the CPO gets Titanic

This week at the CPO we're playing Mahler 1 with members of the Calgary Youth Symphony -- not the whole CYSO, but still enough to add extra heft to the orchestra. We have 9 basses, 11 horns, 7 oboes (!), and 2 timpanists. The low brass is one of the only non-augmented sections, but telling them that is only going to encourage them to play louder.

So far we haven't rehearsed in the hall, partly because the huge inflatable whale, shown above, was taking up that space. She was part of last week's Kids' Fest, and on Tuesday she got a sponge bath and some other maintenance done indoors. I rushed in to take a photo before they finished, but only had time to catch this dim but suggestive rear-end view.

A couple weeks ago Michael Hovnanian posted on Mahler 1 fatigue, prompting a whole slew of comments and then a follow-up response. I'm not a Mahler 1-hater personally, though that 5-minute C pedal is not one my favorite moments in music. It's certainly one of the most expansive symphonies, in terms of length, the variety of musical ideas, and of course all the Sturm und Drang of the finale.

What I find extraordinary about this symphony, though, are the moments of quirky intimacy -- like that bizarre bass solo, accompanied only by timpani, and answered by tuba, bassoon, and eventually the whole orchestra. It's a bit like crawling up inside a whale (either end) and finding a little old man with a sad story to tell. The other night Chuck played the solo in the final 3 minutes of rehearsal, with the timpani about 50 meters away, and to my ears he got the odd, plaintive expressiveness of the tune just about right. We were rehearsing in an immense Jewish temple in south Calgary, so extra schmaltz seemed appropriate.

Sounding weird is partially the point, I think -- amid all the pageantry and fanfares, it's the weird stuff that keeps me interested in Mahler. Michael praises Haitink's ability to "keep vulgarity from creeping into passages where it has no business," which is very useful for a piece which risks deafening the audience with every huge, ear-splitting climax. Just as important, though, is to get the spiky, contorted, and genuinely vulgar stuff right -- so that all those blistering, euphoric peaks have some gnarled, murky valleys to tower over.

the Bow blows chunks

Just after writing that last post I did get quite sick, ironically, and spent the last few days hacking away at my cough, whimpering at my fever, and (mostly) asleep in bed. I did also play a Good Friday gig, but it wasn't as entertaining as this one posted on Michael Hovnanian's Bass Blog.

While I was mostly sleeping, spring came to Calgary, at least for the time being. I have some photos of huge ice chunks breaking off and floating down the Bow River, along with the photo above, a view of downtown from Scarboro United Church where I played last weekend.

winterizing hella frisch

I've been hoping to give hella frisch a bit more of a Calgary feel - and trying to figure out a good location to photograph the bobble-head.

This was taken at Olympic Plaza, right in front of the Epcor Centre where the Jack Singer Concert Hall is located. That's the best I've come up with so far. It's a bit tricky to capture a mountain range and a 10-inch high ceramic statue in the same shot, but if anyone has suggestions for other locations, please let me know!

If anyone is curious, the bobble-head was made by the people at BobbleMe.com. At their wedding, my sister Zoe and her husband Elliot had the whole wedding party Bobble-ized. The scarf was custom knitted by Calgary Phil violinist Laura Reid (thanks, Laura!)

all things elephant

But the dust-laden and echoey churches were not enough. She was drawn to another place of worship, the Ganesh temple in the heart of the city, the elephant image smiling at her from the inner sanctum. That was how it seemed: another big soft gaze in her life. The other deities sat glowering, with horror teeth like Kali's, or else solemnly dancing like Shiva; with half-closed eyes like Saraswati playing the sitar, or goofy-faced with pouchy cheeks like Hanuman. But only the elephant god smiled, always the kindly eyes directed straight at her, and the full satisfied mouth chomping in the tusks like a tycoon with two cigars. The way the fat thing sat on the rounded cushion of his bottom, his center of gravity in his broad bum, was also a pleasure to see, but most of all his eyes reassured her with a What can I do for you? look and a guarantee: I can help you.

- "The Elephant God", from The Elephanta Suite by Paul Theroux, p. 202

Bass players have a special connection to the elephant, by virtue of the famous solo from Carnival of the Animals. I think we're not alone in feeling an affinity for these mysterious giants, though. When I took my mom to the Bass Museum in Miami Beach, her favorite thing was a sculpture of Ganesh, the Hindu elephant god - remover of obstacles, deva of wisdom. I just finished reading The Elephanta Suite, this wonderful collection of three novellas by Paul Theroux, and the one quoted above especially struck me with its description of the elephant's beauty and power.

I visited Calgary Zoo recently with my dad and step-mom, and we got to see the zoo's new baby elephant, Malti. She was born August 9th, just two days after I moved to Calgary, so when these pictures were taken she was around two months old.




The handlers were trying to measure and photograph her - even at two months old, she's a pretty powerful creature, and it took all three of them to control and guide her. Below is one more picture of Malti, and then one of her father, Spike, and her mother, Maharani, shown with another female elephant, Kamala.

jungle rules of orchestral playing

The other day in rehearsal, guest conductor Robert Spano made some interesting comments about the relationship of an orchestra and its conductor, and the need to play firmly with the beat. Great orchestras don't rush - in fact, if you listen closely, they often seem to be deliberately playing at the back of the beat, filling out the rhythms as slowly as possible within the tempo. This gives a conductor something to work with - he can propel and drive the orchestra, when he wants to create added excitement, and trust that we won't all fly off the handle. That inner pulse, which we establish as an orchestra, can accomodate the conductor's excitement without getting swept up and losing its integrity.

He talked about how this dynamic gets screwed up when the orchestra tends to rush. Then the conductor has to take a restraining role, holding us back and doing his best to avoid train wrecks. The message he projects becomes cautionary, rather than motivating - which is why an orchestra that rushes can actually sound less exciting, more boring, than one that plays behind the beat but allows the conductor to propel forward.

Spano put it best when he said that the orchestra's job is to always say, "We're not going to rush." The conductor's role, on the other hand, is to say, "We're not going to be boring." It often puts the two in conflict, but that tension is itself a source of excitement for the audience and the performers. It's the will of the one against the will of the many, and ultimately the conductor's will prevails - assuming we all respect and trust him enough to respond to his ideas - but only as the result of an intensely powerful struggle.


I'll write more tomorrow on this weekend's program, which includes Jennifer Higdon's Concerto for Orchestra and Michael Gandolfi's Impressions from the Garden of Cosmic Speculation. The latter piece is inspired by an actual place, a garden designed by the philosopher Charles Jencks. You can check out some pictures of the real thing at Charles Jencks' website.

In the meantime, here are a few pictures from the Fairchild Tropical Gardens, which our orchestra visited last Sunday. I don't think the gorilla in the top picture is meant to be conducting an orchestra, but that was my first thought. I wonder if gorilla conductors ever have problems with rushing...?

morning in Miami

This was taken last Sunday morning in Pace Park, looking out to Miami Beach across Biscayne Bay.

up in smoke

Today a building in our neighborhood ignited, just across the street from the Plymouth. It must have happened right around 1 pm, as we were leaving an orchestra rehearsal. Some New World fellows saw the fire and called 911, but I didn't even notice until 2:30. I was on my way to Yo-Yo Ma's master class (along with some other New World musicians seen crossing the street in the photo). There were helicopters hovering above and dozens of emergency vehicles, police, fire, and Red Cross. The block is still barricaded by police cruisers, and I haven't really gotten a good view of the wreckage yet.

facing the music

My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out.

- Joan Didion, Preface to Slouching Towards Bethlehem

I read this a few weeks ago, and it seemed an omen of mortifying things to come. You see, back in November I spent a long time talking with New York Times reporter Daniel J. Wakin, both in person and on the phone, as I prepared and took an audition in Buffalo. Wakin wasn't small or inarticulate - he's a very friendly, unaffected, and pleasant guy - but he was unobtrusive in a way that made me forget that I was, in effect, laying my soul bare to everyone destined to read the Sunday, February 18th edition of the Times.

Maybe you're one of those people, too - click here to read Wakin's article, "The Face-the Music Academy". You can also read a post I wrote about the interview back in November.

Wakin told me that I would be prominently featured in his article, which kind of made me nervous. I sort of consciously avoided him the last time he visited Miami, which I feel bad about now. It was the evening he talks about at the end of the article, a new music concert with HK Gruber's conducting his zany piece "Frankenstein!!". As Wakin writes, "After the concert many of the players gathered at Zeke's, the cheapest watering hole along Lincoln Road, where beers are $3." I didn't, actually - I walked back home alone, after talking briefly with Wakin and giving him the quote that ends the article, and then wrote another rambling blog entry.

I guess I was concerned that I'd say something even more revealing and embarrassing about that audition in Buffalo. But I shouldn't have worried so much. Not only did Dan Wakin not make me out to be the sad reject character I expected, he actually made me seem almost - likable?

Well, definitely obsessive, but possibly likable. People have been teasing me, saying I'm a 'celebrity' or a 'hero'. They want me to autograph the newspaper, which has a big picture of me (above). I can't quite understand how a failed audition made me so popular. Still though, I think Dan Wakin did me a great favor, listening to all my audition stories and neuroses, and using them in his article. He opened me up, got me facing some of the scary, funny, embarrassing things about auditioning - and reading the article now, I realize they're the same things everyone faces. Just as he says, I'm "in some ways a typical New World fellow." He wrote a great story, and best of all, he didn't sell anybody out.

I'll probably have more to say about the article as I digest it. Maybe I'll fill in some details about that audition that I didn't tell Dan Wakin, or that didn't survive the editing process. For now, check out this photo, which I thought was eerily similar to the one in the Times:


That's Peter Seymour back behind me, and also Ranaan Meyer, who I just saw this evening (see below). Also pictured is Jeff Beecher (now principal bass of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra) and John Harrison. The photo was taken at the National Orchestral Institute in 2000.

Ranaan Meyer

Here I am with Ranaan Meyer, after his trio Time for Three played a set with the New World Symphony.

dept. of bassist nightmares

This is my bass in its big David Gage flight case without a soft case. I packed it this way in order to keep it under the 100 lb. limit - dirty secret here, it weighs 108 properly packed. I think I will not do this again, since when I received it in Cleveland the case was hanging open, with just one of the hex-locks secured.

Apparently David Gage has reworked his flight cases and cut some of the weight, and also done away with those troublesome hex-locks. They wouldn't be such a problem if TSA screeners knew how to operate an allen wrench; unfortunately, that seems to be asking too much! And at Ft. Lauderdale's airport, you can't even watch as they screen your instrument, so I have no idea what horrendous things they're doing. This is what causes bassists to wake up in a cold sweat.

Thankfully, my bass survived unscathed. Today, bassist Ranaan Meyer is borrowing it, performing with our orchestra as part of his bluegrass trio, Time for Three. They write and arrange Americana crossover stuff, touring all over the country to play it with orchestras. This week they've been commuting between Detroit and South Florida. I first met Ranaan a long time ago, playing at the National Orchestral Institute in Maryland. It's good to see an old friend having so much success - and apparently avoiding the nightmarish airport scenarios that haunt the rest of us!

New World's new website

The New World Symphony has a new website up, with lots of musician information and bizarrely cropped photos. I unfortunately haven't turned my survey in yet, so my profile is empty and generic. I'll get on that right away though.

the elephant in the room

Classical pianist and blogger Jeremy Denk wrote an incredible poetic ballad, Mighty Contests, on his blog "Think Denk" this week. If you visit to read it, do yourself a favor and listen to Denk's reading, offered as a an audio link, and follow along. The whole seem might seem excessive and silly, but musicians really do devote this kind of painstaking thought, argument, and hand-wringing to restaurant choices. I've sometimes wondered how much more we'd all accomplish if we could all just stop obsessing over such things - then again, so many of the best musicians I know are also very dedicated foodies, and maybe there is some kind of correlation there. We live and die by our taste, I suppose.

Another story of life on the road appeared this past weekend on NPR's All Things Considered, with a piece on bassist Gary Karr's various travel disasters: "Karr's Double Bass Find Biggest Threat at the Airport." Two of Karr's basses suffered neck snaps on flights, which may partly explain why he quit touring. My bass also cracked at the neck on a flight - the date was September 4th, 2001, so my little tragedy didn't draw much sympathy. Still, ever since then flying has been an awful, stressful, and expensive ordeal. I get the sense that things are only getting worse.

Karr tells how back in the day, bassists took their instruments with them onto the plane. Then, when seating became more cramped, he had to buy two first class tickets, but at least got to choose two meals, and eat both. (What an epic might Jeremy Denk have written in such a situation!) These days, I feel lucky if I manage to get my bass on at all. Airline counter agents are ever-more vigilant about the weight limitations, no more than 100 lbs. for any piece of checked luggage. This sounds reasonable, but it is quite difficult to pack a bass securely in a hard-shell trunk at that weight. If the agents choose to weigh mine, it usually tips the scales at 108-112, triggering a long round of refusals, pleading, phone calls to supervisors and baggage handlers, etc. My trunk is hardly the worst offender, either - the Kolstein trunk shown here weighs nearly 150 lbs. with a bass inside.

The future of airline transportation with basses will apparently require massive alteration of all our instruments. A Canadian luthier has begun fitting basses with removable necks - ironically, after all those basses snapped at the base of the neck on flights, now they'll be coming apart by design. It's a brilliant solution, if an expensive one - not only is the case much smaller, but it even relieves the pressure and tension on the instrument, possibly even improving the sound. A belt of some sort maintains just enough tension on the body of the instrument to keep the sound post in place.

I don't have any pictures of this new system, and I am not quite ready to submit my own instrument to the knife. For now anyway, I'll just keep testing my luck with the counter agents.

Visit Jason Heath's Bass Page, which features several more horrifying yet entertaining tales of travels with the bass.

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.

report from Buffalo

Few words can say much,
But sometimes more are needed.
So screw the haikus.

I'm in Buffalo this week for an audition; here's a picture I took of my hotel here:
It's somewhat cold and gray here, as is to be expected. Then again, I think I'm kind of better suited to a cold, gray environment than to hot, colorful Miami. There's something nice about shivers and drizzle, now and then.

I did advance to the semi-finals on Sunday, when that newspaper photo below was taken. But I didn't make the cut this morning. A lot of bass players I know also played in the semis, and I'm optimistic that one or two of them will win jobs here - they're auditioning for principal and associate principal bass. As for me, I think it's time to take a break from audition excerpts. I've been preparing for auditions pretty steadily since August, or even a little before that. It's great to have the opportunities, but I also feel like a need to get out of this track-meet mentality and get back to playing music for the love of it.

I'm planning to write lots more about music, auditions, traveling, and lots of other stuff soon. I should also take some more photos while I'm here, since this one of the hotel is pretty depressing. I might try and toss in a poem now and again, but I'll have to find some new forms. It's embarrassing to be out-haiku-ed on my own blog by one poetically gifted commenter. Or maybe that's just the track-meet mentality talking.

overexposed haiku no. 3

Woke up to find that
My picture made the front page
Of Buffalo News.

learning from losing in Louisville

Louisville's Kentucky Center, site of this morning's rejection

This morning I played an audition in Louisville, for a one-year assistant principal bass position. I didn't advance in the preliminaries, unfortunately. It was a bit of a let-down, since I felt I had been playing well, but clearly there's another level I need to reach.

Since I've been in Kent I've had a few lessons with Scott Haigh, a bassist in the Cleveland Orchestra. I wasn't sure whether I would mesh with Mr. Haigh's teaching style at first - for one thing, it's been a while since I had a teacher who preferred to be called 'Mr.' - but his lessons have all been incredibly inspiring and encouraging. He has a great ability to focus on all the things I too often forget to notice - vocal quality, variety of width and speed of vibrato, rhythmic drive and precision, longer phrases.

It has also been very nice to have a teacher who takes a real interest in me as a person. Before I left for Louisville, he told me, "Just remember, if you win, it was meant to be, and if not, it means you'll get something better pretty soon." That helped me so much to keep my perspective, and not wallow so deeply in my rejection.

If I still had an ankle mired in self-pity, reading the recent postings of two friends of mine, Aaron and Amelia, also helped pull things into perspective. Both have been grieving and struggling with reminders of mortality - Aaron's grandmother was just diagnosed with leukemia, and Amelia just lost her great-aunt. My post-audition blues seem trivial next to their suffering, for which I offer my condolences.

It's important to remind myself what matters most, the people around me, and I want to keep a healthy balance, and not become audition-obsessed. I also need to develop a certain tenacity and focus, however, and not allow my attentions to drift from one interest to the next. The lessons I take away from this audition, I think, are about life and not just about music - have a seriousness of purpose, clear priorities, and strong conviction. Also, it helps to sleep the night before.

Scott Haigh is also coaching an upcoming performance of Martinu's Sextet, which I wrote about last Friday.

Best wishes to Scotty D.

The New World season ended a couple of weeks ago in a whirlwind of minimalist music, massive loads of laundry, and inflatable boat races. I wanted to post something about one member of this year's orchestra who is leaving, Scott Dixon.

Scotty D. is from my part of the country, the Pacific Northwest, but I didn't meet him until I came to Florida last year. He's a pretty quiet, mellow person, but after you spend any time around him you're impressed by what a friendly personality and a great sense of humor he has.

Scott with Katie, onboard the R&R sailing ship

Scott did a lot of cool things this year - he played a solo piece by Arvo Part on a tsunami benefit concert in February, for which he got a nice mention in a newspaper review, and he piloted a sailboat around Biscayne Bay, which I wrote about a couple weeks ago, and helped to hold together the bass section with his strong playing and conscientious musicianship. One thing for which I'll always be grateful to Scott, though it never earned him any applause, was how he made me feel welcome as a member of the orchestra.

Like Scott, I can be pretty shy sometimes, and would rather wait for someone to ask for my company than risk making a nuisance of myself. Early in the year, though I was having a great time playing, I would pretty much keep to myself and hide in my room after concerts. We played a concert of Beethoven 7th symphony in December, with MTT conducting, and it was a very exciting, cathartic performance, and as usual, I was sitting in my room afterwards, thinking vague lonely thoughts. It was Scott who called me up, told me some people were going over to the bar for a drink and to hang out, and asked me to join them.

It probably wasn't a big deal to him, but for me that made all the difference, I finally felt free to leave my room and be a more social member of the orchestra. I didn't go out and drink or hang by the pool every night after that or anything, but it was great to feel like any time I wanted to, I could. So I will always be thankful to Scott for making that gesture, and try to find ways that I can do the same for other people.

Good luck and best wishes, Scotty D.!

bassists come, and go

This past week was an eventful one in the New World Symphony bass section. For the alumni reunion concert last Thursday, we had two guest bass players: Tony Manzo (1994-96), a current member of the National Symphony in Washington, D.C.; and Mike Valerio (1997-1999), who is a studio and freelance musician in Los Angeles.

Tony and Mike were both very generous with their time, from coaching our audition excerpts to hanging out at local bars. Apparently South Beach's bar scene has greatly diminished since they were residents here, and they shared sad reminiscences about all the fun places which have since been boarded up or knocked down to build new condos. The tone of the week was rarely somber, though, as we all had a great time getting to know Tony and Mike and playing Mahler Symphony no. 1 with them.

Tony Manzo and me

Our section is normally 7 bassists, a bit on the small side, so it was particularly nice to have 9 for Mahler. Everyone was inspired to play their best, not only by Tony and Mike but all the fantastic alumni joining the orchestra, and the sound was noticeably more powerful than normal. We got nice reviews for the Mahler from two local music reviewers, the Larry's Johnson and Budmen.

Mahler 1 was a famous bass solo, and Mike Valerio was justly praised in one of the reviews for creating an incredible opening to the 3rd movement. He did it using my second bass, which of course wasn't mentioned in the review but was doubly impressive as far as I was concerned. Michael Tilson Thomas asked for the solo incredibly soft, leaving the audience wondering what strange instrument could be playing and from what far off place - I had never heard it so quiet, yet with such firm intonation and expressive substance in the sound.

Mike Valerio and Sean O'Hara, post-Mahler

In addition to Mahler's 1st, we had a chance to play through some other big repertory pieces like Symphonie Fantastique and Don Juan. MTT was in great spirits all week, enjoying seeing old friends and conducting the enhanced NWS orchestra. It was touching to see the kind of rapport and communication taking place between all of the past and current orchestra members. It's no secret that some very talented people have passed through New World, but it was a testament to the quality of the institution that so many engaged, exciting, and expressive musicians chose to return, and told us directly what a beneficial experience NWS was for them.


three little bassists, all in a row...

Yesterday was the bass audition for the St. Louis Symphony, and two NWS bass players won the two openings there - Sarah Hogan, who has been playing in St. Louis on a one-year contract, and Dave DeRiso, who has been in our section this year. Dave played in the mock audition on Saturday, and played with such precision and power that I was not at all surprised to hear he won the job. It's been an inspiration to hear him play all year, and I'm sure he and Sarah will both have a great time in their new bass section.

seven unnatural wonders of South Beach

1. Sand castle on Ocean Drive at 9th street Like all good South Beach landmarks, the sand castle is continually changing, periodically destroyed and rebuilt anew. At night, it is illuminated by torches and the continual flash photography of tourists. I like to visit it in the daytime as well; there is someone posted there 24 hours to guard it from sand castle marauders.

Sand castle on Ocean Drive
2. Pizza Rustica There are better meals to be had in South Beach, but none for just $4! Pizza Rustica is a staple for New World musicians and others looking for a quick, inexpensive, very filling meal. My favorite is topped with arugula, olives, and other good stuff.

try the arugula
3. The Holocaust Memorial People are always a little flustered when they see the big claw-like hand sticking up next to Dade Blvd., and even more disturbed when they get closer and look at the sculptures of emaciated people writhing in pain. Flustering and disturbing people is kind of the point when it comes to Holocaust remembrances, though.

human suffering in the sunshine
4. New World Symphony I have to include my orchestra here. You won't see what's so wonderful about it though unless you come to hear a concert!
5. plastic surgery No pictures here, as this is a family blog.
6. view of Miami skyline at night Miami's skyline may not be the most classically majestic, but it takes on an enhanced beauty at night thanks to the lighting. There are many great places on South Beach to see the lights of downtown Miami, including the Venetian Causeway.
7. the beach itself The beach is man-made, with perfect artificial white sand. Plenty of people seem to enjoy it natural or not, though, and seeing the sun rise on the beach is an all natural and always beautiful experience!

Miami's somewhat unnatural beach