A passing remark from someone,
(regarding our quartet)"Oh so you all are the ones the Tang Quartet thinks highly of?"
It was such an abrupt, out of the blue question that there was no appropriate response to it.She might have heard it from the first violin but Leslie's the one coaching us now and considering how (laughably) we played the last session, they might have changed their opinion all together but were just being nice.
I often wonder why Leslie bothers, after all, they get paid to coach the conservatory chamber groups, now they're off to Tanglewood (not the Singapore one)for the rest of the summer, we're just starting out, rather shakily, trying to get by with the bare minimum of intonation and trying to synchronise the much-stressed-upon Breathing. And at present our Haydn Emperor's pretty much in the dumps and eating out of the gutter.
(ok maybe it isn't that bad, but aren't people suppose to make something out of nothing in blogs?)
Is it even possible to live up to a non-existent reputation?
My cello teacher, Mrs Ilano, says,"Wow, Leslie is so kind!" and yes that quite about sums it up. It's really freaky during coaching because he echoes everything that Mrs Ilano says, and it's not just because he used to be her student. (Probably it's because I don't pay enough attention to what she says and so she haunts me from her various oracles!) But their teaching styles are really different: one is very patient and explains things really slowly, the other is loud, dynamic, doesn't mind jumping up and down, demanding, but both produce results.
All we are are a bunch of people who have some time to spare and want to make music together, which is not unlike other (probably better and more experienced) quartets around.
Then again, as characteristic of blog entries, this is another huge hype about nothing in particular. As my brother says, (another honourable mention!) the person in question probably said that because that was a Politically Correct and very PR thing to say, which was to be expected from someone like her, and it probably wasn't meant to stress us out or anything, but still.
Our violist/manager just called to say that someone from the production company is coming down during our next quartet rehearsal to hear our repertoire and pass us his composition for the NUS Commencement Dinner. The 'a la Bond' piece.
*sharp intake of breath. exhale. keep an open mind.*
Let's hope we won't get unceremoniously dumped after that spying session.
Sunday, June 26, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
cosmic scream
The door descends; the only thing to do is wait for the one slit of light to go out. Stuck in a dark capsule with kids and adults of various shapes and sizes,I notice the woman in front of me has sixties' poodle hair. Beside her, a balding man recites with a Thai accent,
"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts..."
only here there are no seatbelts, only cold yellow metal bars. His recitations only make the girl next to me grip the bar tighter. Her mother says, "If you're scared you scream ok?" but the girl just smiles. I think she is too scared to do anything except grin. What a brave girl. I sigh because I don't know what I'm doing in a digital motion simulator.
And then we are plunged unceremoniously onto the jolting train track or what appears to be one. (View of screen blocked by poodle hair). I give up trying to see anything and attempt to be self destructive and let go of the handle at the exact moment when the capsule swings to the right and
the wall's padded. Nice try.
I sigh again. The girl beside me isn't screaming. It's the mother who is. I stare at her because watching a face experiencing both pleasure and pain amidst violent rocking movements is so much more fascinating than watching blobs of light trying to pass off as planets onscreen.
Maybe the people in this place scream because there isn't anywhere else for them to scream. So they bottle it up, find an excuse to bring their kids to the omnitheatre, pay four bucks to get into the black capsule and scream.For all we know, they're indirectly screaming at and for the little one beside them (who stares at their parent's contorted face that suddenly seems alien to them).
Maybe this simulation of plunging headfirst into black unknown space is just another of those ways to make us feel less fearful of life. Controlled fear within the space of a capsule. Outside of that, you're not allowed to feel afraid, you're not supposed to scream.
(unless you're on the edge of a building and it is just a breath away from the plunge)
No wonder people implode and cut other people up.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts..."
only here there are no seatbelts, only cold yellow metal bars. His recitations only make the girl next to me grip the bar tighter. Her mother says, "If you're scared you scream ok?" but the girl just smiles. I think she is too scared to do anything except grin. What a brave girl. I sigh because I don't know what I'm doing in a digital motion simulator.
And then we are plunged unceremoniously onto the jolting train track or what appears to be one. (View of screen blocked by poodle hair). I give up trying to see anything and attempt to be self destructive and let go of the handle at the exact moment when the capsule swings to the right and
the wall's padded. Nice try.
I sigh again. The girl beside me isn't screaming. It's the mother who is. I stare at her because watching a face experiencing both pleasure and pain amidst violent rocking movements is so much more fascinating than watching blobs of light trying to pass off as planets onscreen.
Maybe the people in this place scream because there isn't anywhere else for them to scream. So they bottle it up, find an excuse to bring their kids to the omnitheatre, pay four bucks to get into the black capsule and scream.For all we know, they're indirectly screaming at and for the little one beside them (who stares at their parent's contorted face that suddenly seems alien to them).
Maybe this simulation of plunging headfirst into black unknown space is just another of those ways to make us feel less fearful of life. Controlled fear within the space of a capsule. Outside of that, you're not allowed to feel afraid, you're not supposed to scream.
(unless you're on the edge of a building and it is just a breath away from the plunge)
No wonder people implode and cut other people up.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
orchestrated chaos
With the suffocating spectre of a rehearsal tomorrow night with the NUS Centennial Orchestra looming above this weekend night, I couldn't help wondering why I'm feeling a strange combination of dread and frustration and a general give-up-ness.
These strange feelings would seem inexplicable given that I've had quite a bit of a break from orchestral playing (since May after M Butterfly). I wondered if it was the rather daunting passages of running quintuplets played at 150 to 200 crotchet beats per minute courtesy of Casteels the Composer. However it isn't that as well, because I don't think in an orchestra of 100 people, we're really expected to sound all the notes more than make a show of playing these notes with a blur of fingers.
Rather, this dread stems from the instinctive knowledge that tomorrow night will herald a re-entry into the power play between the different conductors and amateur orchestras. And it isn't just that. Playing under 10 plus pages of written agreement stipulating everything from dress codes to pay deductions in the event of violating such and such clause of page XX of the contract adds a whole lot of responsibility, stress and pretty much takes the fun out of the whole thing anyway. More so is the nagging guilt that comes from knowing that the NUSSO was supposed to play for this thing too, but can't now because YMS has hired enough players already. And being in NUSSO as well, I received an email saying that tomorrow's NUSSO rehearsal is cancelled because the NUS Centennial Orchestra is using their venue. (the stimulus for this entry, really.)
I know it all sounds stupid and rather trivial, but I'd rather music-making didn't come with so many strings attached. After the last recording session with PCO, Mr Lim (Yau) jokingly said "See you next time...Don't go and join another orchestra in the meantime." I didn't think much of it then, until I recently heard that Mr Lim Soon Lee (NUSSO/SYO conductor) just started his own Pacific Symphony Orchestra. My first thoughts were, "Not another one?!" There are not enough musicians to go round as it is, not to mention instruments such as the cor anglais, and it seems as if musicians are just being recycled from orchestra to orchestra.
Now even Singapore Lyric Opera isn't getting an (established, so to speak) orchestra for their Street Scenes concert, but getting freelance musicians by word of mouth or something.
Sometimes it feels like sitting on a carousel with a time bomb. But don't ask me what I mean by that. I don't know either. It's just an image that comes to mind when I think about the sticky situation.
Then again, who ever said that music making was supposed to be fun? If music is a reflection of life, then I suppose that all this is probably very characteristic of the general dissonance and dysfunction of the modern music scene.
Listen (c.f.) : Portishead's "Roads" and Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek".
These strange feelings would seem inexplicable given that I've had quite a bit of a break from orchestral playing (since May after M Butterfly). I wondered if it was the rather daunting passages of running quintuplets played at 150 to 200 crotchet beats per minute courtesy of Casteels the Composer. However it isn't that as well, because I don't think in an orchestra of 100 people, we're really expected to sound all the notes more than make a show of playing these notes with a blur of fingers.
Rather, this dread stems from the instinctive knowledge that tomorrow night will herald a re-entry into the power play between the different conductors and amateur orchestras. And it isn't just that. Playing under 10 plus pages of written agreement stipulating everything from dress codes to pay deductions in the event of violating such and such clause of page XX of the contract adds a whole lot of responsibility, stress and pretty much takes the fun out of the whole thing anyway. More so is the nagging guilt that comes from knowing that the NUSSO was supposed to play for this thing too, but can't now because YMS has hired enough players already. And being in NUSSO as well, I received an email saying that tomorrow's NUSSO rehearsal is cancelled because the NUS Centennial Orchestra is using their venue. (the stimulus for this entry, really.)
I know it all sounds stupid and rather trivial, but I'd rather music-making didn't come with so many strings attached. After the last recording session with PCO, Mr Lim (Yau) jokingly said "See you next time...Don't go and join another orchestra in the meantime." I didn't think much of it then, until I recently heard that Mr Lim Soon Lee (NUSSO/SYO conductor) just started his own Pacific Symphony Orchestra. My first thoughts were, "Not another one?!" There are not enough musicians to go round as it is, not to mention instruments such as the cor anglais, and it seems as if musicians are just being recycled from orchestra to orchestra.
Now even Singapore Lyric Opera isn't getting an (established, so to speak) orchestra for their Street Scenes concert, but getting freelance musicians by word of mouth or something.
Sometimes it feels like sitting on a carousel with a time bomb. But don't ask me what I mean by that. I don't know either. It's just an image that comes to mind when I think about the sticky situation.
Then again, who ever said that music making was supposed to be fun? If music is a reflection of life, then I suppose that all this is probably very characteristic of the general dissonance and dysfunction of the modern music scene.
Listen (c.f.) : Portishead's "Roads" and Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek".
Friday, June 10, 2005
post-everything nothing
For the first time since the beginning of the holidays I had two consecutive do-nothing days which have proven to be extremely therapeutic because now it seems as if I have regained the ability to speak in complete sentences.
And when that happens I have nothing to speak/write about.
On to less melodramatic thoughts, I don't see what's the hype about Lost. It's so Lord of the Flies-ish. The beast, Piggy, Jack, Ralph, all find manifestations of themself in the show except the show is more racially diverse though it plays up stereotypes (especially of Asian men). But I suppose we need a few more episodes to tell, though at present I think Kate is the more (predictably) interesting character. I thought Sayid looked a lot like Kip in the English Patient and was almost going to make something along the lines of a racist comment before I googled Naveen Andrews and realised that he did act in TEP. Phew.
Stranded on an unknown island, well you can't get more lost than that but I think it's strange the producers have to be so blatant about it. Half the time people are lost anyway, lost in themselves, lost in work, lost in love and a hundred other permutations and definitions.
Another of those uninspired moments.
And when that happens I have nothing to speak/write about.
On to less melodramatic thoughts, I don't see what's the hype about Lost. It's so Lord of the Flies-ish. The beast, Piggy, Jack, Ralph, all find manifestations of themself in the show except the show is more racially diverse though it plays up stereotypes (especially of Asian men). But I suppose we need a few more episodes to tell, though at present I think Kate is the more (predictably) interesting character. I thought Sayid looked a lot like Kip in the English Patient and was almost going to make something along the lines of a racist comment before I googled Naveen Andrews and realised that he did act in TEP. Phew.
Stranded on an unknown island, well you can't get more lost than that but I think it's strange the producers have to be so blatant about it. Half the time people are lost anyway, lost in themselves, lost in work, lost in love and a hundred other permutations and definitions.
Another of those uninspired moments.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
tin and wood
Two days into the Pipe Organ Experience course and it is indeed quite an experience waking up to organ music, falling asleep to organ music, feeling the reverberations of your brain matter in tune with the last thing you heard, leaking organ music out of the various orifices throughout the day, basically. Not that it is a bad thing. It just needs a little getting used to I suppose.
What was most disorienting was probably hearing Alain played on the organ. One would never expect that what produces such placid, composed (no pun intended), congregational hymn music can at the same time be so devillishly dissonant and totally embodying the spirit of a ROCK rebellion. It was almost as if the organ suddenly sprouted horns and a pointed tail.
Who needs electric guitars and drums when you have an organ? The audio pyrotechnics that the Beast of Sound can produce are quite impossible to replicate, both in texture or in spirit. And the more organ music I hear, the more I feel that playing anything horribly on the organ amounts to desecration.
More in a while. The incoherence is largely due to the combination of sleep deprivation and having a head throbbing to the pedalworks of some Mendelssohn organ sonata by Felix Hell. He doesn't play like a 19 year old at all.
What was most disorienting was probably hearing Alain played on the organ. One would never expect that what produces such placid, composed (no pun intended), congregational hymn music can at the same time be so devillishly dissonant and totally embodying the spirit of a ROCK rebellion. It was almost as if the organ suddenly sprouted horns and a pointed tail.
Who needs electric guitars and drums when you have an organ? The audio pyrotechnics that the Beast of Sound can produce are quite impossible to replicate, both in texture or in spirit. And the more organ music I hear, the more I feel that playing anything horribly on the organ amounts to desecration.
More in a while. The incoherence is largely due to the combination of sleep deprivation and having a head throbbing to the pedalworks of some Mendelssohn organ sonata by Felix Hell. He doesn't play like a 19 year old at all.
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