Singing In Tune Part 4

The beginning and end of good intonation is careful listening. Getting student choral singers to always listen for pitch is not easy. They are thinking about the words, the notes, the rhythms, the person next to them, the good looking kid in the first row, what they are for breakfast, what they are going to do over the weekend ... Distractions are everywhere!

One exercise to get singers listening is to have everyone in the choir sing a random note and then, within five seconds, move to a common pitch. The common pitch should not be determined ahead of time and will be arrived at by each singer listening to other singers and adjusting. I am usually surprised at how easily singers can do this. If it were only that easy to reach consensus in society and politics!

Choral singers should work on listening and tuning chords. They should know what a root, third, and fifth are, and how they "feel" when one sings them in a chord. One technique is to play a chord on the piano and then have the choir sing the root, and later, the third or fifth of the chord. You can even assign different chord degrees to different sections (i.e. basses and sopranos sing the root, tenors the fifth, and altos the third). To expand on this, have them sing the seventh even though it is not in the triad you played.

Problematic chords within a work especially need to be tuned. Once the chord is identified, isolate it and try different combination of parts (for example, just altos, tenors and basses). Start with the more consonant intervals, and then add on the more dissonant pitches. Another trick is to temporarily rewrite the chord to make the chord more consonant by moving a part or two a half step up or down. Next slide the changed parts to their original, more dissonant pitches. All through this singers should be reminded to listen to how their part fits within the overall chord.

Choral singers need to develop the ability to sing "one on a part" with good intonation. In this way they learn to listen and tune to other parts - and not just to their own section. They become aurally aware of unisons, octaves, and fifths between parts and use those intervals to check intonation.

Digital recording is now quick and easy, and is a great way to help choirs become aware of their intonation, as well as a host of other issues. I have microphones semipermanently set up in my classroom and hooked up to my computer. Within a few seconds I can record a selection and play it back for the singers to hear. When they are able to listen to themselves in this way they quickly identify their own intonation problems and are much more receptive to suggestions on how to fix them.

We as teachers also have to remind ourselves to listen critically for intonation. Over the course of a semester it is incredibly easy for our brains to adjust to a certain level of out of tune singing. Making recordings of our choirs can help keep our ears honest. For some reason, things that sounded well in tune while being sung live, can sound horribly out of tune when heard the next day on a recording.

Over performed works, new acoustical settings, and different placement of singers can also create listening issues that can lead to bad intonation. Try having the choir practice in different venues such as the cafeteria, outside, or in the hall. Try arranging them differently, mix the parts together (an alto next to a tenor next to a bass...), or have them form two lines facing each other and sing to their partner. If a work is getting a little stale, try moving it up a half step, taking a different tempo, or arbitrarily change tempos (molto motlo rubato). Another trick is to have them imagine the music in their heads while you conduct it. Then, say at the last chord of a phrase, actually sing the chord. Pitch "visualization" (auralization?) is an important skill for good intonation.

Poor intonation can destroy all other musical successes. For the choral director it is important to understand why singers are singing out of tune. Next, isolate the issue (not simply the passage, but the root cause of the intonation problem). Finally, create exercises that address the problem and then reintegrate the passage into the piece.

Singing In Tune, Part 3

If intonation troubles persist despite good vocal technique, the difficulty may rest in the music itself. A close examination of the score can reveal potential sources of pitch problems. A good conductor can identify these ahead of time and address these tricky spots in warm up exercises or when the passages are first encountered. Attacking the problem before singers get used to singing a section out of tune can save a great deal of time in the long run.

Descending half steps are one of the most frequent causes for singing flat, especially with beginning singers. For example, on the downward scale, "do, ti, la, sol," the "ti" is usually a little flat.

The first step to addressing this issue is to explain what half steps are and to demonstrate them on the piano. It helps if students can both see and hear the half steps. Next have the students sing "do, ti" holding "ti." Play the note on the piano so that they can hear that they are not singing it in tune. Then have them sing, "do, ti, do." They will most likely sing the "ti" in tune due to the anticipation of returning to "do." Immediately after this have them sing "do, ti" holding the "ti." The "ti" usually remains in tune.

Of course, this only gets them to realize the nature of the descending half step problem; it does not actually fix it. Try adding the following exercises to your warm ups. Have the choir sing (quarter notes) "do, ti, do" followed by a descending major scale (eighth notes). Priming the pump with the "do, ti, do" can get them to hear the "ti" in tune and help them sing it correctly on the downward scale. Another good exercise is to sing ascending and descending chromatic scales. If you can harmonize these on the piano it helps them to hear the leading tone nature of the pitches which improves their intonation. Once they sound pretty good with the accompaniment, have them sing it a cappella.

Other intervals can be problematic as well. Perhaps because of bluesy roots of pop music, major thirds (both melodic and harmonic) are sometimes sung a little flat. A simple exercise to help with all intervals is to sing "1-2, 1-3, 1-4, 1-5, 1-6, 1-7, 1-8" on the corresponding intervals. After a few days of doing this, have them just sing a single interval out of sequence (i.e. "1-3").

Tritones are the traditional nemesis of singers. Playing the piano along with that interval in a way that can get singers to hear the leading tone nature of the augmented fourth can help them sing that interval in tune (I on "do", II7 on the tritone, and resolve it to V on "sol"). Once they get the hang of it, take away the piano.

Basses so often sing a descending fourth (do to sol) that when novice basses get a descending fifth, they often flub it. A little "La Bamba" harmony (I - IV - V - IV) helps them get the feel for that interval.

Pitch problems can also occur when there is a sudden large skip to a note (often lower) followed by a return to original pitch area. The note that is skipped to can often be out of tune. I call these notes "throw away notes" and even good singers can miss them. Singers need to be made aware that they are not nailing the note perfectly. Practicing the skip in isolation and then integrating it back into the music usually solves the problem.

When beginning singers first encounter dissonant harmonies they can be thrown for a loop. I usually make a game of dissonance during warm ups. I'll start by assigning pitches to each section to create some "nice" dissonances - minor 7th chords, chords built on fourths, and triads with an added ninth are usually easy for them to handle. I'll gradually up the anti by moving to chords built on whole tone scales, major 7th chords in closed voicing, and dominant flatted ninth chords. After they've gotten used to those harmonies, I'll move to half step clusters. For a real challenge, I'll assign each individual singer a different note a half step away from the pitch their neighbor is singing.

Once singers have developed an ear for dissonance they can deal with it in a piece. When you come across a challenging chord in a work, pull it out of the piece and work with it. Try changing a few notes to make it consonant, then alternate between the consonant version and the dissonant one. Again, make a game of it. Are there a group of singers that can nail it one on a part? Split the choir in half or in quarters and have a contest to see which group can sing it best.

Another musical issue that can cause intonation problems are passages that are repeated but with a note or two changed by a half step. This might occur where there is a shift from minor to major, in a variation, or where a note suddenly becomes the leading tone in a modulation. I find that alternately singing the contrasting sections back and forth will help students become aware of the differences.

In the end, good intonation requires good listening. In the next section I'll explore some techniques to help singers hone their listening skills.

Singing In Tune Part 2

In part 1 of of this series I discussed how to help students determine if they are singing in tune or out of tune. Once students know what good intonation sounds like, and are actually listening for it, the approach to fixing intonation problems shifts to vocal technique.

Start with the basics. Is the tone supported by a good breath? One trick here is to have the students buzz their lips. If the air pressure is strong enough for the lips to buzz, then it should be good enough to support an in tune pitch. Once they get the buzz down, have them open to an "ah" ("bbbb-ah"). Additionally, check if the breathing supported by good posture.

Are students singing in their correct voice for a particular musical passage? A common problem is for singers to take their chest voice too high. This is critical for altos who may find it too easy to use their low voice for mid-register notes, resulting in slightly flat pitches. It can also be a problem for tenors who haven't fully learned how to use their high voice. If forced to choose, I always prefer the tenors to use a soft yet in tune falsetto rather then a loud out of tune chest voice.

One way to attack this "correct voice" issue is to transpose the problem passage to a significantly higher pitch, thus forcing the singers to sing in a head voice. Then, sequentially move the passage down by half steps until you arrive at the original pitch, all the while reminding the singers not to slip into a chest voice. Another technique, that is especially helpful when singers must leap from a low note into the problematic pitch, is to sing the whole passage in head voice. It's a bit of a cheat, but as a quick fix it can eliminate issues students have with changing into head voice.

Helping beginning singers discover their head voice requires a bit of luck, magic, and prayer. I've never hit on a sure fire fix, but in another posting I will share a few of the techniques that have given me a little success.

At times the "correct voice" problem results from students trying too hard to use their chest voice. Young basses will sometimes strive to sound manly by doing this on low notes. The result is usually an overly covered, out of tune pitch. Good basses learn to sing low notes with the feeling of a head voice in a way that not only helps the pitch, but also gives a nice resonance to the sound.

Occasionally some consonants will disrupt the vocal mechanism and result in flatness. This is especially true for beginning singers (often sopranos) when singing high pitches. To discover if consonants are causing the problem, have the students sing on an "ah." If this fixes the intonation, you've identified the difficulty. Create an exercise in a comfortable register that uses the problematic consonant/vowel combination ("b–eh_," "th_–ah_”). Sustainable consonants like "m" and "l" can be held longer to help students adjust. Gradually move the exercise into the range where the pitch issue is.

Additional technique problems that can result in poor pitch are tightening the throat muscles, especially when students raise their heads slightly in an attempt to sing higher notes, tension in the jaw, and tongue position.

There are other, not strictly technical factors, which can cause intonation problems as well. When students are nervous or excited about a performance their adrenaline can make them go sharp. Lack of sleep can lead to singing flat. Distractions or a general lack of focus can also lead to out of tune singing.

In part 3 I will address musical issues that can lead to poor intonation. I will also take a look at matters related to listening.

Singing In Tune, Part 1

Poor intonation is the bane of all music teachers, and especially choral music teachers. It is something so basic that we may have a hard time understanding why singers sing out of tune, and we may be at a loss as to how to fix it. Here are a few thoughts on the subject.

The initial problem is to ascertain whether the individual student actually knows the difference between singing in tune and singing out of tune. This can be an issue during the first few weeks of a beginning voice or choir class.

One approach to determine this is pitch matching. While working with a student, have him sing a pitch and then you sing a note a little lower or higher. Next, gradually slide to the note the student is singing. Tell the student to raise their hand when both notes are exactly the same. Draw their attention to the "little bumps" that sound when the notes are nearly the same, and how the sound gets smooth when they perfectly match.

This does three things. It lets you know if the student can tell when he is singing in tune, it teaches the student what to listen for in order to sing in tune, and it gets the student to think about always listening for correct intonation. Once the student gets the idea, reverse the process. Sing a note and get the student to slide into the pitch. Help the student to determine if they need to slide up or down with hand signals. As the student progresses, work toward doing away with the glissando so that they hit the pitch dead on. With a little coaching even tough cases can improve.

One can also demonstrate this to the whole class. Pick a student who is comfortable singing publicly, has a fairly loud voice, and has relatively good tone. Have them sing a note and then you sing and slide into their pitch. Have the rest of the class raise their hands when the two notes are in tune.

Once the class has developed reasonably good intonation, it's important to keep them on their toes. Try taking one of your typical warm up exercises and, instead of progressing chromatically, jump to random pitches for each iteration. For example, "mah, meh, me, moh, moo" sung on C followed by "mah, meh, me, moh, moo" sung on Eb instead of C#. It is too easy for singers to slip into "autopilot" mode when doing warm ups. This use of random pitches forces the singers to listen, helps them to develop their pitch matching ability, and keeps them thinking about singing in tune.

In part 2 I will discuss some of the vocal and musical issues that can lead to poor intonation.

I recently watched an outstanding internet concert by Les Arts Florissants (Arte Live Web). They performed of an assortment of Monteverdi vocal works with exciting dynamic contrast, a great sense of phrasing, and a beautifully expressive interpretation of the text.

A few days later, I decided to show part of the performance to my Vocal Ensemble class. This is the advanced choral group at Taft High School. The students are familiar with music from Monteverdi's time as we have sung several Renaissance and Baroque works. Because of their training and talent, it was not a surprise to me that they loved the concert.

Encouraged by their reaction, I decided to show it to my beginning choir as well. This group is a mixed bag of students, but most have had little musical or vocal training and have not had much exposure to classical music. The one plus was that we have been working on a little three-part Marenzio madrigal in class.

Their strong positive reaction to the performance by Les Arts Florissants was a surprise. They were impressed with the sound of the voices, the music itself, and the visual expressiveness of the singers.

I think the fact that they could see the emotions of the singers as well as hear them was an important factor in their enjoyment of the music. But I also feel that the high quality of the performance contributed greatly to their appreciation.

Strong musicality has a way of transcending age, training, and musical preferences. It speaks directly to us in an almost primal way. Even those with little previous classical music exposure can relate to good music done well.

This experience with my choir reaffirmed my belief that all students can enjoy good music. Once the stereotypes of classical music are dispelled, students are surprisingly open to the music. As arts educators, it is our job to tear down the popular media bias against classical music, give students some basic listening skills, and present them with high quality, engaging performances. In doing so we give our students a lifelong enjoyment of fine music and we create an audience that will continue to support the music we love.

Who's that "Batch" guy?

One of the big surprises for me when I first started teaching was how much students didn't know about music, especially classical music. It was easy to forget how much I had learned since I began studying music, or what I had picked up from being raised in a white, middle class family (though they weren't particularly musical).

It's "Bach." It kind of rhymes with "rock" (abandoning any hope of a German pronunciation). No, he didn't write the "Toccata and Fugue in Dm" to be scary music for a horror film.

I try not to be condescending.

The Beethoven we're talking about is Beethoven the composer, not the dog in the movie.

I try not to roll my eyes or grunt in exasperation.

It's Wagner pronounced with a "v," and "show pan" not "chop in." That's a treble clef, not a trouble clef (at least for most people).

Give them credit; they are curious. Classical music is a mysterious world for many of them and they are intrigued by it.

No, you don't have to be fat to sing opera.

They like Carmen. What's not to like in an opera with great music and a plot filled with sex and violence.

No, Mozart didn't write Eine Kleine Natchmusik to make a ringtone, and no he didn't really laugh like that.

They love Amadeus; I just repeat a few thousand times that Salieri did not really kill Mozart. They like the "Queen of the Night" aria, and a couple of brave souls will valiantly attempt those high notes.

No, I don't want to hear your x-rated version of "Every Good Boy Does Fine." No, the term "F hole" refers to the hole on the violin's body. No, that's not what mf stands for, at least in music.

I refrain from telling them the joke about why Bach had so many kids (no stop on his organ – few would get that one), or the difference between an orchestra and a bull (the bull has the horns in the front and the ass in the back).

Don't get me wrong. Many (maybe even most) students have had some musical education, either formally or informally through their family. A few are even incredibly talented and knowledgeable. I remember walking through the halls of a middle school in East LA and seeing a kid sitting on the floor studying the score to The Magic Flute. My first year at Taft High I had a student pianist who was not only a great sight reader, but could easily transpose while he was sight reading. Still, there are times I shake my head.

No, that's not Beethoven playing the piano on the recording of Moonlight Sonata.

It's not their fault, they just haven't been taught. They like the first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, as well as the last movement of the Ninth (although that can get a little long – anything over three minutes is long). And then there's "Für Elise."

Yes, I would love to hear you play "Für Elise."

For the ten thousandth time I listen to a student attempt the first part of Beethoven's little study – MOLTO rubato, slowing down at the hard parts, wrong notes scattered here and there, "oops, let me start over," . . .

But I am sure that when I first started playing classical guitar my performances were just as flawed. No doubt, my guitar teacher, grimacing on the inside, gave me an encouraging word or two.

So now it is my chance to support students as they begin to explore the world of classical music. Now, and in years to come, this music will offer them comfort, beauty, and joy. I am fortunate to be given this opportunity.

That sounded very good. You've really got a nice feel for the piano. Hey, have you heard this? It's a prelude by Bach. Yeah, it looks like "batch," but it's pronounced "Bach." It kind of rhymes with "rock."

Page Turners: The Unheralded Heros of Music

I've been watching a lot of live music performances over the web recently and for some reason have begun to obsess on page turners.

I worry. Are they going to make the turn in time? Will they accidentally turn more than one page? Will the page stay open or will it start to turn back? Will they distract the pianist from the music? Was that a nod to turn by the pianist or was he just moving to the music?

There is a lot to page turning that most people don't consider. It requires concentration, skill, and grace. People don't always appreciate that.

Yet, at the end of the performance, what happens? The pianist takes her bows, accepts flowers, tries to look pleased and humble at the same time. But what of the page turner? Discreetly they have vanished from the stage. I would say that they are quickly forgotten, but that would imply that the audience was even aware of their presence to begin with. They receive acknowledgement from neither the pianist nor the audience. In the flush of triumph, does the pianist even remember?

I suppose the job of the page turner can be a metaphor for our lives. Most of us quietly live out our existence, dutifully doing our job and fulfilling the expectations of friends and family. Then one day we are not there.

Perhaps we have retired, moved, or taken another job. A few months after leaving, someone asks, "I wonder how so-and-so is doing?" and a year later, "Whatever happened to, what was his name again?" and then, . . . nothing.

Perhaps we have died. Outside of a few close friends and family, our lack of existence may not be noticed. We must be content with a mention in someone's genealogy.

Charles de Gaulle once said, "The graveyards are full of indispensable people." The indispensable superstar pianist will one day fade into a one paragraph entry in the Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, in effect suffering the same fate as the forgotten page turner.

In the end, it is the same for all of us – we do our job then leave, hoping that along the way we have made a difference in someone's life. A few are lucky enough to earn a little applause and take a bow or two.

But we all deserve at least a little recognition. So let us now acknowledge the unheralded heros of music – page turners, the musical everyman. "Bravo!" Without you the performance could not have taken place. Take a bow for a job well done. Take a bow for all of us. "Bravissimo!"

Music, the Antidote to Worry

I'm not sure why Thomas Weelkes' gem "O Care, thou wilt despatch me" (part 1) never crossed my musical path (shame on me!), but when I discovered the madrigal on the Choral Public Domain Library a few weeks ago I was quickly excited, delighted, and intrigued.

The title comprises the first line of the song. The five voices enter one at a time with a slow sigh motive – some rising a half step and returning, others dipping down a semitone before coming back to the original pitch. Out of this melodic material Weelkes weaves a mournful harmony with longing dissonances and despondent minor progressions. The music effectively captures the anguish of someone overwhelmed by worry.

But the next line, "if Music do not match thee," offers hope. My cares will weigh me down unless music is there to ease the burden. The melody begins with an upward movement, the harmony shifts to major, and the shorter rhythmic values picks up the pace. A few measures later the singers even break into a short "fa-la-la."

The optimism is short lived, however, for in the next line, "So deadly dost thou sting me," the mood shifts back to despair and pain (with an extremely painful dissonance of f against f# – do I dare perform that?). The piece ultimately ends on a positive note, including the return of the "fa-la-las," yet I sense that this is not a complete victory – a triumph tempered by the losses incurred in the battle. The "fa-la" refrain is too short and restrained to completely wipe out the memory of the previous pain.

Weelkes' setting of this short poem is direct, yet with wonderful touches of subtlety. It presents several challenges for my high school group. On the mechanical side, the chromaticism, shifting modalities, and dissonant harmonies can create intonation issues. On the interpretation side, it is critical to bring out the most important part at any particular point. It is also a bit of a trick to make the mood switches convincing while not over-playing them.

As wonderful as the music is, the text is equally appealing. Music is the antidote to worry and pain. How many times have I sought refuge there, losing myself in sound, making sense of the world through the logic of harmony and form, and easing my emotional strain by riding the emotions of the music?

For how many people has music been such a balm? It must have been so for Weelkes. What cares disturbed his sleep at night? As we sing "O Care" we share the comforting power of music with him.

Here are the lyrics to both parts of "O Care":

O Care, thou wilt despatch me,
If music do not match thee. Fa la.
So deadly dost thou sting me,
Mirth only help can bring me. Fa la.

Hence, Care, thou art too cruel,
Come, music, sick man’s jewel. Fa la.
His force had well nigh slain me,
But thou must now sustain me. Fa la.

Inexperienced Audiences: A Love Hate Relationship

I recently watched the webcast of Gustavo Dudamel conducting Beethoven's 9th at the Hollywood Bowl. It was an wonderful performance by the conductor, musicians, and singers. Unfortunately, the performance by the audience was less than wonderful, although no less audible.

OK, it's a summer crowd. For many this was their first classical concert. One can overlook the clapping between movements, the whooping, and even the shouting out to Gustavo. But the applause in the middle of the fourth movement – ouch!

What's one to do? Kill the enthusiasm? Pass out cards with the etiquette of concert attendance printed on them? Perhaps ushers with cattle prods to keep the masses in line?

No, classical music lovers are already viewed as snobs in popular culture. We don't need to turn people off to the beauty of great music, we need to turn them on. The only real option is to accept and educate.

For a number of years at Taft High School our concert audiences were, shall I say, "inappropriately vocal" during performances. Eventually, I decided to make a little speech at the beginning of each concert reminding the audience of how hard the musicians work on their music and how important it is to hear every note. Anything distracting from the performance is inconsiderate of their effort. After a few concerts, this began to work, and now our audiences are relatively well behaved.

Of course, a professional concert is not the same as a high school concert. A similar speech just wouldn't cut it at Disney Hall or even the Hollywood Bowl.

We can only hope that many of those overly boisterous Hollywood Bowl audiences members fell in love with classical music that night. Let's hope that some of them will begin to go to other concerts and eventually learn why clapping in the middle of a movement might not be such a good thing. I even hope that a few of the audience members at my high school concerts begin to appreciate the importance of hearing every nuance in every note.

Gustavo Dudamel vs. the Second Coming

Judging from all the recent press, Gustavo Dudamel's coming to Los Angeles as the Music Director for the Los Angeles Philharmonic is a news event equivalent to the second coming – and with greater expectations. If he doesn't conduct the world's greatest concerts, end war in the Middle East, cure AIDS, and out draw the Lakers, his first season will be considered an abject failure.

Overstatement is certainly nothing new in advertising for the arts, and since hyperbole is the expected language in ads and press releases, anything less falls flat. I know this first hand from my work in advertising for the Media City Ballet Company. "Come see a very good mid-level ballet company perform an entertaining and fairly artistic rendition of Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker," becomes, "Don't miss this truly great performance of Tchaikovsky's timeless masterpiece The Nutcracker by the outstanding Media City Ballet Company."

I suppose, "Come hear the LA Phil under the direction of Gustavo Dudamel. Mr Dudamel is a very talented young conductor who should grow and mature nicely while working with the Phil," will never make it into the orchestra's advertising. Admittedly, that version may be a little too understated, but there is something to be said for lowered expectations.

Take Robert Schumann's article in Neue Zietschrift für Musik about Johannes Brahms. In hyperbole worthy of a trailer to a Hollywood blockbuster, Schumann writes:

[In a galaxy far, far away]. . . someone must and would suddenly appear destined to give ideal presentment to the highest expression of the time, who would bring us his mastership, not in process of development, but would spring forth like Minerva, fully armed from the head of Jove. And he is come, a young blood by whose cradle graces and heroes kept watch. He is called Johannes Brahms . . . He [bares] all the outward signs that proclaim to us. "This is one of the elect."

Minerva herself couldn't have lived up to such high expectations and the glowing praise really messed with Brahms' head. It is said to be one of the main reasons why he took so long to complete, and then to publish, his first symphony.

But Brahms survived and most likely Dudamel will as well. In the end, it is about the music and nothing else. If the music is true, it doesn't matter how far the truth is stretched in the press.

Conductors - Do They Matter?

Recently I was watching the "Finale du Concours international des jeunes chefs d'orchestre" on Arte TV. My wife, who likes some of the reality shows (Top Chef is one of her favorites) thought it might be similar, but for conductors instead of cooks. She was a little disappointed when she discovered that there were no fiery personality conflicts, backstabbing comments, or emotional tirades (at least that we saw).

After a few minutes she turned to me and asked, "So, how much difference does the conductor really make, anyway? Doesn't the music tell the orchestra all they need to do?" I'm sure she regretted the question as soon as it was out of her mouth because I was off and running on the first of a ten part lecture on what a conductor does and why he makes a difference.

I won't bore you with all the obvious (at least to musicians) details of tempo, phrasing, balance, blend, interpretation, and so on. But I did mention that it was also a question of inspiration and leadership, like in a business. As a businesswoman, I thought that this would be something she could relate to. A good business leader gets her workers to want to work their best for her.

So it is with a good conductor. Musicians, being human (so I'm told), don't always bring their "A" game to a performance. It isn't easy to get up for an old warhorse that one has played a thousand times. It takes a conductor to inspire them. That inspiration occurs when an orchestra feels the conductor has outstanding musical skills, a valid musical interpretation of the work, a love of the music, and great communication skills at the podium.

All those qualities were on display when Kazuki Yamada conducted the first movement of Hector Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique at the competition. The work started strong, but as the piece progressed, one sensed that the orchestra (the BBC Symphony Orchestra) felt that they were taking part in something special. As Yamada inspired them, their playing became more exciting, and that in turn seemed to inspire Yamada even more - vortex of inspiration building on itself until it became a joyous celebration of the music. I'm not a big Berlioz fan, but boy, was I sold on this performance.

The Value of Uncertainty in Music

During summer vacation I will on most mornings sit down at the piano for a few minutes and sight read (rather poorly) through some Bach. The other morning it was the "Fugue # 1 in C Major" from the Well Tempered Clavier. You can see and hear a nice playing of this work by Stephen Malinowski below.

The work starts with a fairly simple, mostly stepwise, subject. It is quickly imitated following the normal rules of a fugue exposition. No great genius here, nothing a good student of counterpoint couldn't pull off (well, OK, a really good student).

At measure 8 things start to become a bit more intriguing. The harmonic direction becomes less clear and there is a slight increase in dissonance. This tension is quickly resolved but then at measure 12 it once again becomes more dissonant and the harmonic destination less certain. What is Bach up to? Where is he taking us? It is only when we reach the resolution in measure 14 (on an A minor chord) that we understand what Bach was doing.

Bach continues in this vein for the rest of the 27 measure piece (as well as in other works in the The Well Tempered Clavier). Sections of increased tension and harmonic precariousness are followed by resolutions. It is like watching a tightrope walker who (purposely) looks like he is about to falter and plunge, only to right himself at the last second to the relief of the seat-edged crowd. It takes a certain amount of trust to experience such feats, but in the end, it is what makes the show memorable.

And so it seems in life. Times of uncertainty can make us look at things in a new light. We question, rethink, examine, and revalue things we have taken for granted.

My wife was recently laid off from Macy's after being with the company for over 20 years. We didn't feel that we were in an immediate financial crisis, but the possibility of falling into one suddenly became real. What would we do if things became truly bad? Would we lose our home? What about funding college for our kids? What could I sell to get some quick cash?

I suddenly began to have a greater appreciation of our townhouse. I put a higher value on my family and friends. I realized that I would always have music and literature, and those things took on a new importance. I became more sympathetic to those who had less. The world looked a little different. My wife has a new job now, but in an odd way, I appreciate the little side trip into uncertainty that has refreshed my outlook on life.

It would be interesting to know what happens in our brains when we become uncertain (both in life and in music). Do we experience a slight bump in epinephrine or adrenaline resulting in increased perception and energy? Is our fight or flight center alerted and put in the ready mode? And what happens at resolution? Do we get a rush of serotonin or dopamine? Are our neurons rewarded for finding a solution to our uncertainty?

Would all this help explain why music is so important to us, especially in times of stress? Do we resolve that stress vicariously through music? When Bach leads us back to harmonic safety, does that feeling of having triumphed over a crisis cross over into other aspects of our lives? Does the feeling of resolution given to us by music allow us to get up the next morning and face life's challenges with renewed hope?

Tell Me a Story

One of my favorite places to go to when I’m in Las Vegas is the Nine Fine Irishmen pub in the New York, New York casino. They serve good Irish food and have a nice variety of Irish beers and whiskeys, but the real reason I go is to hear the music played by the band Sin e Ri-Ra. The group does a wonderful job of presenting a nice mix of traditional Irish tunes and more contemporary Irish songs.

My Irish heritage probably contributes to my love of the Irish songs that speak of the hardships faced by the men and women from that land. But you do not have to have Irish blood to appreciate the tales. You are Irish, at least for the moment, if your ancestors were ever poor, persecuted, forced to emigrate, prejudiced against, or compelled to fight for their freedom; if they ever struggled with their inner demons, celebrated life with family, friends, and a good drink, or held on to faith in the face of a stern reality. At their core, individual cultures are all encompassing.

Musically, the material is fairly simple: primary chords, diatonic melodies, song forms, and chord based textures. To be sure, the band is composed of good musicians, and the fiddle player especially provides some very nice solos, but the real charm of the band lies in their ability to tell a story through music in a sincere and moving way. For the most part this is due to the talents of the singer, Darryl Conlon.

Listening to his Irish brogue, I can easily imagine that I’m sitting in a pub in Ireland while he tells his friends tales of good times and bad. He pauses in the right places to build affect, he gives a knowing grin as he tells an off-colored joke (“Seven Drunken Nights”), and his voice has a bitter sweet edge as he sings of love and despair (“Dirty Old Town”).

He lives the words as he sings them, and what amazes me is that he has sung them hundreds if not thousands of times. I’ve been coming to hear the band for several years now, and though many of the songs are the same, they are always fresh.

I think one can only do that if one loves telling the story as much as the actual story its self. The joy of communicating, the delight in reaching an audience, the pleasure of moving people's hearts: this is where the focus is.

It is not always easy to do that in choral singing. For one thing, everyone must be telling the same story – not simply literally, but interpretively. Where is the wink of an eye; which word should be stressed; what vocal tone best conveys the emotions of a section? Everyone needs to be clear on the musical message.

And the singers must really feel that message. The whole choir must first internalize the text in order to externalize it – pass it on to the audience. Music, when done well, has the unique ability to cut straight to the deepest parts of our heart and brain – vocal music perhaps even more so. Vocal music is a communication that at once embraces language and transcends it. Or one might say it is meaning enhanced language.

In the end, being musical is about loving the music and having the will and skill to communicate it affectively at the most intimate level.

Mozart and Blues

My wife and I were in Las Vegas recently on vacation. One morning, while my wife was at the pool, I began to analyze some Mozart symphonic scores I had brought along. (Hey, doesn’t everybody bring a few Mozart scores along on their vacation to Vegas?) As is usual when I study Mozart, I was soon impressed and humbled at how subtly he manipulates his musical forces for affect and variety.

Those forces were constrained by the style and musical language his time - so everything had to count. For example, the orchestra in Mozart's day was primarily made up of strings and a few winds, a fairly bland color compared to orchestras 100 years later. But Mozart, with subtle doublings and nuanced instrument voicings, gets a remarkably varied sound that adds to the music's expressiveness. One can find similar examples with his use of harmony and rhythm.

The constraints of Mozart's era did not hamper his artistic ability - just the opposite. Mozart understood that within the limitations was a world of subtlety. This is where Mozart's genius flourished.

So what does all this have to do with the blues? What can the restrained emotional style of the classical period have in common with the heart ripping emotions of the blues?

The blues, like the music of Mozart's time, is also a tightly constrained art form. In most songs, the harmony and structure can easily be related to the standard 12 bar blues progression. The texture is predominately homophonic, and melodies are tied closely to the pitches of a blues scale. In addition, a blues band has a relatively limited range of instrumental colors to work with.

Because of all this, everything counts, and like in Mozart, subtlety is essential.

I think this is why I like very few blues groups, but the ones I like I really love. Real emotions are most often a complex blend of conflicting and supporting feelings. Simplistic musical performances cannot convey that. Subtlety is a necessity.

Later during our vacation, my wife and I decided to go to the House of Blues and listen to one of the blues bands performing there. Even though the band was a bit of a pickup band – members of the Michael Grimm band with singer Ronny Rose filling in for Michael, most of their numbers really cooked.

Rose skillfully used every aspect of his voice for the precise emotional affect he wanted: big ballsy full voiced tones, raspy growls, clear as a bell pianissimos – all delivered without any of the clichés one finds in a blinged-out, over ornamented, narcissistic pop music diva. He was subtle, economical, and to the point.

The guitar player, John Wedemeyer, also really impressed me. He made wonderful use of subtle dynamic shading. Some phrases would tail away into nothingness, some notes would pop out of the texture, hints of ghost notes would be followed by aggressive runs. He also coaxed a variety of colors out of his instrument: dark muted tones, artificial harmonic screams, staccato passages, and wailing bends.

This description may not sound like a subtle performance, but his handling of these techniques - the how and when of it - was. Everything was delivered with taste and nuanced musicality.

So, while there would seem to be little connection between the refined elegance of the classical period and the visceral punch of the blues, there is common ground. Where there is constraint, subtlety is critical. The ability of a composer or a performer to create a rich world of subtlety is what gives depth and humanity to the music.

The Significance of E Sharp

The back wall of Taft's choral room is decorated with a mural of the music to Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. It was painted several years ago when Capital Arts Entertaniment filmed a scene from American Pie Presents Band Camp in the room. (I confess that I have not seen that cinematographic masterpiece but I am sure that it is a classic filled with complex character development and subtle literary references. I will therefore put off viewing the film until I have ample time to devote to all its artistic qualities.)

Despite the no doubt many fine aspects of the movie, there is one major flaw that haunts me every time I enter the choral room. It is found in the music written on the back wall. I can overlook the cutesy scrolling of the staff, or even the little artistic touches given to some of the rests. BUT, the key signature to Eine Kleine Natchtmusik is wrong! Mozart's little gem is in G major which requires a signature of one sharp - F. Despite the fact that I gave the film company the correctly notated music, the artist replaced the F sharp with an E sharp!

E sharp! Sacrebleu! What was the philistine thinking? It ruins the whole wall, makes a mockery of Mozart, and thumbs its nose at over 200 years of music theory! Blasphemy! Sacrilege! Burn the boorish boob at the stake!

Of course, there was no key using just E sharp in Mozart's time, so at best this is an outrageous anachronism. Further, it betrays a complete lack of musical education on the part of the artist, not to mention that it permanently displays the artist's inability to copy accurately.

When I pointed out this atrocious blunder to the artist, he seem unconcerned. To him, it was a minor oversight (forgive the pun). The little number sign was just a tad too low. No big deal. What's the fuss? For him, the symbol had no significance other than design. I was clearly overreacting.

I tried to explain the issue to him: The opening two measures are in the tonic - on a G major chord. In the simplicity that is Mozart's genius, he balances that statement with an answering phrase on the dominant chord - what should be D major. But without the F sharp, it becomes D minor. That not only sounds bad, but throws everything out of whack! Talk about bad Feng Shui! Talk about bad karma!!!

It was no use. No theoretical, historical, or artistic explanation could convince him that it was worth his time to correct the error. But I fear that there is more at play than just the blunder of an ignorant artist.

Here is the real problem. When we don't appreciate the significance of something; when we don't understanding a thing's function; when we don't recognize its importance or value to others; we fail to comprehend its true meaning.

Music notation signifies something deeper than just it's literal musical translation. A slurred phrase or a staccato passage means more than just a way of playing the notes. The markings refer to a musical gestures that have specific meaning within the time period it was written. Notation carries in it emotional and artistic subtleties that a sensitive performer understands and transmits to an audience.

When we as performers fail to grasp or convey this deeper meaning, we do the music a disservice. When an audience doesn't catch this deeper meaning, they are deprived of the complete musical experience. As musicians it is our job to illuminate the score's artistic qualities in a way that is true to work, the composer, and the musical language of his or her time. As educators it is our job to guide our students to an awareness of the artistic nuances of this musical language.

So, the E sharp remains on the wall. I grudgingly use it as a teachable moment for my class - "Who can find the flaw in the music on the back wall?"

There is, however, even a greater lesson here that goes beyond music into the realm of language and culture. How much do we fail to understand of people and the world because we misinterpret or undervalue the symbols (words, gestures, etc.) used to communicate? What appears insignificant to us can embody deep meaning and great importance to others. How adept are we at getting past the literal meaning of a symbol and internalize it's full value? And how sensitive are we to reading the extent to which others really understand us? Do we just assume that because we've said it that it is comprehended?

So now, considering all of the above, the E sharp carries new significance to me. I guess meaning can be found in serendipitous mistakes too!

Graduation 09

Graduation is a time of mixed emotions: pride of accomplishment, sadness at saying goodbye to friends, hope and fear at facing an uncertain future. For Vocal Ensemble, it is all this and more. About a dozen seniors will be leaving us. There were a lot of tears shed after we sang our last piece at this year's ceremony.

There is a bonding that comes with any team or group activity. We share a commitment, we share the anxiety and excitement of performance, and we share the challenge of rising to the next level. But with a musical group, there is also the shared musical/artistic experience. This is a deep bonding, an unspoken communion that unites us in an intimate and highly personal way.

That bond was most evident with this year's basses. All four are seniors, and three of them had been together for at least a couple of years. High school men's sections are generally smaller and because of that seem to bond tighter. When there are only four of you, you really rely on your neighbor. This creates an added trust that under the best of circumstances develops into an artistic camaraderie.

The basses had that. Without ever verbalizing it, they set a high musical standard for themselves. Even though they were a group of different personalities and voice types, they learned how to blend and work together. They developed a rich, full sound and brought artistry to their singing. Without having to talk about it, they listened to each other's voices and developed cohesive phrasing to the musical line. They were a wonderful section.

There were many individuals from this year's group that I will remember, but two come to mind now. The first is Ashley Quadri. I always knew that Ashley was a solid singer in the alto section. What I didn't know, until she auditioned to sing the National Anthem for graduation, was that she had such an incredible solo voice. I don't ever recall hearing a singer who had such marvelous placement and focus to her sound without ever having private lessons.

Why did it take me so long to recognize the extent of her ability? Probably because she was also a great team player. She knew how to blend and balance within her section.

I don't know if I would have done anything different with the ensemble had I realized earlier what a wonderful voice she has. I don't pick music to feature a soloist; instead I prefer to keep the focus on the group as a whole. But I would have encouraged her more. Get voice lessons. Find opportunities where you can sing solo. The best I can do now is to urge her to join one of the choral groups at college (CSUN). A person with such a lovely voice must keep on singing!

The other individual that stands out in my mind is Oksana Borodyanskaya. If I could clone one person into a choir of singers, it would be Oksana. She is the ideal choral singer. She has a very good voice, blends well in the section, always knows her music, is always watching the conductor, works well her classmates, is reliable, and has a keen sense of musicality that spreads throughout the soprano section.

All of those musical qualities, and this is what makes her special, are visible when she sings. After a while a conductor can tell who is really "in" the music. There is something in the eyes and the body language that communicates a total involvement. When this happens, a symbiotic relationship develops between the conductor and the singer/choir. As singers respond both visually and musically to the conductor's gestures, the conductor feels a greater sense of freedom to explore the music. As the conductor reaches deeper into the music, the choir feels the music more intimately and responds more sensitively.

Oksana was that kind of singer. She led by example and needed no words. She inspired me. I will miss her, but I already see that her musical DNA has been imparted to next year's sopranos. Some of them are allowing themselves to be totally immersed in the music, and it shows in their faces. In this sense, Oksana will be a part of all future Vocal Ensemble soprano sections. Again, in the realm of the unspoken, much is communicated.

The Retirement of Choral Conductor James Vail

I read in the Los Angeles Times the other day that Dr. James Vail is conducting his last concert for St. Alban's Church in Westwood, where he has directed the choir for over 30 years. Dr. Vail was the conductor of the USC Concert Choir when I was singing with that group in the mid 1970s.

I have lots of good memories of Vail and those times. At one concert at Cal Arts we sang in the big hall that opened out to the rest of the campus allowing people (and animals) to wander freely into the area. We were about half ways through a Brahms motet when a dog traipsed in, ambled up to Vail and began sniffing his leg as it might be a fire hydrant. After a few anxious moments, the dog left, but we all wondered what Vail would have done if the dog had done his worst.

I recall the somewhat reserved Vail with an ecstatic look on his face when he conducted the Bach Bm Mass. I remember a completely different look when, on the final cutoff of the last concert of our Northern California tour, we shot off party favors.

But what I remember about Vail the most was that he was (and presumably still is) an exacting conductor and demanded that same attention to detail from his choir. I remember him painstakingly having every tenor sing a particular vowel to find out who was not blending. I don't remember, but I wouldn't be surprised if it had been me! I truly empathize with my singers when I subject them to this embarrassing but necessary torture.

I also recall how in a baroque work (was it Schütz?) he pointed to how on the word God (Gott) there was a sudden shift to a major chord. "Hey, that's pretty cool," I thought. But why had it taken me so long to realize that composers did that sort of thing all the time (and much subtler things)? Why was I so slow in recognizing the art in music?

As a student, I blame myself for being so thick headed. As a teacher, I wonder if my teachers had really done their best in getting us students to understand music at its deepest levels. It is one thing to get a choir to make a nice hairpin phrase. It is another for them to really feel that musical gesture. It is yet another to lead them to discover how carefully a composer constructs a phrase in relation to the text and how a sensitive performer will be able to communicate that emotionally and musically to an audience.

The art of music is the hardest thing to help students to fully comprehend, yet it is the most critical. Once found, it is never forgotten. It becomes the driving force behind all musical growth.

One cannot simply tell students what art is, describe in flowery terms what they are supposed to feel, or point out meaningful musical gestures. At its core, it must be discovered by the student - an "ah ha" moment when suddenly art is revealed in all its subtlety and depth. The challenge for the teacher is to set the stage for that discovery.

Life or Death Piano Tuning

A few days ago we held our Spring Concert at Taft High School. In view of the economic crisis, I decided to save the Los Angeles Unified School District a little money by not getting our piano tuned before the concert. Besides, the piano was accompanying the choir in only one selection, and it had been tuned about six months ago. We'd live.

What I had forgotten, however, was that the piano had a string replaced at the last tuning, and that now it would be very flat. When I tried out the piano the morning of the concert, my mistake became obvious. The D below middle C was excruciatingly painful. I could probably play around the note if I had to, but, piano not being my main instrument, it would be bit dicey.

So, I gave the LAUSD instrumental repair division a call.

"Hi, my name is Tom..."

"Number," the voice on the phone had the monotone quality of someone who had spent far too much time in a cubicle.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Your location code number."

"8880. I was ...."

"Your name?"

"Tom Pease. I'm calling about ..."

"Spell last name."

"P-E-A-S-E."

"Reason for the call?" I could now visualize the form in front of her.

"I need a piano tuned. You see I've got ..."

"When do you need it tuned by?"

"Tonight."

There was a pause.

"Tonight?" She finally blurted with a bit of surprise in her voice. I guess there wasn't a checkoff box on her form for "tonight."

"Yes. You see it's only one string that needs to be tuned, and our concert is tonight."

"We can only get it tuned that quickly if it's an emergency," she replied, back to her drone tone.

"Well, yes it is. The concert is tonight."

"It can only be an emergency if it is a matter of life or death."

Now I paused. "Life or death?" My first reaction was to come up with a scenario that would fit that criteria.

"My pianist is very sensitive and will kill himself if the piano is not perfectly tuned."

"An out of tune piano can trigger a fatal epileptic attack in one of my singers."

"Irate audience members will attack me with machetes and Samurai swords if they hear just one out of tune note."

It seemed impossible, but was there in fact a check box next to piano tuning that said, "life or death emergency?" Had it ever been checked?

After a little discussion, we settled on the term "urgent," which meant that it should be tuned sometime in the next 48 hours. With a little luck, I might get it tuned in time for the show.

Tuned pianos, music, art ... these are not life or death situations. That was tragically clear to me as just a few days before the concert a Taft student was killed in an auto accident on the way to the prom.

But music, art, and perhaps even tuned pianos are life and death situations. We use music to celebrate life, be it "Happy Birthday" sung simultaneously in a variety of keys, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony to mark the reunification of Germany, or the "Wedding March" from Mendelssohn's Midsummer Night's Dream played as the bride makes her way to the alter. In death we comfort ourselves with quiet soothing music or contemplate the fate of our soul in a requiem.

Among all else that music is, it is a communal marker of life and death.

The piano tuner showed up that afternoon. The string was tuned; the concert went extremely well; no one died. And, I would like to hope, that in some small way, lives were marked.

Support for the Arts in a Recession

My wife (who is the president of Media City Ballet) will be speaking to the Burbank City Council about the importance of the arts to the community and the need for the city to support the arts. She has asked me to give her some of my thoughts on the subject.

Before starting on why the arts are important, I think it is important to be clear as to what one is asking of the city. Obviously, with the financial situation being what it is today, increasing public funding for the arts is not an option. The focus of arts support has been on money for so long that it is hard to think of what else we want. What can our community leaders do to aid the arts?

Be there. Be vocal. Be involved. When business leaders or politicians attend arts events they communicate to the public that the arts affect them in deep and meaningful ways. When they speak publicly on the their personal experiences with the arts, they demonstrate the importance of the arts to the community. When they volunteer to paint sets, sell tickets, or host arts gatherings they clearly show that they value the arts.

Why are the arts important? What's so special about culture? Why should I really care if our community has a symphony orchestra or a theatre group? For us involved in the arts, these are sometimes a hard questions to answer because the arts are such an essential part of our being. There are so many reasons, that it is hard to pick just a few that would be meaningful to those not so directly tied to the arts. But let me try two approaches: a metaphor and a story.

I like fast food - In and Out burgers, Jack In the Box fajita pitas, Taco Bell burritos. It's quick, easy, inexpensive, and enjoyable. OK, fast food clogs my arteries, packs on pounds, and has dubious nutritional value, but there are times when it is just the thing. But there are other times when I want something more, a fine dining experience - a quiet setting, a special ambience, and high quality food prepared by a talented chef. Yes, I will pay more for this, but it is worth it for those occasions or gatherings that I want to be special.

And, in a way, so it is with the arts. Like fast food, we are surrounded by pop culture - a rock song playing on someone's car radio, storefront ads with flashy graphics, and the latest hit movie with an abundance of special effects, hot looking stars, and wild car chases. All well and good. Pop culture is quick, easy, inexpensive, and enjoyable, and there are times when it is just the right thing.

But there are times when we want something more. Yet, it is hard to say exactly what that "more" is. As an artist (musician) I've struggled to find the perfect answer. What is art? What's so special about Mozart? Why do we need "high culture" anyway, isn't that just for snobs?

The best answer was given to me by a former student.

For the first half of my career I taught guitar, choir and music appreciation in a junior high school in East Los Angeles. One day after school a young man came into my classroom.

"Hey, Mr. Pease. Remember me? I was in your guitar class about five years ago."

Now, I'm bad at names with my current students. With a former students who was a child when I had him and now is a man, I was helplessly lost. I studied his face praying for a clue and frantically searched my mental database for names. He must have seen my anxiety.

"That's OK. I sat in the back of your guitar class, and I was a pretty quiet kid."

Ah, saved by his kindness. I hope I gave him a good grade.

He continued, "I thought I'd come by and just say thanks for all you taught me about classical music. I work in an auto supply shop now. It's hard work. I'm on my feet twelve hours a day. My boss is mean and the customers are demanding. When I get home I am exhausted. I can barely eat my dinner. But then I put on some classical music and do nothing but just listen to it for about an hour. And after that, I feel human again."

"I feel human again." It's almost a cliche, but it stuck with me. That is what the arts do. They make us feel human again. They remind us of our humanity. They capture the whole range of human experience and help us explore it's meaning. The arts are shared by each of us on an intimate level that communicates the feelings, needs, and dreams of all of us.

Artists have always believed that we are affected by the arts. They touch our emotions, excite our imaginations, and inspire us to action. We have always sensed that. But now science is able to show us how this happens at a neurological level. Brain chemistry and actual brain structure is changed. This is not simply "touchy feely" fluff. This is real change. And we are now just beginning to see a host of collateral benefits from the arts - causations and correlations that suggest that the arts make us smarter, happier, and more creative.

I am an artist. For me, "Art for art's sake." But if you have not arrived there yet, go ahead and consider those side benefits. I believe that after a little time being involved with the arts, you too will not need any offshoot justifications. The arts will be your fine dining for the soul, and need no other reason for being.

So, getting back to what you can do for the arts...

Be there. Not because you have to, not because it's supposed to be good for you, not because it is some community obligation like taxes. Be there because the arts will touch your humanity in a unique and special way.

Be vocal. Not because it is good PR, not because it will make you look cultured, not because it will keep the arts community off your back for a few weeks. Be vocal because when the arts reminded us of our own humanity, it is easier to recognize that same humanity in our neighbor.

Be involved. Not because you will make important business contacts, not because you can do a little side politicking, not because it looks good. Be involved because you believe in the intrinsic value of the arts and are therefore willing to work to ensure that they continue to play a vital role in the community.

Lastly, one challenge. Be an artist. Einstein was a violinist, Václav Havel, the president of the Czech Republic is a playwright, Leonardo da Vinci was an engineer, inventor, scientist, and not a bad painter and sculptor, Ronald Reagan did a little acting, Emmitt Smith, the football player, turned out to be a good dancer as well, and Bill Clinton played a pretty mean sax. Why not you? Take some art or photography classes at a community college. Really learn to play that guitar that's been sitting in the closet for the last few years, and that piano in your living room is good for more than just holding pictures. Join a theatre group, or take some dance lessons. You don't need to be great, you just need to be doing it.

There is no greater way to experience the arts than to be part of the arts. There is no greater statement of support for the arts than to be an artist.

LASUD Choral Fest 09

I was very pleased with the way we sang. We did two performances. The first was more informal and provided a chance for our clinician to hear us. The second was our formal adjudication. I thought our first performance was a little better. We were a little fresher and had a bit more of an edge.

We had a few minor flaws. In In the Beginning Was the Word we started to rush towards the end. Our pitch wasn't as dead on as it should be in the Ave Verum.

I have been working with getting the group to be more responsive to conducting gestures. They are just starting to get the idea. It's a little uneven, doesn't always happen, and not everyone is following, but it is a beginning. In the Ave Verum by Gounod I felt I was able to get the best results.

It was good for the students to get a lot of positive feedback from the judges and we were all pleased with the superior ratings. Although it is not a competition, it was nice to earn the highest score. Now I need to find a second festival where they will face a greater challenge.

On a slightly different subject, I came across a nice video clip on TED. It deals with one of my favorite subjects - delayed gratification. Check it out here. It's very funny and takes only a few minutes.