Alrighty, then

Berlioz's "March to the Scaffold" from Symphony fantastique? Can't say I'm a fan. But we're playing it, and I need to practice it. I worked on it for about an hour tonight. 

So, I'm working on the part around 5:45-6:06 in the video below. My cat wanders in, yowls at me, and wanders out. I get to the point where I need to call it a night, and pack up. I walk into the next room and find that my cat has laid three fresh turds in the litter box...and one in the middle of the floor. Alrighty, then.
 

Video via YouTube and vladi565

What to Practice When I'm Practicing Orchestra Music

I sort of had to drag myself into practicing tonight, but when I did, I got so absorbed that I lost track of time. I also worked my alertness level back up to the point that it's going to take me a while to settle my mind down and think of going to sleep. 

Part of what I was doing was going through some orchestra music and making mental notes of things to ask Ms. L. about. These include:

• How to play really quietly and slowly, with good tone. I can play with good tone when I play with a certain amount of volume. It's much harder to play with good tone when you're supposed to be fitting your sound (along with the rest of your section) under another part of the orchestra. I just hear myself in rehearsal playing with a rather constipated tone in spots like that, and would like to remedy that. 
• How to play loud tremolos without tension. In the seconds we have a few spots where we have loud, long tremolos. I find myself clenching my whole right arm when we get there. That can't be good.
• I'd also like to ask her to listen to me play through a couple of spots where intonation is a work in progress. When I am practicing, I can make adjustments. But I really need to have another set of ears--a better set of ears than mine--help isolate the trouble areas. In rehearsal, I have found that I cannot hear myself well enough in those sections to notice little intonation issues, though I'm sure they are there. I have work on my own to get those right and then let muscle memory take over to some extent when playing in the group.  

It's a whole different set of issues now!

Singing

A few weeks ago, on you-know-what, a high school classmate of mine posted this video with the isolated vocal track of Marvin Gaye singing "I Heard it Through the Grapevine." It blew me away. 

It's one of those songs that I've heard so much--originally because of the soundtrack from The Big Chill, most likely--that I don't really hear it anymore. Although I formed an unlikely attachment to the rest of the soundtrack, I didn't even really like that particular song.

Later I came across the version by Gladys Knight & the Pips, which really grabbed me--particularly the off-balance feel of the percussion at the beginning and the faster pace, which seemed fitting for a woman scorned. 

But hearing Marvin Gaye on this song by himself is amazing--his singing is one long, pained question and lament. In the midst of all those strings and everything else, I never really heard that before. Listen up:  

Via grammophoneferreira and YouTube. 

Sit tight for the first 19 seconds until the vocal track actually starts.

P.S. To get the flavor of a period performance by Gladys Knight & the Pips, check out the video of their appearance on Soul Train in 1972. They've got to be lip-synching, and the applause at the start drowns out the cool percussion part, but the fashions are not to be missed.

Seconds

Playing in the second violins is different than playing in the firsts in ways that I will probably be digesting for a while. Most prominent in my mind after two rehearsals is that when playing in the seconds, it's harder for me to tell when I'm screwing up than it is when I'm playing with the firsts. There are so many ways to screw up musically--I seem to discover new ones all the time--but for now, I'll just focus on intonation when learning a new set of orchestra music.

With the firsts, it seems that you either have the melody, just had the melody, or will be getting the melody soon. When I'm so plugged into the melody, it's fairly obvious (even when sight reading) if I'm out of tune or overlooking an accidental or something. In saying this, I reveal the ugly truth that in the firsts, I didn't always listen as closely as I should have to what was happening elsewhere in the orchestra. Sometimes--OK, generally--those bits of resting and listening and accompaniment felt like interludes between the real business of diving into the fun, sexy melody. Oh, what an entitled, self-centered member of the firsts I was!

In the seconds it's not as obvious, at least when sight reading, if I am hitting wrong notes. The notes may not feel wrong because sight reading can be so disorienting that I lose my feel for exactly where the notes are on the fingerboard, even in first position. (Maybe this will improve as I get my orchestra chops back, but sight reading presents a major cognitive load for me right now.)

Listening to my stand partner and section mates is obviously the biggest help. However, listening to myself while listening to others--either to match them or to figure out how my part meshes with theirs--is a balancing act. I'm finding it tough, maybe because I haven't played with an orchestra for so long. When I am practicing by myself, I can easily hear if, say, my A flat is in tune by listening for the interval to be right with the F natural that came before it. In a rehearsal, processing what I hear from others while hearing/assessing/correcting my own intonation is a lot tougher. On top of that, the music we're rehearsing contains a couple of areas with divisi parts where there may be only three other people in the section playing the same notes as me at any given time, and only one sitting close enough for me to really hear. It's just going to take a healthy amount of practice time on my own to get all of this that into my head and my fingers. 

In tourism terms, I appreciate having seen some wonders of the world with the firsts but I look forward to traveling off the beaten path with the seconds. In looking for some validation of this viewpoint, I found this very interesting Los Angeles Times article about second violinists. In it are some words of inspiration about the role of the seconds from Dan Nobuhiko Smiley, principal second violinist in the San Francisco Symphony:  

"It's a very thrilling feeling to feel wired into this mega, gigantic string organism. It's not always the most glamorous, but it's very heartfelt -- it's the soul of music-making at that level," he says. "When you're playing the second violin part, you can see the textures, the almost brocade-like tapestry."

 That's the spirit!

Cheers!

I made it! Well, one orchestra did not take me, but the other did. It only takes one. I'll be in the second violins, which is 100% OK with me. 

I am really, really looking forward to belonging to an orchestra again. As much as I have enjoyed taking lessons again for the past (almost) two years, it was a bit of a solitary experience without a very concrete sense of purpose. Now I'll have rehearsals and (ultimately) concerts to be prepared for. 

On the way, I'll have fun. It's hard to pinpoint how there is time for fun in a rehearsal when it's business from start to finish and you just have moments here or there to exchange a whisper with your stand partner or folks at a neighboring stand, or to chit-chat while unpacking or packing up. I hope and presume that I will be reminded how that fun happens!

Ever since I found out that I made it, I periodically get wrapped up in a task and forget. Then I remember: I made it!

Encouraging Voices

One time in a lesson, I was playing through a semi-tricky run. I could handle it in terms of my left hand, but problems in my right hand were making it sort of ugly. As I played through it again, Ms. L. chanted above the din, "Bend your thumb. Bend your thumb. BEND your THUMB. That sounded much better. Your thumb was bent. Think that's a coincidence?"

At one point as I was warming up on the evening of an audition, I got to that run and heard in my head, "Bend your thumb!" This was oddly calming. It told me that on that run, at least, I knew how to do what I needed to do...so just do it. It was a comforting thought to take with me as I walked into the actual auditions.

I experienced something similar as I was learning to ski, years and years ago. Through several days of lessons and short runs on tame little green-rated slopes, I had advanced to the point of getting maybe halfway down those slopes before falling on my ass and shedding skis and poles as I slid to a stop. Then one day I ventured out with a few friends on a 45-minute run down the mountain to the closest little town. The route was a step up in difficulty from the green runs. If I am correctly identifying the route we took, we went from an elevation of about 6,000 feet down to about 3,000 feet.

In other words, this was a stretch for a beginning skier like me. But I took my time, methodically executed one slow turn after another, and heard the voice of the ski instructor in my head: "Bend your knees! Bend your knees!" I kept my stuff together and didn't fall once in that 45 minutes. It was exhilarating to cruise into that little town in the valley like a real skier.

Unfortunately, I can't say I felt like a real musician after my auditions. Certain parts went reasonably well in relation to how well I had learned the music. (See how I qualified that?) Other (smaller) parts of the auditions were disastrous. Both auditions, although structured differently, were clearly designed to separate the men from the boys. The outcome just depends on the standards, I guess.

The good thing is that the orchestra people at both auditions were as kind (even funny!) as they could possibly have been while putting someone through those paces. They seemed like people I really would enjoy spending a few hours per week with. Another good thing is how my friends and family have encouraged me. A week or so ago when my MP3 player tossed some Sade at me, these lyrics jumped out: "That's just like you to tell me I have nothing to fear." Still, it helped to hear it. Those helpful voices may pop into your head just when you need them to.