#because 5th grade orchestra was taught by the high school orchestra teacher

[wickedhawtwexler]

this is gonna sound so corny but whenever i think about my upcoming violin classes my heart just feels so fucking full. like this is me righting all the wrongs in my life

[missionimpossibleburger]

When Art Becomes Industry - The Menu Review

For my elementary school yearbook, I was given a slip of paper that had me answer the following prompt: "What do you think you'll be when you grow up?" These would later be printed just below my name and portrait that would proudly beam on the glossy pages of the 5th grade section of the yearbook, among the other classmates off to do wonderful and ambitious things as preteens in middle school. In short, this was like a high school yearbook quote, but a little more hopeful and earnest.

I answered Probably a comic book writer or a piano player. While the use of "Probably" helped me ease into the idea of letting go of my short-lived comic book writing ambitions, it still amazes me today that, at 10 years old, I knew in my heart that the piano would be a part of my life.

My earliest memories come from the time when I was a toddler who could barely walk, stumbling down the soft carpeted hallway of my childhood home in South San Francisco as I approached the mysterious and booming mid-range tones from the piano in the living room. I'd see my dad's legs, rhythmically pressing on the ornate pedals with the balls of his feet at irregular intervals, like he was operating a weave as he conjured up a net of harmonies beneath his palms. While I might not have fully comprehended it at the time, there was a understanding in our family that the piano is a gene in our household, and I inherited it from my dad, whether I liked it or not.

Fortunately, I did like it. My dad took me to my first piano lesson when I was five years old, in the back of a Chinese-owned musical instrument shop on Clement Street. I never saw that teacher again (maybe the first lesson was complimentary, and my dad just didn't like her enough), but I got to keep the book. At home, with the help of 12 colorful cartoon characters printed in my book, I taught myself all 12 notes in the scale (more if you want to count the treble and bass clefs), simply because I was hungry to learn more notes and more songs. I took great pride when my dad clapped for me finishing Mary Had A Little Lamb, and shame when he reprimanded me for improvising wrong notes. I loved learning new songs, and held myself over with nursery rhymes and folk songs until it was time to take formal classical lessons from a teacher who met my dad's approval. At nine years old, I finally was reaching the next step.

My piano teacher introduced me to the world of music education and the rigors of music training. She was compassionate and warm, but demanded dedication. Through her, I internalized the technicalities of finger placements, metronome speeds, hand compartmentalization. I expanded my repertoire to included Russian contemporary composers whose surnames sounded like Harry Potter spells, but whom sometimes wrote the easiest pieces for my nimble fingers. I reckoned with the performance anxiety that dreaded my psyche before every monthly recital, which eventually bled over to my Certificate of Merit performance auditions. While I changed schools and subjects during the day, music became the constant test that loomed over me.

By the time I became an adolescent, I had nothing to show for it. In high school, it dawned on me that, not only was the piano barely used in any high school ensemble, but everyone knew how to play it better than I did. Everyone knew an ensemble-friendly instrument, whether it was a string instrument for the orchestra, a woodwind for the symphonic band, or a brass for both. All I had was piano, an instrument that's barely heard unless there's a solo, a concerto, or a jazz rhythm section involved. If I wanted to be heard, I had to be perfect. All 4 years of high school, I didn't pass a single audition for piano - not for the school jazz ensemble, not for any of the school musical pit orchestras. I dreaded each audition anyway, and probably flubbed them out of nervousness. I only got into orchestra after I begged the music director and offered to be a TA and a percussionist for the orchestra class, and the one time I did play in the musical pit orchestra was for percussion.

The stress and pressure I felt in the rigors of the music world left me jaded; they were a sobering reminder that I would never be cut for a career in music, or at least as a piano player, as my 10-year-old self prophetically proclaimed. My worth was at the whim of directors listening for every perfect note. The world was telling me that I wasted my time with the piano, a constant reminder of my own inadequacy. I became angry. I lost sight of why I was even spending time and money on these piano lessons, when I had schoolwork and college applications to worry about.

It's this jaded feeling that I think The Menu fully understands. Ralph Fiennes' Julian Slowik is a world-renowned chef who uses his reputation and art to seek retribution for the ills of the arts-turned-service industries. His dishes are the visceral expressions of his stoic hatred and rage for the pretentious, capitalist, and opportunistic subculture that has plagued his beloved art. Having been deeply engrossed in the higher world of fine dining, he manipulates and upends the culture to his own vengeful benefit, usurping expectation and surprising his guests (and by extension, us) by forcing them to confront their dismissive participation and moral crimes against art and humanity. In public reference does he create his own personal chaos, a heaven out of a living hell for those he finds undeserving.

There's a point in the film in which we see Slowik's origins. In one photo shown, he's younger, relaxed, and smiling, holding up a greasy burger patty on a flat and wide spatula, like the kind you'd see in cartoons. It's in stark contrast to the Slowik we got used to seeing, a stoic and terse statue of a man with thunderous claps and a commanding presence, arms crossed. And it's this point in the film where we see it's emotional core, an outlet for our own passionate angst and frustrations. We see a man who was once happy, doing what he loved, now grown into a bitter, spiteful shell.

With nothing else to audition for (save for the slightly less rigorous annual piano tests I habitually studied and trained for), my time with the piano became much for personal. Around my early adolescence, my love and ear for music bloomed with The Beatles, and the piano became the perfect outlet for that rediscovered joy and love of music. Like how I was when I was five, I began dedicating myself to learning more and more songs I loved, Beatles and beyond. I sought new territory and creativity in jazz piano and improvisation, a new language that was previously shunned from me.

When I see Ralph Fienne's Slowik as he is, I am reminded of all of those failed auditions, those nights slumped on the piano bench, those feelings of worthlessness, and if I sat through more of those and eventually found the success I was looking for, I'd come out a shell like him. But, when I see Slowik cooking a burger, I am thrust with nostalgia for the days when I learned Beatles songs on the piano, noodled jazz piano solos over wavy chords, and weaving harmonies out of thin air.

So yeah, I got pretty emotional watching this.

[skipbifferty-blog1]

How Classical Music Affected My Career

2019-03-13 21:26

I could write a treatise on popular music today,---which is awful compared to previous generations,---but one positive thing I have noticed recently, is that teen kids who have music blasting from their cell phones, are playing stuff that is much more musical than the monotone rap and/or chant that I heard just 6 or 7 years ago.  The singers are still fairly monotone, but at least they cross 3 notes in the songs I'm hearing as those kids pass by me.

It was too tough for me to stick with music when I was in school.  I got turned off of classical,---that's what they taught,---primarily, and---I realized much later---not because I disliked classical, but because my teachers in orchestra had us repeat certain sections over and over and over and over, as a couple kids could not get their part right, while I was not having any trouble with my part at all.  THAT is what turned me off classical at a young age.

But eventually, I found that I really DO like classical music because of its construction, and the fact is that the popular music I have liked most, followed the rules of classical construction---which is basically variations on a theme, with very few exact repeat phrases.  Unfortunately, when computers came along, 'looping' became the king---take a phrase and repeat it exactly, over and over and over, with no variation whatever.  It started with drum machines, and moved to synthesizers, then background vocal tracks.  Now, zero variation is all-pervasive and songs are even longer and deadlier at 5 minutes plus.

It really is tough to listen to songs with drum machines instead of talented players.  Take any song that Keith Moon played with The Who, and half the attraction was the massive variation he brought to the percussion.

Best period of music for me was late '60's/early '70's.  All during the 60's, music often had a musical riff during a song that was so attractive melodically,---but heard only once,---so that hearing the song over and over just to catch that riff was a pleasure.  In fact, studies show that when people buy a record, they will listen to it over and over, dozens of times before tiring of it.  Many of Georg Frideric Händel's works were compulsively addictive like that for me.  I can listen to certain works of his over and over, just to hear one 30 second progression that is incredibly melodic.

During this period of my frustration playing classical, I got invited to the local radio station, where I discovered they possessed just about every pop song imaginable, and that spawned my abandoning a music education for speech and drama, because I knew I could never put up with a lifetime of playing short sections of music I did not like over and over, while I could easily listen to the best pop songs over and over without tiring.

My love of music definitely compromised my education, as my mind repeated songs and melodic phrases uncontrollably, providing a terrific distraction to concentration on my studies.  I have often maintained that had the iPod existed when I was in high school, I definitely would have flunked out.  Quite a few successful musicians---including Keith Moon---left school at around 14 to pursue music exclusively.  If the local radio station would have hired me at 14, I never would have finished high school.  But then, my paternal grandmother left school at the 5th grade, and her husband, my paternal grandfather left after the 8th grade.  However, had that happened to me, it is likely I never would have left radio for television---which occurred during college,---and certainly television provided a much better living for everyone in that field, than all but the most accomplished of radio talent---I would never have been among those.  I did much better in television than I would ever have done in radio.

[metbackstagestories-blog]

Interview: Courtney Carey, Met Opera Guild Teaching Artist

In honor of Black History Month, we sat down for a chat with one of our talented Teaching Artists, Mr. Courtney Carey. Courtney is a passionate advocate of arts education, not to mention a fantastic performer in his own right. Click below to read more about how he got his start in music, what inspires him, and the advice he would give to someone looking to work in arts education.

Met Opera Guild: Where did you get your start in music? Was it a part of your life early on?

Courtney Carey:  My earliest musical memories are from the Orff music trailer at Raleigh-Bartlett Meadows Elementary School in Memphis, TN. Those were the days (the early 80s) when music was still very much a part of the general curriculum. We would go out to the back of the school, and go inside the trailer and play all kinds of instruments. What a time! I didn't become serious about music, however, until I entered junior high school and joined the concert band. I'll never forget the first day of class. Our band teacher, Janet Harris, opened the instrument room and said "Okay, everyone go inside and choose the instrument you want to play. It will be your best friend for the next three years." I chose the bassoon because it was the most unique instrument of the lot. We had a wonderful time playing pep rallies and concerts; we even went on a band trip to Houston, TX to play a festival. The highlight of those years was being offered the opportunity to train with the principal bassoonist of the Memphis Symphony Orchestra -- I was only 14 years old!

MOG: Who are your influences (any genre)?

CC: My musical influences are all over the map, but they certainly give a bit of insight into my musical taste. Here they are, and in this order:

Luther Vandross (the sheer beauty of his voice still captivates me to this day. I sang one of his songs in the final round of the very first competition I ever entered -- and won!)

Leontyne Price 

Grace Bumbry

Franco Corelli

Sherrill Milnes

Whitney Houston

I am a very high octane performer, both as a conductor and singer, and have certainly modeled my performing after these great artists.

MOG: What aspects of arts education do you find most important? Why?

CC: I feel that music literacy is most important, and an area on which I focus in all of my residencies. I work very hard to make sure that all of my students leave my music classes with some score reading proficiency. When I first started as a teaching artist in NYC,  those core concepts -- note values, note names and shapes, dynamics etc. -- were not state-mandated concepts to be taught as a part of the general music curriculum. During my third year of teaching, vast changes were made in New York State and I was happy that we were already teaching these important literacy skills in our work through the Met Opera Guild, so we had very few adjustments in teaching stratagem to make.

MOG: Do you have a favorite Teaching Artist moment? 

CC: Yes. The year was 2011, and I had been working on a special two-year residency at a public school in the Bronx. Because it was a two-year residency I was able to move up with my students; I had them both 4th and 5th grades. In their second year we performed excerpts from Mozart's The Magic Flute. We had a soprano from the Met, Janinah Burnett, come in to sing Pamina's aria, and two students from the Manhattan School of Music, Rashard Deleston and Cassandra Douglas, to sing Papageno and Papagena respectively. My fifth graders sang in three part harmony, and the Drei Knaben scene in GERMAN, and also an adaptation of Papageno's opening aria. The show was absolutely spectacular. It was one time where everything worked, and worked brilliantly.  

MOG: What advice would you give those looking to get involved in an arts or arts education career?

CC: Make sure that it is what you want to do! We live in a very expensive society, where cost of living is rising daily, and salaries aren't rising to meet those soaring costs. I see so many young people graduating from schools of music with hopes of jumping into a serious performing career. Reality settles in quickly, and many turn to arts education as a "fall back". It's great to have a Plan B, but make sure that the Plan B is a plan you would love effecting if it comes down to it. These kids come to school in most instances with very high expectations. Your teaching, in many ways, is like entertainment/performing. They know when your heart isn't in it. But when you're in there pulling for them, they know it, and they rise up and put their all in. That's a great thing to experience. 

MOG: What is your favorite opera? 

CC:  My favorite opera -- yikes, that's a hard one! I absolutely love the music of Gaetano Donizetti. I have sung his music perhaps more than any other composer. But, I suppose as a complete opera, Giuseppe Verdi's Ernani ranks as one of my all time favorites. There's something about the music that never bores me, and I can listen to the piece in its entirety without pause. One day, I hope to sing the opera -- I already know the two main arias (hint, hint). 

In the 2016-17 school year, Courtney is working with Hedgepeth/Williams School for the Arts in Trenton, NJ through the Met Opera Guild’s ���Teaching Through Opera” program.

[allmymisters]

Missed Beats

I was foreign to jazz when I met you, it was only used as a tool to portray coolness at parties. If you had it on vinyl, extra points. It was the millennial equivalent to sneaking Johnny Cash onto the playlist. I didn't know dick about jazz, nor was I really concerned about the amount of pretentiousness I could display. I looked at music the way I listened to art, if it made my ears happy I didn't care. When I met you, I was going through a musical transformation. I had a pretty mixed bag of tunes on my playlist, but I kept mainly to the basics and, as all things men, I wasn't unpredictable with the migration to new musical genres, the latest was the immersion of techno and it's quick omittance after a breakup which would bring me back to---goth, punk, industrial, you know the usual suspects.

When I met you, you had just gotten back from Berklee School of Music in Boston. Apparently the winter there was too much for you and I think you had a healthy fear of the Music Theory class. Much to my newfound happiness, you would be pursuing those endeavors at Virginia Commonwealth University. I honestly had no idea anyone could major in jazz percussion. All I kept imagining was you in a penguin suit at the back of the orchestra banging that really big bass drum --- how silly you looked in that image, but like most things of that time, I was a young adult trying to find her way through ramen, a breakup, and who my BFF was that week. 

I had listened to music my whole life. My parents were avid fans, and weekend mornings were filled with the crackle and pop of Motown, the Blues, Zydeco, Latin music, and power ballads...yes, my dad, loves the power ballad, nicely juxtaposed between Glen Campbell and Scott Walker and my mother had a massive crush on Neil Diamond and could sing ABBA's "Fernando" til her voice gave out. The point is, I was no stranger to music, but it was rather routed in my blood from early on.

When I was in third grade I was given the xylophone, made of steel pipes because our school couldn't afford a real one. In 4th grade, I migrated to this little organ my parents got for playing Christmas songs around the house. In 5th grade, I surrendered to peer pressure and joined marching band. We all had to pick which instruments we wanted to play. I did not hesitate in my want to play the drums. I loved the drums. "You can't choose the drums. You're too small for the drums," I was told. My music teacher did not think I was apt enough to carry a snare drum and march at the same time, even though I could place First doing a gymnastics bar routine at the Junior Olympics. "Flute?" He responded with, "No, you don't have the lips for flute and there are a ton of flute players already, how about trombone." I stared off into space on that one. Trombone? How is a girl to look remotely cute carrying a trombone?? It wasn't until I got to the cliche clarinet that the excuses stopped. 

So, you wanted to play drums huh? Yeah, I mean who doesn't want to learn drums? Well, I know a good drum teacher if you are ever looking to learn.

And that's where it all began with you and I. Between paradiddles and double flams, I fell in love with you and in love with jazz. You taught me so much about the construction of music. I have never listened to it the same again. We would listen to Miles or Coltrane in your room and talk about different movements in a composition. It fascinated me, as it was "math" I could understand. It wasn't just because I was crushing on you hard, but it deeply changed my listening capabilities. You were a great teacher and it was difficult to have to stop learning. I had discovered that all these "flirtings" I was experiencing were imaginary, for you, I discovered had a very real girlfriend. It was too intimate and romantic for me to be listening to jazz with you and having you teach me proper stick holding technique. I adapted quickly and decided to have a friend who loved music as much as I did and would soon become a fan of your playing instead.

I've always gravitated towards men in bands. It wasn't something I seeked out, but rather a product of my environment. In high school it was skaters and in college it was musicians. Right after we met, I had one break my heart. It was fortunate that his band dissolved shortly after. It made things easier going to their shows because I loved that band. It has been rare, if even at all, that I've dated a band member whose group I didn't like. Ultimately and honestly, I tend to choose music over men. Robert Smith won a place in my heart long before I started dating, and would always be there with every breakup.

During the early 1990s, as emo started taking over the aggressive hardcore scene here, I was getting introduced to some new sounds and your band was no exception. I have to say it was a bit more civilized than the environment I was coming from --- less wifebeaters, more cardigans. I also retreated from said "scene" due to some unfortunate circumstances and it left a very bad taste in my mouth. Let's just say, boys will be boys and I didn't believe in the cause anymore.

I started going to post-punk shows during this time with reunited friends while attending Goth dance night at the local spot. You would casually tell me when you were playing, and I casually made my presence known. You guys were good. You guys were tall. I didn't have to get punched in the stomach listening to you, so that was nice. So there you were, a jazz percussionist in a post-punk band. I asked you about it, what it was that you were aiming to do, and you plainly said, "Play drums." You aspired to be Elvin Jones, but you would have to settle for Matt Chamberlain if you wanted to see any real success. It wouldn't be until a year later that I would learn just how dedicated to your craft you were, but I was your biggest cheerleader from the beginning. I enjoyed watching you play and picking out certain mannerisms that had become quite common in your playing. You were infamous for sticking out your tongue! 

You showed me a whole different side of you one night in Bogart's backroom. I got to really see your talent as you sat in with a jazz quartet. You could really play. I was proud of you in ways I'd never been proud of a friend before and although I enjoyed your rock shows, the jazz ones were the ones that got me. A year would have to pass before you and I made any kind of music together and within that, we we found our rhythm.

Emo. The first time I ever heard this term for music was in 1991. The first "emo" band I was witness to were a quartet from New Jersey called Policy of 3. Emotional punk rock. Meh, it had some build to it and instead of barking there was wailing, but I did love it! What music that was deemed "emo" after 1995 was, in my opinion, not emo. Semantics I suppose, but you and I grew up with skateboarding, punk rock and good hip hop, we didn't give the glammed up kiddies any street credit for these things. I think you and I were also entering an age where we were being exposed to new bands constantly. Richmond had become a haven for bands, touring and residing.

You started playing and touring with some notable bands during this time. I never thought that it was serious business. I just thought, all of you guys, in your Vans and corduroys, were having a good time. I know, I was having a good time. I loved going to shows at that time and I love going to see you play. I was always up front, rockin' out and of course always with the perfect outfit. If Gwen Stefani did anything for us girls at the time was allowed us to don chokers, baggy cargos and show off our midriffs or was it us who did that for her? 

That year you and I remained close. You kept teaching me, playing for me, exposing me to develop my relationship with music. It was a hard fight not to fall for you. You were smart and I felt more comfortable with you than I did with anyone else. You had become beyond a boyfriend. You had become my friend who I adored and wanted good things for. That was the most resistance I ever allowed myself in my life. I am always the person who visualizes success in her endeavors and I tend to make them happen, but with you, there was something in the way and I respected that. 

You entered my bedroom in a huff. My heart literally fluttered at the site of you. Tall, hovering over me. I hugged you and welcomed you home from your cross country trip with your boys. You had sent a postcard or two and inside me, I knew you cared. You handed me a tape.

Listen to this. I made it and put some new music on there for you.  Wow, thanks! I gotta go, but hey, have you ever been to New York? What? Um, no, why? We are touring there in a couple of weeks, you guys should come with us.

Before I could answer, the tape was in my hand and you were gone with nothing more than a "Later". How mysterious, and I was kinda upset that you left so quickly. I immediately and religiously listened to that cassette. My roommate came home and I tackled her with the request we go on this mini-tour. She agreed, as she was gaga over the guitar player. I felt like this was one of those moments like in Some Kind of Wonderful, where Keith (Eric Stoltz) is chasing after Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson) because he's realized that he's in love with his best friend, but instead of John Hughes I got Aaron Spelling. New York is another story for another time. 

I would soon see you share the stage with Jimmy Eat World, No Knife, Fugazi, Piebald, and other notables of the time. You continued to open up my world musically and I continued to pine wishingly, but as the universe weaves it's plan, we would have to wait for our song to be written. I never missed your band play and it is you who gave me the spectator sport of watching drummers play. I don't listen to jazz anymore, but I still hear you on your practice pad --- Left-Right-Left-Left Right-Left-Right-Right...and the beat goes on.