People that know me know that despite growing up in New York, I’ve been a devoted Red Sox fan my entire life. (Something that was inherited from my father.) Yet, I don’t talk about it much here on SLN. That goes along with being a Boston fan. You don’t gloat because it could jinx you. During the bad times, you don’t say anything to put the team down, no matter how upset they make you. And you don’t ever assume a win, even with a large lead in the 9th. This could also jinx you. But the Red Sox won the World Series tonight!
Some thoughts:
- Papelbon = amazing.
- Francona: 8-0 in World Series
- Pedroia and Ellsbury. Yeah.
- Mike Lowell MVP
One thing I thought was completely unbelieveable during last night’s game came at the top of the 8th inning with no outs. FOX cuts away to their reporter in the stands to announce that A-Rod had opted out of his contract with the Yankees. Who the f#$@ cares about A-Rod during that game when John Lester made a special start and the Sox were on the verge of winning the World Series? And then Buck and McCarver discussed it for the rest of the inning. It was a completely inappropriate, classless, and tasteless moment. (Scott Boras is a complete jackass. Read here.) Hey Theo, Keep Lowell and screw A-Rod. I hope the Red Sox don’t even entertain Boras. We didn’t need him to win two World Series’.
In other news, I wonder how many shirts I’ll get for Xmas this year. Two in 2004.
For some reason, performing on the sidewalk is beginning to become commonplace for me in Baltimore. Pictured above is yours truly with Baltimore-based experimetal saxophonist extraordinaire John Berndt performing looping improvised soprano saxophone duets in front of Normal’s Books & Records as part of this year’s High Zero Festival’s High Jinx performances.
A lot has been written recently about the phenomenon of classical musicians performing in spaces usually reserved for indie rockers, folkies, and beer drinkers. And much of what’s said focuses on what it means for classical/new music that this is happening and what it might do for the music’s popularity among the younger set or folks who simply wouldn’t consider listening to the music otherwise. Like I said of HGP’s modus operandi in a previous post, “Part of the reason we like to perform in spaces like those is precisely because it takes a bit of the edge off of a musical genre that could sometimes use a drink or two to loosen itself up. At the same time, bringing new music into those venues hopefully communicates that it’s not just for jowly, cranky old men and turtlenecking professor types.” And that’s good for business. The performer perspective is what’s been missing in that discussion, so I thought I’d offer my own contribution.
For me, playing in “non-traditional” spaces is extremely liberating. The concert hall with all its protocol and convention (for both audience and performer) can be a little stifling, even when making an attempt to break from established norms. There’ve been times when my efforts to loosen up a stuffy recital atmosphere fell a little flat, not because I wasn’t incredibly charming, but rather because we’re programmed to behave certain ways in certain situations. The club setting, however, comes without the weight of those solemn rituals. And as a player, that’s often times been an extremely welcome change.
Playing a show in an alternative space doesn’t alter my approach—I still practice the same amount and bring the same integrity to the performance as I would if I was playing at Merkin Hall or Miller Theater, for example—but it does make me feel different, in a good way. It’s not that peoples’ expectations are lower, but the environment, to me, seems much more relaxed and inviting. I’m not a player who tends to get nervous before my shows, though there’s always that moment of anxiety immediately prior to going on stage. Yet when I play in non-concert hall spaces, I’ve yet to experience any trace of those feelings. Similarly, during the performance of a work in an alternative venue, I feel a lot less pressure. Suddenly, one missed note seems a lot less earth shattering. I’ve found that there’s a big benefit to being able to say, Whatever. . .” to yourself to add a little levity before and during any performance, no matter whether it’s a concerto solo in front of thousands of people, a recital when you know a reviewer is out in the crowd, or chamber piece with first class musicians. It’s kind of a little mental trick because obviously I care deeply about whatever performance I’m giving, yet placing too much weight on it, I think, freezes a little of the freedom in performance that you might have, say, in just a rehearsal when nobody’s listening. And that’s really it: when I play with Hybrid Groove Project in a bar or club or on the sidewalk in front of a skate shop, I feel completely free as a player. Not that I haven’t learned to get myself into that mental space in the recital hall, but it’s a different kind of feeling. So I guess what I’m really trying to say is: Playing in non-traditional venues—good for classical music and I like it too.
This past July, I had the great honor of playing a concert on the Ocean Grove Summer Stars series with the phenomenal accordionist Lidia Kaminska and everyone’s favorite tech-blogging pianist Hugh Sung. We weren’t quite sure in the beginning how the unusual combination of instruments was going to work out, but I think it’s fair to say that after our first rehearsal we were all pleasantly surprised with the result. Though Lidia and I both played a couple of solo works (and a nice Bach transcription as a duo), the bulk of our program featured arrangements of Piazzolla that Lidia did especially for the group. And since we had Mr. Technology with us, we got some nice video of the concert. And a bit of shameless commerce, a few live recordings from our performance can be downloaded at Amie Street. Enjoy!
I had an interesting performance experience recently. Hybrid Groove Project was invited to perform at the Baltimore Contemporary Museum’s opening night party for their new exhibit Broadcast. However, instead of doing a set where we were the central focus, we performed in a smallish room off of the main exhibit area, which also featured an open bar and hors d’oeuvres. So rather than have peoples’ rapt attention for a performance of pastlife laptops from start to finish, partygoers wandered in and out, stopping to absorb a few minutes of HGP while chit-chatting and washing down small plates with wine in little plastic cups. What made this performance interesting was not that John Waters loitered at a cocktail table very close to us for a decent 5 minutes, but that instead of being the main focus, which classical/new music performers usually are for any given performance, we were background music.
I didn’t experience this as a negative, but rather as a realization during our performance that I filed away into the mental folder labeled “Things I’ve Never Encountered In Performance As A Classical/New Music Player.” Clearly this is not a sensation foreign to classical musicians—I think of the string quartet at a wedding reception or that piano player in Nordstrom—but for me it was something new. While classical music of the old dead-guy variety is often used as background music to create the perfect candlelit dinner mood or lend some (upper) class to an event, new music is generally presented in a manner that asks audiences to engage with it on a more than superficial level. And as a new music player, I’m used to feeling (and feeding off of) the audience’s attention and energy. So becoming aware, quite keenly, that people were checking us out for only a few minutes (sometimes coming in after we began a piece and leaving before its conclusion) threw me a little off balance.
Of course, I didn’t expect to have a captive audience at the event. And I wasn’t taken aback by people coming and going, talking while we played, gorging themselves on cucumbers stuffed with goat cheese, or generally just not paying attention to us. HGP plays in a lot of spaces where people eat, drink, and talk while we’re performing. Part of the reason we like to perform in spaces like those is precisely because it takes a bit of the edge off of a musical genre that could sometimes use a drink or two to loosen itself up. At the same time, bringing new music into those venues hopefully communicates that it’s not just for jowly, cranky old men and turtlenecking professor types.
So it wasn’t so much the setting that was alien to me. What was unfamiliar was that I suddenly had to find a way to channel some energy despite the fact that most of the people in the room were listening passively. It’s something I’m sure I’ll grow more accustomed to as HGP continues to perform in “non-traditional” spaces. Or maybe I won’t have to if new music takes over the world in the near future.
October 16, 2007 at 11:31 am · Filed under Blog: Fall 07
An update! Really. I promise. My lovely assistant has ordered me on behalf of the new music community to resume regular posting. For now, though, this…
