Geeking out at Band Camp
We've had a super difficult week, but one of the high points was Michelle's stint as a horn ringer at the Rose City International Conductor's Workshop.
Michelle went down on Monday and played, and I drove up on Friday night. Because I'm a geek like that, and because I wanted to see our friends, I went with her to the Saturday night rehearsal to see a dozen or so conducting students crunch through Brahms' First Piano Concerto with a seemingly tireless Rick Rowley. Sunday's concert was great, but I thoroughly enjoyed the rehearsal.
It was fascinating. I love playing, but I really do like rehearsals. I enjoy it when a group plays at a high level and conductors begin to put their imprint on the music. And the Rose City Chamber Orchestra was playing quite well and Rick was, as always, quite stunning. Ken, David, and Chris' students were very well-prepared, and quite talented. I was rapt, seeing all of these people work, especially hearing the directors' critiques of the conducting.
These are the mental notes I made for myself from observing one rehearsal and because I am an opinionated ass:
1. Orchestras can taste fear. Once they get the slightest whiff of fear or uncertainty from a conductor, things change. And, if you're paying attention, you can tell; it feels entirely different. I'm not sure if the band starts focusing only on the notes, rhythms, and entrances (and quit thinking about bow placement, starting and stopping notes beautifully, color, texture, etc.) but the sound becomes raw and tense; the piece stops breathing. Reischl always said we played better scared, but that really can't be true.
2. You can tell when a conductor or director has rehearsed his or her gestures. At this level, it was almost that obvious. It also seems to lead to some inflexibility when direction changes.
3. There's a funny bassoon entrance in the 2nd movement of the Brahms (maybe I just noticed b/c I'm a bassoon player) that, for some reason, seemed to pose some difficulty for some of the conductors, coming in on the tail end of a solo section with the resolution. Everyone seemed to give a funky prep and a much, much larger downbeat than I thought was really necessary. Good musicians almost shouldn't be placing that entrance with the conductor, but with the soloist as if it were a chamber piece, and Rick sure as heck is easy to read. It makes the concerto feel more organic, and there's the potential for the stick to get in the way or to create a little bump. Ken, David, and Chris had great suggestions for handling this, adding the admonishment to "take what Rick gives you," but some of these delicate entrances still were a little chunky.
4. Everyone was extraordinarily well-prepared. It always seemed as if the students settled in after the first 7 bars or so and really got down to business.
5. I love the Brahms piano concerto. Michelle and I saw it performed at St. Louis by Radu Lupu whose connection with the orchestra and conductor was unmatched by anything I have seen before or afterward. It was that infamous concert in which Hans Vonk had to stop the Barber and was helped off of the stage, not making it entirely under his own power and in which David Amado conducted the Beethoven. The second movement, which I love, seemed to have a poignant mortality to it when Vonk returned (conducting, if I remember correctly, from memory). I know some of you have felt this at least once, that feeling that you may have to give up music and staring that reality in the face. I don't know if that's what was going on, but something made it very powerful (Ken described the movement as "prayerful"). If you haven't heard the piece, there's a great deal of very subdued back and forth between the piano and orchestra.I imagined the movement as Vonk and Lupu sitting on the porch drinking Rakia and saying "Hans, you know, we're getting on in our years." There's a bit where they get a little carried away reminiscing about the fun they had and the trouble they got into, but that ends abruptly with a wistful "those were the days, no?" Hearing old guys do that number really affected how I watched young conductors approach it. Hans Vonk retired soon thereafter (they canceled Mahler 5 that year but did a pretty epic Mahler 4 in its place) and passed a couple of years later. I always talk about that performance, I tell Bruce about it every time almost, but I don't think I'll ever see anything so naked.
6. I love our friends from Portland and can't wait to play with them as soon as possible.
7. Ken has a great program and I hope someday I can play hooky for a week and play some tunez with them.
Michelle went down on Monday and played, and I drove up on Friday night. Because I'm a geek like that, and because I wanted to see our friends, I went with her to the Saturday night rehearsal to see a dozen or so conducting students crunch through Brahms' First Piano Concerto with a seemingly tireless Rick Rowley. Sunday's concert was great, but I thoroughly enjoyed the rehearsal.
It was fascinating. I love playing, but I really do like rehearsals. I enjoy it when a group plays at a high level and conductors begin to put their imprint on the music. And the Rose City Chamber Orchestra was playing quite well and Rick was, as always, quite stunning. Ken, David, and Chris' students were very well-prepared, and quite talented. I was rapt, seeing all of these people work, especially hearing the directors' critiques of the conducting.
These are the mental notes I made for myself from observing one rehearsal and because I am an opinionated ass:
1. Orchestras can taste fear. Once they get the slightest whiff of fear or uncertainty from a conductor, things change. And, if you're paying attention, you can tell; it feels entirely different. I'm not sure if the band starts focusing only on the notes, rhythms, and entrances (and quit thinking about bow placement, starting and stopping notes beautifully, color, texture, etc.) but the sound becomes raw and tense; the piece stops breathing. Reischl always said we played better scared, but that really can't be true.
2. You can tell when a conductor or director has rehearsed his or her gestures. At this level, it was almost that obvious. It also seems to lead to some inflexibility when direction changes.
3. There's a funny bassoon entrance in the 2nd movement of the Brahms (maybe I just noticed b/c I'm a bassoon player) that, for some reason, seemed to pose some difficulty for some of the conductors, coming in on the tail end of a solo section with the resolution. Everyone seemed to give a funky prep and a much, much larger downbeat than I thought was really necessary. Good musicians almost shouldn't be placing that entrance with the conductor, but with the soloist as if it were a chamber piece, and Rick sure as heck is easy to read. It makes the concerto feel more organic, and there's the potential for the stick to get in the way or to create a little bump. Ken, David, and Chris had great suggestions for handling this, adding the admonishment to "take what Rick gives you," but some of these delicate entrances still were a little chunky.
4. Everyone was extraordinarily well-prepared. It always seemed as if the students settled in after the first 7 bars or so and really got down to business.
5. I love the Brahms piano concerto. Michelle and I saw it performed at St. Louis by Radu Lupu whose connection with the orchestra and conductor was unmatched by anything I have seen before or afterward. It was that infamous concert in which Hans Vonk had to stop the Barber and was helped off of the stage, not making it entirely under his own power and in which David Amado conducted the Beethoven. The second movement, which I love, seemed to have a poignant mortality to it when Vonk returned (conducting, if I remember correctly, from memory). I know some of you have felt this at least once, that feeling that you may have to give up music and staring that reality in the face. I don't know if that's what was going on, but something made it very powerful (Ken described the movement as "prayerful"). If you haven't heard the piece, there's a great deal of very subdued back and forth between the piano and orchestra.I imagined the movement as Vonk and Lupu sitting on the porch drinking Rakia and saying "Hans, you know, we're getting on in our years." There's a bit where they get a little carried away reminiscing about the fun they had and the trouble they got into, but that ends abruptly with a wistful "those were the days, no?" Hearing old guys do that number really affected how I watched young conductors approach it. Hans Vonk retired soon thereafter (they canceled Mahler 5 that year but did a pretty epic Mahler 4 in its place) and passed a couple of years later. I always talk about that performance, I tell Bruce about it every time almost, but I don't think I'll ever see anything so naked.
6. I love our friends from Portland and can't wait to play with them as soon as possible.
7. Ken has a great program and I hope someday I can play hooky for a week and play some tunez with them.