Since I am working on the upcoming concerts of Bartók Rózsái Énekegyüttes, and I am also busy with adjusting my life to my new job as a help at home (which I am enjoying very much, and I will talk about it later in another entry), just a short one for you. And don't worry, I am working on another, longer entry as well, but that's not ready yet and I am still not sure whether I should post that or not... Instead of posting that half-baked entry, I will talk about the rules of life, which I compiled recently and I would like to keep it as short as possible, because the more rules you have in your life, the less flexible you get. But before that, let me share with you a little pleasant surprise I've experienced yesterday night...
Yesterday night I was practising The Aspiration by Henry Purcell, a piece I have been studying for almost two years now, ever since Evelyn Tubb suggested me to learn it after I brought to her masterclass another completely unknown piece by Purcell, The morning hymn. The mentioned pieces have the same character, and they are to be found in the same collection, the Harmonia Sacra. Both of them are dealing with sacramental-religious subject and their texts have a sort of penitential after taste (the typical, I worth nothing but God still saved me, so I sing joyfully to him, and stuff like that), and their style is rather monodic, demanding the performer to forget about beautiful melodies. So, I was practising and studying this piece for a while and though I am pretty good at pieces like The Aspiration it still gave me a difficult time whenever I tried to actually sing it, but yesterday (or sometime before that) something happened and suddenly I was able to sing it with much less vocal problems, and finally I could forget about reminding myself about breathing through at certain passages where I earlier always felt my breath simply stops (probably because I was concentrating too hard). I was able to begin to work on the small details, and it was great! I mean... recently I have been practising, because I wanted to go on, but I wouldn't say it was all pleasant and nice. I went on, because I wanted to and not necessarily because I enjoyed it. Oh, how many times Heent told me to enjoy singing a bit more than I seem to! And back then I wanted to enjoy it, but it's not... You cannot enjoy something because you want to enjoy it, but you can keep up the good work and later it will pay off - maybe... or maybe not; who knows?
But back to rules of life! I have a little list on my wall (I burnt the rest of my lists I hanged on my wall after I moved out from my former room), and it contains seven short rules. Now I will share them with you, maybe it will be useful for some of you as well...
1. The nose is meant for smelling.
(Not to bump it into other's life and business.)
2. The mouth is for eating.
(Not for spreading gossips and bad-mouth about others.)
3. The lips and the tongue are for sweet words, kissing and pleasure.
(Again: and not for spreading gossips and such... see above)
4. The hands are for grabbing your opportunities.
(Not for anything else stupid, like any violence...)
5. Only one may have access to the lagoon of mysteries.
(Yes, it is in the language of flowers, but it basically means: don't mess around too much, it won't do you any good.)
6. Self-loathing is just as unhealthy as biting your nails.
(I think, this one speaks for itself.)
7. It is better to fall in love than in despair.
(This is the refined version of an earlier wise-crack we always used with a best friend of mine, which says: it is better to fall on a guy than to fall for a guy - this wise-crack "was born" after I fell on a guy as the tram suddenly stopped.)
Sunday, August 2, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Spending some precious time with the audience...
I have to start by telling you, before this sentence hits bigger than it should, that it is so interesting how musicians have become elitist snobs (not everyone, but 95% of them) in the last decades. I have two conservatory diploma's, but I am sick and tired of the traditional way of performing music (nicely dressed up - preferably in black, or in a suit -; the venue doesn't really matter, any traditional musician can make a snob, elitist concert hall out of any venue). They do an excellent job, but meanwhile they are doing their best, they give a flawless performance, they forget to enjoy the whole thing (whole thing = the piece they are performing, the fact they are giving something to their audience, and all the emotions music can squeeze out of performers and listeners alike), and they also forget the fact that a flawless performance is a piece of cake for a machine as well.
Guess what? I would like to hear performing musicians make mistakes and show me they are just as much of a human beings as I am, moreover, I would like to see how they get over their mistakes. I don't care about how well you can play that piece, show me some flesh and blood, and please, please, entertain me! Make me laugh, or cry, I don't care, just make me feel alive!
Every single time I see a performer making a mistake and coming out of it, he/she becomes immediately very special to me and I will make sure I'll check out his/her performances in the future. For one single reason: for letting me see the human side of a performer. It is the madness of nowadays, that (literally) everything has to be perfect, though as far as I know only the dead are perfect, everyone else (the living) has a lot to accomplish still, right?
So... Now that this is out of our way, we can talk about spending time with your audience. I know, the paragraphs above seem nothing to do with the title of this entry, but believe me, that few paragraphs of rant will all make sense in the end.
It is funny, how we are not taught to spend time with the audience. I have met many people (singers and instrumentalists alike) who cannot say anything to the compliments and comments of their audience. We are so busy with doing our best on stage that we forget about what really matters: the people. I was also for a long-long time confused and I was at loss for words what to say when someone complimented on my performance or even shared some constructive ideas with me about it. Of course everyone comes to the final solution of saying "thank you" to these compliments and maybe a few more neutral sentences to those constructive comments. But while we are looking for this final and best solution, we really forget to spend time with our audience. Isn't listening to them after they listened to us would be at least the minimum we could do for them? Wouldn't it be the best way of figuring out how we can please their ears (and not the ears of other professional musicians)?
I used to be one of those singers who couldn't deal with her audience, and I am so happy I am not like that anymore. Also, fortunately I have been an exhibitionist person since my early childhood (showing off with my drawings, the new songs and poems I had learned, etc.), so it wasn't too difficult to reach out again to this. Now that I could (more or less) get back to this mentality, and I don't care anymore about saying something smart and artistic to my audience's words, I am able to enjoy the warm bath they are preparing for me: the compliments are the hot water, the bath oil and the bubbles, and the comments (constructive or not) are the cold water and the towel. And that's how everything stays in balance. I am happy I am finally able to enjoy their company after the concert and their happy faces make me feel satisfied - despite the mistakes I might have done.
Do you know what's good about your audience? First of all, they are cheering for you. Secondly, they forgive the mistakes you make at the concert, and they appreciate if you overcome the shock caused by this mistake. They forgive you, because you're human, just like they are. It is not bad to show your vulnerability to them - actually they love it, It is just the illusion created by music teachers that perfection and invincibility to motivate their pupils to practise enough. But if you bore them, that's something beyond recovery, I'm afraid. You can agree with me, and you can disagree, but it's true. After all, music is so much fun, so why would you keep all the fun for yourself?
Guess what? I would like to hear performing musicians make mistakes and show me they are just as much of a human beings as I am, moreover, I would like to see how they get over their mistakes. I don't care about how well you can play that piece, show me some flesh and blood, and please, please, entertain me! Make me laugh, or cry, I don't care, just make me feel alive!
Every single time I see a performer making a mistake and coming out of it, he/she becomes immediately very special to me and I will make sure I'll check out his/her performances in the future. For one single reason: for letting me see the human side of a performer. It is the madness of nowadays, that (literally) everything has to be perfect, though as far as I know only the dead are perfect, everyone else (the living) has a lot to accomplish still, right?
So... Now that this is out of our way, we can talk about spending time with your audience. I know, the paragraphs above seem nothing to do with the title of this entry, but believe me, that few paragraphs of rant will all make sense in the end.
It is funny, how we are not taught to spend time with the audience. I have met many people (singers and instrumentalists alike) who cannot say anything to the compliments and comments of their audience. We are so busy with doing our best on stage that we forget about what really matters: the people. I was also for a long-long time confused and I was at loss for words what to say when someone complimented on my performance or even shared some constructive ideas with me about it. Of course everyone comes to the final solution of saying "thank you" to these compliments and maybe a few more neutral sentences to those constructive comments. But while we are looking for this final and best solution, we really forget to spend time with our audience. Isn't listening to them after they listened to us would be at least the minimum we could do for them? Wouldn't it be the best way of figuring out how we can please their ears (and not the ears of other professional musicians)?
I used to be one of those singers who couldn't deal with her audience, and I am so happy I am not like that anymore. Also, fortunately I have been an exhibitionist person since my early childhood (showing off with my drawings, the new songs and poems I had learned, etc.), so it wasn't too difficult to reach out again to this. Now that I could (more or less) get back to this mentality, and I don't care anymore about saying something smart and artistic to my audience's words, I am able to enjoy the warm bath they are preparing for me: the compliments are the hot water, the bath oil and the bubbles, and the comments (constructive or not) are the cold water and the towel. And that's how everything stays in balance. I am happy I am finally able to enjoy their company after the concert and their happy faces make me feel satisfied - despite the mistakes I might have done.
Do you know what's good about your audience? First of all, they are cheering for you. Secondly, they forgive the mistakes you make at the concert, and they appreciate if you overcome the shock caused by this mistake. They forgive you, because you're human, just like they are. It is not bad to show your vulnerability to them - actually they love it, It is just the illusion created by music teachers that perfection and invincibility to motivate their pupils to practise enough. But if you bore them, that's something beyond recovery, I'm afraid. You can agree with me, and you can disagree, but it's true. After all, music is so much fun, so why would you keep all the fun for yourself?
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Get it by your hands
"Don't beg for it, earn it! Do that and you will be rewarded."
(Eureka SeveN)
(Eureka SeveN)
I have never been the kind of person who would be satisfied with anything that's granted. I have always found satisfaction in my achieved goals and my successfully accomplished tasks/missions when I had to really work hard for them (even if I had to perform a miracle). I would hate to be appreciated for being who I am (for my name, I mean) instead of what I do. When I told this to a dear friend of mine, he told me that it is an honorable and nice feature of one's personality, but it's also a little bit stupid. I cannot help, this is who I am, but I have to admit, I agree and disagree with him at the same time.
I agree, because it is indeed comes with more seemingly unnecessary investment (qua time, energy, money, etc.), and living on what you've already got by birth, everything that you can take for granted (thanks to your ancestors, and your name, or the position you happen to have) is much easier than to fight your way inch by inch towards your goal. But if you keep on working from the resources that you were given, you'll prevent yourself from reaching for an unimaginable success, because you cannot and you don't want to see anything else, but these resources. Of course, probably you may come up with new ideas, and manage to obtain new additional resources and connections to your current and given ones, but you'll only be able to use them until a certain limit. That's what happens also when your experience becomes a burden instead of a benefit. And anyway, who on earth like limitations in anything?
So I have to say, I firmly disagree. I am rather fond of the theory of the Greater Fool. The greater fool theory states that the price of an object is determined not by its intrinsic value, but rather by irrational beliefs and expectations of market participants. A price can be justified by a rational buyer under the belief that another party is willing to pay an even higher price. Or one may rationally have the expectation that the item can be resold to a "greater fool" later. (yes, Wikipedia is your evil friend sometimes... I wouldn't quote from Wikipedia if I wouldn't checked it carefully). The Greater Fool in my opinion is also someone who doesn't really looks for fame or the merits he may get out of anything he does. Instead of that, he leaves everything behind and leads the way through the unknown and creates new paths to follow for the ones that are coming after him. That's why he doesn't look at the price and the amount of investements he has to put into a certain project or new approach. The only thing that matters for him is that everyone who decides to follow the path he created will result something better than before. That's why he chases after his dreams (or in other words, the irrational beliefs and expectations of market participants).
The Greater Fool don't beg for success, he earns it, and get it by his hands, though sometimes he's rewarded with success.
Why is this important for a singer (or even for an instrumentalist)? Singing and working on your (vocal) development demands one to become a Greater Fool. If I would make a calculation on how much I've spent for school, singing lessons and travelling for the sake of my own education so far, I could buy a furnished house, and pay for its expenses for a few years. And on the other hand (and this is quite old argument, but still good) if I would get paid for all those hours I work on programme's, organizing concerts and projects, or just for practising, even on the minimal wage's hourly payment, I would be a millionaire. It always takes more investment in time, energy, money, etc. than it actually pays back in cash.
But just imagine: you sing a song at a concert (not even at any of those fancy concert locations, just a song after mass or anything like that), and then you see the happy faces of your audience - well, you can be sure that they will bring something nice home in their heart. Making people happy doesn't pay you in cash, and it doesn't pay off immediately, but it makes you a better person, and who knows? Maybe later on you will get an unexpectedly nice comission from someone or you'll be asked to join a project that's interesting and even pays well. NB: the other side of this coin is that you better not screw around with people, because that's also pays off, but that payment will hurt pretty bad.
Enough of complaining about you cannot do what you really would like to, and that there are no challanging projects you can join! If you really would like do something interesting, well do something interesting! Don't beg for it, earn it! Do that and you'll be rewarded.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Wings of an angel
Do you believe in the Angel of Music? Call me sentimental, but there was a time when I believed in it. Or at least I liked the idea, and the image of this angel launched me towards becoming a singer.
I was still attending grammar school and took music lessons at the music school in Békescsaba (piano, choir rehearsals and singing) when I read the The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux (and became a dedicated fan of the musical with the original cast later on as well), and I've got so fascinated by the image of the Angel of Music, and that the Phantom, Erik became this angel for Christine Daaé, that I wanted to meet him as well. My ever first goal that I wanted to achieve was to meet this magic entity somehow. I was amazed of the beautiful lovestory between Erik and Christine (I hated Raoul with a passion for stepping in their way), and I understood Christine's feelings to the utmost. Regardless her fear of Erik's looks, she respected him and loved him in her own gentle way, but she wasn't brave enough to stay by Erik's side - and I didn't like that.
I thought I will be able to find this angel, but instead as soon as I began to be involved with ensemble singing I started to grow my own wings as I was singing with others. Especially when I am singing in a choir and I know I have to pull the people on my part, I imagine that I spread my invisible wings above them and I take them from each phrase to another. I wanted to be able to lead and pull people with my voice and I grew wings to do that, but these wings are not good for flying (unfortunately... I've always wanted to be able to fly - either by having real wings, or without them), but they are good for singing, and that's good enough for me - at least for now...
Am I an angel? I don't think so. Do I behave sometimes as an angel? Maybe. Do I like my wings? If I'm singing or if I would like to protect someone dear to me, I love it. I just have to figure out what to do with those feathers all over around me...
I was still attending grammar school and took music lessons at the music school in Békescsaba (piano, choir rehearsals and singing) when I read the The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux (and became a dedicated fan of the musical with the original cast later on as well), and I've got so fascinated by the image of the Angel of Music, and that the Phantom, Erik became this angel for Christine Daaé, that I wanted to meet him as well. My ever first goal that I wanted to achieve was to meet this magic entity somehow. I was amazed of the beautiful lovestory between Erik and Christine (I hated Raoul with a passion for stepping in their way), and I understood Christine's feelings to the utmost. Regardless her fear of Erik's looks, she respected him and loved him in her own gentle way, but she wasn't brave enough to stay by Erik's side - and I didn't like that.
I thought I will be able to find this angel, but instead as soon as I began to be involved with ensemble singing I started to grow my own wings as I was singing with others. Especially when I am singing in a choir and I know I have to pull the people on my part, I imagine that I spread my invisible wings above them and I take them from each phrase to another. I wanted to be able to lead and pull people with my voice and I grew wings to do that, but these wings are not good for flying (unfortunately... I've always wanted to be able to fly - either by having real wings, or without them), but they are good for singing, and that's good enough for me - at least for now...
Am I an angel? I don't think so. Do I behave sometimes as an angel? Maybe. Do I like my wings? If I'm singing or if I would like to protect someone dear to me, I love it. I just have to figure out what to do with those feathers all over around me...
Monday, May 4, 2015
Post-graduation shock
Oh, I already know, this entry will be just like the one with the title If I had ever knew that...
It is so amazing how your graduated musician friends and your teachers don't talk about the year after their graduation. To be honest, in the past year I seriously had moments when I was sure, I have gone slightly mad, or I have lost something I had during Conservatory. I missed the almost constant fizz and fuzz (but of course not the fuss), and I thought if I don't have this fizzy-fuzzy bubbly days constantly I must be doing something really wrong. Of course I've been told that I will probably need some time to get used to the idea that I have a bachelor and a master diploma, but I have never imagined they meant something like this.
And then last Thursday I went to listen to the bachelor final recital of a friend of mine, here in Tilburg. I met a few old friends as well, friends whom I haven't seen for a long-long time, and each of them asked me the same question: what are you doing here? They meant it in a way that since I am graduated, there's no school anymore for me, so they were wondering what keeps me still here. Many of the conversations were rather on the funny slide, and I explained them that I am living my life, and for that I have chosen Tilburg - for now at least. To the last person on that evening who asked me this question I confessed that I am trying to recover after that 6 years at the conservatory (however much fun it was, it was still an impulsive, intense and stressful period in my life), and honestly I wasn't really looking for opportunities to get employed according to my diploma's - to which he told me that it is normal. Appearantly, the year after the graduation is seasoned and featured with reaching the bottom (sometimes in extremes), and building up your career is not as easy as you have been told at marketing lectures. It is certainly not like sending dozens of application packages (including your CV, recordings, portfolio, etc.) to a dozens of professional ensembles and hoping they would call you back. That works in other sectors of the job market but not among musicians, and also not among singers (where you just throw a piece of rock and it hits at least 3 sopranos before it hits the ground gently, because the last soprano was really short).
The year after the graduation is the nihil that nobody likes to talk about and they would rather forget about it. And yet, I still feel blessed for this past year regardless all the struggle I have had. I would rather reach for the bottom of the bottom than to get to breaking point. I would rather have a few struggling days than to ignore the struggle and end up with a burn out. I felt guilty for not being able to do the same amount of work and pracitising hours without emotional outbursts, and I also felt guilty for not seeking the opportunity to perform whenever I can. I used to be someone who couldn't stay put for more than 5 minutes and was constantly making plans for the future. In the past months, especially since January I crawled back to my shell in shame and I was reading the books I wanted to read for a long-long time and also some more I was advised to read at that time. And now, about a 5 or 6 weeks ago I was finally able to come out from my shell and wake up from my slumber. I moved out from my old and tiny room from Doctor Nolensstraat and moved in to a more spacious house with a friend of mine (we are singing in the schola at Ringbaan West).Proving how silly a human being can be, after getting over my guilt about not wanting to show off my gifts like I did before, after moving in a more spacious house I felt guilty for being happy about having more space... Silly is that... And then the sun began to shine again, I spent a a few hours in the garden, enjoying the sunshine and I forgot about that remorse as well. My weight loss stopped and suddenly I began to gain weight again (I'm almost at the point that I am saying, Now, that's the minimum to survive, milady). Simply: I decided to enjoy life again, which I somehow mysteriously forgot to do for a few months in the near past...
So... What am I doing here? I am living my life. I spend it sometimes with music (with Scherzi Musici or planning the up-coming concerts of Bartók Rózsái, sometimes with baking brownies. I make money to be able to travel and to get singing lessons (for the sake of my development, but on the first place, because I love to sing), and to make a living. I have a church choir to conduct in Reeshof at the St. Antoniuskerk, and I am singing in the schola at Ringbaan West on every 4th Sunday of the month. It is not that glamorous (yet), but I love it - and maybe I don't need the glamour, but I need to become the sparkle. And now I remember that I have a pile of motets from Bamberg Codex to make a selection from and make a programme and get the singers and musicians together for it. I have plans again, and my plans are crawling up on the hierarchy in my life with every single goodnight sleep... Oh, how I love my curtains and my new bed!
It is so amazing how your graduated musician friends and your teachers don't talk about the year after their graduation. To be honest, in the past year I seriously had moments when I was sure, I have gone slightly mad, or I have lost something I had during Conservatory. I missed the almost constant fizz and fuzz (but of course not the fuss), and I thought if I don't have this fizzy-fuzzy bubbly days constantly I must be doing something really wrong. Of course I've been told that I will probably need some time to get used to the idea that I have a bachelor and a master diploma, but I have never imagined they meant something like this.
And then last Thursday I went to listen to the bachelor final recital of a friend of mine, here in Tilburg. I met a few old friends as well, friends whom I haven't seen for a long-long time, and each of them asked me the same question: what are you doing here? They meant it in a way that since I am graduated, there's no school anymore for me, so they were wondering what keeps me still here. Many of the conversations were rather on the funny slide, and I explained them that I am living my life, and for that I have chosen Tilburg - for now at least. To the last person on that evening who asked me this question I confessed that I am trying to recover after that 6 years at the conservatory (however much fun it was, it was still an impulsive, intense and stressful period in my life), and honestly I wasn't really looking for opportunities to get employed according to my diploma's - to which he told me that it is normal. Appearantly, the year after the graduation is seasoned and featured with reaching the bottom (sometimes in extremes), and building up your career is not as easy as you have been told at marketing lectures. It is certainly not like sending dozens of application packages (including your CV, recordings, portfolio, etc.) to a dozens of professional ensembles and hoping they would call you back. That works in other sectors of the job market but not among musicians, and also not among singers (where you just throw a piece of rock and it hits at least 3 sopranos before it hits the ground gently, because the last soprano was really short).
The year after the graduation is the nihil that nobody likes to talk about and they would rather forget about it. And yet, I still feel blessed for this past year regardless all the struggle I have had. I would rather reach for the bottom of the bottom than to get to breaking point. I would rather have a few struggling days than to ignore the struggle and end up with a burn out. I felt guilty for not being able to do the same amount of work and pracitising hours without emotional outbursts, and I also felt guilty for not seeking the opportunity to perform whenever I can. I used to be someone who couldn't stay put for more than 5 minutes and was constantly making plans for the future. In the past months, especially since January I crawled back to my shell in shame and I was reading the books I wanted to read for a long-long time and also some more I was advised to read at that time. And now, about a 5 or 6 weeks ago I was finally able to come out from my shell and wake up from my slumber. I moved out from my old and tiny room from Doctor Nolensstraat and moved in to a more spacious house with a friend of mine (we are singing in the schola at Ringbaan West).Proving how silly a human being can be, after getting over my guilt about not wanting to show off my gifts like I did before, after moving in a more spacious house I felt guilty for being happy about having more space... Silly is that... And then the sun began to shine again, I spent a a few hours in the garden, enjoying the sunshine and I forgot about that remorse as well. My weight loss stopped and suddenly I began to gain weight again (I'm almost at the point that I am saying, Now, that's the minimum to survive, milady). Simply: I decided to enjoy life again, which I somehow mysteriously forgot to do for a few months in the near past...
So... What am I doing here? I am living my life. I spend it sometimes with music (with Scherzi Musici or planning the up-coming concerts of Bartók Rózsái, sometimes with baking brownies. I make money to be able to travel and to get singing lessons (for the sake of my development, but on the first place, because I love to sing), and to make a living. I have a church choir to conduct in Reeshof at the St. Antoniuskerk, and I am singing in the schola at Ringbaan West on every 4th Sunday of the month. It is not that glamorous (yet), but I love it - and maybe I don't need the glamour, but I need to become the sparkle. And now I remember that I have a pile of motets from Bamberg Codex to make a selection from and make a programme and get the singers and musicians together for it. I have plans again, and my plans are crawling up on the hierarchy in my life with every single goodnight sleep... Oh, how I love my curtains and my new bed!
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
The scary freedom
It doesn't matter how I look at it, most people are afraid of freedom. At first I didn't really understand why, because I was convinced that everybody wants to be free, but I am coming from a post-communist country from the Eastern block of Europe. Though you better know, dear Western people, that neither Poland or my own country, Hungary doesn't like to be considered as being an "Eastern European", we are actually in the middle of Europe, and you know that, but you are too lazy to make a decent distinction. In our ears, being considered to belong to Eastern Europe brings back the memories of belonging to the Soviet Union, and it doesn't matter how exotic you think it was for us, it wasn't that fun. Mainly, because two or three generation grew up in a regime where people were forced to think and act in a certain way, so people were cuirtailed of their personal freedom. They couldn't travel whenever and wherever they wanted to and they were not allowed to say what they think about the regime. For Westerners it is even impossible to imagine what a nightmare of decades they were for the now post-communist countries.
For me it is just amazing to see how people can hold unto captivity, and how they are afraid of reaching out for freedom. I have been thinking about this for a while and now I think I figured what is so scary about freedom for most of us. Being free doesn't only mean that you are doing what you want to do, but that you have to take the responsibility for your words, deeds, decisions, and actually for whatever you are doing. You are basically stand on your own with anything you do and nobody will make decisions for you, neither will take the responsibility for them, and it is a huge risk to take.
And even then, the funniest thing is that everybody was born to be free in any single way. It is just an illusion that you may not have the choice to choose on your own free will. You are free to choose for the good or for the bad. If you are in captivity, you chose to be in captivity - in order to survive, probably... When you realize this, and you try to break free, and you manage to become free, the first period in like a "honeymoon-period", and then for some really weird reason when the "honeymoon-period" is over, and reality snaps you in the face and you have to face the consequences of your own acts, you just would like to go back where you were, because that seems immediately much better than it was back then (your memory sugarcoats the past). Yes, it does take a big courage to take the responsibility and face the consequences. It is not always nice, and you have to face the fact that nobody will make a schedule for you, but you yourself, and if you want to use your time in an effective way, you have to plan smart. It also takes to stick with the people who actually helping you in this and get rid of those who want to tell you what to do - anyway, after you are spending your days in freedom you get annoyed with these kind of people, so in one way or another they will disappear from your daily life. And then you are smiling at the things you don't have to do anymore.
So actually not freedom itself that is scary, but everything that comes with it: the unknown, the challenge and to face your own bad habits every day.
For me it is just amazing to see how people can hold unto captivity, and how they are afraid of reaching out for freedom. I have been thinking about this for a while and now I think I figured what is so scary about freedom for most of us. Being free doesn't only mean that you are doing what you want to do, but that you have to take the responsibility for your words, deeds, decisions, and actually for whatever you are doing. You are basically stand on your own with anything you do and nobody will make decisions for you, neither will take the responsibility for them, and it is a huge risk to take.
And even then, the funniest thing is that everybody was born to be free in any single way. It is just an illusion that you may not have the choice to choose on your own free will. You are free to choose for the good or for the bad. If you are in captivity, you chose to be in captivity - in order to survive, probably... When you realize this, and you try to break free, and you manage to become free, the first period in like a "honeymoon-period", and then for some really weird reason when the "honeymoon-period" is over, and reality snaps you in the face and you have to face the consequences of your own acts, you just would like to go back where you were, because that seems immediately much better than it was back then (your memory sugarcoats the past). Yes, it does take a big courage to take the responsibility and face the consequences. It is not always nice, and you have to face the fact that nobody will make a schedule for you, but you yourself, and if you want to use your time in an effective way, you have to plan smart. It also takes to stick with the people who actually helping you in this and get rid of those who want to tell you what to do - anyway, after you are spending your days in freedom you get annoyed with these kind of people, so in one way or another they will disappear from your daily life. And then you are smiling at the things you don't have to do anymore.
So actually not freedom itself that is scary, but everything that comes with it: the unknown, the challenge and to face your own bad habits every day.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Anorexia vocalis - the singers' disease
I am not too good at Latin, I'm just guessing that "vocalis" means vocal or something that can be connected to the human voice. I've made up this fancy Latin name from the eating disorder's latin name anorexia nervosa (if anyone can correct my Latin, I will be more than happy).
Because, yes... Music industry and digital recordings produce many vocal anorexic singers. When I am talking about anorexia vocalis, I am talking about the wish of every young singer: to sound like the big names on the recordings they hear when they are listening to CDs, tracks on Spotify, and so on... You wouldn't believe how damaging these digitally remastered and studio-steril recordings can be. But it's not the fault of studio workers, I wouldn't put the blame on them: they are just doing their job, though they assist in spreading the disease. No, no... The real suspect is the insane guy who came up with the idea of well temperament. I'm sure he just wanted to give a stable and easy system that would help musicians to find their way in the dark forest of tunings, and his intention was pure, I'm sure about that. Also, in the very beginning "well tempered" meant that the twelve notes per octave of the standard keyboard are tuned in such a way that it is possible to play music in most major or minor keys and it will not sound perceptibly out of tune.You see? People didn't play out of tune before the well temperation, it just sounded perceptibly out of tune.(Side note: I don't mean to rip on classical trained musicians, but meantone, pythagorian and other early music tunings don't equal with "playing out of tune"...). And on the other hand, this system suggests that there are no notes between E' and F': true, there is almost none for an instrumentalist (especially on a keyboard), but I assure you, there are plenty of notes between those two for a singer.
Intonation and how tuning works depends on several factor. It depends on the architecture of the building where you are singing. For example if you have ever sung in a Gothic church, or anything like that (like the Chapel at Fontys Conservatorium in Tilburg), I bet you've realized that the architecture pulls up the sound, and even if your intonation is flat, the architecture will pull it up (along with everything else) for you, while Roman churches are pushing down on your voice a little. Composers before the time of well-temperament were aware of this element, so they took it in account when they were composing a new piece (for example organum will never sound as marvelous in a Roman church as it does in Gothic cathedrals).
Another factor is the breathing: if the singer doesn't have a natural and healthy airflow, the lack of it will lead to intonational problems. If you are pushing the air instead of letting it flow, your intonation will be flat, and you cannot get into your resonance or at least you'll have some difficulties with it.
I know great singers, whom are considered having bad intonation, though they have excellent ears. They are constantly fighting with the negative feedback of exam committees and senseless concert venue directors (who - for some really weird reason - think that they know everything about singing... ridiculous...): they are told that they should develop a better intonation, but these "clever" people have no freakin' idea, that their feedback doesn't help the singer.
I suffered from anorexia vocalis as well until I figured out, that studio recordings are studio recordings, and "clever" people are not as clever as they think they are. Cleaning up the sound on a studio recording is like photoshopping a pizza into a woman. If you think it's not possible, just check the video below
I'm not saying that everyone sings like a pizza and then they are going to make a studio recording and they become a hot chic. Nope... I'm just saying that even the most excellent singers have bad days and they also sing out of tune every once in a while. I agree with Andrea von Ramm, that a concert where every single not is well in tune is a boring concert. Please, dear performer, make a mistake for me! Prove me that you are a human being like I am and you don't thing that perfect intonation rules above all. I'm interested in your talent not your perfect intonation.
Because, yes... Music industry and digital recordings produce many vocal anorexic singers. When I am talking about anorexia vocalis, I am talking about the wish of every young singer: to sound like the big names on the recordings they hear when they are listening to CDs, tracks on Spotify, and so on... You wouldn't believe how damaging these digitally remastered and studio-steril recordings can be. But it's not the fault of studio workers, I wouldn't put the blame on them: they are just doing their job, though they assist in spreading the disease. No, no... The real suspect is the insane guy who came up with the idea of well temperament. I'm sure he just wanted to give a stable and easy system that would help musicians to find their way in the dark forest of tunings, and his intention was pure, I'm sure about that. Also, in the very beginning "well tempered" meant that the twelve notes per octave of the standard keyboard are tuned in such a way that it is possible to play music in most major or minor keys and it will not sound perceptibly out of tune.You see? People didn't play out of tune before the well temperation, it just sounded perceptibly out of tune.(Side note: I don't mean to rip on classical trained musicians, but meantone, pythagorian and other early music tunings don't equal with "playing out of tune"...). And on the other hand, this system suggests that there are no notes between E' and F': true, there is almost none for an instrumentalist (especially on a keyboard), but I assure you, there are plenty of notes between those two for a singer.
Intonation and how tuning works depends on several factor. It depends on the architecture of the building where you are singing. For example if you have ever sung in a Gothic church, or anything like that (like the Chapel at Fontys Conservatorium in Tilburg), I bet you've realized that the architecture pulls up the sound, and even if your intonation is flat, the architecture will pull it up (along with everything else) for you, while Roman churches are pushing down on your voice a little. Composers before the time of well-temperament were aware of this element, so they took it in account when they were composing a new piece (for example organum will never sound as marvelous in a Roman church as it does in Gothic cathedrals).
Another factor is the breathing: if the singer doesn't have a natural and healthy airflow, the lack of it will lead to intonational problems. If you are pushing the air instead of letting it flow, your intonation will be flat, and you cannot get into your resonance or at least you'll have some difficulties with it.
I know great singers, whom are considered having bad intonation, though they have excellent ears. They are constantly fighting with the negative feedback of exam committees and senseless concert venue directors (who - for some really weird reason - think that they know everything about singing... ridiculous...): they are told that they should develop a better intonation, but these "clever" people have no freakin' idea, that their feedback doesn't help the singer.
I suffered from anorexia vocalis as well until I figured out, that studio recordings are studio recordings, and "clever" people are not as clever as they think they are. Cleaning up the sound on a studio recording is like photoshopping a pizza into a woman. If you think it's not possible, just check the video below
I'm not saying that everyone sings like a pizza and then they are going to make a studio recording and they become a hot chic. Nope... I'm just saying that even the most excellent singers have bad days and they also sing out of tune every once in a while. I agree with Andrea von Ramm, that a concert where every single not is well in tune is a boring concert. Please, dear performer, make a mistake for me! Prove me that you are a human being like I am and you don't thing that perfect intonation rules above all. I'm interested in your talent not your perfect intonation.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
On mainstream ad platforms
I don't like websites. Even though I have one, I still dislike them.
I don't like them, because everyone nowadays have one and I feel also obliged to have a website where I can show-off a little. Having a website is like getting and asking for attention 24/7 even if you don't need that amount of attention. Don't misunderstand me, I like to be in the middle of attention, I am an exhibitionist to the core, and I feel great on stage while performing, but the big difference between having the attention of people 24/7 and having their attention for a concert is the duration. Therefore I am obviously not aiming for being a mainstream artists in the sense of having a bunch of followers and/or stalkers who keep me entertained for the rest of my unnatural life.
I remember, when I was a little girl I loved to show my drawings to anyone around me to show-off with my drawing talent, but I hated when they wanted to watch the process as well. I haven't changed ever since: I like to share the songs I am singing and I enjoy the attention of the audience to the utmost, but when the concert is over and also the audience time is over afterwards, I enjoy to retire myself to my shell and (anti-social behaviour or not) keep myself away from people. That's also my main problem with fame, actually. You get unwanted attention and you have to keep your cool, otherwise you'll definitly loose your audience.
But back to websites... Yes, I have one and please feel free to check it out: http://www.johannafoldesi.com/
And no, I will not feel offended if you check out my website. I prefer to call it "online portfolio", or bungalow... or anything else but a website. The main reason why I hate to have one is that it wasn't my choice to get one, I was rather pushed to make one for myself, and even though I enjoy writing the contents and update it every once in a while, there's a slight loathing towards the fact that I am objectifying myself, I am making myself a product on 24/7 instead of doing that every once in a while by giving concerts. Let's nail my colours to must: an ensemble having a website or a facebook page, that's OK, I'm perfectly fine with that, because then a certain "organization" is advertising itself, and that's already condemned to objectify itself since it's not one personality but a mass of personalities.
Soooo... back to "whoring"... Please check out my website: http://www.johannafoldesi.com/
I don't like them, because everyone nowadays have one and I feel also obliged to have a website where I can show-off a little. Having a website is like getting and asking for attention 24/7 even if you don't need that amount of attention. Don't misunderstand me, I like to be in the middle of attention, I am an exhibitionist to the core, and I feel great on stage while performing, but the big difference between having the attention of people 24/7 and having their attention for a concert is the duration. Therefore I am obviously not aiming for being a mainstream artists in the sense of having a bunch of followers and/or stalkers who keep me entertained for the rest of my unnatural life.
I remember, when I was a little girl I loved to show my drawings to anyone around me to show-off with my drawing talent, but I hated when they wanted to watch the process as well. I haven't changed ever since: I like to share the songs I am singing and I enjoy the attention of the audience to the utmost, but when the concert is over and also the audience time is over afterwards, I enjoy to retire myself to my shell and (anti-social behaviour or not) keep myself away from people. That's also my main problem with fame, actually. You get unwanted attention and you have to keep your cool, otherwise you'll definitly loose your audience.
But back to websites... Yes, I have one and please feel free to check it out: http://www.johannafoldesi.com/
And no, I will not feel offended if you check out my website. I prefer to call it "online portfolio", or bungalow... or anything else but a website. The main reason why I hate to have one is that it wasn't my choice to get one, I was rather pushed to make one for myself, and even though I enjoy writing the contents and update it every once in a while, there's a slight loathing towards the fact that I am objectifying myself, I am making myself a product on 24/7 instead of doing that every once in a while by giving concerts. Let's nail my colours to must: an ensemble having a website or a facebook page, that's OK, I'm perfectly fine with that, because then a certain "organization" is advertising itself, and that's already condemned to objectify itself since it's not one personality but a mass of personalities.
Soooo... back to "whoring"... Please check out my website: http://www.johannafoldesi.com/
Thursday, February 19, 2015
All you need is Love - the tale of Max and the Nematanthus
About 2 years ago a friend of mine gave me a new potted plant, a nematanthus (they also call it "goldfish" flowers). I've already had an African violet since 2011, so I thought another potted plant couldn't be a problem.
You have to know, that before I had the African violet (which I will call Max, from now on, because that's his name, actually), plants just didn't want to survive around me. I've bought Max the day after I broke up with my boyfriend in 2011, and back then I was thinking that if this plant is going to survive, and it even going to bloom, I'm not that hopeless as a human being after all. My mother taught me that if you would like to buy a potted flower, you should buy the one that haven't yet open its flowerbuds, so I followed the instruction. I had done some research on how to take care of an African violet, also asked my mother (she's an expert in my eyes, when it comes to potted plants) and my grandmother (she has a lots of them at home) as well, gave him the name Max, and I was waiting what will happen after the flowerbuds open, and the flowers wither. I was expecting Max to die and was hoping for his survival at the same time, but he surpassed my expectations: instead of dying, not only he survived, he blooms like crazy whenever the time comes for blooming (mostly in spring, or whenever he's in the mood). Max brought me many nice memories with his flowers and made me proud (because of his flowers and my success, and it made me think "finally! I can keep at least a potted plant alive!"). He's still standing on my table enjoying scattered light, and next to Max there is the nematanthus.
In a way, it was completely different with the nematanthus. This little one almost prove my success with Max wrong, because in the first few days she spent in my room right next to Max, she dropped her buds. I did my research, like I had done when I bought Max (though neither my mother or my grandmother could help me, because they have never had a nematanthus before). I was looking at her dark green leafes and I didn't know what to do. It was clear she wasn't feeling comfortable in my room, though she didn't die right away, she just refused to bloom.
I had to realize that the nematanthus is more sensitive and more demanding than Max is. It was easy with Max: I just smiled at him proudly and he was happy, he felt at ease, and both of us were satisfied. So at a certain point, I literally told the nematanthus: I don't let you die. Made another vow as well, which brought a tiny vision along, but that's not something to share with the public (I have my secrets as well). The nematanthus arrived in November 2013, and around the first weeks of February 2014 a discovered she's growing a new sprout. Before that I was sure she would stay the way she were after dropping her flowerbuds (still hoping for some progress and growth, though I couldn't be 100% sure about the success), but more and more new sprouts appeared, and grew into new branches, aiming towards the window. I didn't do more than this during the whole time (ever since I made that vow): I was speaking to her, I was encouraging her and asked her not to give up, and I made her sure that I love her. She got the same treatment as Max always had, and kept talking to both of them. And then, in the end of August, last year, a flowerbud appeared on her, and though after blooming she didn't bring more flowers for a while, when I got back from Hungary in January two new flowerbuds apperared... and then again two more... and by now I discover every week a few new buds on the nematanthus.
The potted plant I was sure (regardless my bold vow, I don't let you die) I will only be able to keep in a vegetative state (without flowers) for a while, is now blooming, and I am grateful for every single little bud. This plant-experience reminds me to my grandfather (from my mother's side): the real plant and tree expert is him. He just smiles at his plants, flowers (especially his roses) and fruit trees in his garden and they are blooming, and the fruit trees are bringing delicious fruits, though the soil conditions in my hometown, Dévaványa is not a kind that a plant or a tree would wish for. And my grandfather also speaks to them, sometimes without speaking.
OK, why am I telling you about this gardening success of mine? In my opinion working together in an ensemble, working on your own development or your singing pupil's development is very much like gardening. And I am not talking about the botanical side of gardening, but taking care of a garden. I have never seen a good gardener whose garden would have been messy or filled with sick and dying plants, while taking care of others' gardens perfectly fine.
I obviously wanted to get better when I bought Max, and I wished for recovering when I saw the nematanthus dropping her flowers. I had to realize that not every potted plant needs the same treatment, just like not every individual is able to handle the same treatment when you teach them or work with them. It is essential that you stay calm and flexible at handling their problems, but above these you have to love them. Talent - doesn't matter if we are talking about a colleague's, a pupil's or your own - should be treated with love, and nothing more can inspire someone than knowing that he/she is being loved. Listen to them, look at them, pay attention to them, but never ever try to change them to be in a certain way on purpose, or force your way to the bottom of their heart. Be gentle, remain open and curious about the results they come up with: you never know what kind of and how many flowerbuds they'll show you. Just let them sing, guide them (based on what they need as an individual), comfort them when they are down, and never leave their side in crucial moments, just be their safety net. That's all they need.
You have to know, that before I had the African violet (which I will call Max, from now on, because that's his name, actually), plants just didn't want to survive around me. I've bought Max the day after I broke up with my boyfriend in 2011, and back then I was thinking that if this plant is going to survive, and it even going to bloom, I'm not that hopeless as a human being after all. My mother taught me that if you would like to buy a potted flower, you should buy the one that haven't yet open its flowerbuds, so I followed the instruction. I had done some research on how to take care of an African violet, also asked my mother (she's an expert in my eyes, when it comes to potted plants) and my grandmother (she has a lots of them at home) as well, gave him the name Max, and I was waiting what will happen after the flowerbuds open, and the flowers wither. I was expecting Max to die and was hoping for his survival at the same time, but he surpassed my expectations: instead of dying, not only he survived, he blooms like crazy whenever the time comes for blooming (mostly in spring, or whenever he's in the mood). Max brought me many nice memories with his flowers and made me proud (because of his flowers and my success, and it made me think "finally! I can keep at least a potted plant alive!"). He's still standing on my table enjoying scattered light, and next to Max there is the nematanthus.
In a way, it was completely different with the nematanthus. This little one almost prove my success with Max wrong, because in the first few days she spent in my room right next to Max, she dropped her buds. I did my research, like I had done when I bought Max (though neither my mother or my grandmother could help me, because they have never had a nematanthus before). I was looking at her dark green leafes and I didn't know what to do. It was clear she wasn't feeling comfortable in my room, though she didn't die right away, she just refused to bloom.
I had to realize that the nematanthus is more sensitive and more demanding than Max is. It was easy with Max: I just smiled at him proudly and he was happy, he felt at ease, and both of us were satisfied. So at a certain point, I literally told the nematanthus: I don't let you die. Made another vow as well, which brought a tiny vision along, but that's not something to share with the public (I have my secrets as well). The nematanthus arrived in November 2013, and around the first weeks of February 2014 a discovered she's growing a new sprout. Before that I was sure she would stay the way she were after dropping her flowerbuds (still hoping for some progress and growth, though I couldn't be 100% sure about the success), but more and more new sprouts appeared, and grew into new branches, aiming towards the window. I didn't do more than this during the whole time (ever since I made that vow): I was speaking to her, I was encouraging her and asked her not to give up, and I made her sure that I love her. She got the same treatment as Max always had, and kept talking to both of them. And then, in the end of August, last year, a flowerbud appeared on her, and though after blooming she didn't bring more flowers for a while, when I got back from Hungary in January two new flowerbuds apperared... and then again two more... and by now I discover every week a few new buds on the nematanthus.
The potted plant I was sure (regardless my bold vow, I don't let you die) I will only be able to keep in a vegetative state (without flowers) for a while, is now blooming, and I am grateful for every single little bud. This plant-experience reminds me to my grandfather (from my mother's side): the real plant and tree expert is him. He just smiles at his plants, flowers (especially his roses) and fruit trees in his garden and they are blooming, and the fruit trees are bringing delicious fruits, though the soil conditions in my hometown, Dévaványa is not a kind that a plant or a tree would wish for. And my grandfather also speaks to them, sometimes without speaking.
OK, why am I telling you about this gardening success of mine? In my opinion working together in an ensemble, working on your own development or your singing pupil's development is very much like gardening. And I am not talking about the botanical side of gardening, but taking care of a garden. I have never seen a good gardener whose garden would have been messy or filled with sick and dying plants, while taking care of others' gardens perfectly fine.
I obviously wanted to get better when I bought Max, and I wished for recovering when I saw the nematanthus dropping her flowers. I had to realize that not every potted plant needs the same treatment, just like not every individual is able to handle the same treatment when you teach them or work with them. It is essential that you stay calm and flexible at handling their problems, but above these you have to love them. Talent - doesn't matter if we are talking about a colleague's, a pupil's or your own - should be treated with love, and nothing more can inspire someone than knowing that he/she is being loved. Listen to them, look at them, pay attention to them, but never ever try to change them to be in a certain way on purpose, or force your way to the bottom of their heart. Be gentle, remain open and curious about the results they come up with: you never know what kind of and how many flowerbuds they'll show you. Just let them sing, guide them (based on what they need as an individual), comfort them when they are down, and never leave their side in crucial moments, just be their safety net. That's all they need.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Living in the world of extremes
It doesn't matter how I look at it I still think we are living in a world of extremes. What makes me say this? Well, take a look at the artworks and peformances of nowadays. Art has always served as a mirror to reflect what's happening and also exaggerate it a little so it would bat an eye (at least a little).
But now this mirror-effect is even stronger. I mean, if I take a look at how different music genre's (classical, ligh music and early music) vocal music sounds like, the difference in vibrato preference is almost abstract, if not extreme and insane. Once a guy said in the end of 19th-century that using a lot of vibrato is considered as bad taste, and now everyone (especially authenticity freaks among early musicians) thinks that music should lack vibrato (if you ask me, this is simply a misinterpretation of a source reading, but that only my humble opinion, or in other words: don't take everything you read literally). As for me, I don't mind vibrato on the voice at all (and I am a non-authenticity freak, and a graduated singer specialized on early music repertory), if it's elegant and natural. Those who prefer this laser-voice thingie (I'm sorry, but I don't have a better word for this) don't know anything about the physics behind producing a sound: when the air is vibrating, it becomes something audible (it depends on the vibratory if we are able to hear it or not), and if the vibration has a regular pattern, it's called a sound, but if this pattern is irregular it's called a noise.
On muscular level and if you don't know how to produce this non-vibrato laser thingie you just grab your own larynx and don't let it move on it's natural way. Ehm... I think I've written something earlier about manipulating the muscles and how damaging it can be if you do it longer than you should (in this context "longer than you should" means "any length", so just try not to do it), but here you go: if you don' let your body work for you, although your body knows much better than your brain how to produce a sound, you'll get problems. The larynx is supposed to move freely without any manipulation during singing. That's one of the edges of the extremes; the other one when you try to move your larynx in a certain way in order to create the vibration - I don't think I have to repeat myself, so just shortly put: since it's manipulated, controlled, therefore it's bad for your voice. In both cases, also the breathing is being controlled and is by no means free, so there's a huge possibility that there's other muscular tensions in the body while you're trying to either create one of them: the vibration or the non-vibration - instead of letting it happen.
But my point is... It is extreme how classical singers' vocal interpration is full of vibration, while early music is almost weirdly and unnaturally non-vibrato, and then you have the light music singers who mix the two a little, and they sound still more natural than any singer who uses bel canto. And it is weird, because bel canto is all about following the natural muscle movements of the body (especially the larynx), while for example belting (as far as I experienced) is doing the opposite but still in a good way so you wouldn't harm your larynx and the vocalchords.
Another extreme shows in how musicians treat improvisation nowadays. A few weeks ago a friend of mine shared and interesting article which says (already in the title) we are playing classical music all wrong, because composers wanted us to improvise. I remember how afraid I was from improvising simply because I've never done it before, but the moment I began to experiment with my voice and explore my limits, this fear turned into curiousity towards the unknown. Last year in November I had the luck to participate in a project based on vocal improvisation (for those whom are interested: check out the Klankconcerten or if you don't speak Dutch, just watch this video to get an idea). When I was preparing for the rehearsals (we've got a few instructions on the improvised pieces) a part of me, which was still afraid of making mistakes, was also afraid of improvisation. What if I do something wrong? But then I thought: there's no way I can make a mistake if I listen carefully to the other singers - and I was right.
Why don't classical musicians improvise? They are not used to it, and most of the teachers at the conservatories don't push them towards improvisation (except for those who actually teach improvisation). Early musicians are a bit better on this, because the earlier the repertory, the more improvisation is required (in those good old times in the 10th-14th-centuries the scribes just didn't write everything down). Yet again, we have the other edge of extreme: jazz, which is (comparing to classical music performances) full of improvisations.
So yes, we are living in a world of extremes. I'm just wondering could this Planet and the Humanity be saved, if every artist would try to balance the sharp and wounding difference between the edges of the extremes? Maybe even wars and terrorism could be stopped, but that's just an idea...
But now this mirror-effect is even stronger. I mean, if I take a look at how different music genre's (classical, ligh music and early music) vocal music sounds like, the difference in vibrato preference is almost abstract, if not extreme and insane. Once a guy said in the end of 19th-century that using a lot of vibrato is considered as bad taste, and now everyone (especially authenticity freaks among early musicians) thinks that music should lack vibrato (if you ask me, this is simply a misinterpretation of a source reading, but that only my humble opinion, or in other words: don't take everything you read literally). As for me, I don't mind vibrato on the voice at all (and I am a non-authenticity freak, and a graduated singer specialized on early music repertory), if it's elegant and natural. Those who prefer this laser-voice thingie (I'm sorry, but I don't have a better word for this) don't know anything about the physics behind producing a sound: when the air is vibrating, it becomes something audible (it depends on the vibratory if we are able to hear it or not), and if the vibration has a regular pattern, it's called a sound, but if this pattern is irregular it's called a noise.
On muscular level and if you don't know how to produce this non-vibrato laser thingie you just grab your own larynx and don't let it move on it's natural way. Ehm... I think I've written something earlier about manipulating the muscles and how damaging it can be if you do it longer than you should (in this context "longer than you should" means "any length", so just try not to do it), but here you go: if you don' let your body work for you, although your body knows much better than your brain how to produce a sound, you'll get problems. The larynx is supposed to move freely without any manipulation during singing. That's one of the edges of the extremes; the other one when you try to move your larynx in a certain way in order to create the vibration - I don't think I have to repeat myself, so just shortly put: since it's manipulated, controlled, therefore it's bad for your voice. In both cases, also the breathing is being controlled and is by no means free, so there's a huge possibility that there's other muscular tensions in the body while you're trying to either create one of them: the vibration or the non-vibration - instead of letting it happen.
But my point is... It is extreme how classical singers' vocal interpration is full of vibration, while early music is almost weirdly and unnaturally non-vibrato, and then you have the light music singers who mix the two a little, and they sound still more natural than any singer who uses bel canto. And it is weird, because bel canto is all about following the natural muscle movements of the body (especially the larynx), while for example belting (as far as I experienced) is doing the opposite but still in a good way so you wouldn't harm your larynx and the vocalchords.
Another extreme shows in how musicians treat improvisation nowadays. A few weeks ago a friend of mine shared and interesting article which says (already in the title) we are playing classical music all wrong, because composers wanted us to improvise. I remember how afraid I was from improvising simply because I've never done it before, but the moment I began to experiment with my voice and explore my limits, this fear turned into curiousity towards the unknown. Last year in November I had the luck to participate in a project based on vocal improvisation (for those whom are interested: check out the Klankconcerten or if you don't speak Dutch, just watch this video to get an idea). When I was preparing for the rehearsals (we've got a few instructions on the improvised pieces) a part of me, which was still afraid of making mistakes, was also afraid of improvisation. What if I do something wrong? But then I thought: there's no way I can make a mistake if I listen carefully to the other singers - and I was right.
Why don't classical musicians improvise? They are not used to it, and most of the teachers at the conservatories don't push them towards improvisation (except for those who actually teach improvisation). Early musicians are a bit better on this, because the earlier the repertory, the more improvisation is required (in those good old times in the 10th-14th-centuries the scribes just didn't write everything down). Yet again, we have the other edge of extreme: jazz, which is (comparing to classical music performances) full of improvisations.
So yes, we are living in a world of extremes. I'm just wondering could this Planet and the Humanity be saved, if every artist would try to balance the sharp and wounding difference between the edges of the extremes? Maybe even wars and terrorism could be stopped, but that's just an idea...
Friday, February 6, 2015
Everything is possible (part 2)
I don't know why's that, but I am fond of paradoxons, just like this motto of mine: Everything is possible.
And now let me explain to you, what this sentence means to me: I believe that everything is possible, that I am able to sing literally anything regardless genre, style, range (obviously within the ambitus of my voice), because from an anatomic point of view, it is possible. Every fear, and limit we draw is actually between our ears, and by that I mean, that if you are open minded enough, there is no such thing as "too low" or "too high", or even "too middle" (some singers are afraid of their middle register - someone has to explain this to me what is the reason behind that).
If you think about it, singing is just muscle work and like every muscle, you can train these muscles, and if it is muscle work, you can think about singing also as a vocal work-out. The more muscle mass you have, the stronger your voice get. On the other hand, by remaining open-minded in every situation results a better access to the resonance, and also the "hidden reserves" of your instrument.
This kind of mindset also requires daring to take risks. Take the risk of failure, because if everything is possible, it is possible that it is impossible.
It is a little bit like Schrödinger's cat, which is just as alive as it is dead in that box, but you will never find out the truth unless you open the box. After all, what can you possibly loose? Will you die or will it do any harm to you if you fail at something in singing? I have never seen a singer making a mistake while making music and got hit by lightning (yes, I am exaggerating it, and I am doing it on purpose).
Of course we would like to choose for the safest and easiest solutions (except for me: there's nothing exciting and challenging about safe and easy...), because we are aftraid of getting hurt in any way, and we were taught to be careful in any circumstances (when we cross the road, ride the bike, etc.). But don't tell me, you have never enjoyed the divine mix of excitement and fear, which causes an adrenalin-rush in your body... It is just fun... So why not taking the risk and saying: everything is possible?
Interestingly enough, all those phrases that leaves a singer's lips regarding range, style and genre, those phrases are rather reflecting on their own fears. When they say - for example - "I'm a soprano, and singing below C' is too low for me", that is not showing something that this particular singer capable of, but her decision that she doesn't want to sing below C' (sad, but true, and truth can be pretty ugly sometimes). Therefore I am not really fond of putting a stamp on my forehead which shouts which voicetype I am. It is true, that I don't like to peep too high, but if I have to, I can do it, because I know my organs and muscles are able to get those high notes. Also it depends on my mood sometimes: sometimes I enjoy going all the way to my chest voice and enjoy the vibration behind my collarbone and eyes, but there are days when I am in the mood of discovering the upper limits of my voice.
This doesn't mean I don't use certain registers from time to time when I practise. I always explore my whole range, it is just how I feel about it at that very moment, and that can change from morning to afternoon.
So just like Mark Twain said: Explore. Dream. Discover. You never know what is waiting for you beyond the limits you drew for yourself. If you keep your mind open and flexible, this mindset will keep your body open and flexible.
And now let me explain to you, what this sentence means to me: I believe that everything is possible, that I am able to sing literally anything regardless genre, style, range (obviously within the ambitus of my voice), because from an anatomic point of view, it is possible. Every fear, and limit we draw is actually between our ears, and by that I mean, that if you are open minded enough, there is no such thing as "too low" or "too high", or even "too middle" (some singers are afraid of their middle register - someone has to explain this to me what is the reason behind that).
If you think about it, singing is just muscle work and like every muscle, you can train these muscles, and if it is muscle work, you can think about singing also as a vocal work-out. The more muscle mass you have, the stronger your voice get. On the other hand, by remaining open-minded in every situation results a better access to the resonance, and also the "hidden reserves" of your instrument.
This kind of mindset also requires daring to take risks. Take the risk of failure, because if everything is possible, it is possible that it is impossible.
Of course we would like to choose for the safest and easiest solutions (except for me: there's nothing exciting and challenging about safe and easy...), because we are aftraid of getting hurt in any way, and we were taught to be careful in any circumstances (when we cross the road, ride the bike, etc.). But don't tell me, you have never enjoyed the divine mix of excitement and fear, which causes an adrenalin-rush in your body... It is just fun... So why not taking the risk and saying: everything is possible?
Interestingly enough, all those phrases that leaves a singer's lips regarding range, style and genre, those phrases are rather reflecting on their own fears. When they say - for example - "I'm a soprano, and singing below C' is too low for me", that is not showing something that this particular singer capable of, but her decision that she doesn't want to sing below C' (sad, but true, and truth can be pretty ugly sometimes). Therefore I am not really fond of putting a stamp on my forehead which shouts which voicetype I am. It is true, that I don't like to peep too high, but if I have to, I can do it, because I know my organs and muscles are able to get those high notes. Also it depends on my mood sometimes: sometimes I enjoy going all the way to my chest voice and enjoy the vibration behind my collarbone and eyes, but there are days when I am in the mood of discovering the upper limits of my voice.
This doesn't mean I don't use certain registers from time to time when I practise. I always explore my whole range, it is just how I feel about it at that very moment, and that can change from morning to afternoon.
So just like Mark Twain said: Explore. Dream. Discover. You never know what is waiting for you beyond the limits you drew for yourself. If you keep your mind open and flexible, this mindset will keep your body open and flexible.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Never judge a book by its cover
When I was a kid I was convinced that the things on this world are either black or white, good or bad, and nothing in between. I think I might have thought that way, because my parents were raising me and my brother in consequent way, and I am really grateful to them for doing so. They drew a very clear and firm line between what I am allowed to do and what not, and if I asked them why I am not allowed to do a particular thing, they cared to explain me in a sober way.
Time passed and finally I had to leave home to bend into the society which said to be important, but I've enjoyed being alone more and more as I got to know this society. Nope, I'm not anti-social, I just cannot stand stupidity and pointless insults - that's all... That's why I may seem to isolate myself sometimes from people, but to tell the truth I enjoy to be in the company of people, but I prefer to listen to them and observe them. It is almost like reading a book, so that's how I learned that if you would like to get to know someone really good, you shouldn't just listen to them, but also observe them, and even if you listen to them do it in such way that you don't get lost in their words, but you try to understand their motivation. You would be suprised what simple things can serve as a motivation behind our deeds and how our bodylanguage can tell more about ourselves than the words that are leaving our lips.
For me getting to know people is really like reading a book, and I learned quite early not to judge any book by its cover. And as a matter of fact, when you give a singing lesson, you do the same thing: you are reading your pupil(s) body language, movements, breathing, etc. The more you read them and the more you know about them, the more you can help them solve their vocal problems - and the more they can help you solve your own vocal problems and help you deepen your knowledge and understanding about how your instrument works. They are singing books; some of them loud and proud, some of them shy and timid, but they all have one thing in common: all of them are valuable, precious and vulnerable work, something to appreciate and to take a good care of.
Time passed and finally I had to leave home to bend into the society which said to be important, but I've enjoyed being alone more and more as I got to know this society. Nope, I'm not anti-social, I just cannot stand stupidity and pointless insults - that's all... That's why I may seem to isolate myself sometimes from people, but to tell the truth I enjoy to be in the company of people, but I prefer to listen to them and observe them. It is almost like reading a book, so that's how I learned that if you would like to get to know someone really good, you shouldn't just listen to them, but also observe them, and even if you listen to them do it in such way that you don't get lost in their words, but you try to understand their motivation. You would be suprised what simple things can serve as a motivation behind our deeds and how our bodylanguage can tell more about ourselves than the words that are leaving our lips.
For me getting to know people is really like reading a book, and I learned quite early not to judge any book by its cover. And as a matter of fact, when you give a singing lesson, you do the same thing: you are reading your pupil(s) body language, movements, breathing, etc. The more you read them and the more you know about them, the more you can help them solve their vocal problems - and the more they can help you solve your own vocal problems and help you deepen your knowledge and understanding about how your instrument works. They are singing books; some of them loud and proud, some of them shy and timid, but they all have one thing in common: all of them are valuable, precious and vulnerable work, something to appreciate and to take a good care of.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Everything is possible (part 1)
It really wouldn't be me, if a sentence as the title says "Everything is possible" wouldn't serve as a motto of my life as a professional musician. As much as a paradox it is, as much as it inspired me in past few years.
Back then when I began my studies at the conservatory I had pretty primitive ideas about singing and music in general. Based on the repertory building beforehand I was convinced, just like everyone else nowadays that there's no free passing between voice types, in other words your preferred register defines the repertory you are able to sing. But the years I spent as an early vocal ensemble music student and also Ildikó Hajnal, my singing teacher's methods and approach pushed me towards new boundaries, and that reminded me to the very essential idea why I've actually decided to be a singer. And that idea was actually that I wanted to see how far I could get with it, to figure out where my limits are as a musician and as a singer.
To be honest, and without being all the way stuck up, I am a multitalented, intelligent and smart woman (which is quite something if you take a look at my beuatiful blond hair...), and as being one I could be anything I wanted to be. I figured this out at some quite early age, so thanks to that I always knew what I wanted to be and that was always something else: architect, lawyer, captain of a ship (sometimes even a space ship), astronaut, teacher, pirate, physician, journalist, writer, historian, restaurator, painter, mob boss, detective, pathologist, secret agent or mad scientist - but hell, never a musician! In grammar school, I was such a bookworm that while my classmates were living their normal puberty lives, I spent my long afternoons and evenings in libraries (no misunderstanding: there was one at school, another one at the dormitory where I was living in those times and the of the central library of the region - this one was actually behind my school). In the year of graduation I had enough, and I was aso allowed to get some extra time for my singing lessons at the music school. This meant a 90 minutes long singing lesson every week, from which 60 minutes was the actual lesson and the remaining 30 minutes rehearsing with a pianist under the supervision of my singing teacher at that time, Erzsébet Feichter). I had to play the piano and though I should have attended music theory lessons, I chose to sing in the choir of the music school instead.
Before I realized I've got more involved in music and with singing than I made up my mind to become a singer. When I told the people around me (my family, my classmates, my friends and my teachers) that I am planning to give the auditions of the conservatory in Miskolc a go, many of them laughed at me or just looked at me as if I were out of my mind. My chosen faculties in grammar school were history, and Hungarian literature and grammar; in the end it turned out I haven't dawdled away my time with those countless hours spent with my faculty subjects, because if you are getting involved with early music, some extra knowledge in history, literature and grammar pays off pretty well.
Well, as you can see I did not become a lawyer, neither a pirate, but I've become a singer which is a way better than all the other professions I've ever imagined to myself. Why? Because music and singing requires a fresh and fit mind all the time, pushing you to learn something new everyday, and also pushing you to extend or even exceed your limits.
Everything is possible... Yes, believe it or not, everything is possible, even for a bookworm to become a singer. For many years I've listened to the discrimination of my kind ("my kind" here stands for people with intelligence, high intellect and strong thirst for knowledge) considering them as people who have barely the ability or they are just simply unable to sense the little nuances of their body, and that thinking and their intelligence is actually in the way of artistic expression. But you know what? That's not true. It is true, that if you keep telling someone, who's happen to be smarter and has a bigger theoretical knowledge than you, that these merits are bad and they are preventing him/her from musical development, he/she will believe you after a while and will curse himself/herself for the gift he/she was given. I wouldn't classify people like thinkers and emotionals. I believe that each of us has the equal ability to feel, sense and understand the world that surrounds us, it is just the matter of personal choice which approach we would like to choose and where do our priorities lie.
After I figured that my intelligence and intellect used in an effective and proper way will help me to develop as a singer and as a muscian, a whole new world opened up for me, and slowly the thought of "everything is possible" took over my mind and I've begun to experiment more and more...
Back then when I began my studies at the conservatory I had pretty primitive ideas about singing and music in general. Based on the repertory building beforehand I was convinced, just like everyone else nowadays that there's no free passing between voice types, in other words your preferred register defines the repertory you are able to sing. But the years I spent as an early vocal ensemble music student and also Ildikó Hajnal, my singing teacher's methods and approach pushed me towards new boundaries, and that reminded me to the very essential idea why I've actually decided to be a singer. And that idea was actually that I wanted to see how far I could get with it, to figure out where my limits are as a musician and as a singer.
To be honest, and without being all the way stuck up, I am a multitalented, intelligent and smart woman (which is quite something if you take a look at my beuatiful blond hair...), and as being one I could be anything I wanted to be. I figured this out at some quite early age, so thanks to that I always knew what I wanted to be and that was always something else: architect, lawyer, captain of a ship (sometimes even a space ship), astronaut, teacher, pirate, physician, journalist, writer, historian, restaurator, painter, mob boss, detective, pathologist, secret agent or mad scientist - but hell, never a musician! In grammar school, I was such a bookworm that while my classmates were living their normal puberty lives, I spent my long afternoons and evenings in libraries (no misunderstanding: there was one at school, another one at the dormitory where I was living in those times and the of the central library of the region - this one was actually behind my school). In the year of graduation I had enough, and I was aso allowed to get some extra time for my singing lessons at the music school. This meant a 90 minutes long singing lesson every week, from which 60 minutes was the actual lesson and the remaining 30 minutes rehearsing with a pianist under the supervision of my singing teacher at that time, Erzsébet Feichter). I had to play the piano and though I should have attended music theory lessons, I chose to sing in the choir of the music school instead.
Before I realized I've got more involved in music and with singing than I made up my mind to become a singer. When I told the people around me (my family, my classmates, my friends and my teachers) that I am planning to give the auditions of the conservatory in Miskolc a go, many of them laughed at me or just looked at me as if I were out of my mind. My chosen faculties in grammar school were history, and Hungarian literature and grammar; in the end it turned out I haven't dawdled away my time with those countless hours spent with my faculty subjects, because if you are getting involved with early music, some extra knowledge in history, literature and grammar pays off pretty well.
Well, as you can see I did not become a lawyer, neither a pirate, but I've become a singer which is a way better than all the other professions I've ever imagined to myself. Why? Because music and singing requires a fresh and fit mind all the time, pushing you to learn something new everyday, and also pushing you to extend or even exceed your limits.
Everything is possible... Yes, believe it or not, everything is possible, even for a bookworm to become a singer. For many years I've listened to the discrimination of my kind ("my kind" here stands for people with intelligence, high intellect and strong thirst for knowledge) considering them as people who have barely the ability or they are just simply unable to sense the little nuances of their body, and that thinking and their intelligence is actually in the way of artistic expression. But you know what? That's not true. It is true, that if you keep telling someone, who's happen to be smarter and has a bigger theoretical knowledge than you, that these merits are bad and they are preventing him/her from musical development, he/she will believe you after a while and will curse himself/herself for the gift he/she was given. I wouldn't classify people like thinkers and emotionals. I believe that each of us has the equal ability to feel, sense and understand the world that surrounds us, it is just the matter of personal choice which approach we would like to choose and where do our priorities lie.
After I figured that my intelligence and intellect used in an effective and proper way will help me to develop as a singer and as a muscian, a whole new world opened up for me, and slowly the thought of "everything is possible" took over my mind and I've begun to experiment more and more...
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Letting go
Maybe it's the rain we've been having recently
Something about the rain keeps reminding me
But these days I'm sure you would be surprised
I'm a different person you'd hardly recognise
And there's the reasons why I know
But nobody tells you but the letting go.
Something about the rain keeps reminding me
But these days I'm sure you would be surprised
I'm a different person you'd hardly recognise
And there's the reasons why I know
But nobody tells you but the letting go.
(Joe Cocker: The letting go)
It is raining now for a while here in the Netherlands. Well, if you live here, sometimes you have the very feeling it is raining all the time, but I'm not complaining, the weather was quite nice in the past year, it was warm spiced up with a lot of sunshine. But to tell the truth, I actually like rain very much. Not the part where I am getting all the way wet to my bones while riding my bike in the rain to the restaurant where I work, or on the way back, but the rain itself. I like to take an umbrella and some waterproof footware and just walk in the rain and enjoy the scent of it. I like the way how it washes away everything and when it stops raining, and the sky clears up you value the sunshine even more.
No, there's no misunderstanding, I am writing about letting go. There are many things I would like to let go recently: old habits, fears, doubts, painful memories (because during the great and fun time I had in the past years, I had collected some painful ones as well), etc. In a way, I agree with Carrie Fisher saying in the beginning of her HBO stage show Wishful drinking (which I recommend everyone to watch, because it's hilarious): "I have to start by telling you that my entire lifecould be summed up in one phrase, and that is: if my life wasn't funny, it would just be true, and that is completely
unacceptable. Now... what that means is (other than what it sounds like): let's say something
happens and from a certain slant, maybe it's tragic and even a little
bit shocking. And then time passes and you go to the funny slant and now
that very same thing can no longer do you any harm. So, what we're really talking about then is location, location, location"
True. Sometimes I am indulging myself in the past, though I know very well that the past is a nice place to visit but never a pleasant place to stay. Recently I am finding myself wondering about things I could have done better in the past and what I could do in the future in a different way, but the only conclusion I get to is that I need change and I need to let go everything: the past, the fears, the doubts, the pain, and everything else that holds me back.
I remember the last time I had enough of being inable to move anywhere. I felt I was stuck and I had the feeling I cannot breath anymore, and these feelings were painfully familiar. At that time I had no idea how to move out from that hesitating state, being afraid of anything that came into my way. That was the time when I had my ever first portfolio shoot and there I could let go (well, I was half naked), and I could do it for three reasons:
- I wanted to show my instrument in a way that nobody would expect me to do so. After all, you don't put clothes on a piano, or on a violin or on a cello - that would look sooo silly...
- By the end of the training I've got during the 6 years of Conservatory I felt myself denuded from many of my old habits.
- I had soooo much fun :)))
Letting go is the hardest thing I've ever encountered, because it holds the possibility of radical change and loosing something that we think it is useful for us. Letting go chases us out into the wilderness of the soul where God knows what awaits for us (for some reason the first that would pop one's mind is something dangerous, or even lethal - isn't it interesting?). I am still learning the art of letting go. So far the most succesfull "letting go"-events were when I could forget about the possible consequences in a way that not even the term would have popped up in my mind. Of course there were a whole series of events that put me into that state of mind.
I am looking for that state of mind now: in the rain, hoping it would wash away everything while waiting for the vital ray of sunshine on my skin and on the path I am following. So I let it rain, I let it go...
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Catering industry vs. Classical musicians
OK, not Classical Musicians... Classical Musicians and Early Musicians alike...
I have a part-time job at a restaurant in the outskirts of Tilburg. No, I am not a perky waitress, neither helping out in the kitchen. I am on the bottom of the hierarchy: I am one of the dishwashers. Heavy physical work, but if you do it right it can bring your body some benefit (it is like a complete work out). I work here since Easter last year, and though doing the dishes doesn't match with my profession, it is good to keep my financial basis firm and on the other hand the schedule is flexible. There's not such a high salary that would pay enough to give up such flexibility. As a musician you need this flexibility, because the amount of commissions and concerts are not frequent enough to provide you enough money to make a living.
I have a part-time job at a restaurant in the outskirts of Tilburg. No, I am not a perky waitress, neither helping out in the kitchen. I am on the bottom of the hierarchy: I am one of the dishwashers. Heavy physical work, but if you do it right it can bring your body some benefit (it is like a complete work out). I work here since Easter last year, and though doing the dishes doesn't match with my profession, it is good to keep my financial basis firm and on the other hand the schedule is flexible. There's not such a high salary that would pay enough to give up such flexibility. As a musician you need this flexibility, because the amount of commissions and concerts are not frequent enough to provide you enough money to make a living.
I am sure
many of you have done this kind of job before, but comparing to other
restaurants, this one is different in many ways. First of all you cannot order
a meal a la carte, because they don't have a menu card. They are specialized on
parties, events, catering, feasts, birthdays, weddings, receptions, etc. Three halls,
a bar, and two smaller independent buildings give place to these events, and
there are days when all of these are full of people and they even have more
than one team going on providing catering service somewhere else. Yes, it is
extreme, but I love it. It tears my body apart, because my task is not only
doing the dishes, but also cleaning everything up, and put the clean stuff
where they belong to (in the kitchen, or on the backroom, or wherever they have
to be put). So it is not only physical job, but also requires some smart
planning of logistics, fitnesse and effective quickness.
I have spent
several months there until now, and I have to say that we, musicians
(especially classical and early musicians) have what to learn from these
people. Here's a list with some explanation to each point:
1. The
customer's No.1 priority
It doesn't
matter how much time and energy the chef invested in that particular dish, if it
tastes awful, the customer won't pay for it. It is interesting how our audience
works, and in many sense we, musicians, can be really grateful for their
patience. I mean, nobody would ever let anyone to push some awful tasting food
down his/her throat at a restaurant, but our public will clap no matter what we
do. But no matter how much time the chef spent with that disgusting stuff, you
won't eat it. Isn't this a little upside down? There's one thing in common
though with restaurants with horrible food and musicians giving terrible
concerts: after a short time they will loose their customers (and not only
because nothing lasts forever).
2. Effective
teamwork is more important than anything
During
parties, dinner events and many more, waiters, waitresses, chefs and everyone
in this restaurant are working in such an effective and cooperative way that
the result works as a well-oiled machine and all the guests have a great time
there. But when the guests are going home, this team continue to work on
preparing the other day’s event, and they are helping eachother in
order to finish as soon as possible. This is definitly something I am always
amazed about, whenever I see it. They either learned or they behave by nature
in this certain way, because they know that being an obstacle cause them
nothing but trouble and misfortune (not immediate, but long-term trouble and
misfortune). There is this joke about the waitress and her friend are having a
conversation about a night out in town:
- Sooo... Can you make it tonight to go out in town?
- I don’t know, I have to work from 16:00 o’clock.
- And when will your shift finish?
- Finish? My shift doesn’t have an end-time...
There is no
definite end-time of the shift: it finishes when the job is done.
On the level
of musicians teamwork (in best cases) works until the final cadence of the
concert, and then they are just looking for their own benefit. I may be wrong
(I've already said that I'm not right, neither I possess the truth – nobody
does actually) but musicians can be really an obstacle in eachothers
development and success (more often on purpose than unintended, unfortunately).
They call it competition, which is OK, if two ensembles are competing with
eachother on the market, but this occurs too often among the members of an
ensemble and in my point of view, that's just simply pointless and stupid. Being
an obstacle in your fellow musician’s way is the same thing when a waitress’
priority is not being part of the team, but seeking her own good. Musicians and
singers don’t do this because they are bad or evil people, they are doing so,
because they are so busy with being an artist and with the music they are
performing (especially with the interpretation they imagined behind the notes)
that they are just completely clueless when it comes to behave like a human
being. People (and this applies on everyone in general, this is just human
nature) don’t think about long-term solutions. For some reason they are also
happy with temporarly pleasures and their selfishness only brings them misery,
bitterness and loneliness. They are choosing for the short-term pleasures,
because long-term solutions require sacrifices, and because these sacrifices
don’t pay-off immediately, and because people are impatient in general, they
won’t take the risk of giving away something small for something bigger (which
pays off at an unexpected and unpredictable time).
NB: Dear Singers, I have really bad news for ya... Being a singer means to take these risks and make these lesser (sometimes even seemingly bigger) sacrifices if you would like to do your thing right. Good news: it always pays off quite nicely and your reward will also stay for a life-time (if you are smart enough).
NB: Dear Singers, I have really bad news for ya... Being a singer means to take these risks and make these lesser (sometimes even seemingly bigger) sacrifices if you would like to do your thing right. Good news: it always pays off quite nicely and your reward will also stay for a life-time (if you are smart enough).
3. If the customer is happy, we are happy
This seems
to be the same thing as the first one, but this actually rather points out that
if you make your customer happy, it will make you (as the provider of this
happines) also feel good about it. Positive feedback and positive emotions are
just as important for someone who works in the catering industry as it is for
you, dear performing musicians. I hear many people complaining about how they
cannot make a living as a musician or as a singer (nevertheless, comparing to
the Middle Ages, when musicians were the outcast of society, you can be happy
about being considered as an equal human being, protected by the law as anyone
else). Well, it is because you know what would make your audience happy, but
you are just refusing to satisfy their needs. Of course they won’t want to
listen to your mindf*cked ideas, if you don’t serve it in such way that it
would get them in the mood of eating it. It’s like having sex with someone
without any foreplay: a quickie can be exciting and pleasuresome from time to
time, but invade your partner with only quickies and having only
one-night-stands will only fuck-up your emotional life. The opposite also
applies: if you serve your a little-bit of perverted ideas in an „edable”-way,
even a mindf*ck will spice up your relationship with your audience. You just
need to put these ideas in context and be really clear about communicating
them.
Among this list, and to refer to someone else’s words proving we need to change our mindset about concert and/or music concepts, there you go: a really interesting, recently published article. Those, who follow my posts on Facebook, might have already seen me sharing this article, saying: I firmly believe that if one begins to think differently and voices his/her opinion, things may change things for good. (Partly that’s the reason why I am writing this blog, and also because I’m a hopeless exhibitionist craving for your attention – like every performing artist is). I had the luck to meet Brendan Walsh (the author of this article), and I was also attending his lectures Cultural entrepreneurship at the Fontys Conservatory in Tilburg. To be honest I didn’t want to go to his lectures, and I had one simple reason: in my experience, though Fontys Conservatory is an innovative institution willing to improve education with great lecture ideas, their business-related lessons during my Bachelor years were simply a disaster (guest speakers without any clue about music industry or the manners of the classical musician world). So I thought he will be just the same as his predecessors, but I was wrong. Maybe the most remarkable memory from his lectures regarding the subject of this entry when he stated something I had never imagined a performing musician would ever admit: the new generation of musicians is a threat for the generation before them. When I’ve heard him saying that I was silently applausing and rejoicing in myself, and with this statement he became (in my eyes, at least) from an entertaining teacher and presenter to someone worths pay attention to. So there it goes, a shout-out for his article: Classical Music is dead... Long live Classical Music!
NB: He mentiones a few recent attempts to make classical music a product which sells better, by putting classical music performances in new context (regarding location, dancing to classical music and such), which is (in my opinion, again) a good way to point out we need change, but until our attitude won't change, none of the results (good or bad) will hold - nevertheless, we need these pointing fingers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)