Parenting Month 106: A rounded life

In one weekend in December, DS9 had the following:

• Taekwondo mid-term testing as a 2nd degree black belt
• Chinese final exam
• University music prep department piano recital
• Elementary school choral concert (Small Ensemble)

This covers sports, language, and a double dose of arts. The only thing he was missing was something in math and sciences (next year, if he continues robotics with First LEGO League, there will be something around this time of year).

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DS9 TKD black belt midterm testing. In case anyone is wondering, I outrank him by one day :-). #tkdfamily @wexford_ata @jack_1329_

A post shared by Louis L 🔑 (@lluang70) on Dec 13, 2019 at 8:02pm PST

One of the hazards of parenting in upper middle class suburban America is the parenting arms race, which is magnified among asians.  All of the children we are in contact with are actively participating in a range of enrichment activities, many with a goal of an admissions package to get into a college of the parent's dreams (we do not always know the children well enough to know about their dreams).  And looking down the road, from the complaints of parents whose children do not get into the desired schools despite these efforts, it does not seem to be consistently successful.


When we talk to other parents, we are dizzy trying to keep track of everything they do.  Even DS9 feels busy to us, but then there are kids who can double up on every dimension (DS9 activities are roughly orthogonal to each other)

Even though DS9 did not cover many of the standard enrichment activities that are meant to lead to a selection, DS9 has been passing most selection stages he encounters (accelerated math, advanced programs, teams, music auditions). Fortunately, he does not have an appreciation for what this means, so he has not been participating in the posturing that is already observable in his peer group.

DS9 is in lower right

At this point,  DS9 is happy with the activities he is in. He enjoys the competence. He enjoys the experience (most of the time) and he alternates between enjoying and despising the activities that lead to that competence (like most adults).  And at this age, there is too much between now and college admission time to know what path the kids will take as they mature and develop other interests, and there are too many kids at his level to know if his trajectory will continue.

For her part, DD5 is in the early stages of the same. She does drawing (with a chinese teacher), piano, and taekwondo, enjoys all three pretty much all of the time. And is noticeably happy, almost all of the time. Almost the ideal of what you want out of a 5 year old.

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DD5 turn for belt testing at @wexford_ata. She told everyone that she is looking forward to contact sparring and she is going to practice on big brother and daddy. #tkdfamily

A post shared by Louis L 🔑 (@lluang70) on Dec 14, 2019 at 8:31am PST

Just as with DS9 at this age, the kids in her peer group are all more heavily involved in activities than she is.  And just like him, we will see how this turns out.

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#streetparking workout. Row/bike/taps, bent over rows and push presses. We had a long discussion on options for each segment. @streetparkingmembers @scoreitband #homegym #garagegym #fitfamily @garagesqwod

A post shared by Louis L 🔑 (@lluang70) on Dec 17, 2019 at 3:44pm PST

Going to Fiddlesticks concert, and it was a MEOW

This was our second Fiddlesticks concert. And this time around S joined T and I. First, we got early so we could enjoy the pre-concert festivities. To celebrate Fiddlestick's birthday, T decorated a birthday party hat.

Next was learning the songs for the concert. The Pittsburgh Children’s Festival Chorus was performing some of the singalong songs along with some movements. The first time T sees anything he does not really react but is very intent so we never know what he is understanding

Leading up to the start of the concert we brought T up the concert hall. He loved the view from the balcony where he could see everything going on. The instruments, the performers coming on stage, the audience filing in.

But (surprisingly enough) it was the music that took first place for T. Since the theme was Fiddlestick's 20th birthday, the theme was cats (Fiddlesticks is a cat). So the first song was The Waltzing Cat by Anderson and Ms. Williams cued the audience on when the 'meow' came up so the kids could join in. Then the Cat Duet by Rossini was performed featuring Ms. Williams and Ms. Maloney. By this point T was very happy, enjoying the music, the silliness presented on stage, and generally responding to the music. When we got home, it was clear that he remembered everything. We found a video of a performance of the Cat Duet that we played in the background while eating lunch. And if we were wondering about his remembering the concert, we found that he remembered the Fiddlesticks Theme Song dance. Clearly, he spent the sing-a-long session committing it to memory. A thoroughly fun time. And something that we will do again someday. [Preconcert thoughts at the Pittsburgh Symphony Blog]

Let's go sing Happy Birthday to Fiddlesticks! at the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra

[This is also at the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra Blog Site] It's Fiddlesticks' birthday! And we are going to a concert! This coming Saturday will be the second time we have gone to one of the PSO Fiddlesticks' Family concert. The first time we did not know what to expect. But now that we do, we'll be ready to enjoy it.

For both of us, music had become a part of our lives, something that we can share and we wanted our now two year old son to do so too. But the question we had was what did that meant. We've seen the fads that listening to music would make a child smarter but we did not want any part of that. Because we were also not interested in a passive child. As we have exposed him to music in our lives, he has listened to my wife's playing the piano, watched videos with music in the background and of performances, and yes, even some videos aimed at toddlers that included classical music. But he does not just listen and watch. we are thoroughly entertained by his response to the music. In the ways of a two year old with limited oral skills and coordination, he sometimes just listens, sometimes he sings along, sometimes he pretends like he is conducting the piece, and sometimes he tries to dance ballet, sometimes hip-hop, and sometimes just jumping and moving to the rhythm.

We've brought him to concerts, recitals, and performances and appreciate the venues where you are not just a spectator, but you can react and respond to music as you experience it. And that is what I most enjoy about Fiddlesticks. The relatively modern traditions of being quiet and not responding to a performance are put aside, and we can react to what we see. We enjoy the performers interacting with the kids sharing their joy of playing.

And this is what we want our son to experience as he grows. Not a world where he is a spectator, but a world where he takes in the environment and responds to it. And someday, create something to add to this environment.

PSO: A life with companions for the journey

It has been a while since I've been to the symphony.  On occasion I get asked why go through the trouble and expense of hearing symphonic music live. Every time I go to a concert it I remember.  It is the richness of the sound, the interaction between the instruments, and the range of the instruments, as they call out and respond to each other.

For this concert was a piece written by a composer with an equally illustrious friend and musician who would play it. There are a few ways this could play out, but with the maturity of age, what comes across is the range of expression.  Some somber, some light and almost whimsical, and some parts bursting with excitement.  And you could see this in Noseda and Dindo on stage. Noseda with his expressiveness ranging from delicate to so much energy I thought he would fly from his podium.  Dindo's feeling in his playing reflected in his expressions showing as he played.

And that is how you hope that friendships will be.  Full of memories, some somber, some whimsical, some bursting with excitement.  Not everything in life should be burdened with the requirement to be deep and full of meaning, but the realities of life's journey means parts of it may very well be, and you want to have friends and companions along the way.  And there are parts of life which do not have meaning beyond the moment, which companions to share in the ephemera.  But even better is when you have companions along the way in both the special and the mundane, in life's milestones and the somber and contemplative parts of life.  Because your relationships should be with people in their fullness, not to be casually cast aside.  And the cello concerto was like that as well, full of the richness of life in its grandeur and the mundane weaved together like a life to be lived will among friends that deserved to be remembered until the end of your days.

A legacy in music: PSO Blogs

[Original at the Pittsburgh Symphony Blogs]

This weekend marked the end of another season for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. But it marked the end of something more. Three esteemed musicians were retiring from the PSO, Charlotta Klein Ross (cello), Ronald Cantelm (Bass), and James Gorton (Oboe). My wife has a particular connection with one, having performed alongside one. And the program reflected one type of legacy, with Gorton; his wife, Gretchen Van Hoesen; and daughter, Heidi Van Hoesen Gorton, being the soloists for Goossens' Concert Piece for Oboe/English Horn, Two Harps and Orchestra as the close for a career and a season.

Certainly one way to have a legacy is through your sons and daughters. Another is through enabling a future through gifts that allow others to flourish. But what are the things that one does to create a legacy? One is through the development of raw talent, the sort of thing that we explicitly recognize when we attend a PSO concert. But while it is memorable, it is fleeting. What does it take to create something that endures?

I can think of two ways. First is to create something based on an idea, then invite others to build upon it. It is creative not only in the creation itself, but the idea and concept that can be built on. One recent set of projects surrounds the MusOpen project, which raises funds for the development of public domain scores (including computer source that makes the score) and recordings. The first is having its first fruits, with the Open Goldberg Variations and recordings of the Prague Symphony Orchestra in support of that project. The second is to teach and train the next generation.

Always there are risks. For the first, the question that always gets stated is why do things in a different way. There are certainly scanned copies of Bach's Goldberg variations and other scores, and many editions that have been put together by dedicated scholars. But now the promise is that the music (both the description as well as the performance) can be used as a starting point in other creative works, which requires both the right to do so as well as source material that can be modified. And for the second, the question is if it makes a difference, especially when the deepest knowledge can only be passed in one-on-one interaction.

My wife and I are both at stages in our careers where we make commitments to the future. And part of that is the fact that much of what we leave behind is not going to be what we ourselves create, but in ideas and organizations passed on to students and colleagues whom we have the pleasure of working, contending, and building with, and new ideas that are developed and grown into institutional capabilities and memories.

I was listening to the stories of the musicians retiring with this season, and I was thinking about the legacies they leave behind, which was more than tales of inspired musicianship, although that was there. It was in the creation of memories, and investment in others to guide them to their futures, musical or otherwise. And in that is something worthy of the name legacy.

A free, public domain recording of the Goldberg Variations performed by Kimiko Ishizaka

Last Monday was marked on my calendar as the release of The Open Goldberg Variations performed by Kimiko Ishizaka.  Why was that special?  It was the release of a crowd-funded professionally performed, recorded, and produced recording and score of Bach's Goldberg Variations into the public domain.  It is a throwback to the old system of patronage for individuals supporting artists and their works.

Arguably, the enduring contribution of this is the release into the public domain of both the score as well as the MuseScore source file.  As programmers know, the release of the source file in an open format with an open source implementation means that this will be available for re-formatting, re-publication, and combining with other similarly licensed works forever.  It also means that the score has been examined, not only by those who were directly funded by the project, but by anyone who had the inclination and interest to participate in the project over the past year.  The process was open for examination not only for correctness, but also feedback and ideas.  No small matter in piece that was meant for a double manual (keyboards) of a harpsichord instead of the single keyboard of a piano.  While the notes may be by J. S. Bach, how it is presented and arranged so a pianist can play it when the physical layout of the instrument is different then intended matters.  The challenges of this have lead to improvements on the open source MuseScore composition and notation program (and I for one am waiting for the release that includes these improvements to come out). Aaron Copland (and others) have stated that music is a collaboration between composer, performer and audience.  In many cases, the third is often diminished, reduced to paying for tickets, recordings, and donations.  But here, the fact that the audience could contribute was taken seriously.

I'm already familiar with the piece from the 1955 Glenn Gould recording.  And since the release of The Open Goldberg Variations I have had this playing in the background continuously while working.  Which, come to think of it, is not much different than the original purpose of the piece, to provide something to be played by Johann Goldberg to play for the Russian Count Kaiserling to cheer him up during his insomnia. And last night when everyone else in the household went to bed, I stayed up to listen to this with a copy of the public domain score (from MuseScore.com) in front of me.

Looking at the score, one obvious note is the utter absence of dynamics and tempo markings.  Which leaves considerable room for interpretation.  The range of the 30 variations (plus the base Aria and final Area da Capoe è Fine) allows the pianist to show her range, and Ishizaka provides something to hear.  As expected, she does not make the same choices as Gould.   And she does not seem to be in as much of a hurry as Gould was. And the recording became a delight as she worked her way through the variation, each with its own feel, even with each repeat.

Here in Pittsburgh, I've had the please of being a part of an experiment by the Pittsburgh Symphony to involve a part of the audience as part of its blog.  Because for the audience to take its place in the three aspects of composer/performer/audience there should be more response than only our monetary support of institutions, but to contribute to criticism and direction of the art.  And this project pushed that in a way not common today.

Is this model sustainable?  Since it was funded through Kickstarter, the professionals involved did indeed get paid.  Looking at Kimiko Ishizaka's website, she seems to have a nice international concert schedule with many recent and future bookings that are easily attributable to her participation in this project and the Well Tempered Clavier (which is a potential following project).  Similar to programmers making a name and reputation for themselves by contributing to open source projects, Ishizaka seems to be taking advantage of the additional exposure coming from her participation.  And similarly to open source, the observation is that professional quality work on well run and managed projects leads to high quality products and opens leads on future work.

If you have any interest in listening to classical music, I highly recommend downloading the recording (MP3 and FLAC available at Soundcloud below).  If you want to follow along with the score, or if you are thinking of actually playing this yourself, get the score from MuseScore.com.

Pittsburgh Symphony: The rhythm of modern life

[Original at the Pittsburgh Symphony Blogs]
This weekend Maestro Previn returned again to conduct the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, and this time to conduct the premier of his own work. As a taste, we were treated to the Brass Quartet from Carnegie Mellon University performing some of Previn's other work.
Listening to the opening of Previn's Triple Concerto for Horn, Trumpet, Tuba and Orchestra immediately following Haydn's Symphony No. 102, I was struck by a contract in feel. Haydn's Symphony sounded smooth, peaceful, and gentle; almost bucolic. And compared to that the Triple Concerto was full of rythmic brasses calling for attention along with a series of fanfares.
In many ways much like the many things that call for our attention in our modern, urban life. It had the same effect of the opening of American in Paris. I had in my mind the thought of a young person starting out in the world, with many things to call for his attention, time, and energy. The ups and downs of young adult life. And this was brought to a close with a rapid movement through the end, and then the piece was done. But it seemed to be a story in progress, because whatever was ahead for our friend, it is never the end of the story, only one more milestone of this thing called life, however momentous it may seem at the moment. And while the piece had an end, real life always has a continuation.
There are many commentators on how life has changed within memory. The speed of change, the need to adapt on an ongoing basis, and for the young, the tendency to treat immediate events out of proportion to their place in an ever-changing and on-going world.

Pittsburgh Symphony: Thinking of Classics and Enigmas

[Original post is at the Pittsburgh Symphony Blog site] Discussing Enigmas - A post-concert discussion of Elgar Enigma Variations, Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra Overlook Room

This past Sunday’s concert included a workshop and post-concert discussion led by teaching artist Christina Farrell. For Elgar’s Enigma Variations, the easy choice of topics would be to look at three enigmas directly presented by Elgar. But as we talked, conversation covered another topic, does the direction or intent of the creator of a piece play into the performance of the piece? And from there, what makes a creative work worthy of being one of the classics?

To be sure, the use of hidden themes and puzzles within musical works has been done before and since. Several composers have pieces full of references to friends, acquaintances, and contemporaries. But this is par for the course in the classics. My high school English teacher was fond of saying that the Greek classics include everything. Participants in one web site that focuses on identifying themes in movies and TV shows delight in noting that certain themes have very old origins. But this does not lessen the treatment of these themes or use of these tropes. There must be another criteria.

I am involved in a creative field. And in my field, some works are known and viewed as seminal works, definitive in their topic over anything before or since and viewed as original contributions of high degree and quality. Yet even these explicitly reference the works of others, not all of which are in themselves worthy of the same acclaim. The creators and all those who are qualified to review the work will acknowledge it openly, but something separates these from others of their kind.

Mortimer Alder once wrote an introduction to one collection of Great Books. In it he describes three criteria that he and his fellow collaborators used to choose and cull that collection. One was the work’s contemporary significance (which implied that it was timeless beyond the period of original creation); second was its re-readability, or the fact that the work could be read again and again, with deeper understanding every time; third was its relevance to a number of great ideas that occupied a number of great thinkers before and since, the participation in the work in the great conversation through the author’s reading of related works of before, and the development of ideas that have inspired reaction from those who follow.

And here in music, it is not just the theme or subject of the work that makes it meet similar criteria. The price of admission into a classic worth listening repeatedly is the quality of the music. But if it was only quality we cared about, we may stop listening to new music, because there is more than enough of the traditional classics of quality to keep us wonderfully engaged. But to add to what has come before a work must also have something to say. A response to what has come before, and something that is worth responding to.

PSO Blog: Mommy and daddy need to go to a PSO concert

[Originally posted at the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra blogs] We achieved one of those major milestones in parenting this weekend. Leaving baby with a caregiver not related to us. ( Yes, we did check in during the course of the afternoon). The occasion, a PSO concert of pieces by Beethoven featuring the Eroica Trio playing the Triple concerto, as we were reminded by a mailer a couple weeks before.
I have a recording of the Triple Concerto at home. And I've been asked why I would go to a concert when I have a recording of some of the greats. And there is something to be said about the fact that every performance is unique. But there is also the fact that there is more to a piece than the notes written by the composer. There is the interpretation of the work. And when you have a group like the Eroica Trio who have been playing together for decade you get the collective interpretation of the work.
With in the first minute of the first movement I was hearing aspects of the piece I have never heard before. A good part of this can be attributed to Honeck balancing out the orchestra so that the right part has focus at any point in time. But another part of it is probably due to the fact that the Eroica Trio has played together for so long. The recording I have is by three acclaimed musicians with another world class orchestra. But the three soloists are known as soloists, not as an ensemble. And there is a difference between musicians playing together and musicians who know each other playing a single piece. It shows in the way the Eroica Trio could play off each other, more a conversation of old friends rather then a few technicians working together. And it felt more that we were privileged to bear witness to it more than just being in an audience.
When I was in graduate school I had remarked to a pianist friend that I thought a duet she was performing probably could only be mastered by pianists who were family members, because there was so much potential in how the parts worked with each other that could not be expressed by performers who knew each other in passing. This weekend's performance is the reward of having artists playing together who not only know their craft, but each other.

PSO: Technique or Freedom

[Originally posted at Pittsburgh Symphony Blogs] As part of the Tchaikovsky Festival, some members of the PSO played in a recital on the University of Pittsburgh campus at Bellefield Hall. And, instead of playing pieces by Tchaikovsky, they played pieces by his contemporaries, starting with Anton Arensky. One thing that makes Arencky Piano Trio in D minor special is that there is an 1894 recording of a performance of the trio, with Anton Arensky playing his own piece on the piano. With him are violinist Jan Hřímalý (known by violin students for his Scale Studies) and Anoatoly Branukov.

Copeland in his book "What to Listen for in Music" states that in any piece of art, there are three actors. The composer, the interpreter (performer) and the listener. All three must do their part for a complete expression of a work. But it is fascinating to know that we have an depiction of how the composer interprets his own work. And preserved in a fashion that is not distorted by the twists of time and fashion which always occur over that period of time. At the recital, they played the recording from the Block cylinders (1894) after Ms. Orchard, Mr. Istomin and Mr. Vatchnadze performed the piece, giving us the opportunity to compare them both. And the style of play was notable in how different it was. While Hřímalý is known for his studies used to hone violinists technique, this performance is highly improvisational, taking great liberties with the rhythm, tempo, and even the written score. Almost surprising given how we view these greats.

What is different? The recordings by the original composer and his friends almost sounded like a jazz interpretation of his piece. The parts coming across as freeform expressions of personality instead of technical mastery and artistry. And if some student played like this in a recital or audition, they would surely have been snubbed.

I wonder if over the decades we have fallen completely victim to a tyranny of technique. It is very easy to hear a fast tempo performance and because the performer was even capable of hitting all the notes, in time and express the dynamics of the piece and declare it to be a great performance. And because it is easy to judge it on these quantifiable criteria, we value the mastery of techniques. Comparatively, it is considerably more difficult for us to judge artistry and expression which is not so easily quantifiable, we do not instinctively accept it as readily. And there are other fields where this is also true. The teaching of math has in many ways become the memorization of formulas and theorems. The teaching of history has become a memorization of facts, names and dates. The students subjected to this education rightly declare it useless, and the mathematicians and historians who see these students in college dispair that these students know nothing and are unable to think or reason. Despite being filled with useless facts and good test scores. And I question if this has made us better, whether it is understanding math, history or music.

PSO: Showing off talent

[This post was originally posted at Pittsburgh Symphony Blogs]

Before last week's opening Gala, Ann Pratchett and Renee Fleming hosted a interactive talk about their books. One question came up about the internet and Ann Pratchett criticized how commentators on websites have a tendency to give their reviews 'gladiator style', meaning thumbs up or thumbs down. What results are reviews that either excoriate the work reviewed as a pile of worthless garbage or the most incredible experience this side of heaven. But generally with no explanation or justification. And the result is only the form of interacting with the author and the creation without substance. It is a criticism that can be leveled at American society in general, valuing quick, snappy decisions based on instant impressions as sincere and authentic while being suspicious of anything that results from deep thought and study.

But these impressions turn out to be merely shallow and incomplete. I was talking over lunch this past week with a regional manager of a major shipping company who was lamenting the difficulty in identifying job applications with a particular ability. Things like grades are too one-dimensional, and the interview does not allow for depth. The only way she can evaluate the applicant, was to have them work for a year.

And so it is with the creative arts. It is a mistake to evaluate a work on one aspect, or an artist for a single work, or even work in a single environment. An evaluation needs to be across a range. And that is what made last weekend's concert rather enjoyable, it showcased a range across style in a single concert.

Michael Gandolfi's Garden of Cosmic Speculation opened up the concert. Prior to the piece, the composer spoke about it. The complete piece is actually 11 movements. But for performances the composer expects only a selection of the movements to be played, and any subset is appropriate. It becomes very much like going to a large garden or an art museum, there is no time to see the whole thing if you do it right, to experience it deeply you must go and select what parts of the museum to see, and leave the rest for another day. Musically, the four movements feel very different, almost like each was a separate work. And this provides an example of showing his range as a composer in a single work.

Having Yuja Wang play Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini was a great choice. It is very easy to have Ms. Wang play pieces to show off technical brilliance. Certainly most publicity for her revolves around her ability to perform fast, technically demanding pieces. And many soloists use such pieces to showcase their skills. But Ms. Wang is capable of more. And in Rhapsody she was able to show this. There are the expected fast, loud and technical sections that demonstrates her command of the keyboard. But there are also flowing melodies, intricate delicate sections and textured nuance that show off not just mastery of a piece, but an understanding it to let it shine. And by not trying to dominate the piece, I am more impressed by this interpretation of it, and by Ms. Wang's artistry in addition to talent and skill.

Renee Fleming: The Inner Voice

Renee Fleming: The Inner Voice
Originally uploaded by LugerLA

This post was originally posted at the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra Blogs

The day before the opening Gala, Renee Fleming and Ann Pratchett had a book discussion at the O’Reilly Theater. It was an enjoyable conversation with two artists. They spoke of limits, of family, of talent. But what stood out, was they spoke that creating art is work.

Fleming commented that one thing that she dislikes is the belief that music is a gift, that one day someone opens her mouth and sings, then she is discovered, and then she goes to the Met. (Metropolitan Opera). Ann also has instances where people ask if she works. Because they are faced with the belief that talent is innate, it only needs to be found. But for both of them, this is not true. And it is not true in general.

Peter Orszag recently wrote two pieces in the New York Times about talent and effort. His observation that is shared by many others who have examined this (Michael Syed “Bounce”, Carol Dwed “mindset”, and others is that innate talent only gets so far, that to reach world class levels in a complex field takes practice. 10,000 hours of practice. It holds in music, mathematics, many sports, and chess. It shows in the dedication of young men and women in their teens who get up with the rising sun to practice, whether it is on the athletic field the weight room or in the studio. The students working their way through problems and proofs. My friends in martial arts working on their kata. Soldiers and FBI agents working through battle drills in the desert.

Fleming said at one point that when learning a part, it is not enough to know the words and the music, then you need to learn the meaning. And then, when you know what it means and you know it well, you are able to do more then follow the score and you are able to interpret or try new techniques to make it your own. The same is in other fields. Through practice the athlete learns the limits of her body and strength. The chess or go player can recognize patterns on the board and see the progression of the game. The soldier knows his role on his team and the overall intent of his commander even when he is unable to communicate with them. The mathematician or scientist or engineer can look at a problem and recognize what the form of the solutions or results will be even before she begins the work. Authors and writers can see how a turn of phrase can change the tone of a work. All this comes not from some gift of birth, but time and effort in practice and study, purposeful and directed effort.

The thing is, somehow one has to be convinced this is worth the effort. If you are good, you will be around people who are even better. And you will be working on things beyond your ability. And here you have a choice. You can decide you are good enough and stop. You can give up because it is too hard. Or you can look ahead and decide that it is worth the effort and pain of work to master your art. And the rewards? While Renee Fleming stated that her goal when growing up was to be good at something and it did not have to be music, I am glad that it was.

Why I enjoy classical/concert music

This is, obviously, a badly titled post. Because 'enjoy' is not the proper word. Not that there is anything wrong with merely enjoying something. I believe that there is a place in life for things that can be enjoyed as they are. But I don't think that 'enjoy' or 'appreciate' conveys how I experience concert music. There is a cliche that those with mathematical backgrounds should enjoy classical music because music, like math, deals with patterns. But that does not get you very far. By the end of chapter 2 of his Critical and Historical Essays (lectures on music at Columbia University), Edward MacDowell shows examples of what happens when you take mathematics as the means of analysis of music, and each historical case of cultures that try it leads to dead ends.

When I was in high school, the smart kids, the ones in the honors program, took Art Appreciation. I was not one of those kids. To this day, I say I know almost nothing about art/music history or theory. My experience with music was playing in the high school marching and symphonic bands. While I was good enough to be first chair my senior year, and being part of the Chicago All-Catholic Band, our ambitions were suitably limited (the bandmaster considered part of his job to be dissuading students from the profession.) The goal there was an appreciation of music, and perhaps a life-long hobby (e.g. community ensembles or playing in private). This is where I was when I lived around Washington DC, where I took advantage of a wealth of performances in public spaces (museums, parks, public buildings, university) and the occasional concert. And I continued my practice from when I was an undergraduate of going to performances of friends who were in music programs at the local universities.

In graduate school this began to transform. I had friends in the music program, but now I was at a school with a decent music program, where students there had aspirations of professional careers in classical music. I was going to recitals, concerts, and programs where my friends were performing on a regular basis. And, since I was taking my time in a Ph.D. program, I could follow them throughout their time in school, and I could watch how they developed both in performances and sitting in on practice time. (I had one friend comment that having me in the room while she was practicing was like a studio session. My wife thanks everyone for the training as she is the current beneficiary of all of those sessions.) Over time I stopped merely hearing the music to listening for the interpretation. Instead of appreciating the music being played, I could observe how an ensemble interact with each other and it became a conversation between people, not only the genius of the composer putting notes on a page.

What do I gain? Like all of the other fine arts, classical music is an abstract way of asking what it means to experience being human. At times composers use it to respond to a historical context. Most composers chose to create a tension by using a format to constrain themselves as they desired to emote or to present a story. (I tend to not get many of the more free form moderns). And I take it as a privilege to observe the result.

I am looking forward to another season of blogging for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. I have always maintained that my blog is not a concert review. The Post-Gazette has someone who does that as well as people associated with the schools of music and conservatories. Many with backgrounds in the humanities can discuss what a piece means. And I know little about the mechanics or history or philosophy of music. What I can do is pay attention to the concert and react to it. At a book discussion prior to last weeks opening gala, Renee Fleming stated that her performances where a collaboration between the creator (composer) and the performer. But she is missing an actor. Aaron Copeland stated that art is a collaboration between the composer, the interpreter, and the listener. Copeland tells the listener his job is to be aware of the personalities and functions of the composer and interpreter, to distinguish between them. And it is not sufficient (or maybe not even necessary) to be educated and trained, but the listener must love music. And not just particular styles or forms or schools of music, but across a wide range. And then react to it. Otherwise the efforts of composer and interpreter do not have meaning. I do my part.

PSO: Thinking about talent

[Originally posted at Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra: PSO Blogs]

Listening to Hilary Hahn starting off Sibelius Concerto I had to think about what constitutes talent. I have to recognize the reality that most of the performers (and just about all of our wonderful guest) are at a technical proficiency well beyond my ability to judge. The sheer volume of performers that come out of the world’s music schools and conservancy’s will ensure that only those that are the most skilled make their way into our notice. But there is more to talent than skill. And you realize this when listening to Ms. Hahn, who commands your attention without flash.

In my profession, computers are the instrument of use. Because for all the work we do, at some point our work interacts with the world through data, and through a computer program that takes our understanding and uses it to interpret the data. The risk is to forget that the value of the work lies in the understanding that went into the program and the interpretation of the results, not in the program itself. But this is easy to forget, especially if only viewing it from the outside. From a surface understanding, one can only see a computer and an operator. And in the shallowness of the moment, believe that the talent is the talent of the operator. But this is a trap. The point where you need to make the investment and have the best people is with the person who designs the analysis and interprets the results. Not the person to implements it and operates the computer. To implement the procedures and run a program is (comparatively) easy. Understanding is hard.

Similarly in arts, at the level under consideration, the technical capability of the performers is not a consideration. Everyone who graces the stage at Heinz Hall has demonstrated mastery of the instrument throughout its range. But we can ask for considerably more. We can ask from our interpreters (conductor and musicians) for not just the ability to recreate the written record of composers past, but to imagine what if some things were different, to use the creativity of the composer as a point of departure and develop an interpretation that includes the aspects that cannot be expressed in ink on paper. Then present that interpretation.

After that, Aaron Copeland said that art (music) is a collaboration between composer, interpreter and audience. Once the composer and interpreter have done their part, it is our turn to do ours.

PSO: What makes a classic?

[Originally posted at Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra: Outside Perspectives]

Two pieces. One was first performed even before it was fully written, with the composer partly filling in the parts as he played. The other solid in style, but had the misfortune of opening alongside a piece that incited great and vigorous argument, and therefore went into obscurity. Clearly the outcomes are not related to the work and effort that went into them, but somewhere there is something else.

I have two students who are presenting their plans for their ongoing efforts this week. Both are engaged in a creative work, building on what has been done before, moving in directions that are unknown. Along the way they will be questioned, their beliefs and assumptions challenged, their thinking sharpened. And both do so with hopes that they are building something of enduring value (in addition to completing a project!)

But realistically, not everything is of such value. Looking at concert music, it is almost unfair comparing pieces from centuries past to music from the past century. But it is not because of the composer, but the mere fact that pieces are still played means they survived and were found worthy of remaining a part of the repertoire, while younger pieces have not finished this winnowing process. And with my students (and myself for that matter), it is not just the effort that goes into the work, but the many decisions and choices of those who come next, when they consider what is worth commenting on, and worth building upon, that will ultimately determine any enduring value in what we create.

But does that mean that the work is only of value because it is known or because others build upon it? In a sense, because what we are doing is a creative work, its value will be in part how it effects conversation in our field (measured by people choosing to react to it and build up on it or take it in new directions.) But there is more. Henri Poincare wrote about what scientists study. It is not just that the study of our world is useful (although it is), but what we study is beautiful, and in that captures our attention, and rewards us for efforts beyond the remuneration we receive. And I'm looking forward to the years to come, that they may be devoted to efforts that I can say that I delight in them, and uncover both the beautiful and useful, whether enduring or obscure.

PSO: Avalanches and pebbles

[Originally posted at the Pittsburgh Symphony: Outside Perspectives]

Listening to Prokofiev Symphony No. 5 made me think of the tides of history. The movements started with transparent motifs that made one think of someone exploring life and his world. But each movement soon descended into a deep foreboding mass of power and force, making the initial moments of carefree joy meaningless.

When I was younger, it was easy to think that the world moved on its own, and there was nothing you could do to influence events, or even your own fate. It was easy to think that everything was chance. In the TV show "Babylon 5", a significant quote is "The avalanche has started, it is too late for the pebbles to vote."

And now? Between me and my wife's family we have direct experience in three wars. Our stories sound like history books and newspaper stories. We have no illusions about personal impact on the course of history, but neither are we merely swept along with the tides. We see and notice how people are swayed, pulled by their fears, or resigned to insignificance by those who would scream the loudest. And for Prokofiev in Stalin's Soviet Union, where work done with the approval of one set of leaders would suddenly be denounced in another time, it would seem that way, a powerless man swept by the tides of history, subject to its whims and caprices.

But, as statistician/political scientist/artist Edward Tufte remarked just yesterday here in Pittsburgh, we do not live in that kind of place or that kind of time. We live in a place and time that allows us to make choices, take risks and adapt to our changing world instead of only following the herd. And as we do so we can bear the cost, reap the rewards. And live other then as sheep who follow where those play on our fears would lead us. For all its cost, we recognise there is no other place like that on this earth, and we rejoice in it.

PSO: A conversation with strings that are different

[Originally posted at the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra: Outside Perspectives]

Having a viola as soloist was a change from the usual piano or violin guest artist. I was laughing reading the program notes saying that Berlioz Harold in Italy was written for Paganini, who complained that it did not allow him to play enough. Because Berlioz wrote a different kind of piece.

While it may not have satisfied a violin virtuoso, what Berlioz gave us was a conversation. Instead of the violin soaring exuberantly, we were treated to viola, harp, and flutes passing their lines to one another. Each different, yet fitting together like old friends engaged in conversation.

My wife and I have not been married long, but we sometimes get to enjoy the moments where we can talk about subjects ending with the wonder "you think about that too!?", the times when we can finish each other's thoughts (which is real useful when one has trouble coming up with the next word), and "magic" around the house. But, in our unsentimental times, we have some understanding of how the "magic" happens, it is the paying attention to each other and around us, and it almost seems natural. So it is with the first movements of Harold. The principals are not the type to overwhelm with brilliance, instead we hear them play with each other, bow, pluck and wind. Appreciative both of the differences and their ability to be together. And hoping life will be like that as well.

PSO: Relections on Death

[This post is originally published at Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra: Outside Perspectives]

At the beginning of Mozart's Requiem the Pittsburgh Symphony put a commentary noting that while Death was no stranger to Mozart's life, in modern U.S. society we have tried our hardest to make it a stranger to ours.  And I am not an exception.  While I have deployed to war, have been an volunteer EMT, regularly respond to fires and other disasters and take part in activities that entail some degree of risk, like the veteran cop who has never fired his service weapon in anger, I have not had anyone die on me (not for lack of some people trying).  So in a sense, I do not know how I will respond (but a line of counsellors are ready to talk to me when it does.)  And in my professional life, I regularly am faced with the fact that while society may cry out that it values life above all else, and that it refuses to put a price or limit on how much it would pay to keep life, that society indeed does put a price on life, and reacts badly when this is pointed out.

There is a community that does face its own mortality.  And is willing to write about it.  I follow the writing of blogs of soldiers and others involved in our wars in Afghanistan and Iraq on The Sandbox, a project of Gary Trudeau (Doonesbury).  Along with commentary about the absurd in daily life that is common to every first person account of war there are essays on fears, humor, relief, anguish, and sometimes the understanding that this is a serious business that can result in death.

And occasionally there is an essay by someone who has, like Mozart, prepared for his own mortality.  The willingness to acknowledge who you were.  Realising that you had long passed the point where dreams were there for you to reach, but what you have accomplished something in life, and it was worthy of having lived (for most of these writers).  A thankfulness for those who you were privileged to live your life alongside.  And a recognition that you probably did not deserve to have it so good.

My wife and I long since have recognized that some of the things I do are risky.  But it has been a choice that is a part of a rich life, full of joy, laughter, truth, and companionship that I would not trade for the safety and comfort of a life spent in fear and worry.  Already, I have had opportunity to pass on lessons to others who do the same.  And while there are no guarantees in this sort of thing, we treasure the memories and stories that we have been able to add to our families histories.

PSO: Steadiness in Chaos

[Originally posted at the Pittsburgh Symphony Outside Perspective]

I was listening to Danielpour's Concerto for Orchestra and noticing the recurring theme as it passed from part to part, popping up in a variety of contexts. Sometimes when the overall tone was almost melodious and sometimes when it was present in the midst of conflict and cacophony. But always there, providing a foundation for all that was going on around this and proving itself adaptable in its many settings.

Among other things, I am teaching a class on disaster preparedness and response. And one of the principles in preparedness is you have to have a framework that is usable in normal everyday situations and adaptable for all sorts of situations that can arise. Because a plan of response that cannot adapt will never be used. And here is a theme that somehow does the same, even as its environment and its place within the environment changes, the theme finds a place. Sometimes up front. Sometimes supporting. But providing a unity to the piece along the way. A good trait to have in a storm.

PSO: The lone individual in the crowd (Berlioz Symphonie fatastique)

[Note: This was originally written for the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra Outside Perspectives blog]

On my way to the concert, I was informed by one of the two piano professors I was attending the concert with about the story of the Symphonie fantastique, including the fact that this is the extreme example of programmatic music, to the point of including the interpretation of the music in the score.  And while I tend to favor programmatic music, I think actually telling me what it meant slightly oversimplifies things for my taste.  And (as my wife would tell you) I have no memory, so actually telling me what something means is slightly wasted.  (At my high school, all the smart kids took art appreciation.  I would have done very badly in such a class.) 

What I did hear was the tension between the individual and the crowd.  As the movements went on there were periods of the individual voice (the idee fix that popped up throughout the piece in different parts of the orchestra). Sometimes the individual voice was enthralled, sometimes depressed, sometimes light hearted, sometimes heavy.  And there was the crowd.  Sometimes detached.  Sometimes driving its own way.  And in the march, overwhelming.  LIstening to this, I wondered at the tension.  The tension of those who would wish to find their own path, who may start off as being treated with benign neglect by the crowd, but then can find themselves in direct conflict with an unforgiving multitude/mob.  With a chaotic end.

Of course, re-reading the program notes, I see that what I heard was similar and different then what was intended.  But if you make the claim that music and art are forms of communication, and the idea that interpreting a musical work is a collaboration between composer, performer and audience, then this was a delightful example.  Even if the attempts of two music professors was somewhat wasted on this leaky memory.