World Percussion Ensemble

I still haven’t had a chance to play with my new cam­era as much as I’d like, but I did take a bunch of pic­tures last week­end at the UW World Per­cus­sion Ensem­ble con­cert. I’d planned to just take a few shots to see how my cam­era does under low-light (no flash) con­di­tions. But, I was asked to take pic­tures for the ensemble’s use, so I took pic­tures through much of the con­cert. The cam­era I’m used to is an old Pen­tax P3n film cam­era — man­ual focus, man­ual wind, etc. So, I got a lit­tle shutter-happy with my new toy, which is auto-focus, dig­i­tal, and very fast. I ended up shoot­ing 482 pic­tures dur­ing the hour-long con­cert. Of course, not all of these were good, as I was using the occa­sion as a learn­ing oppor­tu­nity (plus, the light­ing was bad and per­cus­sion­ists move alot when they play). Still, I was able to give the per­cus­sion stu­dio about 150 decent shots, and have posted 33 here.

Little Big Band

This year, I’ve been play­ing the UW Lit­tle Big Band. The smaller of the school’s two jazz ensem­bles, it’s really more of a combo than any sort of big band. We had our first con­cert of the semes­ter last week, and I’m mark­ing the occa­sion by finally get­ting around to post­ing the record­ings from last semester’s con­cert. Last semes­ter, our group con­sisted of me on bas­soon, Mike Bailly on vibra­phone, Kyle Strohmaier on piano, Ben Willis on bass, and Ali­son Jeske on drums, with our coach Les Thim­mig on flute. Vocal­ist Mandy Comp­ton joined us for a cou­ple of tunes, and Mike Mix­tacki and Ian Dis­jardin pro­vided some Brazil­ian per­cus­sion for “Ser­e­nata.” Our instru­men­ta­tion is slightly dif­fer­ent this semes­ter, but I’ll get to that when I post our lat­est concert.

Any­way, the way the group is set up, we play a whole bunch of tunes in our rehearsals, then vote on actual con­cert reper­toire a few weeks before a con­cert. Once the pro­gram is set, each mem­ber of the group is respon­si­ble for arrang­ing one tune. We do a bit of work­shop­ping of the arrange­ments dur­ing rehearsals, and arrive at the con­cert with more or less fin­ished prod­ucts. A cou­ple of rehearsals before the con­cert, we also pick who will take solos on which tunes.

One thing we haven’t decided on by con­cert time is the nature of the blues we’re going to play. Les, our coach, sim­ply announces that we’re going to play the blues, gives us a key and a tempo, and we’re off. Unfor­tu­nately, the record­ing cut off his pat­ter (not to men­tion our pen­sive looks as we silently pray that he won’t call out an awk­ward key).

DMA Chamber Recital Poster

Here’s the poster I whipped up for my upcom­ing cham­ber recital. I’ll be play­ing Mozart’s Sonata K. 292 for bas­soon and cello, Heitor Villa-Lobos’s Bachi­anas Brasilieras No. 6 for flute and bas­soon, Fran­cis Poulenc’s Sonata for clar­inet and bas­soon, Jean Françaix’s Trio for oboe, bas­soon, and piano, and György Ligeti’s Six Bagatelles for wood­wind quin­tet. The recital is March 1st, and I’m work­ing with Chelle Casareale, Dave Cecil, Vince Fuh, Les­ley Hughes, Ching-Chieh Hsu, Garry Kling, and Laura Kling. As usual, I’ll post the record­ing as soon as pos­si­ble after the performance.

Just A Regular Guy

You may have seen some of Geico’s recent com­mer­cials, which each fea­ture a “real per­son” with a car-insurance-related story to tell, along with a celebrity to help them tell it. These com­mer­cials have fea­tured such celebri­ties as Lit­tle Richard, Peter Graves, Don LaFontaine (a voice-over artist with a very rec­og­niz­able voice), Burt Bacharach, and Verne Troyer. Some are fun­nier than oth­ers, but they’re a refresh­ing alter­na­tive to the played-out gecko spots. The newest one I’ve seen fea­tures Michael Winslow, known for his vocal sound effects in movies like Space­balls and the Police Acad­emy series. Here’s the video:

 

But wait… that “real Geico cus­tomer — not a paid celebrity” is Alex Klein, Pro­fes­sor of Oboe at Ober­lin Con­ser­va­tory, for­mer prin­ci­pal oboist of the Chicago Sym­phony Orches­tra, and Grammy win­ner (and direc­tor of the fes­ti­val I went to in Brazil last Jan­u­ary). He’s about as big a celebrity as one can be as a non-jazz wood­wind player. Not a celebrity? Humph. I attended his recital at the Inter­na­tional Dou­ble Reed Soci­ety con­fer­ence a cou­ple of years ago, and it was standing-room only in a large hall. The fact that he gets clas­si­fied as a “reg­u­lar per­son” while largely worth­less air­heads like Paris Hilton are “celebri­ties” is a sad com­men­tary on our society’s per­cep­tions of tal­ent, cul­ture, and the arts.

But wait… I think I see a sil­ver lin­ing here: I played in an dou­ble reed ensem­ble directed by Alex Klein, who was in a Geico com­mer­cial with Michael Winslow, who was in Space­balls with Bill Pull­man, who was in A League of Their Own with Tom Hanks, who was in Apollo 13 with — aha! — Kevin Bacon!

DMA Recital Poster

I’m a lit­tle later than usual with this, but here’s the poster for my upcom­ing recital. I’ll be play­ing works cov­er­ing large styl­is­tic and chrono­log­i­cal ranges: Fan­ta­sia No. 10 by Bar­tolomeo de Selma y Salaverde, Andante and Hun­gar­ian Rondo by Carl Maria von Weber, Sonatine by Alexan­dre Tans­man, Hopi by Philippe Her­sant, and Suite Argentina Para Jugar con Andrea by Jorge Mock­ert. As usual, I’ll post the record­ing as soon as pos­si­ble after the performance.

Click for a larger version

My Jazz/YouTube Debut

Last week, the Adam Unsworth Ensem­ble came to UW for a con­cert and series of mas­ter­classes. The group (for this uni­ver­sity tour, at least) con­sists of: Adam Unsworth, horn; UW’s own Les Thim­mig, wood­winds; Tony Miceli, vibes; Brian How­ell, bass; and Tony DeAn­ge­lis, drums. I prob­a­bly haven’t men­tioned this here before, but I’m play­ing the UW Lit­tle Big Band (more of a combo, really) this semes­ter. The LBB par­tic­i­pated in the rhythm sec­tion mas­ter­class given by Tony, Brian, and Tony. Les was also in atten­dance, but since he runs our ensem­ble he kept his involve­ment to a min­i­mum. We played one tune, and the rhythm sec­tion from the reg­u­lar Big Band played one tune. I gleaned some good points from the class, namely:

  1. Wean your­self of printed music as quickly as possible
  2. Keep track of the form
  3. If some­thing goes awry, some­one needs to take charge and do some­thing obvi­ous to get every­one back in sync

After the class was over, Brian asked if we’d like to stay and jam. I had to run a brief errand, but came back and joined Brian along with Ali­son, our drum­mer, and Kyle, our pianist. A lit­tle later we were joined by Mike, our vibra­phone player. My jazz reper­toire is painfully small, which sort of lim­ited what we could play. We played some blues, messed around with some grooves pro­vided by Brian, and I did what I could to learn a cou­ple of tunes by ear on the fly. After a lit­tle while, Tony DeAn­ge­lis came back in, worked with Ali­son a bit, and shot some video of us jamming.

Tony posted one video of us on YouTube. The tune we’re play­ing is “Mr. PC,” a tune from John Coltrane’s album Giant Steps. I’ve heard the tune many times, but hadn’t actu­ally played it before. I man­aged to pro­vide a pass­able ver­sion of the melody and sort of learn the chord pro­gres­sion as I took an exploratory solo.

There. Now that I’ve qual­i­fied this as an infor­mal jam ses­sion on a tune I only kind of know, I present, with­out fur­ther ado, the video:

I had great fun in both the class and in the jam ses­sion. I think play­ing more like this would do me worlds of good, both in terms of my ear train­ing and my impro­vi­sa­tional abil­i­ties. If only there were more hours in the day…

Unfor­tu­nately, I missed the group’s con­cert that night — I never did get to hear Adam Unsworth — as Mad­Winds was play­ing for a School of Music func­tion (per­haps more on that later).

Update (10−29−07): Another video just popped up from Tony. In this one, we’re play­ing “The Boy Next Door,” a tune by Ralph Blane with lyrics by Hugh Mar­tin. While I do know this tune, I appar­ently don’t know how not to play flat.

Gilbert and Sullivan

A num­ber of the orga­ni­za­tions I’ve played gigs for in Wis­con­sin have been less than prompt with their pay­ment. One orches­tra didn’t pay for an entire con­cert series until after the rehearsals for the next series had started — almost a month later. My wood­wind quin­tet played a pro­gram for a senior cen­ter in Stoughton, WI for which we had to wait almost five months to receive our checks.

One notable excep­tion is a gig that wrapped up yes­ter­day evening. For the three weeks or so, I’ve been involved in rehearsals and per­for­mances for the Madi­son Savo­yards’ annual Gilbert and Sul­li­van pro­duc­tion. This summer’s show was the single-act Cox and Box (actu­ally Bur­nand and Sul­li­van) paired with The Sor­cerer. Even though Cox and Box is short, the whole show ran about three hours. This meant that the two dress rehearsals ran to almost four hours apiece — much longer than we’d been led to believe they’d be.

But, the Savo­yards exec­u­tive board came through. Not only did we receive our checks before the last per­for­mance, but we’d each been paid the equiv­a­lent of an extra ser­vice to make up for our over­time. Bravo, Madi­son Savo­yards! Many orga­ni­za­tions would have sim­ply cited con­trac­tual loop­holes — it’s nice to play for a group that truly shows respect for its musi­cians. (The giant bag of choco­late in the pit this week­end didn’t hurt, either).

Aux Was Never Meant to Include This…

What, no 8-track?

Until fairly recently, I have lived with­out a real stereo. Since mov­ing away from home, I’ve either lived in dorm rooms in which there wasn’t really room for a stereo, or in apart­ments with room­mates who had stereos. I’ve basi­cally just used my com­put­ers for all of my music lis­ten­ing needs. When I moved into my first place by myself last August, I started think­ing about acquir­ing a stereo.

For the last few years, I’ve noticed that records (remem­ber those?) are eas­ily found in large num­bers at thrift and antique stores, usu­ally for fifty cents to a few dol­lars apiece. Of course, much of what’s avail­able in the piles of vinyl thus priced is com­plete crap. But, there tends to be a fair amount of good clas­si­cal mate­r­ial, usu­ally in pretty good shape. When I started think­ing about assem­bling a stereo, I decided that I wanted to get a turntable, so that I might begin to assem­ble a col­lec­tion of good clas­si­cal vinyl on the cheap.

I found a JVC direct drive turntable at Good­will for twenty bucks. It needed a new nee­dle, which I was able to find at a funky lit­tle shop called Fon­bone. But, with­out a stereo or pre­amp, the only way I could lis­ten to records was via a con­vo­luted sys­tem involv­ing my lap­top, a soft­ware pre­amp, an exter­nal sound card, and com­puter speak­ers. Then, with the help of my down­stairs neigh­bor (also named Dave), I acquired an old 70s Pio­neer receiver/amp (com­plete with brushed alu­minum front and wood pan­el­ing on the sides) and a pair of speak­ers. This gave me radio and record player, and a cable into the aux­il­iary inputs let me plug in my lap­top or iPod. This was fine for awhile, but I soon longed for a way to play CDs with­out hav­ing my lap­top teth­ered to the stereo.

I started look­ing around at thrift stores, hop­ing to score a cheap CD player. I passed on a few that looked decent, because I was hop­ing for either Pio­neer or JVC to match my cur­rent gear. After awhile of not find­ing quite the right thing, I started to ques­tion whether I really needed a CD player. “I rarely lis­ten to my CDs any­way,” I real­ized, “because they’re mostly ripped as mp3 or AAC in iTunes.” Hmm… iTunes…

That thought, along with some patience and a mis­spelled eBay auc­tion, led to my recent acqui­si­tion of an Apple Air­port Express at a very good price. This sleek lit­tle device per­forms a num­ber of func­tions, but the one I’m using it for is its abil­ity to stream music from iTunes over a Wi-Fi net­work. So, now I can fire up iTunes on either my desk­top or lap­top, pop in a CD or select some already-ripped tunes, and hear my music on real speak­ers in another room. Another nice thing about the device is its size — it doesn’t exactly have a wall wart; the entire thing is a wall wart. That means that it’s nicely hid­den, putting a purely vin­tage front on this unholy union of 70s HiFi and 00s Wi-Fi.

Note: Unfor­tu­nately, the pic­ture above is a prod­uct of Pho­to­shop. I may make it a real­ity if I can find a good method of execution.

Goodbye, Old Fox

Today, I bid a fond farewell to my trusty old Fox 240 bas­soon (shown at right with me and my dearly departed WileyKat — yes, I was a Thun­der­Cats fan when I got him). The instru­ment was a high school grad­u­a­tion gift from my grand­mother, Mil­dred Atkin­son, which is another rea­son I’m sad to see it go. But, I got a good price for it, so her gift is help­ing me pay for a siz­able chunk of my new bas­soon. The Fox is a good instru­ment — it got me through two bas­soon degrees and helped me win jobs in two orches­tras. But, the time had come for me to upgrade to a truly pro­fes­sional instrument.

So, my old Fox has now in a sense started over by going to a stu­dent about to start her last year of high school. UW-Madison is one of the schools she’s con­sid­er­ing though, so I may see my old friend again.

More Folklife Pics

My next batch of scanned pho­tos is from this year’s Folk­life Fes­ti­val in Seat­tle. I’ve added 33 pho­tos, which brings my total (includ­ing my first gallery of dig­i­tal pics) to 60. High­lights of this album include a retro-punk busker, a fam­ily that evi­dently got a dis­count on flo­ral cloth, a break­dancer, the adorable lit­tle girl seen at right, some soul­ful and well-dressed gospel singers, and my friend Jerin cap­ti­vat­ing the under-12 demo­graphic. Click the pic to see the entire gallery.

A Day in Sunny Seattle

Last Thurs­day was my one day to hang out and explore Seat­tle. I didn’t go too far afield, as I’d been on my feet all day every day for the pre­vi­ous eleven days, but I had enough left in me to do a lit­tle bit of walk­ing. I took a quick cruise through the Inter­na­tional Dis­trict, then went to The Elliott Bay Book Com­pany. Elliott Bay is quite large, and they have mul­ti­ple rooms of new books as well as a fairly siz­able used book sec­tion. They also have a cafe and space for author lec­tures and sign­ings (which I under­stand they have fairly often). After buy­ing too many books, I headed down to Pike Place Mar­ket My main tar­get there was the Peren­nial Tea Room. Annie, one of this year’s great Folk­life pro­duc­tion rook­ies, works there and sug­gested that I check it out. She wasn’t work­ing when I went in, but the guy I talked to was extremely knowl­edge­able and help­ful. I ended up with a cou­ple of dif­fer­ent high-quality loose black teas — a Cey­lon and a Dar­jeel­ing, each single-estate teas. After mak­ing my tea pur­chase, I grabbed a delec­table salami and havarti sand­wich on sour­dough bread from Three Girls Bak­ery and had lunch in a nearby park over­look­ing Puget Sound.

That evening, I met up with my friend Jerin, who’d actu­ally been work­ing at the fes­ti­val as well. We had din­ner at The Pike Pub & Brew­ery and then went to see the Seat­tle Sym­phony. There was an inter­est­ing pre-concert lec­ture given by Seth Krim­sky, the prin­ci­pal bas­soon­ist, about Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Cas­tle, which com­prised the lat­ter por­tion of the evening’s pro­gram — more on that later. The first of the two works in the con­cert was Martinu’s Dou­ble Con­certo for two string orches­tras with tim­pani and piano. I had never heard the piece before, and I enjoyed it quite a bit. I know almost nine of Martinu’s music, and maybe now I’ll explore some more of his works.

The most excit­ing part of the con­cert was Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Cas­tle, a one-act opera based on the tale of Blue­beard. The ver­sion pre­sented at the con­cert was one that they termed “con­cert staged” — not fully staged with the orches­tra in the pit, but with set pieces sep­a­rat­ing the orches­tra and vocal­ists on stage. The set con­sisted of seven very tall objects which appeared to be square cross-section boxes, with one cor­ner fac­ing out. These rep­re­sented the seven locked doors in Bluebeard’s cas­tle (refer to the link above for a plot syn­op­sis). As each of the first six doors were opened, the cor­re­spond­ing boxes were spun around, reveal­ing that each had two open sides and housed a brand-new glass sculp­ture by Dale Chi­huly that rep­re­sented the con­tents of that par­tic­u­lar room. Each time a sculp­ture was revealed, the audi­ence let out an audi­ble gasp. I thor­oughly enjoyed the per­for­mance, espe­cially the meld­ing of music, the­ater, and visual art. That sort of thing doesn’t seem to be done very often, but I think it’s a great way to attract a larger and more diverse audience.

At the end of the con­cert, I man­aged to snap a few pics of the sculp­tures. They’re kind of blurry, due to dark­ness, dis­tance, and my attempts to be some­what dis­creet. But, they’ll give you the basic idea. As the hall cleared out, I moved back (we’d been sit­ting nice and close to the stage) and to the mid­dle to get a shot of the whole stage, but an usher yelled at me. I guess my ini­tial dis­cre­tion was pru­dent.
We then went off to find the green room, where we met up with David Ritt, my cousin-in-law and trom­bon­ist with the Seat­tle Sym­phony. He intro­duced me to three of the four bas­soon­ists, then went off to change. Jerin and I hung out back­stage for a few min­utes, then the three of us walked to McCormick & Schmick’s to chat and munch on cheap (but tasty) happy hour seafood. We didn’t stay too late, as we all had things to do the next morn­ing, but it was a great end to a really nice evening.

Folklife Wrapup

This year’s folk­life fes­ti­val went quite smoothly for those of us involved in pro­duc­tion. The crew was great, vet­er­ans and Folk­life rook­ies alike. In my par­tic­u­lar area, sig­nage, I had two very capa­ble assis­tants — Matthew and Tim. Matthew is the son of one of my mom’s long-time friends, and he and I haven’t seen each other for about six­teen years. It was nice to see him again and do a lit­tle catch­ing up. But, I digress. The nature of sig­nage is such that you rush around before the fes­ti­val putting signs and ban­ners up, but every­thing gen­er­ally calms down by the sec­ond morn­ing of the actual run. Matthew was only with us for a cou­ple of days before the fes­ti­val, but Tim was there through the whole run. As a result, Tim and I had alot of free time to go out and enjoy the fes­ti­val. With two good guys help­ing out and four fes­ti­vals already under my belt, this year was quite stress-free. From what I heard from other areas (pro­gram­ming, spon­sor­ship, etc.), it seems as though every­one had a pretty smooth run.

March Fourth Hula
Hooper

Despite the rel­a­tively low-key nature of this year’s fes­ti­val, it still wore me out. I was there usu­ally between seven and eight in the morn­ing, and never left before six, although some nights I was there con­sid­er­ably later. On Mon­day, Tues­day, and Wednes­day nights we par­tied too, first cel­e­brat­ing the end of the fes­ti­val proper, then var­i­ous stages of the take-down process. On Wednes­day night (the biggest cel­e­bra­tion), some of my co-workers started pes­ter­ing me to come back out to work at Bum­ber­shoot, an arts fes­ti­val that takes place over Labor Day week­end. I guess I won’t be in school yet then, but it’ll sort of depend on the pay and what I’m up to in Madison.

With all the free time I had, I was able to snap quite a few pic­tures. I’ve posted a num­ber of dig­i­tal shots, but I have a few rolls of film to develop and scan, as well. At the moment, my gallery con­sists largely of pics from two groups — March Fourth, a punk march­ing band with stilt-walkers and a hula-hooping anti-cheerleader, and The Lions of Batu­cada, a samba bate­ria from Port­land. There are also a few other pics show­ing var­i­ous other things, includ­ing the crowds, a herd of hurdy-gurdies, and some of the more provoca­tive pro­pa­ganda being car­ried around the fes­ti­val grounds. Any of the thumb­nails above will take you to the gallery.

My New Axe

A cou­ple of months ago, I wrote about going to Min­neapo­lis to try out new bas­soons. I brought two back with me for longer trial peri­ods. Both were great instru­ments, and I had a tough time decid­ing which I liked bet­ter. After a lot of back-and-forth (and an exten­sion of my trial period), I picked one — a Püch­ner 5000C. It has a beau­ti­ful tone, and is much more respon­sive and pro­ject­ing than my old Fox. The fin­ish, which they call “Alta Welt” (“Old World”), is gor­geous. In addi­tion to the stan­dard keys, it’s got an A-flat/B-flat trill key and a D/E-flat trill key. It has a whis­per key lock for each thumb, and a whole bunch of rollers. Prob­a­bly the coolest thing is that the instru­ment is a com­pact model, what some com­pa­nies call the “Gentleman’s Cut.” That is, the bass joint and the bell are split in a dif­fer­ent place from on a stan­dard bas­soon. The bass joint is only as long as the wing joint — a dif­fer­ence of five or six inches. What this means is that you can use a case that’s five or six inches shorter than your stan­dard one. The instru­ment came with a case that I didn’t really like, but Püch­ner agreed to take it back, so Mid­west Musi­cal Imports gave me a siz­able dis­count. Using some of that dis­count, I bought a really nice case by Brazil­ian maker Mar­cus Bonna. It’s so com­pact that peo­ple tell me it looks like a dou­ble clar­inet case. Any­way, here are a few dig­i­tal pics I took yes­ter­day of my new bas­soon. Click any of them to go to a gallery with more pics.

Paul Hanson Concert and Masterclass

Last week, we were lucky enough to have a guest bas­soon­ist on cam­pus — Paul Han­son. Paul is one of just a few real jazz bas­soon­ists out there. That is to say, he’s not a bas­soon­ist who dab­bles in jazz or a sax player who dab­bles in bas­soon (although he does play a lot of sax, too), he’s truly a jazz bas­soon­ist. The list of peo­ple with whom he’s played and/or recorded is quite impres­sive; check out his bio at jazzbassoon.com for the full list. He’s prob­a­bly best known to gen­eral audi­ences for his work with Béla Fleck & the Fleck­tones, appear­ing on Out­bound and the CD/DVD Live at the Quick. I’d been look­ing for­ward to his visit for quite awhile. I’d heard Paul at the 2005 IDRS con­fer­ence in Austin, as well as on the Fleck­tones albums. Also, I’ve been tak­ing some impro­vi­sa­tion classes (appar­ently the first bas­soon­ist at UW ever to do so), and was eager to get the chance to work with him.

Paul arrived Mon­day, and was sched­uled to play a con­cert that night. Marc invited me to come sit in on his rehearsal that after­noon. The combo con­sisted of local pianist/composer Paul Hastil, Direc­tor of the UW School of Music John Schaf­fer on bass, and grad stu­dent Tom Ross on drums. It was quite inter­est­ing for me to see how the four of them — who’d never played together as a group — put together a per­for­mance in a sin­gle short rehearsal.
The con­cert that night was great. There were a few hic­cups (for instance, it was about 85 degrees in the hall), but it was very impres­sive and enjoy­able, nonethe­less. I’d adver­tised the con­cert in my Music 101 dis­cus­sion sec­tions, and quite a few of my stu­dents showed up. The band played a vari­ety of tunes by Wayne Shorter, Kenny Bar­ron, Kenny Gar­rett, Paul Han­son, and oth­ers. The high­lights (in my opin­ion) were a tune by Jacob Do Ban­dolim called “Flight of the Fly” which involved a perpetually-moving circularly-breathed bas­soon line, a solo impro­vi­sa­tion in which Paul explored effects and play­ing against loops of him­self, and a Kenny Bar­ron tune called “Voy­age” which really grooved.

After the con­cert, Paul came up to me and asked if I was the guy he’d heard hit­ting high Gs in the prac­tice rooms ear­lier. I admit­ted that I was (finally, my pen­chant for play­ing ridicu­lously high pays off!), and he asked if I’d show him how I did it the next day. I hap­pily agreed, of course. I was plan­ning to spend the rest of the evening prac­tic­ing. But, I ran into Marc, who invited me out for a beer. So, I went out to the Green­bush Bar with him, Paul, and John and Sarah Schaf­fer — pretty cool.

The next day, we had an improv class dur­ing our nor­mal stu­dio time. Paul talked a bit about how he came to be a jazz bas­soon­ist and some approaches to start­ing to impro­vise. Then, the whole bas­soon stu­dio went on stage to try our hands at impro­vis­ing. For quite a few peo­ple, this was their first expe­ri­ence with improv, but every­one did quite well. We did some call-and-response exer­cises as well as trad­ing fours around the circle.

Later that after­noon, we had a chance to have lessons with Paul. It was was actu­ally more of a masterclass-type setup, with a few observers. I went first, and started out with doing some basic modal impro­vi­sa­tion with Paul play­ing chords on the piano. He grad­u­ally made his pro­gres­sions more com­plex, chal­leng­ing me to hear the changes and add altered tones to my play­ing. It was tough — I’m used to play­ing over set chord pro­gres­sions, and it took a lot more brain power to try to react to what he was doing. Then, he wrote some pat­terns and phrases on the chalk­board to demon­strate how to think hor­i­zon­tally and con­struct an inter­est­ing fig­ure over a pro­gres­sion. It was a lot of fun as well as being kind of hard work. He gave me quite a few things to work on.

We thought Paul was just going to be here for two days, but it turned out that he was stick­ing around on Wednes­day, as well. Unfor­tu­nately, I was very busy that day — my 101ers had an exam the next day, and I’d sched­uled meet­ings with them for much of the after­noon. But, I man­aged to free up 45 min­utes or so. I was hop­ing to get another les­son, but Marc was using his stu­dio at the time, and there wasn’t really any other place to go. So, we just hung out in the lounge, and I picked his brain for awhile. I asked him about how much bas­soon play­ing he ends up doing com­pared to sax play­ing, what sort of elec­tron­ics he uses (and what a basic set of bas­soon ampli­fi­ca­tion gear would be), the inte­gra­tion of impro­vi­sa­tion into a tra­di­tional clas­si­cal bas­soon edu­ca­tion, and some other things. If I’d known I would get the chance to just sit down and talk to him like that, I’d have done more ques­tion prepa­ra­tion and maybe con­ducted a real inter­view. I still got a lot out of our chat, though.

It was very edu­ca­tional week for me, and it was a real plea­sure to get so much time to work with Paul. He’s an amaz­ing player, an enthu­si­as­tic musi­cian, and a really nice guy. Sadly, I only man­aged to get a few kind of crappy pics (using my point-and-shoot dig­i­tal in low light with no flash).

Minneapolis and Bassoons

In the Test­ing Room

This past week­end, Veron­ica and I took a trip to Min­neapo­lis. Our orig­i­nal rea­son for going was so that I could spend a few hours at Mid­west Musi­cal Imports try­ing out some new bas­soons. But, Veron­ica has some friends in and around the Twin Cities, so we made a week­end out of it.

We hit the road Fri­day evening. The roads weren’t in the best con­di­tion, so it was sort of slow going. We made it with­out inci­dent, but it was 11:30 before we man­aged to check into our hotel. On Sat­ur­day morn­ing, we hunted down a cof­fee shop, then went right to Mid­west. I’d called ear­lier in the week to make sure that they’d have the bas­soons on hand that I was inter­ested in, as they often send instru­ments out for tri­als. They didn’t have all the instru­ments from their cat­a­log on hand, but they had plenty for me to try out.

I started out play­ing my bas­soon (thanks to my teacher’s advice), so I could get a feel for the room. Then, I tried a suc­ces­sion of Fox pro horns — 201, 660, and a cou­ple of 601s. A cou­ple of them I rejected out­right, due to lack of res­o­nance or insta­bil­ity of pitch. After the Foxes, I moved to the instru­ments in which I was most inter­ested — two Püch­n­ers. They had a 4000 series and a 5000 series, and I liked them both. The 5000 has some extra bells and whis­tles — E-flat trill key, A-flat/B-flat trill key, bal­ance hanger, “gentleman’s cut” long joint, etc. It also has a spe­cial fin­ish called “Alte Veldt” (“Old World”), which is (I think) sup­posed to emu­late the lac­quer of older Heckel bas­soons. I liked both of the Püch­n­ers quite a bit. I went back and forth between them and my favorite of the Foxes, and they were both superior.

Rack o’ Bassoons

So, I now have the two Püch­n­ers on two-week trial peri­ods. I’ll alter­nate between the two and play them both in ensem­bles. I’m hop­ing also to set up a blind lis­ten­ing test in one of the recitals halls — have peo­ple lis­ten and make com­ments while I play the two behind a screen. Now back to the trip…

After spend­ing a few hours at Mid­west, we headed off to Ikea to meet a bunch of Veronica’s friends from Luther Col­lege, where she did her under­grad. Once every­one had arrived, we walked across the street to the Mall of Amer­ica to find some lunch. I won’t say much about the MoA, but it’s huge and ridicu­lous. After lunch we walked back over to Ikea and spent a cou­ple of hours brows­ing around. I picked up a few small things (mostly kitchen stuff), but noth­ing major. By the time we’d fin­ished at the assemble-it-yourself par­adise, it was evening. So, we all went back to our hotel to hang out, eat pizza, and make use of the pool and hut tub. All in all a very fun day.

We headed back to Madi­son on Sun­day morn­ing. We’d thought about doing some sight­see­ing, but we had to check out of the hotel, and I didn’t want to either carry three bas­soons around or leave them in my car. I’d meant to take pic­tures of our trip, but I some­how man­aged to leave my cam­era on the floor of my room. Luck­ily, Veron­ica brought hers and snapped a cou­ple of pic­tures at Mid­west for me. I’ll keep you posted on whether I decide to buy one of these instruments.

Fotos de Brasil

Finally, my Brazil pic­tures are up. I man­aged to sort through them last night, and post them this after­noon. I have them some­what cat­e­go­rized. Under the main Brazil gallery, you’ll find gal­leries for Mas­ter­classes, Rehearsals and Con­certs, Trav­el­ing, Par­ty­ing, Jaraguá do Sul (the city in which the fes­ti­val was held), and Flo­ri­a­nop­o­lis (the island to which we took a day trip). Since there were so many, I didn’t take the time to enhance, crop, or really alter the pho­tos in any way. I may go back later and improve some of them. Also, I’m hop­ing to write a bit about the trip, which will serve to explain some of the pho­tos a lit­tle bet­ter. But for now, you can just check out the gal­leries linked above.

Two Contras

Yes­ter­day was our ridicu­lous con­tra­bas­soon duo recital. It was a lot of fun, and I’m pretty pleased with how it went. Garry was nice enough to haul in his whole record­ing rig and record the recital, so I should even­tu­ally (pend­ing his free time and mine) have a good record­ing to post here. We actu­ally had a pretty good turnout — I guess hav­ing a gim­mick helps with that. In any case, I’m no longer in hard­core recital prep mode, so I should finally be able to sort through my Brazil pic­tures and post them some­time this week.

Two Contras Poster

Here’s the poster I cre­ated for my upcom­ing con­tra­bas­soon duo recital. It’s going to be com­pletely ridicu­lous. We’re play­ing a num­ber of things that were arranged for bas­soon duos or trios: some arias from The Bar­ber of Seville and some excerpts from Der Freis­chütz (with the help of our friend Katie Koralesky on dou­ble bass). We’re also play­ing a piece by Daniel Dorff called Sonata D’Amore, which was actu­ally writ­ten for two con­tra­bas­soons. Each of us will play a solo piece with piano, as well. I’ll post record­ings after the recital, for your lis­ten­ing plea­sure (assum­ing you have a good sub­woofer). Click the image for a larger ver­sion of the poster.

Concerts Galore

This week is full of con­certs. Last night, I per­formed with the dou­ble reed ensem­ble. We played an arrange­ment of a Bach Cha­conne for solo vio­lin, arranged and con­ducted by Alex Klein. The group was huge, with some­thing like 18 oboes, 3 Eng­lish horns, 12 bas­soons, and 2 con­tra­bas­soons. Last night’s con­cert was all huge ensem­bles of like instru­ments. The high­light was prob­a­bly all the horns (some ungodly num­ber, I’m not sure exactly how many) play­ing Bohemian Rhap­sody. It was quite hilarious.

Tonight, the Panamer­i­can Octet (Mad­Winds — Chelle + four South Amer­i­can musi­cians) is play­ing a move­ment from a Mozart ser­e­nade. We haven’t had as many rehearsals as we might like, since every­one is run­ning in dif­fer­ent direc­tions all the time. But, it should go pretty well. Tomor­row, Mad­Winds are play­ing a run-out social con­cert. So far, we have no infor­ma­tion about where it’ll be. Last week we played in a bank, but other groups have gone to nurs­ing homes, parks, and malls. Fri­day, I think I have an orches­tra con­cert (they’re a lit­tle short on infor­ma­tion around here), and the bas­soon quar­tet I’m play­ing in is per­form­ing on another con­cert. Sat­ur­day, Mad­Winds is play­ing again. The orches­tra con­cert may be that day too, I’m not really sure.

In any case, I’m get­ting lots of play­ing time in all sorts of dif­fer­ent ensem­bles. I’m going to try to play a solo in mas­ter­class tomor­row or the next day, too — prob­a­bly Villa-lobos’s Ciranda das sete notas. I fig­ure that I should play some­thing Latin Amer­i­can while I have the oppor­tu­nity to work with Latin Amer­i­can bas­soon teachers.

Dubuque

This week­end, I’m play­ing with the Dubuque Sym­phony, just across the Mis­sis­sippi River from the Wisconsin/Illinois bor­der. I’m play­ing con­tra­bas­soon (and a lit­tle bit of Bas­soon III) on an all-Shostakovich con­cert — Fes­tive Over­ture, Suite from The Gad­fly, and Sym­phony No. 10. I drove over and back for rehearsals on Tues­day and Thurs­day, then came back Fri­day after­noon for the week­end. We have one con­cert tonight and another tomor­row afternoon.

My Room at Shalom

The sym­phony is putting me up for the week­end, in a place called the Shalom Retreat Cen­ter. It’s an inter­est­ing place. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but from what I can tell, it’s a Chris­t­ian non-denominational meeting/spritual healing/retreat space. None of the inte­rior doors lock. When I arrived last night after rehearsal, I punched in the code for the com­bi­na­tion lock on the outer door, found a card with my room assign­ment on the front desk, and ven­tured out to find my room. I didn’t see a sin­gle per­son, even when I ven­tured out later to find an alarm clock that had been going off for quite awhile. I found the clock in the cafe­te­ria in the base­ment of the build­ing, turned off the alarm, and went explor­ing. There must have been peo­ple there some­where — the park­ing lot was full. But, I saw no sign of any of them. Bizarre. Stand­ing in my room, it was so quiet (after I found and silenced the alarm clock) that the sound of blood flow­ing through my ears seemed incred­i­bly loud.

Today after our morn­ing rehearsal, I ven­tured out to explore the town a lit­tle bit. I bought a cou­ple of clas­si­cal records from a lit­tle thrift shop, then ven­tured down to the Mis­sis­sippi. I passed the National Mis­sis­sippi River Museum & Aquar­ium. I didn’t go in, but I walked around out­side to look at some of the river­boats they have on dis­play. I walked along the river for awhile, then ran into a cel­list from the sym­phony who also hap­pens to live a cou­ple of blocks away from me in Madi­son. We con­tin­ued up the river, and checked out a cou­ple of his­tor­i­cal build­ings — the Star Brew­ing Com­pany, and a Civil War-era shot tower. Shot tow­ers were used to pro­duce lead shot with the aid of grav­ity and sur­face tension.

After walk­ing along the river, we parted ways and I then walked back up to the down­town area. I’ve been parked in the Mis­sis­sippi Mug cof­fee shop for a cou­ple of hours now, drink­ing tea, lis­ten­ing to live jazz, work­ing on a travel grant pro­posal, and surf­ing the web. But, the shop closes soon, and I should get back to Shalom to don my tux, any­way. I didn’t bring my real cam­era, but I shot a few dig­i­tal pics. Click the thumb­nails above, or check out the rest of the gallery here.