accelerando

While I was traveling to the wedding (see previous post) I read much of Terry Gross' All I Did Was Ask, a fascinating compendium of interviews she's done over the years on NPR's Fresh Air. (For more info on the book, there's a Weekend Edition interview here.) I was particularly taken with a comment jazz bassist Charlie Haden made in his interview.

He said that a bass player should

lift everything up and make it deeper and more full-sounding…in order to inspire the other musicians to play better than they’ve ever played before.

I think the whole interview is worth reading (ok--the whole book). I resonated with his comment because it encapsulates what I try to do as a church musician and accompanist. Collaboration is fun. I'd much rather do that than do a lot of solo performance, even though it takes more preparation to produce an effective ensemble. Even as a composer--although I'm obviously responding to some sort of creative urge over which I have little control (well, I have some control over what I write, but not that I write)--I follow the principle of inspiring other musicians and the audience to become better. Occasionally I succeed.

As I've gotten older I've given more thought about what I do. I try not to do so while I'm playing, since that distracts me from actually making music. While a bass physically can make things "deeper and more full-sounding" simply because it plays in a lower register than most instruments, I think Charlie Haden is referring to more than the mere notes. There's an element of musicianship that permeates the music; without the musicianship (which operates in multiple dimensions: time, timbre, vertical, horizontal, sound, silence) there's just noise.

His interview was thought-provoking, as were many others in the book. It makes me think of a book by, if I'm remembering correctly, Johnny Cash's daughter. 'Scuse me. It's around here somewhere...

fermata

Things have been on hold for a while (thus the title) as we hosted my father-in-law and then flew from California to Pennsylvania for our son's wedding (we felt like we were herding cats with both Dads in tow--I can only imagine what they thought of us!). Dementia adds an element of uncertainty and...excitement...to the voyage. But we survived just fine and Jeremy and Amanda's wedding was wonderful.

It was a delight to get to know the new other side of the family, and to see the obvious delight that the happy couple took in each other. While the music selected for procession and recession weren't anything unusual, I quite enjoyed Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring for the bride: it added a serene and stately touch just right for the late afternoon ceremony. Joyful, Joyful made an appropriately up and, ok, joyful way to send the wedding party out.

I primarily served as the bemused father of the groom:

• write checks for the rehearsal dinner


• play golf with the guys the morning of the ceremony--score was totally unremarkable [let's just say I know how the guys at the PGA Championship felt as they slogged their way through humidity you could almost cut with a knife!]


• follow the mother of the groom into the church during the seating of the families


• have a good if somewhat unobtrusive time at the reception--I did work the room a bit, meeting a bunch of nice people)

I did have the opportunity to play Reflected Joy 2 during the unity candle ceremony. It was hard to focus on the music because I really wanted to see what Amanda and Jeremy were doing. A number of people had positive comments; I enjoyed being able to offer the couple a somewhat different gift from the others they will get.

Having written the two movements, I hope to add three more to make a suite: a new opening piece, one between the two I've already written, and a closing piece. I've set myself an interesting task, since I mention both Jesu, Joy and Joyful, Joyful. Do I focus more on the latter, since the former got good play in these two pieces? Can I find some common elements? Will there be any sense of development, or should each piece be a potential stand-alone character piece? Stay tuned...

tempo rubato

It's been a quiet week for me, speaking musically. A couple of good, but short, practice sessions. No composition projects going on. But it's not been a dull week. There's been some rallentando here, accelerando there.

I've been in planning mode with my new church position, both as we look toward the upcoming Sunday and as we look toward an exciting Fall. I've been helping out Marianne at The Yarn Boutique as well, with the well-deserved vacation of one of her employees. So I haven't heard any music that particularly excites me this week, nor written any, for that matter!

Tempo rubato: stolen time. It's almost like a vacation, but it feels a little stolen, since I would rather be writing and playing, rather than orchestrating skeins of yarn (a not unpleasurable task, but not my cup of hot chocolate).

There was an article in a local newspaper yesterday about local organist Keenen Boswell, who, although still in his teens, is already a seasoned performer. I've heard him, and enjoyed the experience. It's good to see local media spending time on an outstanding local performer--and in the classical genre, even!

In my browsing this morning I came accross in the wings, the blog of Heather Heise, a SF Bay Area pianist. Rather enjoyable. I like her sensibility and sense of humor. It'll be fun to explore her posts.

Tempo rubato: not wasted time--just borrowed. I might as well enjoy it because it will be paid back, and not too far away in the future. I play a wedding tomorrow, church on Sunday (first service at my new church), next week family as we (with my Dad and father-in-law) head to son Jeremy's wedding with Amanda. Upon return, a quick plunge into the pool of Fall counterpoint which refuses to wait for Labor Day and September.

In retrospect, I will miss tempo rubato.