially” in charge in the same sense as a conductor or a concertmistress might be, the first violinist might have to deal with ego-related objections from others. On the other hand, the first violinist might himself be too egotistical, leading to a different set of problems. With a chamber group, the importance of compatible personalities cannot be overemphasized. Also, with any small group, each member bears more responsibility for flawless performance, to state the obvious. If you are one of eighteen first violinists in a symphony, a small error will not throw the entire ensemble off, most likely. However, if you are the only cellist in a quartet, and you err, the entire group may pay for your mistake.
Playing in a symphony is at once the most exhilarating and the most humbling experience of them all. On one hand, you are participating in something grand and magnificent – with dozens of other people, creating something sweeping and beautiful, something bigger than any individual person could create alone. To be part of a group that is performing, say, Liszt’s “Les Preludes” – it is incredible. As the music sweeps over you, you cannot believe that something so beautiful can exist, and it is still more difficult to believe that you are a part of it. On the other hand, the group is led by a conductor (the “benevolent dictator” ). In every symphony in which I’ve played, the conductor bears the ultimate responsibility for coaching the various sections and connecting the pieces of the puzzle. Although it’s helpful and necessary to have a clear leader in a symphonic setting, it lessens the reward of mutual collaboration – the reward found in the chamber setting. Also, each musician’s contribution is lessened significantly, causing the humbling effect I referred to at the beginning of my post.
This is long enough for one post, but I will definitely participate more in this discussion. I now feel wistful for college and the preceding years, fourteen in total, when music was something that took up several hours of each day, without fail.
*Haven’t read the book from which this quote is taken, so I might be misusing it.
PS I have also performed with many choirs, also through college. However, I think that the choral experience differs from instrumental experience in a number of ways. One more topic for further discussion.
EDIT BTW, what on earth was I thinking? From the last week of May...
*kicks self repeatedly* After reading your description in the first post of this thread, I can't believe I missed out on the chance to see this. Palo Alto to Emeryville - such a doable drive - and we've since made you drive longer distances more than once. I must remedy this forthwith. Whatever your first performance is after the second week of May 2006, I'm there.VtF, I'd love to see you perform, but it's a little bit of a drive (I'm in the South Bay), and I know you won't even be able to talk afterwards.
Edited again because I belatedly caught a typo.
Last edited by nerdanel on Sun Dec 04, 2005 7:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
I played the clarinet for three years in a band. It was nice.
I also was in choir. I was in a duo with my friend Janet once. We did Hello Darkness. We took it to State Everytime I hear it now I sing. I did Simons part, she did Garfunkle.
I also play the piano, but not well anymore. I can also direct music...oh shock.
The African Drums sounds cool. We have a group here and I have often thought of joining it and learning.
My kids were in band. My son played the clarinet (mine) and my daughter played the French Horn, and the band did one of the songs from RoTk and my daughter loved it because of the french horns had a bunch of solos. But now the kids no longer are in band, however my son has taken up guitar...and is practicing christmas songs.
I also was in choir. I was in a duo with my friend Janet once. We did Hello Darkness. We took it to State Everytime I hear it now I sing. I did Simons part, she did Garfunkle.
I also play the piano, but not well anymore. I can also direct music...oh shock.
The African Drums sounds cool. We have a group here and I have often thought of joining it and learning.
My kids were in band. My son played the clarinet (mine) and my daughter played the French Horn, and the band did one of the songs from RoTk and my daughter loved it because of the french horns had a bunch of solos. But now the kids no longer are in band, however my son has taken up guitar...and is practicing christmas songs.
A bunch of talented and inspired people
In my teens, I played the flute in our local orchestra for some 5 years and can fully subscribe to many experiences voiced here. As V said, it is both frustrating and exhilarating to collaborate so closely with other people.
Hobby is dead on spot when you say that you don't notice (to the same extent) the individual voices/instruments than when you're actually part of it.
Jny mentions "transcendent experience" and I think there is no better description than that.
For me it's always been magic – pure, unadulterated magic when it all eventually all falls into place, and the many agonizing moments that inevitably precede it are well worth it. The 'flutters' before a practise session, the tug-a-war until you feel you get it right finally, to then experience the individual voices/instruments coming together as a whole while each retains its own distinctiveness, creating a whole bigger, much bigger than the sum of its parts.
Now, rather sadly, I'm resigned to just play for my own sake but at least I've started again (end of this summer) and it has given me much joy and balance. It's funny, only now really I realize how much I've missed playing. To help me along I've gotten some more practise books and was positively surprised when a 'background music' CD was included. Of course it's not the same thing as playing life in a real orchestra, but it still beats recording myself and then play 2nd flute.
And best of all, no neighbour has complained ………………………… yet.
In my teens, I played the flute in our local orchestra for some 5 years and can fully subscribe to many experiences voiced here. As V said, it is both frustrating and exhilarating to collaborate so closely with other people.
Hobby is dead on spot when you say that you don't notice (to the same extent) the individual voices/instruments than when you're actually part of it.
Jny mentions "transcendent experience" and I think there is no better description than that.
For me it's always been magic – pure, unadulterated magic when it all eventually all falls into place, and the many agonizing moments that inevitably precede it are well worth it. The 'flutters' before a practise session, the tug-a-war until you feel you get it right finally, to then experience the individual voices/instruments coming together as a whole while each retains its own distinctiveness, creating a whole bigger, much bigger than the sum of its parts.
Now, rather sadly, I'm resigned to just play for my own sake but at least I've started again (end of this summer) and it has given me much joy and balance. It's funny, only now really I realize how much I've missed playing. To help me along I've gotten some more practise books and was positively surprised when a 'background music' CD was included. Of course it's not the same thing as playing life in a real orchestra, but it still beats recording myself and then play 2nd flute.
And best of all, no neighbour has complained ………………………… yet.
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In brief, because I wanted to add this....
For me, a key difference between the choral and instrumental experiences is this.
One's voice is an integral part of oneself, obviously. When you are a member of a choir or chorus, you join with others in a process that's all the more personal because of how - close to you - the thing that you are contributing is, if that makes any sense. So, at the high points of the music you are performing, one of the amazing things is that you - YOU! - are adding to this awesome sound.
With an instrument, you, personally, are slightly more distanced from the sound you are creating. It's you --> instrument --> sound rather than you --> sound. Thus, there can be times, particularly at climactic moments in the music, where you feel that it's not you at all, but something "playing through you." In essence, the volitional aspect of it drops out as you are swept up in the power of the music being created. I have heard many musicians describe this, and several classify it as a religious/deeply spiritual moment.
So, the two experiences are slightly different to me at their high points, both of which are incredible. The difference is somewhat subtle, and I'm not sure if I've been able to describe it at all.
For me, a key difference between the choral and instrumental experiences is this.
One's voice is an integral part of oneself, obviously. When you are a member of a choir or chorus, you join with others in a process that's all the more personal because of how - close to you - the thing that you are contributing is, if that makes any sense. So, at the high points of the music you are performing, one of the amazing things is that you - YOU! - are adding to this awesome sound.
With an instrument, you, personally, are slightly more distanced from the sound you are creating. It's you --> instrument --> sound rather than you --> sound. Thus, there can be times, particularly at climactic moments in the music, where you feel that it's not you at all, but something "playing through you." In essence, the volitional aspect of it drops out as you are swept up in the power of the music being created. I have heard many musicians describe this, and several classify it as a religious/deeply spiritual moment.
So, the two experiences are slightly different to me at their high points, both of which are incredible. The difference is somewhat subtle, and I'm not sure if I've been able to describe it at all.
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tp, I think you explain very well indeed.there can be times, particularly at climactic moments in the music, where you feel that it's not you at all, but something "playing through you." In essence, the volitional aspect of it drops out as you are swept up in the power of the music being created. I have heard many musicians describe this, and several classify it as a religious/deeply spiritual moment.
Viv, I'm so happy to hear that you have started playing music again, particuarly with as busy as your life has been. I remember when I was preparing for the bar exam, so many people told me that I needed to do nothing but study for 2 months, to immerse myself in the law. But for me, I needed an outlet to keep me balanced. So while I did leave my job and largely did immerse myself in my studies, I made sure to make time to play at least once or twice a week.
"Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world."
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When I met my future husband, he was playing fiddle in a Celtic band and I had been playing Celtic harp for my own pleasure for about a year. Soon we started playing together, with our first public performance as a duo a week after our wedding.
We've been playing music together for 17 years now, and for the most part it is a wonderful experience. There are moments when we feel as if we are woven together -- as if the music is playing itself and transforming into more than what is coming out of our fingers.
Of course, any couple (other than possibly Voronwë and Beth ) will have days when you'd rather scowl at the person beside you than try to find literal harmony. If it's a public performance, though, there's no backing out. So you smile, put hand to instrument, and try not to fight musically over who is setting the tempo. But often the music takes hold and instead of you forcing your frustrations on it, it unties the knots and gently brings you back to who you are, and who you are for one another.
I know it's happened to us, anyway.
We've been playing music together for 17 years now, and for the most part it is a wonderful experience. There are moments when we feel as if we are woven together -- as if the music is playing itself and transforming into more than what is coming out of our fingers.
Of course, any couple (other than possibly Voronwë and Beth ) will have days when you'd rather scowl at the person beside you than try to find literal harmony. If it's a public performance, though, there's no backing out. So you smile, put hand to instrument, and try not to fight musically over who is setting the tempo. But often the music takes hold and instead of you forcing your frustrations on it, it unties the knots and gently brings you back to who you are, and who you are for one another.
I know it's happened to us, anyway.
This is a sweet thread!
I play violin in a community orchestra (actually, I'm concertmaster now, which means I'm playing the violin solo for Vivaldi's Spring in February [which in this part of the world IS spring, I'm afraid! ] -- lots and lots of scary little notes); I've played fiddle some and would like to do more of it; I jam with my kids; when the relatives come for Thanksgiving, they bring mandolins and banjos and we all indulge in bluegrass before the turkey; with my friends I play violin, piano, sometimes guitar, viola, or sing, whenever possible; my suspicion is that if I were on an island with an instrument, any instrument, I'd learn to play it pretty fast, because without music and writing music and playing music and hearing music, what is life?
I'm going to make it to one of your shows, Voronwë! My schedule is just so crazy and kid-centered that it can be hard.
I play violin in a community orchestra (actually, I'm concertmaster now, which means I'm playing the violin solo for Vivaldi's Spring in February [which in this part of the world IS spring, I'm afraid! ] -- lots and lots of scary little notes); I've played fiddle some and would like to do more of it; I jam with my kids; when the relatives come for Thanksgiving, they bring mandolins and banjos and we all indulge in bluegrass before the turkey; with my friends I play violin, piano, sometimes guitar, viola, or sing, whenever possible; my suspicion is that if I were on an island with an instrument, any instrument, I'd learn to play it pretty fast, because without music and writing music and playing music and hearing music, what is life?
I'm going to make it to one of your shows, Voronwë! My schedule is just so crazy and kid-centered that it can be hard.
Very cool, thread!
For those of you who are Christians, I would highly recommend reading anything by Harold Best. Music Through the Eyes of Faith is a great one to begin with; Unceasing Worship is a challenging read, but also very good. (I'm still working through that one; it's one of those books that you have to sit there with a highlighter and mark key phrases and passages as you go along.)
Anyway, I'll try to put some of his thoughts in here, later, maybe tonight.
I play in our church's praise band (clarinet, mainly, sometimes pennywhistle, flute, or keyboard). There are unique frustrations to this group, I think. One is that our sound guy is literally going deaf, and so every Sunday you just never know how the sound is going to be. Most of the time, it means that no one hears the clarinets over the tenor sax (very loud) and the drums. Sometimes it means that I play a note which causes the mic to screech because he has it too hot. It's really annoying!
But there are those times when it's all as perfect as possible. And, oh, those times! That's when I'm able to lose myself in the music, worshiping God and just loving the feeling of the music pouring out of me. You really do reach that other plane sometimes.
I sing in the choir, too, which is a new experience for me. I've always been an instrumentalist, so being a vocalist now is full of different challenges. I'm frustrated that I can't just put my fingers in the right place and have the right note come out! But it is wonderful, too, to sing with others and feel that power surging forward. Sometimes you actually feel the sound vibrations pulse through your body, through your choir folder, and onward! It's quite a sensual experience, in many respects.
Our Christmas concert is tomorrow night. I'm looking forward to it. I'm just so glad that I discovered music again. I had abandoned it for so long, and somehow, when I had my reawakening (due to LotR, actually), I embraced music once again. (I had put away a lot of the things that were an integral part of my soul for many years. LotR broke through the walls I had put up, making me realize that I could no longer ignore my soul, my creativity, my imagination, that part of me that loved fantasy, and all of that. It's hard to explain in just a few words, but I hope that makes a bit of sense.)
Lali
For those of you who are Christians, I would highly recommend reading anything by Harold Best. Music Through the Eyes of Faith is a great one to begin with; Unceasing Worship is a challenging read, but also very good. (I'm still working through that one; it's one of those books that you have to sit there with a highlighter and mark key phrases and passages as you go along.)
Anyway, I'll try to put some of his thoughts in here, later, maybe tonight.
I play in our church's praise band (clarinet, mainly, sometimes pennywhistle, flute, or keyboard). There are unique frustrations to this group, I think. One is that our sound guy is literally going deaf, and so every Sunday you just never know how the sound is going to be. Most of the time, it means that no one hears the clarinets over the tenor sax (very loud) and the drums. Sometimes it means that I play a note which causes the mic to screech because he has it too hot. It's really annoying!
But there are those times when it's all as perfect as possible. And, oh, those times! That's when I'm able to lose myself in the music, worshiping God and just loving the feeling of the music pouring out of me. You really do reach that other plane sometimes.
I sing in the choir, too, which is a new experience for me. I've always been an instrumentalist, so being a vocalist now is full of different challenges. I'm frustrated that I can't just put my fingers in the right place and have the right note come out! But it is wonderful, too, to sing with others and feel that power surging forward. Sometimes you actually feel the sound vibrations pulse through your body, through your choir folder, and onward! It's quite a sensual experience, in many respects.
Our Christmas concert is tomorrow night. I'm looking forward to it. I'm just so glad that I discovered music again. I had abandoned it for so long, and somehow, when I had my reawakening (due to LotR, actually), I embraced music once again. (I had put away a lot of the things that were an integral part of my soul for many years. LotR broke through the walls I had put up, making me realize that I could no longer ignore my soul, my creativity, my imagination, that part of me that loved fantasy, and all of that. It's hard to explain in just a few words, but I hope that makes a bit of sense.)
Lali
As someone who hasn't performed for nearly 20 years and will not perform again, I am nonetheless interested in the performance activity.
To this end I spend more time than I should reading the blog of a musician who is constantly challenging the norms
here is an excerpt from the blog
To this end I spend more time than I should reading the blog of a musician who is constantly challenging the norms
here is an excerpt from the blog
He is one of those people who genuinely believes that in the act of performance a magic can be created between audience and players that is greater than the sum of the parts, a mystical intangible experience which cannot be defined but can be feltThe character of much of this evening’s music: yearning.
On the surface, this is an unlikely performance place for Soundscapes. An open room with standing-only & no distractions for the audience, such as a bar. The hall was full, with little movement. In the front row on the crash barrier, stage right, two teenage girls who talked loudly throughout: an unlikely asset for the performer. And yet they provided a background, sometimes foreground, noise; noise through-&-past which music had to travel. That, one or two wrinkles in the SV I.2 & witless procedures of the SV operator, made playing interesting.
And I loved playing this evening: there was a waiting space in the middle of it all, an open, available moment of extended time: welcoming, accepting, supporting.
I find this to be true, too. All of my musical performance (of late) is in the context of church and worship, so I tend to think in those terms. But those times when the music brings you and your audience into a higher plane, that sense of touching the face of God sort of thing, well, it's a wonderful feeling. It's tempting to let it become the goal of your performance, it's so addicting.eborr wrote:
He is one of those people who genuinely believes that in the act of performance a magic can be created between audience and players that is greater than the sum of the parts, a mystical intangible experience which cannot be defined but can be felt
eborr, why won't you perform again?
Lali
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