A person's singing voice is a very intimate thing. It takes a great deal of confidence for most people to sing in public because it's like exposing something very personal to public view.
In addition, there are cultural differences regarding singing . . in Japan, for example, group singing is very common, whereas in the U.S. it is rare, although group singing was more common in the past, before mp3 players and CDs. And, people from other countries may be less shy about singing in public.
One of the most fundamental things to know about music is that all music can be seen as generated from singing. In other words, instruments are merely extensions of the voice. In fact, in order to play an instrument well, it's necessary to use vocal-like phrases and "breathe" the music.
So, singing in public takes courage, but singing itself is absolutely the most wonderful way to express musical feeling and personal emotions. There is nothing standing in the way . . . the music pours from your heart and mind right out of your throat!
As for me, I have always loved to sing, but my feelings about my own voice have changed throughout the years. As a youngster, I loved to sing. We sang all the time - - at church, at home, at camp, at school, in the car. Eventually, I sang in choral groups at school and at church. My junior high school chorus (under Mrs. Gilmore) and my high school chorus (under Mrs. Kilpatrick) were exceptionally fine groups and I enjoyed them very much. My high school choral teacher even let me conduct the chorus in a concert. I also accompanied the chorus at times on the piano. I didn't have formal training, but I was instructed on how to breathe and to never force the voice. I loved singing! It was more immediate and easier than playing the piano or the violin.
In college, I had many wonderful choral experiences. I sang in the large chorus which performed major works, such as Brahms' Requiem and Handel's Messiah. I was also selected for the small choir that toured throughout the midwest and Eastern U.S., ending up at Carnegie Hall in New York. We sang the Liebeslieder Walzer by Brahms and I developed a fondness for the German language.
The two hardest choral pieces I ever sang were: Bach's B minor Mass and Schoenberg's De Profundis. The latter piece used a 12 tone row, which we had to be able to sing backwards and upside down, etc. It also used "sprechstimme" and it was in Hebrew!
And so, during high school and college, my voice was in great shape for singing lots of choral music, never solos. Finally, I took "Class Voice" and received vocal instruction from an actual voice teacher.
I was never really happy with the way my voice sounded by itself, even though I sang reasonably in tune and clearly. But, as a music teacher in elementary school, I was pleased that I could sing in a very simple, clear way for the children and I felt it was the best example for them. At that point, I was fairly happy with my voice in a classroom setting.
As time went on, as it always does, my voice began to deteriorate, alas. I lost my upper range, which had never been that high anyway. In retirement, I noticed that I was having a few vocal problems. My doctor sent me to a specialist. He stuck a tube down my throat to take pictures of my vocal chords. Ugh! He said there was some evidence of "acid reflux" and "post-nasal" drip and I received medications for those things. Also, he recommended "vocal therapy". I loved my vocal therapy sessions. The therapist helped me develop my breath control and learn how to support my voice and pitch my voice at the proper level. This helped a lot. She advised me not to sing, oh so sorry. Now when I work with students, occasionally, it's all ok except I really can't sing the higher notes at all.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Rhythm
How is a rhythmic sense created?
Musicians know that a sense of rhythm is essential to participation in music. One must feel the beat at all times. To lose the beat is to lose one's place in the music and it all falls apart.
How do people develop a sense of rhythm, a sense of pulse?
In my case, I was lucky enough to have a mother who was an accomplished musician. She felt that "rocking the baby" was essential for developing a a sense of pulse. When my own daughter was born, she immediately purchased a rocking chair for us to use with the baby.
Also, my favorite childhood activity was dancing in the living room while listening to classical music. Of course, repeating poems while nodding, bouncing, clapping, etc. is another important activity.
The most important test of whether a person has a sense of pulse is to play in a group with others.
It simply isn't possible to play music with other people without a sense of pulse. The group must agree on the pulse and feel it together. If it's a rock band, of course the drummer provides the pulse. In an orchestra, the conductor sets the pulse, but it's still up to each musician to feel the pulse, as well. There's no "going back", there's no "wait until I'm ready to play this note" - - you must keep up, even skipping notes or measures and going forward to where the pulse has gone.
Musicians know that a sense of rhythm is essential to participation in music. One must feel the beat at all times. To lose the beat is to lose one's place in the music and it all falls apart.
How do people develop a sense of rhythm, a sense of pulse?
In my case, I was lucky enough to have a mother who was an accomplished musician. She felt that "rocking the baby" was essential for developing a a sense of pulse. When my own daughter was born, she immediately purchased a rocking chair for us to use with the baby.
Also, my favorite childhood activity was dancing in the living room while listening to classical music. Of course, repeating poems while nodding, bouncing, clapping, etc. is another important activity.
The most important test of whether a person has a sense of pulse is to play in a group with others.
It simply isn't possible to play music with other people without a sense of pulse. The group must agree on the pulse and feel it together. If it's a rock band, of course the drummer provides the pulse. In an orchestra, the conductor sets the pulse, but it's still up to each musician to feel the pulse, as well. There's no "going back", there's no "wait until I'm ready to play this note" - - you must keep up, even skipping notes or measures and going forward to where the pulse has gone.
The Meaning of Music, part 2
To what extent does a composer's music reflect his or her personality?
First of all, a composer is a product of his times and will compose music in the style of the period. Also, he composes music in the styles with which he is familiar, whether folk-inspired, classical, popular, etc. Beyond that, however, is it possible that an individual composer reveals his basic outlook on life in his music? For example, we hear Mozart's wonderful music as a product of the period, but we also see and understand that he pushed the classical style to its limits and introduced new expressiveness and great artistic inventiveness in his music. In addition, we have external evidence that Mozart was a playful person, for example, and we can find many examples of "playfulness" in his music.
Examining Mahler's music and thinking about the joys and tragedies of his life, we see that, not only did he explore new kinds of expressiveness in his music, but he represented his own personal story in the music. Great joy was juxtaposed with great sorrow, as happened in his own life.
A personal quirk of Mahler's was his use of cowbells to indicate peaceful happiness because, in his own life, he remembered his moments of peace and happiness while in the Alps, listening to the cowbells. (When I heard the cowbells in the Alps, I cried, remembering how many times I had heard the cowbells in Mahler's music, and now I was actually in the Alps!)
My composer/songwriter friend has sent me a draft of a new song. The music starts out slowly, tenderly. Then a warm and lovely melody is presented. After that, the music becomes more intense. Does this represent the composer's thoughts or personality? Does this music tell a story? I think all of this is possible.
First of all, a composer is a product of his times and will compose music in the style of the period. Also, he composes music in the styles with which he is familiar, whether folk-inspired, classical, popular, etc. Beyond that, however, is it possible that an individual composer reveals his basic outlook on life in his music? For example, we hear Mozart's wonderful music as a product of the period, but we also see and understand that he pushed the classical style to its limits and introduced new expressiveness and great artistic inventiveness in his music. In addition, we have external evidence that Mozart was a playful person, for example, and we can find many examples of "playfulness" in his music.
Examining Mahler's music and thinking about the joys and tragedies of his life, we see that, not only did he explore new kinds of expressiveness in his music, but he represented his own personal story in the music. Great joy was juxtaposed with great sorrow, as happened in his own life.
A personal quirk of Mahler's was his use of cowbells to indicate peaceful happiness because, in his own life, he remembered his moments of peace and happiness while in the Alps, listening to the cowbells. (When I heard the cowbells in the Alps, I cried, remembering how many times I had heard the cowbells in Mahler's music, and now I was actually in the Alps!)My composer/songwriter friend has sent me a draft of a new song. The music starts out slowly, tenderly. Then a warm and lovely melody is presented. After that, the music becomes more intense. Does this represent the composer's thoughts or personality? Does this music tell a story? I think all of this is possible.
Friday, November 28, 2008
The Meaning of Music
On my birthday, my friend took me to see a noon-time performance of the Lar Lubovitch dance company. Their dances were energetic and flowing.
The notes of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto "came to life". Every gesture in the music was represented by a physical gesture. After awhile, I began to think it might be a little too "Disney-esque", but, loving music as I do, I couldn't help but be thrilled by this magnificent interpretation of the meanings and feelings of Mozart's music.
The next piece they danced was Dvorak's Serenade for Strings. This one was so amazing and wonderful. I imagined my granddaughter dancing to this music. Indeed, yesterday, we played that music for her here at home and she danced beautifully to it.
The next day, I traveled with two other members of my quartet. We went by car for three hours to the Sinsinawa Mound, where we filled in the orchestra for Handel's Messiah. We arrived in the chapel just in time for the rehearsal. The afternoon sun's rays glowed softly in the beautiful stained glass windows.
As I played the familiar themes of the music, many memories flooded back to me in vivid fashion, memories of singing the Messiah choruses in high school (as I actually visualized the face of my director and my fellow students), memories of learning music under my mother's direction, memories of my high school boy friend and how we used to play piano duets together, memories of college music experiences, memories of being in church and believing in the whole Christian thing. I even thought about my friend in Europe who had a great choral experience when he sang with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium. I realized again how music can be such an intimate, living memory and all it takes is an experience such as playing in an orchestra for Messiah to bring all those memories and feelings to life.
The next piece they danced was Dvorak's Serenade for Strings. This one was so amazing and wonderful. I imagined my granddaughter dancing to this music. Indeed, yesterday, we played that music for her here at home and she danced beautifully to it.
Click the player to hear one of the movements from Dvorak's Serenade for Strings.
The next day, I traveled with two other members of my quartet. We went by car for three hours to the Sinsinawa Mound, where we filled in the orchestra for Handel's Messiah. We arrived in the chapel just in time for the rehearsal. The afternoon sun's rays glowed softly in the beautiful stained glass windows.
As I played the familiar themes of the music, many memories flooded back to me in vivid fashion, memories of singing the Messiah choruses in high school (as I actually visualized the face of my director and my fellow students), memories of learning music under my mother's direction, memories of my high school boy friend and how we used to play piano duets together, memories of college music experiences, memories of being in church and believing in the whole Christian thing. I even thought about my friend in Europe who had a great choral experience when he sang with hundreds of people in a huge auditorium. I realized again how music can be such an intimate, living memory and all it takes is an experience such as playing in an orchestra for Messiah to bring all those memories and feelings to life.
Here is a very lively rendition of "And He Shall Purify". Isn't it fun to watch the notes fly by?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
The Bells of Europe
During my recent trip to Europe, I was pleased and moved by hearing bells in every country that I visited. The sound of the bells is one I shall never tire of. It's a sound that evokes the history and mystery of Europe.
There Was No Music In It
During a brief visit to London this past week, I thought it would be fun to attend a live show. As we walked through the theater district, we passed the Queen's Theater where Les Miserables was playing (and had played for decades). We bought tickets for the next evening.
I was ready to enjoy myself and hear some wonderful things, but, alas, there was very little music to be heard at all! I heard a kind of shouting which lacked any musicality. There were a few brief moments, as when the child sang "Cosette's Song" or one number when the Jean Valjean character sang an extended tune in falsetto.
How could there be a musical with no music in it? Perhaps it's the fault of the composers? Perhaps it's because the singers have done it so many times that it's become mechanical? What a disappointment!
I was ready to enjoy myself and hear some wonderful things, but, alas, there was very little music to be heard at all! I heard a kind of shouting which lacked any musicality. There were a few brief moments, as when the child sang "Cosette's Song" or one number when the Jean Valjean character sang an extended tune in falsetto.
How could there be a musical with no music in it? Perhaps it's the fault of the composers? Perhaps it's because the singers have done it so many times that it's become mechanical? What a disappointment!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
The Saddest Piece of Music, Revisited
Our orchestra will perform Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6, the "Pathétique" Symphony this fall. As noted earlier in this blog, the last movement is one of extreme sadness and tragedy. There were events in Tchaikovsky's life that precipitated this emotional dimension in his composition.
I decided to practice the first violin part. To my amazement, that famous descending melody wasn't even there at the beginning of the movement! "Where is it?", I wondered. "Maybe it's really the second violins playing that melody?"
I went online to see if I could find a score and clear up this mystery. I simply typed in "Tchaikovsky+symphony no. 6+score" and, immediately, I received the pdf file of the complete orchestral score. Looking at the last movement, I found the answer to my question.
The first note of the melody, F#, is played by the second violins. The second note of the melody, E, is played by the first violins.
The third note of the melody, D, is played by the second violins.
The fourth note of the melody, C#, is played by the first violins.
The fifth note of the melody, B, is played by the second violins.
The final note of the melody, C# is played by the first violins.
In this way Tchaikovsky created an aural effect. Reading further on the Internet, I discovered that, in Tchaikovsky's time, the first violins were seated on the left, in front, as they are today and the second violins were seated on the right, in front. So the notes of the melody are passed back and forth between the violin sections.
Here are some further notes about this symphony: http://www.musicweb-international.com/programme_notes/tchaik_sym6.htm
The author of this article states:
Placing the Slow Movement (adagio lamentoso) last was revolutionary, but entirely logical if you're after a really depressing ending. From the flaming heights of triumph or (more logically) hysteria, it is a long, long drop to the depths of despondency. The stifling descent of strings is a dramatic masterstroke. Yet, alarmingly, this famous theme is only a figment of the modern practice of placing first and second violins together. In Tchaikovsky's day, the left/right opposition of first and second violins would have revealed, antiphonally, the intended intertwining of two different strands.
Well, I guess a lot of musicians know about this, but it was new for me and extremely interesting to study!
I decided to practice the first violin part. To my amazement, that famous descending melody wasn't even there at the beginning of the movement! "Where is it?", I wondered. "Maybe it's really the second violins playing that melody?"
I went online to see if I could find a score and clear up this mystery. I simply typed in "Tchaikovsky+symphony no. 6+score" and, immediately, I received the pdf file of the complete orchestral score. Looking at the last movement, I found the answer to my question.
The first note of the melody, F#, is played by the second violins. The second note of the melody, E, is played by the first violins.The third note of the melody, D, is played by the second violins.
The fourth note of the melody, C#, is played by the first violins.
The fifth note of the melody, B, is played by the second violins.
The final note of the melody, C# is played by the first violins.
In this way Tchaikovsky created an aural effect. Reading further on the Internet, I discovered that, in Tchaikovsky's time, the first violins were seated on the left, in front, as they are today and the second violins were seated on the right, in front. So the notes of the melody are passed back and forth between the violin sections.
Here are some further notes about this symphony: http://www.musicweb-international.com/programme_notes/tchaik_sym6.htm
The author of this article states:
Placing the Slow Movement (adagio lamentoso) last was revolutionary, but entirely logical if you're after a really depressing ending. From the flaming heights of triumph or (more logically) hysteria, it is a long, long drop to the depths of despondency. The stifling descent of strings is a dramatic masterstroke. Yet, alarmingly, this famous theme is only a figment of the modern practice of placing first and second violins together. In Tchaikovsky's day, the left/right opposition of first and second violins would have revealed, antiphonally, the intended intertwining of two different strands.
Well, I guess a lot of musicians know about this, but it was new for me and extremely interesting to study!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)