firm support for your dangling participles

Every Thursday, the Calgary Herald sends out a sampler paper they call "Neighbours". It's filled with advertising circulars and articles on domestic subjects - how to pickle cucumbers, pack a healthy lunch for your junior high kid, or shop for a new mattress. Reading it is a bit like talking to actual neighbours, friendly folks who want to tell you all about the new restaurant in town or their herniated discs, or just chat about nothing much at all.

The reason I mention it here, and why I read "Neighbours" with such glee, is that it contains some of the worst editing I've ever come across. Here's an example from part 2 of an ongoing series, "In Search of the Perfect Mattress". This article is headlined:

Couple find ideal sleep solution

Already we're on shaky grammatical ground, wondering whether this is (these are?) some newfangled plural couple or the conventional singular type. As you read on, you find various ingenuous quotes from mattress experts:

"Surprisingly, the choice will be narrowed down quite quickly as customers tend to have their own comfort preference."

You don't say! But the final coup de grace is this astonishing sentence:

He cites some of the important areas that should be covered by a sales person include sleeping patterns, work patterns or strains on the body, physical ailments or concerns, and of course, for whom the bed is.

This is the kind of sentence that keeps me awake at night, delighting in the tortuous syntax. (Maybe I'm unique in having that sleep pattern.) I'm pretty sure the writer was conscientiously avoiding a dangling participle, as she unintentionally suggests a John Donne poem.

For whom the bed is, indeed? Do not ask; it is for thee.

that conduciveness thing

The New World Symphony just got written up in the Toronto Star, by classical music critic William Littler: "An attitude conducive to music-making". Littler found some Toronto natives to outline the program's assets:

"I want to be an orchestral musician and the New World Symphony is preparing me. I couldn't be in a better place at this moment," says 27-year-old Toronto violinist Ann Okagito.

Toronto clarinetist Robert Woolfry [sic], 29, agrees, pointing out that "we are all here trying to get a job and having a great experience at the same time. I already hear my playing improving because of the high standards."

That should be Robert Woolfrey (shown here), and I guess he and Ann are both better at sticking to talking points than I am! Or maybe Dan Wakin worked harder to dig past all the application-brochure stuff. Littler goes on:

"I knew there were great musicians being trained in Toronto," says Michael Linville, dean of musicians. "But we aren't just interested in people who play at a high technical level. We are looking for people who have a lot of personality in their playing and a good attitude."

Ah, yes, attitude. Symphony orchestras are notorious repositories of cynicism and discouragement. It was his discovery of this truth, Linville suggests, that helped motivate Michael Tilson Thomas to found the New World Symphony Orchestra all of 19 years ago.

One of the continent's foremost conductors, Tilson Thomas has stayed loyal to his Florida project despite demands of an international career and the music directorship of the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. He has done so with the not-so-hidden agenda of vanquishing negativity in the mindset of symphonic musicians.

"When I was a young musician," he recalls, "among veteran players in orchestras I noticed many were dissatisfied and blasé, yet there were others who, after 30 years, were still inspired. So I asked myself, how do you get to be like the people who still have joy in their work? And it turned out that they were the people who were in love with the process of music making.

"I see that attitude with my young colleagues here. Every member of our faculty feels the same way. And they realize that music making is not just about them as individuals. It is about communicating with a larger world."

I have heard MTT describe this before - he sometimes sounds a bit like Peter Pan, wondering why all the other children had to grow up and get so jaded. I'm ususally pretty idealistic myself - I wonder if that got me in? - yet I had never thought of New World as specifically addressing this issue, or selecting for positive outlook and attitude. It sort of gives a new meaning to 'affirmative action', doesn't it?

I wouldn't make too much of the attitude factor though, or suggest applicants start walking into their New World auditions with grins plastered on their faces. I doubt Tom Hadley will be impressed, and as he knows, it's very hard to accurately screen for a love of music making. We all have that love, but the audition process itself can often grind it away and obscure it - and here at New World, where the audition process never ends. If you're not taking one, the girl next door is, and she probably wants to play some excerpts for you and hear what you think. So we depend on our fellow musicians to give us encouragement - in addition to corrections and criticism - and to help us maintain a positive attitude.

Often, I feel like that's the most important thing I can offer someone, especially a harp or clarinet player whose techniques and excerpts I barely understand. I still love to listen to them, and I try to ask helpful questions - what kind of character and color do you want to create here, what is the committee looking for there, do you have an image or a story that helps you start this one? Okay, maybe your rhythm went haywire there, but what is the style and groove you want to project overall?

For the past few weeks since the season ended, New World has felt less like an orchestra than a support group for audition-afflicted musicians! I feel much less afflicted than I have in the past, though I also have a lot of new goals and plans I'm trying to realize. Even if none of them work out though, I hope that I always maintain the qualities of joy and inspiration that MTT talks about, even when I'm far from Florida and way past Peter Pan age!

Spot's take on "The Academy"

A former New World colleague who blogs at "Spot's Doghouse" wrote a very thoughtful post reacting to the NY Times article, and putting the New World experience in perspective:

Being in NWS is like being in a really great relationship. She's fun, she's hot, she's young, and she's fantastic at what she does.

But at the end, whether that's three years or four, she is going to dump you for someone younger; someone new. You can't marry her. It's not an option. She was up front with you about that when you signed your letter, packed up your stuff, hopped in the car, and drove to Miami.

She'll let you move in. She won't charge you rent. She'll even be your sugar mommy while you're there. But no marriage.

And so you are left with two choices: she can dump you. Or you can dump her. There are no in-betweens. So in that regard, I am glad that I got to be the dumper.

While many fall into the habit of comparing NWS to a type of postgraduate residency, it isn't like medical school. Nobody's waiting at the end of the rainbow to hand you a job. There is no guarantee of employment.

It's more like being handed a parachute and being told to jump out of a plane. The ride is exhilarating, and the parachute will definitely open - but you've still got to guide it to the target. Being in NWS improves your ability to aim, but it's still up to you to find your way as close to the bullseye as you can.

I like both of Spot's analogies - both are definite improvements over "death row", Aaron Merritt's quote in the article. (He was a bit sorry that got in there!) We all land somewhere - it's just a matter of where, and how soon. A lot of the drama in the article, and in our lives, is that feeling of being in limbo, and watching all sorts of possible outcomes unfold. It seems like Spot's experience was mostly a positive one, and I'm glad he landed safely - and can write about it with such eloquence!

sightreading Strauss and burning bridges

Then came a passage from the last page of Strauss's tone poem "Don Juan." He had never seen it before, but he plowed through and nailed it. The audition was over. A laconic voice said, "Thank you."

- Daniel J. Wakin, "The Face-the-Music Academy"

Randy Wong, a fellow bassist who also studied at New England Conservatory, asked what this mysterious Don Juan sight-reading might have been. It was the passage from 4 measures before X to 2 after Y - hopefully I'm not violating any copyright restrictions by photographing the excerpt here:


I've played Don Juan several times - and the excerpt was specifically included in the Buffalo list - so obviously "He had never seen it before" is an exaggeration. Sometimes when you go on stage it feels like you've never seen the music before, but I really wasn't all that unprepared! I think what I more likely told Dan Wakin was that I had never played it before in an audition. So I was proud to have played it well - even though I wasn't quite sightreading.

It occurs to me that people in Buffalo are going to be reading this article, too - and hopefully won't be too upset by what I said about their Neil Sedaka program ("too uninspiring") or the upkeep of their hall ("Earplugs from a previous concert littered the stage"). Honestly, it wasn't like piles of earplugs - maybe just one or two pairs, and some wrappers. Dan Wakin asked me to tell him everything I remembered seeing on stage - obviously looking for some detail and color - and those were among the few things that stuck in my mind!

The Buffalo Philharmonic has a beautiful old hall - Kleinhans Music Hall - though all the pictures I found on their website seem to have been removed. Shown above is an outside view of the hall courtesy of Wikipedia's article on Kleinhans.

I assume they will also have another bass audition, since as Dan Wakin mentions, Scott Dixon (another New World alumnus) won the principal bass job only to win another job, in the Cleveland Orchestra, two months later. Which is why I hope I haven't burnt any bridges in Buffalo.

So if you happen to be reading this, Buffalo Phil members, patrons, audition committee, Neil Sedaka enthusiasts, et al. - no offense intended! You guys rock!

New Times' "An Uncertain Overture"

I've been thinking a lot about music journalism lately, having just told my own story at great length to New York Times reporter Daniel Wakin. This evening I came across the kind of story which I hope Wakin won't write: it's called An Uncertain Overture by Rob Jordan, and it appears in last week's Miami New Times.

Rob Jordan writes about an 18-year-old classical pianist named Xavier Spencer, clearly an incredibly talented kid who is struggling through a transition in his education and life. Jordan does a great job showing the frustratingly long odds a poor young musician faces, and the impressive achievements Spencer has already made. It seems to me that a profile like this also walks a difficult line: the reporter must get into the subject's head, to voice his thoughts and emotions. At the same time, he needs to be an objective critic of his playing and abilities. This is especially problematic with a young musician like Spencer - he hasn't had enough time yet to develop as a musician (he began at age 13); and he also seems to express himself much more eloquently in his playing than in his words.

So Rob Jordan relies for quotes and commentary on Spencer's mom, his main teacher Felix Spengler, and other teachers who have heard and encouraged him. We get a very warm view of his playing, as when Jordan writes "He had 'all the ingredients' to become a professional, according to one of his instructors. 'When you hear him play, you say, "Oh my God, he's a musician."'" (Sorry for the triple-quotes!) At the same time, Jordan keeps a kind of ominous drumbeat going in the background: "he wasn't sure he'd ever perform again", "in the months since Spencer's high school graduation, little had gone right..." The gloomy vibe fully emerges at the end of Jordan's story, when Spencer and his prospects seem literally to fade away: "'Maybe it's the thought that this might not actually work,' he said, his voice trailing off, little more than a whisper."

Spencer's story deserves to be told and read, but this strikes me as too much melodrama. Teacher Spengler has already given his verdict on Spencer's doubts, saying "He's just being a teenager." Jordan clearly sees it as much more than that, and makes sure we follow his tragic conclusions. Maybe Spengler is right though - maybe Spencer is just being a teenager, trying to put words to a lot of conflicted emotions. Not many 18-year-olds are 100% sure of their direction, and being a talented pianist doesn't exempt a kid from feelings of confusion and doubt. I'd argue that it's healthy to be dealing with those insecurities at Spencer's age. Success in the arts is rarely quick or easy, no matter how great the talent, and all the struggling and questioning can give us a better perspective on what we're trying to accomplish.

Reading the article definitely left me pulling for Spencer, and I hope he keeps working and developing as a musician. Really though, there's reason to be hopeful for this kid whether or not he succeeds in music - he's already accomplished so much, seen so many places, and created a great sense of pride in his family and in the people in his community. Maybe it's easier to see that hope in another person's life than in one's own. In any case, I'm much more inclined to Spengler's optimism than Jordan's pessimism.

By tracing the arc of Spencer's story, an article like this can provide further inspiration to an even wider community; I think it can also serve a function for Spencer himself, seeing his life formed into a narrative shape. But by ending the story with a pessimistic shrug, I think the writer hits a sour note himself. Hopefully others who read this article, and Spencer himself, will recognize that note as false, and will see that his success story is by no means finished.

more from Buffalo

For the past few weeks a New York Times reporter, Daniel Wakin, has been working on a piece about the New World Symphony. We've been told it will be prominently featured in The New York Times Magazine. NWS takes this kind of media exposure very seriously, as I suppose we should. Before he came, the orchestra brought in a media-savvy expert to brief the orchestra on how to handle reporters, lead the interview, stay on message, etc.

Her basic advice was, "Don't say anything stupid" - or anything you wouldn't be happy to share with millions of NY Times readers. It seemed improbable that a big-city reporter would even be interested in my humble life, but I definitely made it a point to come up with some talking points, some clever quotable blurbs, just in case I was one of those lucky interviewees. Then he left town, and I forgot all about it.

(all photos were taken today during my walk around Buffalo)

What I didn't realize, though, was that he was going to come back again. Dan Wakin's return was on the first day that we were playing mock auditions for Jeff Turner, principal bassist of the Pittsburgh Symphony. The other bass players told him that I was preparing for this Buffalo audition, and so why not cover my little audition saga? So when I went in to play that first mock, there he was, right beside Jeff Turner and Chris Adkins, principal cellist of the Dallas Symphony. Playing for those three guys was easily one of the most mortifying experiences of my life.

Strangely enough, Dan Wakin wanted to hear more, and he asked me all about my preparation for this audition. I quickly forgot the coaching about media handling and pretty much put my whole life out there for him to listen and take blindingly fast shorthand notes. I'm not sure I had anything very insightful to say, but I wasn't going to let that stop me from yakking away. Maybe what got me talking so freely was the way he was jotting it all down so quickly. Once in a while he would even ask me to repeat some phrase I had said. I don't think he really had to ask many questions, though. I just seemed to start spewing out every hope, fear, and dumb audition story I could think of.

Two days later I played another mock audition - it went better, but still not great. Dan Wakin was there again, and again he got an earful of all my audition neuroses. I travelled to Buffalo on Saturday, and he called me yesterday, after my successful preliminary audition. We talked on the phone for 45 minutes yesterday afternoon, and then again today, after my unsuccessful semifinal. Or rather, I talked profusely and heard him jotting down notes in the background. I'm not usually this talkative - by way of comparison, I had a phone conversation with my Mom on Sunday which lasted one minute, 35 seconds. All told I've probably spoken with Dan Wakin for almost 3 hours in the past week.


The thing is, I really have no idea what he might write, and I'm somewhat concerned that I'm going to sound like a self-absorbed putz. Actually, I'm almost sure of it. I don't think it's solely his interview skills - somehow the orchestral audition process itself seems to open up my emotions and disable my communicative inhibitions. Other people I've talked with shared this experience as well - though mostly they've found themselves opening up to a sympathetic friend or family member, not a New York Times reporter. Even though I honestly meant to stay on message, by the end of our conversation I was ready to tell him all about my traumatic experiences, career questioning, failed relationships - stuff I ordinarily wouldn't even share with you, my loyal blog reader(s)!

Which brings me to the point of this, my return to blogging: I realize I am rather badly in need of another expressive outlet. Music is surely the most glorious, expressive, and moving of art forms. However, there is a relatively narrow range of experience that you can convey in the bass part of Dukas' Sorcerer's Apprentice, just to choose a random piece. And I love that piece - I love listening to it and I love playing it. But I can't use it to express my frustrated hopes about auditions, my fears of abandonment, my concerns that my life may have shriveled to quixotic single-minded quest... Probably there's another piece that would work better, but sometimes it's easier to just get it down in words.


So I'm not going to shy away from the self-revealing blog entry, in this new incarnation of hella frisch. And though I'll try not to overwhelm you with embarrassingly personal stuff, I think there are certain occasions when it's better not to keep things to yourself. Unless you happen to be talking with a reporter from the New York Times. In which case, probably a little more self-reflection would have been helpful. Blogs are perfect for self-reflection, though, right? And you can even edit out the embarrassing stuff later, hopefully before too many people read it.

where's the frisch?

The last two weeks I've been delinquent here at hella frisch, but I've made a couple of contributions to the Big Bottom website: Who's your Gary Karr? and Eine Kleine Bassmusik? I'm not quite sure why all my titles seem to end in question marks - maybe I've got a little mannerism going. (?) Anyway, I'm still perfecting the art of double bass journalism. I need to get some work done on my double bass playing as well, though, which is why things here haven't been quite so frisch lately.