Tag Archive for stories

Brian Lee | September 11, 2010
4 comments

Disasters, Debacles, or You’re kidding, right?

Talking with a dear friend last night about no-win situations in the workplace got me to thinking about some of my favorite musical disaster stories.

#1 The Oblivious Symphony of Connecticut

When I was 22 I learned about a principal flute vacancy with an orchestra near where I was living. It was a union job, and seemed like a great gig for a newly-graduated flutist. I talked with the personnel manager, and she said that scheduling with the conductor would be challenging. Eventually, she called and asked if I could play some excerpts over the phone with her and the conductor listening. So at the appointed time, I answered the call, set the receiver down on the table, and launched into Peter and the Wolf, Afternoon of a Faun, Brahms 4th, etc., and they said I got the job!

I showed up for the first rehearsal and a Schubert Symphony was up first. The first page of the 1st flute part had lots of repeated 8th notes. Piece of cake, right? Well, the orchestra started, and I watched the conductor with my eagle eye and went right into the fifth dimension. I could not discern a beat anywhere in his movements, and the orchestra was completely ignoring him. But they weren’t playing so well with each other either. Who do I go with? The violins? The basses? The flat oboist? Absurdity went straight to panic. The whole rehearsal was like that. The conductor was completely incompetent and the orchestra was disorganized and unfriendly.

A few days later the personnel manager called and asked why I was not at rehearsal. I looked at my schedule, and there was no rehearsal scheduled for the night she said I missed. No matter, she said the conductor was furious and I was being fired. I was floored, but relieved. Lesson: Research any group you are thinking of joining, even if you’re desperate for a gig. (That was the lesson, but I did not learn at that time!)

#2 The Missing Cathedral Choir

I was contracted to do a “tenor section leader” job for a Haydn mass to be performed on Christmas Eve at one of Washington’s cathedrals. The job description from the contractor said we’d be singing from the choir loft in robes with one of the city’s best organs. It was to be a rehearsal and gig in the same day, which is good for time and money but challenging for preparation. I showed up for the rehearsal and there were five people there: 2 sopranos, a mezzo, a baritone, and me. I waited for the rest of the choir to show up, and no one did. I said, “Where’s the choir?” and the director said “You are the choir”.

Next question. Where do I get my robe? The baritone and I were both wearing khaki pants and a shirt without a tie. “We don’t have any robes.” OK, well at least we’ll be in the choir loft where nobody will see what we’re wearing, right? “Well, no, the organ is in the choir loft and it’s undergoing renovation so the loft is closed, so we’ll be doing the mass off to the side with a piano.” Oh.

So we did a Haydn mass in a packed cathedral with one on a part with a piano in our street clothes. Doing the mass as a quintet made some of the long lines really taxing, way beyond the typical opera aria, for example. Thank God for cathedral reverb to hide the gasps for oxygen that set in after about 4 pages of dotted half notes! We had to stagger breathing among the “sections”. It was a really lame rendition, even with good singers. Lessons: Know exactly how exposed you will be and research which places are nasty cheapskates who do things half-assed.

#3 Head Trip Private Teachers

This will just be random quotes. At least one I have posted before.

“If you don’t show some improvement, we may need to send you back to a TA to study.” Threat from a flute professor who could not play himself. The next semester I won a concerto competition outside of the school while he was on a sabbatical.

“You don’t have the temperament to be a performer.” Comment from my advisor during the last semester of my flute performance MM degree. (I did this degree after several years of paid concertizing with my chamber ensemble.)

“It’s surprising that you sing this way considering that you’re such a good musician.” (Translation: I can’t figure out why your singing sucks.)

(After a year of frustration with my “ah” vowel) “Just say ‘ah’ for me. [I said 'ah'] Well, that’s a strange way to say it.” No correction, or suggestion about what might be a better way to say and sing it. Help!

From a master class: “Listen to how [master class participant's name] puts all her vowels in the same resonance space – Excellent”. Her vowels all sounded like “uh”. It was like listening to Frankenstein’s monster trying to sing Sebben crudele. Undifferentiated beautiful grunts.

#4 Faure Meets Schoenberg on the Tundra

I played the flute on many concerts with a wonderful harpist. We covered most of the flute and harp repertoire, and played some transcriptions. One cute piece is Faure’s Berceuse Op. 16. It is rather chromatic, and requires that the harpist change pedals frequently (the harp only has 7 strings per octave, all sharps and flats are inflected with pedal positions). Halfway through, something went really wrong and the harpist missed one of his pedal changes. We played the last half of the piece with him in something like D, while I was in F. Weirdest effect ever, I wish we could reproduce it, because it was hilarious. I’m sure it would have caused the baby to cry rather than sleep.

The recital had been doomed from the get go. The car we came to the venue in broke down a few blocks from the church and it was a very cold and windy winter day in Hartford. We dragged a harp, a harp stool, and our music bags for several blocks for a lousy 45 minute lunchtime gig that paid dirt. Good times, good times. After the Faure debacle the harpist took everything else on the program at 3/4 tempo, which did not do wonders for my breath control. Nasty. Words were exchanged. Lessons: 1) Modal music is your friend on the harp. 2) Get Sugar Mama/Daddy to buy you a decent car.

#5 The Silent Flute, or The Intimate Firing Squad

I auditioned for three grad schools. Two were successful and one was a disaster. At the latter event, I showed up for the audition, and was lead to a piano practice room. The room was about 15 feet square at most, with a grand piano on one side and four chairs on the other. In the four chairs sat the flute faculty. It was a very, very intimate space. I took my place at the crook of the piano, aware that I could count the pores in the noses of my auditors. I attempted to start the Poulenc Sonata, which begins with 4 very fast notes in the flute part, with the piano meeting me on the downbeat. Somewhere between 1 and 3 notes actually emerged, and it was downhill from there. All notes below G were completely gone. It was like I was a mime with a flute in his hands. It was unreal. It was the worst stage fright I have ever experienced and I think a lot of it had to do with the ridiculousness of using a practice room for a major audition. Not even a classroom. What does that say about the school? Lesson: 1) Prepare for anything and realize there will still be surprises. 2) There is such a thing as “too close to your audience”. This was a blessing. Instead of going to a very expensive conservatory, I got a full ride and teaching assistantship at a better school with a good, if head-trippy, flute teacher.

#6 The “Challenging” Middle School Job

For my 5th and final year of public school teaching, I taught in a Florida public middle school. One small sampling of my duties: My last period of the day was a beginning band of 38 kids playing the following instruments: violin, flute, clarinet, drums, trumpet, trombone, and sax. Complete beginners. What would you do? I’m not really sure what I did, but it wasn’t pretty. Uncarpeted room. 38 middle school kids. End of the day. Drums and violins and saxophones. 180 days. I had five periods a day with that kind of absurdity every period, each a variation on “this is hell and here’s your banjo.” Lessons: 1) Programs vary hugely by region. 2) Yes, Florida really is as bad as they say. 3) Get a different job. Thus began my 11 year IT career.

The things we do for a buck or a career! I have lots more stories, but that’s probably already too many.

Category: professionalism | Tags: , ,
Brian Lee | May 22, 2010
2 comments

Singing and Fluting

This is inspired by Craig’s comment on my previous entry.
As I have dusted off my flute and played it again after very little activity in the last 7 years, I am finding it refreshingly different than previous times that I came back from breaks. I have been fearful of playing flute again largely because I want to enjoy it, and in the past I kept getting into joyless situations. I have had to look at this and try to learn from it.
What has changed? Seven years of intensive work on my singing! Singing is so personal and so much at the heart of everything musical. Taking the time to work on my voice has really given me a new way of thinking about music and performing in general. Some thoughts about what is so different about the way I have worked on singing as compared to how I used to work as a flutist:
  • Control of the voice is indirect. It can never be entirely mechanistic. It is not visible, and it is not under specific tactile control. It is vital to have a clear concept of what you are intending to do, and to continue it to the end of each phrase, to the end of the piece, to the end of the concert.
  • “Technique” goes so much deeper than how fast you can play scales or articulate notes.
  • Everyone’s voice is different. It is an ever-challenging task to reveal more of what one’s own voice can do. If you try to sound like someone or something else, then you thwart your own voice’s possibilities. In fluting, I was too concerned about all the people who were “more advanced” than I, without realizing that even blowing on similar metal tubes, we all can have our own voice, and SHOULD. If I had believed in my own individuality and contribution, I wouldn’t have been so caught up in competition and judgement.
  • In order to sing well I need to feel like it’s impossible to keep it inside. I have to be in, or get myself in, a state where a vocal upwelling is inevitable. This for me is a physical-emotional necessity, or else what comes out of my mouth will not resemble music at all. On the flute, how many times have I blown into the tube and pushed my buttons at the allotted times without getting into the place of expressive necessity?
  • Acting, to some degree, is an essential part of singing. Who was I and what was my “character” trying to say when I played the flute?
There are also some technical issues of singing that have helped the fluting, such as how to breathe, how to start a phrase, and how to end a phrase. These and others have been interesting to play with as well. But it’s the emotional-psychological realm where I see the most important influence of singing on the fluting.
I have a recording of the first time I played flute on a recital, when I was 19. That fall I played the Bach Sonata in G Minor on my old Armstrong flute with my friend Tim playing harpsichord. Looking back, I realize that I didn’t really play that beautifully again until years later. During college, I became so obsessed with technique, competition, and especially judgement, that I couldn’t just let go and play. I could be inspired by others, but I couldn’t play in an inspired way for an audience.
My really big breakthrough was a recital I played at age 32. I prepared music I loved well (Vivaldi Piccolo Concerto in C, Woodall Serenade, Kvandal piece for alto flute, Godard Suite, perhaps one of the Fukushima unaccompanied pieces), I loved my passionate pianist, and I was able to let it fly and hit it out of the park. I had finally achieved something really important to my musical growth. I had proven my “judges” wrong (including a professor who had said “you don’t have the temperament to be a performer”). This was probably about the 30th full concert I had played in my career, and I finally “got it right”. For years I had had something to prove (to myself, to my judges, to the Universe), and I had done it, by finally learning how not to try to prove anything! Right after that was one of the times that I put my flute away for a while. I was tired, and my life as it was then couldn’t deal with starting another mission to Mars.
Dealing with all these memories and feelings in the last two weeks, while getting reacquainted with my silver friend, has been quite a journey. I wonder where it will go next?
Category: singing | Tags: , ,
Brian Lee | January 17, 2010
One comment

"Because of me, or in spite of me" and bad gigs

My dad was a teacher in my high school. Since there were only two English teachers for grades 7-12 in my district, it was unavoidable that I have him in several classes. I think he was my teacher for Speech, American Literature, and one of the basic junior high courses, but I don’t exactly remember. As a teen I tried to ignore him as much as possible while simultaneously loving the subjects he taught. He once said to the class, “you will learn because of me, or in spite of me”. I thought it was a strange, yet clever phrase, which I have revisited over the years. It has some really handy applications. My dad is wise!

This phrase came back to me this morning as I prepare for a performance that I’m not thrilled about. It is a volunteer effort for a very nice organization that has an educational emphasis, but this group tends to over-reach and thus underachieve in its ambitious performance projects. As a teacher this drives me crazy! But, I have learned to stay calm and observe. There is a lot to be learned from nonexamples, a.k.a. others’ mistakes.

So why did I accept the gig? The whole organization is a labor of love, and has nurturing elements that are great when they are not preoccupied with putting on a major show. Early last year, they sponsored a master class, which lead to my beginning to work with a new teacher, which has been a wonderful experience. So I agreed to do whatever was needed this time around as I am truly appreciative.

This is a perfect lesson in reconciling my perfectionism with the chaotic operation of this little musical organization. Ugh! So I will go and sing my part, and wince a little, and hope that we all learn something from this, even if the production goes down in flames. It will be interesting, because we had the worst dress rehearsal I have ever witnessed! Weeeeee!!!

Category: professionalism | Tags: ,
Brian Lee | October 4, 2009
One comment

When you have a "bad voice" day

Every once in a while I get myself painted into a corner, and I realize I have to go back to basics. A practice session gone bad can go something like the following. Caution: this is an attempt to capture stream-of-consciousness!

==== begin mental chatter transcript

Hmm, I’m hearing that pulled-down throaty sound in the recording. Ah, now can feel it happening! /a/ should be brighter, I’ll try to let it stay buoyant and bright. But shit, now I’m breathing high and tight and I’m totally self-conscious and trying to fix things. Here I go again, making it difficult. I know I need to NOT pull my tongue back and do that veiled, woofy thing. But thinking about NOT doing something is really hard. What can I think of to do in its place? All my vowels sound dull and flat, but “brightening” them just adds a new layer of angst to everything? Argghhhh!! I’ve been through all this before, and I do eventually get out of it. Think, Brian, think!

Let me go back to basics. So often, working on very simple, calm onsets gets me out of my pickle. Little starts, shortish notes, so that I can focus on beginnings. /a/ five times, with little refreshes between. There we go, nothing fancy, just a clear “ah” without a big windup, without a huge heaving inhale, just “ah”. Now, what happens if I do a little swell on that clear onset? Oh my, it feels like nothing’s happening, yet it sounds much better. Can I trust “nothing”? Yes, you idiot, when you set up the right conditions, you get the right responses, and the interfering tensions are not even in the picture…..

==== end mental chatter transcript

One of the things that I have gotten much better at, is giving myself lots of latitude in solving problems. I have messed myself up before, and I will again, but I also know that with every passing year, I learn how to get myself out of my vocal messes more easily. I’ve helped myself and lots of other people solve their vocal self-destruct tendencies many times in the past, and I will again! So now I don’t feel like flinging myself off the balcony every time I sing like a pig. I try to be kind to myself, step back, and look at the big picture. I know my tendencies. I know the conditions I need in which to sing my best. I also know what frame of mind I need to be in to keep myself open to the possibility of improvement, of singing better than before, which is by definition a great unknown. Getting more comfortable with uncertainty is a big lesson of singing for me. There are principles that should produce predictable results, but we humans are constantly growing and changing, therefore there are always unfamiliarities cropping up. Being open to change, to the unknown, is a prerequisite to improvement.

The other thing to remember is that it’s OK to ask for help. Realize when you need it, learn how to state a problem clearly, without ego involvement, without judging yourself, and find yourself the best people you can to consult. Then the big challenge when others are involved – listening! Do you hear completely what your trusted team is telling you? Are you willing to try what they say? How many people have to say the same thing to you before you are willing to face the possibility that it’s true? How many times does each person need to say the same thing? I know that I have had several vocal issues to work on that I have avoided the first one, two, five, or ten times that I noticed them. Then suddenly I decide that it’s time to lick that particular problem. We have to forgive ourselves and keep moving. I go through a brief period of cursing my laziness from time to time, and then I get over it and move on.

Each time I repeat all that stuff above, it gets easier to deal with. That is one of the advantages of “maturity”. You learn that you’re going to make mistakes, progress isn’t always in a straight line, and you really can solve problems. And so you do.

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