I just returned from chaperoning my younger daughter's high school music trip. At her school, the entire music department goes on the trips: band, chorus, and orchestra. Each are given performing opportunities and we all get to enjoy some local attractions. This year, the trip was to Norfolk, VA to participate in the Virginia Arts Festival. The orchestra and choir did adjudicated performances (playing for judges scores/comments and then working with one of the judges in a session). The marching band participated in the NATO Parade of Nations. Our fun activities included a river cruise, a museum attached to a battleship, seeing the Virginia International Tattoo. I had a really good time, but I underestimated the amount of exhaustion I would experience! If you're ever considering going with your students/children:
Trip memories=priceless The world is finally opening back up after COVID. Get out there!
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Can you practice effectively without your flute?
Surprisingly, yes! Look, nothing is going to ever replace actual playing to improve. But there are times when you can't play--your flute is in the shop, you are ill or recovering from injury, or you can't disturb others in your home, for example. Here are some ways to practice without your flute:
I have been a knitter for many years--since my older daughter was very young. I'm currently teaching myself to crochet--and it is ROUGH. My husband laughed at me the other night when I announced that I started with 20 stitches and only had 13 after a few rows.
At first, I thought, "Wow, I'm pretty bad at this!" We all say that to ourselves, especially when trying something new. On my drive home, I listened to a podcast. The host invited the guest to consider saying "I am still acquiring the skills for this" instead of "I'm bad at this." What a way to reframe that idea! What if we applied that to our music? Think of the difference it could mean to your playing. So the next time you think, "I'm bad at this" see if you can change it to, "I'm still working on it and I can improve." I was fortunate to have several fantastic opportunities to perform in September. The first was a Baroque concert in Carlisle as a part of their public concert series. I was asked to play a Vivaldi Double Flute Concerto. It’s not often that I’m asked to play a concert like this, let alone solo (or duet) in this case, so I was really excited about it. I also admit that being asked to do this felt like a bit of redemption after a poor concert experience earlier in the year (I may write about that someday). I practiced my butt off for this. It paid off. I did all of the techniques I tell students to use: recording myself, playing slowly with a metronome, and listening to recordings. Recording myself was a new technique for me. I generally hate listening to myself play but I knew recordings would be valuable. It helped to listen to them a day later when I could be more objective about things. I can’t understate how much the recordings helped (are you hearing this, students?) Arriving at rehearsal, I felt relaxed and confident in my ability to play well, which was something I haven’t experienced in quite some time. I felt so lucky to play in such a beautiful space and with absolutely amazing musicians. The folks in that orchestra are the finest musicians in my area, hands down. We all commented on how much we enjoyed making music together. They were all so supportive and enthusiastic about the Vivaldi piece and called us rock stars! You can see a video in my previous blog post. It felt like the first real concert I had done since the COVID shutdown, although I had played several other concerts before this. Maybe it was the first concert since COVID that I really enjoyed and felt sort of normal about. It was pure joy and one that I will treasure for a very long time. The following two weeks found me playing in the pit orchestra for a local collegiate production of Into the Woods. Until my older daughter got into musical theater, I had not really cared much for Sondheim’s work (don’t worry, she turned me around!) I can’t believe I had never played one of his shows previously. I love playing shows because of the challenge. They’re physically and musically demanding and I believe it’s some of the most difficult playing a musician can do. It’s also neat to be able to give students great support for their performance and they really appreciate it. Sondheim’s music is tricky and complex (again, I practiced my fingers off). In this show, the flute plays almost the entire time with very little downtime. There are numerous solos, including some screaming piccolo things (the piccolo plays the part of the birds in the show). In the second act, the flute has some of the most beautiful musical lines in the whole show, and they need to be played precisely, musically, and sensitively. The show has so many interesting ideas to ponder: what we wish for versus what we really want, the relationship between parents and children, and finding your family. It was fascinating to see these ideas play out before an audience and see their reaction to them. Like all shows, the audience response was different at each show. Although I’m super tired as I write this, I feel deeply grateful to be a part of these performances–and I have another exciting concert coming in October! As I was reminded by another flutist recently: how lucky am I to get to play music? Here's the 3rd movement from the Vivaldi Double Flute Concerto that I played on 9/11/2022 in Carlisle, PA. It was an absolute joy to work with these top notch musicians.
My home studio is one of my favorite rooms in my house. It’s where I teach and practice and get to be creative. It’s one of the few rooms in the home that solely belongs to me. That room also has an amazing view of unobstructed farmland, one of the major reasons we bought this house. Shortly after moving in, we quickly determined that this would be the ideal teaching space for me. It has a separate entrance, that amazing view, and its location at the back of the house means it keeps the lessons and practicing as noninvasive as possible for everyone else who has to live here. Plus my cats like sitting on top of the piano and watching the birds. The room had some initial issues: it was essentially a sunroom with louvered windows and a screen door when we moved in, to say nothing of the dark grey and maroon paint scheme and faux grass carpet. Putting in actual windows and doors, changing out the flooring, and new paint were among the first things we did after moving here. I swore that I was never going to put any kind of window treatments up because I wanted that view. As you may guess, things change–as they do when you live in a home for many years. A very warm summer, a lack of direct air conditioning in that room, and three fewer large shade trees in the backyard made for a very uncomfortable playing space this summer. The room is also very cold in the winter due to the lack of direct heat. My music library was also out of control. It was organized, but the music was getting bent and misshapen from the way it was stacked on the bookcase. I am a big fan of Marie Kondo, and trust me, she would not have approved of the state of this room. My studio refresh is still a work in progress, but the latest upgrades include new honeycomb blinds, which should have summer heat shielding and cold insulating properties, new magazine files for the music, and a general deep clean of the space. I hope to add a new throw rug and clean out and organize my old CD collection soon as well. It’s amazing how decluttering and improving a space will declutter your mind as well. The peace and calm I feel in that room have risen, which translates to my playing and teaching. I hope the students feel it too and are moved to create great music with me. When I was in college, one of my professors told me, “It’s a small world, and in music, it’s even smaller.” He was right. We can often play the six degrees of separation game and not need all six degrees. Everyone seems to know everyone else or can be connected to them through another colleague. It sounds great, right? One big happy family… I recently thought about my own circle of musical friends–folks who I teach with or gig with on a regular basis. There are others that I’m connected with via social media. I feel fortunate to be connected with these people. Many of them make this job a true delight. There are other circles that I would love to get into: gigs or places I want to play, or people I’d like to connect with. Sometimes I’m able to make that connection, and sometimes I just can’t seem to break in no matter what I do. The FOMO (fear of missing out) is real. Being a musician (any artist, really) requires an extreme level of dogged persistence and stubbornness. It means pushing forward when others say no. Finding open doors when others are closed. Staying positive in some ugly, negative situations, and keeping a code of professionalism (and sometimes silence) about those times. It can be truly disheartening at times. And yet–I have a hard time imagining doing anything else. So to all the artists out there–keep moving forward and lifting each other up. I’m with you. I guess it’s a good thing I’m stubborn. Last week I discovered that I'm on Spotify (this may be interesting only to me). On a whim, I searched "Keystone Wind Ensemble". I found that all of the albums I recorded as a member of this group can be streamed there.
My time with Keystone began as a recent college graduate. My college band director, Jack Stamp, wanted to record his own compositions and I was fortunate to be asked to play in the flute section. I was thrilled to get a little more time with Dr. Stamp, one of my musical mentors. It was an honor and privilege to be a part of that project. I completed eight more recordings with the group, which focused on important wind band works that had not been previously recorded. We even performed live on a few occasions. Before going to college, I didn't think much of 'modern' music. Most of what I had heard and played up to that point didn't appeal to me, and none of my previous teachers really explained it. Dr. Stamp (being a composer himself) was and still is a huge modern music supporter and enthusiast. In rehearsal, he played the polychords found in William Schuman's George Washington Bridge and would get really excited about those harmonies. I didn't get it at first, but his enthusiasm was infectious. I figured if he was that jazzed by this stuff, there must be something to it. With time, I grew to love it and it remains one of my favorite kinds of music to play. Keystone Winds allowed me to experience the beauty and challenge of creating music for posterity--a large and sometimes daunting task. I remember recording in cavernous Fisher Auditorium, waiting for trucks to drive by on the road so they wouldn't be heard in the take, the immense mental energy and focus needed repeatedly for each take, the sore muscles from sitting for long periods, the laughs when something goofy happened, our 'true confessions' (who messed up on a take), and the camaraderie of the group. I could do a whole post on Keystone recording stories, but that's not my point here. Finding these recordings made me stop and think about the current means of music distribution and 'being famous'. It's so easy to find and listen to music now--waiting for a CD to be released seems like ancient history. While these recordings were certainly important to numerous wind band educators, I wonder how popular they remain (Spotify says we have 847 listeners per month. Is that a lot? Probably not, I have no idea.) So many musicians try to carve out their own following through music streaming. It feels overwhelming knowing how much is out there. How does anyone compete in that space? I'm glad Keystone made the jump from CDs to Spotify, and of my small part in it. I guess it's part of my musical legacy (wow, now I just sound really old). So be it--I'm proud of that work. I leave you with one of my favorites from these recordings: Fisher Tull's "Sketches on a Tudor Psalm". The beautiful, dark opening melody in the saxophones and horns is just wonderful. Tull goes on to break up and mix up the theme throughout, finally to have it regain chorale form at the end. Hey, we'll get a few more spins if you listen! PS: Dr. Stamp, if you're reading this, I have a soft spot for your entire album! (And yes, I still call him "Dr." even though I graduated many moons ago. I'm traditional that way). This has been a bit of a ramble of a blog entry. Thanks for strolling down memory lane with me, and please continue to support new composers! I love having friends who help make my crazy ideas come to life. Sometime back in January of this year, I contacted my friend Morgann and asked her if she would be interested in co-hosting a summer flute camp for high school students this summer. After numerous emails, Zoom calls, and planning on both of our parts, we completed our camp last week. We were small but mighty! Morgann is the flute warmup queen, I think. She had a great variety of different physical and flute warmups. We learned new ones daily. Our other activities included daily flute ensemble reading sessions, geeking out over flutists on social media and YouTube, learning about our flute family tree, strategies for our district band audition piece, improvisation games, juggling, intonation, a funny reference to trolls, and more. We certainly crammed a lot of information into our short time together. I learned a lot from our time together. Thanks to Morgann, I have a host of new flute warmups to try and great reminders about posture and the physicality of playing. Most important, I am reminded to keep seeking out new ideas and information for myself and my students. There is a quote attributed to Michelangleo, saying (at age 87), "I am still learning." A good goal for me, and maybe you, too. Near the end of the spring semester, my college student Carmela told me she had a Chinese dizi that she wanted to learn to play. I told her I would learn too!
By the way, I do know that the correct pronunciation is "Dee-Tsuh" ;-) Dizis use a membrane called dimo over a hole on the flute and you have to glue it on yourself. The membrane will vibrate when played, giving the flute a slight buzz in the tone. Here's my first attempt at the process. If you're wondering why I didn't post a video of me playing dizi...trust me, I need a little more practice time! Next week I'll start the reveal on my newest flute duet arrangement. Any guesses? |
I Write too!I write about flute, classical music, college auditions, positive mindset, and music advocacy. Archives
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