Community Spirit

Community Spirit

Christmas time…

 

Christmas is almost upon us; a time to cherish those close to us, a time to reflect and count our blessings.

 

It is also a time when our community spirit is raised as we realise how lucky we are compared to others who may find Christmas a particularly difficult time.

 

Some musicians go into the community and play to those whose circumstances have led them to spend their lives in an institutional home.

 

It is very important to fully appreciate that it is their home and that you are a visitor. It is a completely different relationship to that between a performer and a paying audience.

 

Sometimes the hosts may wish to offer their guests polite hospitality:-

 

A violinist friend of mine recently found himself in such a situation.

 

Deep in concentration and halfway through a technically demanding piece, he was asked if he would prefer tea or coffee. He wished that he had been asked a closed question to which he could respond with a nod or shake of the head.

 

His rude unresponsiveness was met with “Well would you prefer a mince pie or a sandwich?”

 

Through the panic of a divided mind, he managed to keep up with his flautist duet partner with only a few dropped notes. However, he again failed to politely respond to his host who then haughtily advised him that she would bring him a tray so that he could choose.

 

Sometimes, although you are a visitor, you may not be a particularly welcome one:-

 

A couple of years ago we played for a group of about fifteen people. We played our most exciting and festive pieces with flair and gusto. The residents seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the performance and were swaying from side to side.

 

After we had finished, I asked one of the hosts if he had enjoyed our concert.

 

“Not really” he replied “It was too loud and you were in the way of the telly. Our favourite programme was on.”

 

I apologised and explained that we hadn’t realised.

 

“That’s ok” he said “It’s repeated tomorrow. Do you want a mince pie?”

 

“Yes please, I’d love one.” I replied.

 

He brought me a mince pie and we sat down together and talked for a while before he politely excused himself to mingle.

 

“The fact is, society is made more hospitable by every individual who acts as if ‘do unto others’ really was a rule.” ~Gary Hamel~

Us and Them

Us and Them

Our orchestra has got its Christmas concert on Friday…

 

With a large orchestra, especially if playing on a stage, the boundary between the orchestra members and the audience is quite evident. The conductor also acts as a handy barrier with his flailing arms and pointy stick.

 

A smaller ensemble playing at a social occasion can be another matter entirely.

 

Earlier this year I played in a string quartet for a friend’s wedding party. The cellist and I hadn’t played at such an occasion before and enlisted the support of a well-seasoned first violinist and violist.

 

We had practised our wedding repertoire for months and, although nervous, felt quietly confident that we could give a pleasant performance and not ruin someone’s big day.

 

It was all going very well. The guests seemed to be enjoying the ambiance and politely ignoring us, as they should. All ignoring us apart from a small boy who developed a fascination with the cellist.

 

He inched closer and closer and started to talk to her. His mother seemed to be delighted by his admirable interest and seemed unaware that her son’s face was at the precise height of the cellist’s bow.

 

The normally robust bass rhythm was reduced to a whisper as the cellist was forced to play with the merest tip of the bow and stopped entirely when the child squeezed between her and the music stand to kindly offer her a drink from his bottle.

 

This sort of audience participation is quite common apparently.

 

A cellist friend told me that a dinner party guest sidled up to her and said “You see that violinist? She’s playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik!”

 

“Oh that’s good, so am I!” said my friend before promptly losing her place.

 

Maybe cellists look too cool for their own good and could do with adopting the standard violinist expression of sheer panic.

Our Big Concert

Our Big Concert

Last Wednesday night was the most prestigious concert yet for our community orchestra…

 

We had all managed to find the venue, a 14^th/15^th Century church at the brow of a dark cobbled street. It was converted into an educational centre and concert venue in the 1970’s but still retains the architecture and feel of an ancient place of worship. 

 

The magnificent sandstone medieval arches sweeping upwards towards the richly carved vaulted ceiling made it a rather different environment to the little village hall that our orchestra is accustomed to performing in.

 

After a bewildering game of Tetris, involving music stands and chairs, the stage was finally set and we settled into our places for a last minute run through. The difference in acoustics was very noticeable with sound waves behaving in a most peculiar fashion.

 

The lighting was alien to us too; a soupy murky ambiance with brilliant spotlights on the stage casting deep shadows onto our sheet music. “Don’t look into the lights!” commanded Maestro; an instruction guaranteed to make at least half of us do so and spend the next three minutes looking like startled bush babies.

 

The audience started to arrive. Someone had mentioned that they had been to a concert at this venue the week before and the audience consisted of only around thirty people, but Wednesday night they kept arriving, more and more people until every seat was taken and more chairs were being requested. The front row seats to my right were reserved for the Mayor and Mayoress. I don’t think the Mayor showed up, unless he was dressed down in one of those brown cardigans with reinforced shoulders – the sort that are always advertised at the back of weekend newspapers.

 

The Mayoress was there though; a petite and friendly looking woman sporting an impressive chain of office and an equally impressive head of purple hair. Seated next to her was another woman with hair of a brilliant shade of aquamarine. Their hair remained these colours even after my eyesight had recovered from looking into the spotlight.

 

Maestro tapped his baton on his stand, paused on the upbeat, and then we were off, starting at a bristling pace with The March from Carmen by Bizet. The first half of the concert went well and the audience was very generous with its applause.

 

Then came the second half; the lighter side of our repertoire including music from films. A chance to enjoy playing with Hollywood style luscious long bows and wearing suitably dramatic facial expressions (often unintentionally).

 

We had rehearsed the powerful and fierce five-beats-in-a-bar section of “Lord of the Rings” hundreds of times before, but instead of the usual heavy base line introduction:

“BOM! bom bom BOM! bom, BOM! bom bom BOM! bom.”

It had changed to:

“BOM! bom BOM! bom bom, BOM! bom BOM! bom bom”

 

It may not seem like a great difference, but it was enough.

 

The music started to slide apart as we lost all sense of structure.

We had left the safety of The Shire and were lost in the terrifying depths of Middle-Earth.

I looked up at Maestro, he was now Gandalf with his wand, his hair was turning grey before my very eyes.

His mouth was fixed and he pointed towards his dark fiery eyes – an instruction to watch carefully, very very carefully.

He began conducting with a potent mystical intensity, drawing us all together into a unified whole again.

 

At the end of the piece the audience applauded wildly.

 

Subtle glances were exchanged between the players, glances that spoke of a shared experience of triumph over adversity.

 

At the end of the concert, we all stood to accept the applause. The audience members looked as though they had enjoyed themselves and the purple-haired Mayoress seemed to be impressed.

 

The stage was dismantled and we orchestra players wearily carried our instruments down the dark cobbled street and went our separate ways, reflecting on the very special evening that we had spent together.

 

An orchestra to be proud of.

 

“I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which one has had to overcome while trying to succeed.” ~Booker T. Washington~

A Concert-ed Effort

A Concert-ed Effort

Well, tonight is the night of our orchestra’s most prestigious concert to date…

 

The Mayor will be in attendance. The Press will be there. Members of top professional orchestras will be there.

 

Maestro has applied increasing pressure to polish our performance to the highest level possible.

 

Orchestra members have been feeling the strain.

 

There have been more and more displays of tension as the big day has approached.

 

It may be imagined that the stress of the occasion would raise concerns such as:

“What bowings should be used for this passage?”

“What will the acoustics be like?”

“Has everyone got the correct dynamics marked down?”

“Where should we store our instrument cases?”

 

But no, rather the concerns raised have been:

“I haven’t got a white top!”

“Can I wear comedy cufflinks?”

“What? Black and white only! I always wear my lucky red bow tie for concerts!”

“What about waistcoats? Can we wear waistcoats?”

 

As Benny Goodman said, “To this day, I don't like people walking on stage not looking good. You have to look good. If you feel special about yourself then you're going to play special.”

Hobnobbing With The Rich & Famous

Hobnobbing With The Rich & Famous

It’s always nice to meet and interact with famous people…

 

I’ve just come back from a fleeting visit to Stratford-Upon-Avon. It’s lovely there and occasionally you might just spot a famous person.

 

I’ve seen Sir Ian McKellen there although I couldn’t interact with him because he was having publicity photographs taken and I wasn’t allowed near him.

 

The last time I was in Stratford I noticed a familiar looking woman in The Black Swan pub (or The Dirty Duck as it is known colloquially – the pub that is; not the familiar looking woman). I tried to figure out why she looked familiar but couldn’t quite place her. I did interact with her in a way as, after a while, she gave me a funny look. I later found out that she was Anita Dobson the actress from ‘Eastenders’ (wife of pub owner Dirty Den - the man that is; not the pub).

 

I find that famous musicians are a little easier to interact with. Simply attend one of their concerts and, for the price of their latest CD, they seem quite willing to engage with you.

 

I once met Julian Lloyd Webber the famous cellist. He was very nice and I think I interacted very well with him:

Me: “You play really well. Do you practice a lot?”

Julian Lloyd Webber: “Thank you. Yes, I try to practice every day. It’s important to play every day even if it’s just for a little while.”

Me: “Do your fingers get sore?”

Julian Lloyd Webber: “No.”

Me: “Mine do, when I play the violin a lot.”

Julian Lloyd Webber: “I think your fingers will get used to it.”

Me: “That’s good. Thank you.”

Julian Lloyd Webber: “OK” 

 

I have also met and interacted with Nicola Benedetti, the famous violinist:

Nicola Benedetti: “Hiya”

Me: “Hi. Could you sign this for me please?”

Nicola Benedetti: “Sure.” <she signed the CD>

Me: “Thank you.”

Nicola Benedetti: “OK”

 

Another famous violinist that I have met and interacted with is Pavel Šporcl.

As I was queuing for him to sign the CD I was trying to think of a good question to ask him.

I was trying to think of a question that he wouldn’t have been asked a thousand times before as I was attempting to take the cellophane off the CD.

I was nearing the front of the queue I could neither think of a good question nor remove the cellophane CD wrapper.

Then I was there, at the front of the queue, with the wonderful Pavel Šporcl seated before me, looking up at me with marker pen poised.

Me: “Oh. Hello. Could you unwrap this for me please?”

Pavel Šporcl: “Sure.” <he deftly removed the cellophane wrapper and signed the CD>

Me: “Thank you.”

Pavel Šporcl: “OK”

 

It must be nice to be famous and meet lots of interesting people.

Don’t Give Up

Don't Give Up

We all make mistakes...

I read an inspirational post by Patricia Elliot concerning the experience of someone saying something negative to you and bringing your confidence and self esteem down. Her advice is to reflect on what has been said and then smile, as you have power over your own emotions.

These negative reactions of others are not always overt comments nor are they always intentionally designed to knock your confidence.

Many years ago I heard Itzhak Perlman on the radio playing Schindlers List and fell in love with the sound of the violin. One day I saw a sign offering a very reasonably priced violin kit for sale and bought it there and then. The violin shop owner suggested a teacher and I booked my first lesson.

I had been given a few lessons on my brand new ‘Primavera’ Chinese violin outfit and was learning to read music as I went along. My teacher was very encouraging. I felt confident and went along to play at his amateur orchestra.

Of course I was oblivious to little details such as key signatures and playing in tune. I played loudly with gusto and spirit.

Then a little girl in front of me, whilst continuing to play, slowly turned her head round and gave me a disbelieving look. It was like a scene from the Exorcist.

It was awful.

I suddenly became aware that I was making mistakes, lots of them, and it was not ok.

I didn’t return to the orchestra until several years of lessons and solitary practice had passed.

During this time I was lucky enough to see Itzhak Perlman in concert at the Barbican Music Hall in London. It was wonderful and he played superbly - but at one point made an obvious mistake.

I took a little sharp intake of breath at hearing it (like you do when a tightrope walker wobbles).

Everyone else in the audience took a little sharp intake of breath too.

The sound of almost 2,000 little sharp intakes of breath is impressively and incredibly loud.

Itzhak of course knew that he had made a mistake but he didn’t stop.

He smiled. He continued. He received a standing ovation.

Last Fight Of The Proms

Last Fight Of The Proms

I’ve wanted to go to the BBC Proms at the Royal Albert Hall for quite some time but haven’t managed to go as yet. When I heard that there was a “Last Night of the Proms” concert being held locally, it seemed like an opportunity too good to miss…

 

We bought our little flags and went to our seats.

 

The audience appeared to be largely made up of sedate elderly classical music lovers, with the notable exception of an excitable woman wearing a plastic union jack bowler hat, brandishing a St. George’s cross flag and blowing on a party horn. She was seated with her partner in the middle section to our left and a couple of rows down.

 

The lights dimmed, the audience settled down and the concert began. It was a small orchestra and the musicians were brilliant. The audience listened attentively.

 

I knew from watching the Proms on television that there were certain behavioural rules and strange rituals, but I wasn’t completely sure of Prommer etiquette, so looked about me for guidance. It seemed, for the moment, that the general idea was to sit quietly and appreciate the music with flags down until prompted otherwise.

 

The orchestra played Elgar’s Nimrod beautifully. The audience applauded politely. The excitable woman leapt out of her seat, waved her flag wildly, let at a loud “Whoot!” as a prelude to enthusiastic party horn hooting.

 

I couldn’t help but notice that this outburst attracted the attention of other members of the audience too. The lady in front of me tutted and muttered something to her friend. The lady behind the excitable woman said “shhh!” and shook her head at her husband.

 

The next piece was announced. The excitable woman shouted “Yay!!!” and bounced up and down in her seat. The lady in front of me said “Oh! Really!” and locked her eyes onto the back of the excitable woman’s bowler-hatted head. The laser-like glare didn’t deter the excitable woman who continued to bob up and down rhythmically to “Barnacle Bill” the theme tune from Blue Peter. I was actually rather impressed that she managed maintain an exhilaratingly fast bobbing rate even during the presto finale. The lady behind the excitable woman folded her arms.

 

The next piece was announced; a medley from “Oliver!” with a duet accompanied by the orchestra. The excitable woman was moved to join in, screaming “I’d do anything, ANYTHING for yoooooouuuuu!!” into her partner’s face. Her partner looked at the floor. The lady behind the excitable woman rolled her eyes at her husband. The lady in front of me leaned forward slightly and redoubled her glaring efforts.

 

The next piece was quieter and more subdued. The excitable woman calmed down and simply swayed from side to side waving her flag at the head height of the lady behind her. The lady behind her initially tried to synchronise her movements so that she could watch the orchestra but gave up, folded her arms more tightly and stared at the plastic union jack bowler hat.

 

The next piece was announced; “Land of Hope and Glory”. The excitable woman shouted “Yayyyyyy!! Yayyyyy!! Yaaaaaaayyyyy!!!” and gave several blasts on her party horn. The audience was encouraged to wave flags.

 

We all waved our flags.

 

Then I noticed that the lady behind the excitable woman wasn’t waving hers. Instead she was rolling the flag tightly around the stick and closely watching the movements of the excitable woman’s flag.

Then she struck. She viciously lashed out and hit the excitable woman’s flag pole several times before knocking the plastic bowler hat forwards.

 

The excitable woman caught her bowler hat and turned round to the lady behind her. The lady behind quickly unfurled her flag, adopted an indomitable stalwart expression, and proudly waved her union flag with everyone else. The excitable woman looked confused and turned forwards again. The lady behind smiled and winked at her husband who gave her a congratulatory pat on the knee.

 

We all stood for “God Save the Queen” before leaving.

 

So, my first “Last Night of the Proms” was a movingly patriotic and yet humbling experience giving me a deeper appreciation of the distinctly Great British character.

The Tea Party

The Tea Party

When performing for the public, it is important to stay focussed...

Last Saturday was our first public engagement as a Tea Party String ensemble. We consist of three violinists, a violist and two cellists. One of the cellists proposed the formation of the group for Saturday’s event, a birthday party for his friend. The birthday girl apparently wanted a sophisticated celebration to mark the occasion of her thirtieth – a tea party - hence the enlistment of our string ensemble with a classical repertoire with a smattering of elegant salon music.

I have found, when giving a public performance that I enter into a trance-like state. I am focussed on the music and playing and, although marginally aware of my surroundings and the audience; I am not completely engaged and thus avoid being distracted. This trance-like state gathers momentum about 24 hours before the event.

We arrived at the venue and were greeted by a six foot tall white rabbit. He directed us towards our playing area, looked at his pocket watch and informed us that we were late.

The playing area set aside for us appeared to be a converted log store with brick walls on three sides and a tin roof. There was an antique rug covering the stone floor, a non-functioning wood burning stove and a stuffed wildebeest head hanging on the wall.

There was natural light emanating from the front of the log store augmented by static disco lighting and a mirror ball overhead. In front of the log store stage was a long dining table groaning with cake stands and tea pots. Cardboard hearts, white on one side and shiny red on the other, hung in the surrounding foliage and flickered mesmerisingly in the afternoon sunlight. All of these sensations served to deepen my hypnotic state.

We played our first set and the tea party guests maintained a dignified silence. Then there were shouts of “Speech, speech!” The birthday girl, sporting a rather impressive top hat, rose from her place at the head of the long dining table.

“Thank you” she said. “and thank them” indicating towards us with a cake slice.

There was no response.

“THANK THEM!!” she bellowed. The tea party guests begrudgingly turned towards us and applauded. I could see them applauding but could not hear them as most of them had furry paws which lacked resonance.

A man wearing steampunk goggles shouted “You’ve forgotten someone!” “I’ve forgotten someone???!!” exclaimed the birthday girl. “YES!” He shouted “The big fat git!” A sturdy looking chap then appeared.

Ah, I thought, I recognise him... Tweedle Dee or maybe Tweedle Dum... at which point our lead violinist whispered “Taydeeyum”. The violist muttered “Tedium”. No, I thought, either Tweedle Dee or Tweeddle Dum but certainly not Taydeeyum or Tedium.

My fellow ensemble members then started to play... Te Deum... composed by Marc-Antoine Charpentier. I missed the first few bars but managed to catch up and regain my focus.

We played on to the unresponsive cats, rabbits and dormice who were intently concentrating on their sandwiches and cakes. I was only vaguely aware of the occasional appreciative exclamation; notably from an unidentifiable furry creature screeching something which sounded like “It must be my eyebrows!”

Then I could hear a rhythmic beating noise. I thought perhaps the pressure was finally getting to me. Then it felt as though a chanting effect was resonating inside my head...chanting which sounded like “trifle trifle trifle trifle.”

Our leader counted us in for the next piece... 1, 2, 3.. at which point my esteemed colleague to my left exclaimed “TRIFLE!!!!!.... I LOVE TRIFLE!!!!”.  I had successfully managed to ignore the occasional glimpse of his comedy cufflinks but now my concentration was shattered. I looked up to see the Queen of Hearts presenting an enormous bowl of trifle to the tea party guests who were excitedly banging their spoons on the dining table.

I can remember little else. It became cold as the sun went down... so very cold. I vaguely recall the violist saying that next time he would wear a vest - tucked into his pants.

We played an encore… a small boy (or perhaps it was a caterpillar) cheered with delight.

The next thing I knew I was at home... there was a little bottle of wine… I looked at the label, “Drink Me” it said. So I did.

I reflected upon the very curious and thoroughly wonderful afternoon that had passed and felt a renewed appreciation of the perfectly amazing people in this wonderland that we call life.

So that is the story of our Tea Party Adventure… “Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.” ~Lewis Carroll~