Apologies, anyone and everyone who's reading this, for the lack of posting. For the significant lack of posting. Absolutely nothing of interest, music-wise, has happened this past week - no rehearsals, auditions, instrument catastrophes, nothing. (Although, the lack of the latter isn't necessarily a downfall.) Socially, yes; I haven't been pulling the "hermit" card these seven or so days. I'm not quite sure about my comfort with posting information about whatever life I may have aside from music. I'm unsure as to whether I'm willing (more like, too many people I know read this, and at the moment I'm not wanting to make any potential enemies or offenses).
Aside from that, it's been a quiet end to 2011. I can't complain. Wishing all of you a healthy and happy new year, I think I'm signing off for 2011.
I'll speak to you all in 2012!
30 December 2011
20 December 2011
And I thought Doom was a video game.
I miss All-State.
Well, I'm not sure how much I miss the late-night dance parties and all the social drama that went along with it, but I sure as hell miss the quality of the performances, and the rehearsals. Today was the final symphonic orchestra rehearsal before the concert tomorrow, and oh, my God - it was horrific. Not only are we as a group completely demolishing both Dvorak and Mussorgsky, our poor lone horn player apparently is reading a solo for the first time. I'll give him the fact that he's not a serious classical musician, and probably has never really listened intently to Dvorak's ninth, especially the fourth movement, which we're (unfortunately) attempting. But, a day before the concert is a little late to be sight-reading one of the most famous horn solos. I honestly don't understand how he managed to do that: he was, I know for a fact, at every rehearsal we've had. I don't quite get how the conductor never noticed that the solo wasn't being played, but I'm also not surprised in the slightest. As a whole, I'm not entirely sure the musicians (even those whom you would hesitate to call "musicians") regard the conductor in a very good light. I'm sure this will come up in a future post; there are too many potentially infuriating and catastrophic incidents that can occur in two years for there not to be.
Considering that the tempi for each piece vary from 80 to 120 and everywhere in between (and sometimes beyond), this concert is going to be hell. I'm not talking about tempi varying from section to section. I swear - and I know people who will back me up on this - they vary from beat to beat. It's gotten to the point where I just pretend to play at some points, and just watch the conductor to try and find where on earth we are in the music.
I rarely seem to succeed.
Thankfully, at least, I know the two pieces we're doing, so I can often just play by ear. They're arranged, though, which is a complete other source of much grief from me, but I'll leave that be, and just swallow my irritation. It's not a new thing, I've given up arguing over arrangements.
I have only one thing I have to complain about, and that's triplets. Anyone who's heard Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition (the Great Gate of Kiev) knows there are triplets there. Yet, somehow... when I listen to the music that's being played around me, there are none.
Odd.
Or so it may seem, until you take into consideration that the triplets, somewhere between the page and the bow or bell, miraculously turn into two sixteenths and an eighth. Instead of the expected "trip-le-et", "1-e-&" is what reaches the audience.
My friend and I are currently dreaming up plots to attend school the day of the concert, but suddenly come down with highly contagious diseases that render us incapable of playing at the concert. I honestly have never dreaded performing from the anticipated lack of quality this much in my life.
Well, I'm not sure how much I miss the late-night dance parties and all the social drama that went along with it, but I sure as hell miss the quality of the performances, and the rehearsals. Today was the final symphonic orchestra rehearsal before the concert tomorrow, and oh, my God - it was horrific. Not only are we as a group completely demolishing both Dvorak and Mussorgsky, our poor lone horn player apparently is reading a solo for the first time. I'll give him the fact that he's not a serious classical musician, and probably has never really listened intently to Dvorak's ninth, especially the fourth movement, which we're (unfortunately) attempting. But, a day before the concert is a little late to be sight-reading one of the most famous horn solos. I honestly don't understand how he managed to do that: he was, I know for a fact, at every rehearsal we've had. I don't quite get how the conductor never noticed that the solo wasn't being played, but I'm also not surprised in the slightest. As a whole, I'm not entirely sure the musicians (even those whom you would hesitate to call "musicians") regard the conductor in a very good light. I'm sure this will come up in a future post; there are too many potentially infuriating and catastrophic incidents that can occur in two years for there not to be.
Considering that the tempi for each piece vary from 80 to 120 and everywhere in between (and sometimes beyond), this concert is going to be hell. I'm not talking about tempi varying from section to section. I swear - and I know people who will back me up on this - they vary from beat to beat. It's gotten to the point where I just pretend to play at some points, and just watch the conductor to try and find where on earth we are in the music.
I rarely seem to succeed.
Thankfully, at least, I know the two pieces we're doing, so I can often just play by ear. They're arranged, though, which is a complete other source of much grief from me, but I'll leave that be, and just swallow my irritation. It's not a new thing, I've given up arguing over arrangements.
I have only one thing I have to complain about, and that's triplets. Anyone who's heard Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition (the Great Gate of Kiev) knows there are triplets there. Yet, somehow... when I listen to the music that's being played around me, there are none.
Odd.
Or so it may seem, until you take into consideration that the triplets, somewhere between the page and the bow or bell, miraculously turn into two sixteenths and an eighth. Instead of the expected "trip-le-et", "1-e-&" is what reaches the audience.
My friend and I are currently dreaming up plots to attend school the day of the concert, but suddenly come down with highly contagious diseases that render us incapable of playing at the concert. I honestly have never dreaded performing from the anticipated lack of quality this much in my life.
17 December 2011
Rubber Bands to the Rescue
Once again, quintet rehearsal was cancelled today, so I have a free afternoon to catch up on homework - or, go on the internet, procrastinate, and post here.
Today's lesson was, unfortunately, eventful. Sometime between when I practiced earlier and when I arrived at my teacher's house, I managed to do some pretty nasty damage to my oboe. It's not physically too bad - no cracks, nothing that severe - but it sure is annoying. One of the trill keys that I use fairly often (it's only use I'm positive of is a C to D trill, but that comes up a lot in Mozart) isn't sealing properly; when I release the key, it goes back to its "resting" position, but it has maybe a fraction of a millimeter of space that it just doesn't cover. When I try to play, the musical equivalent of "..." happens. Or, a rather unpleasant squeak or a strongly duck-like, tone-less sound reminiscent of beginning oboists that I'd rather not hear coming out of my oboe, depending on the note.
Thank the Lord for rubber bands, that's all I can say. After scrounging in various drawers around his kitchen (another reason I'm thankful I take lessons at his house and not at a studio), my teacher found a suitably skinny rubber band, and tied down the key. My oboe plays now, thankfully, although it takes a little more effort than I'm accustomed to to use the key. I'll just stick with Strauss and avoid the Mozart concerto, and otherwise just deal with it. It's going in for repairs and a general check-up this coming Thursday, so hopefully David (Teitelbaum, a fantastic repairman whom I recommend greatly) will be able to figure out what on earth is wrong with it.
The relief I have that I discovered it didn't work at a lesson as opposed to a rehearsal is rather huge. Up until a few hours post-lesson, I'd thought quintet was still on, leading to plenty of horrendous thoughts of what might have happened, had I taken a lesson on Sunday instead. Plenty of things I don't fancy thinking about. (*shudder*)
Today's lesson was, unfortunately, eventful. Sometime between when I practiced earlier and when I arrived at my teacher's house, I managed to do some pretty nasty damage to my oboe. It's not physically too bad - no cracks, nothing that severe - but it sure is annoying. One of the trill keys that I use fairly often (it's only use I'm positive of is a C to D trill, but that comes up a lot in Mozart) isn't sealing properly; when I release the key, it goes back to its "resting" position, but it has maybe a fraction of a millimeter of space that it just doesn't cover. When I try to play, the musical equivalent of "..." happens. Or, a rather unpleasant squeak or a strongly duck-like, tone-less sound reminiscent of beginning oboists that I'd rather not hear coming out of my oboe, depending on the note.
Thank the Lord for rubber bands, that's all I can say. After scrounging in various drawers around his kitchen (another reason I'm thankful I take lessons at his house and not at a studio), my teacher found a suitably skinny rubber band, and tied down the key. My oboe plays now, thankfully, although it takes a little more effort than I'm accustomed to to use the key. I'll just stick with Strauss and avoid the Mozart concerto, and otherwise just deal with it. It's going in for repairs and a general check-up this coming Thursday, so hopefully David (Teitelbaum, a fantastic repairman whom I recommend greatly) will be able to figure out what on earth is wrong with it.
The relief I have that I discovered it didn't work at a lesson as opposed to a rehearsal is rather huge. Up until a few hours post-lesson, I'd thought quintet was still on, leading to plenty of horrendous thoughts of what might have happened, had I taken a lesson on Sunday instead. Plenty of things I don't fancy thinking about. (*shudder*)
16 December 2011
For any of you interested...
All-State Mixed Choir was apparently all the rage, although I was never able to hear it. A big hit of theirs was a vocal version of the Marriage of Figaro overture; I just heard it from what a singer there posted on YouTube, and thought I'd share it. Click here to view it (the embed video function isn't quite working for me).
14 December 2011
Hell in Treble
This week has been absolutely horrible for me in terms of music; I have had so much schoolwork consuming my life that it's honestly a miracle that I managed to find time to pick up my oboe. I got a good amount of practicing in yesterday - late at night, of course, leading to an intensely difficult morning today.
Everyone around me is having embouchure issues, too. I'm not saying I'm excluding myself: Monday night orchestra rehearsal was a nightmare in that respect. By the end of the night, I'm fairly sure I was leaving out more notes because my mouth was so tired than playing. Emily, second oboe, wasn't much better. On break, talking with a clarinetist and our lonely tuba, they were complaining of the exact same thing.
I think the music gods just have it in for everyone this week or something.
Everyone around me is having embouchure issues, too. I'm not saying I'm excluding myself: Monday night orchestra rehearsal was a nightmare in that respect. By the end of the night, I'm fairly sure I was leaving out more notes because my mouth was so tired than playing. Emily, second oboe, wasn't much better. On break, talking with a clarinetist and our lonely tuba, they were complaining of the exact same thing.
I think the music gods just have it in for everyone this week or something.
11 December 2011
I'm not going to lie, this was pretty cool.
I didn't get a chance to update this about my recital yesterday, but as I'm supposed to be writing a paper for English, I figure I can do this while I procrastinate.
Three recitals per year are required by the conservatory I go to, and today was my first out of the eventual six I'll do before I graduate. I played the first movement of the Mozart Concerto in C for oboe, which I'd used for my NYSSMA (a sort of jury evaluation, to be brief) the year before. Needless to say, I had it down to a science, although I still made many errors.
Apparently, I was the only one that noticed.
Upon leaving the small recital hall ("room" is a better word), I was very nearly literally assailed by compliments from people I'd never met. A very outgoing and enthusiastic Asian woman and her husband positively raved over how I had done. Their son was easily the best pianist there, and I regret somewhat that I didn't reciprocate by saying how well he had played. Anyway, that was only the beginning.
The dean (now executive director; it'll take me a while to get used to that) didn't offer criticism for once, and instead said that I did well. It was a little reserved to the extreme, and I'm still unsure as to whether she meant it or not.
The assistant dean, whom I'm assuming is still assistant dean, was more enthusiastic and had praise. I got more specific feedback from the registrar that I befriended, in a way, in my theory class. Apparently, I phrase consistently well, shaping broader phrases without disregarding smaller bits. Er, thanks? As far as I know, I just play.
A little bit of confusion ensued when the dean/executive director said she wants me to play more of the "standard repertoire". As far as I know, Mozart is, well, pretty standard. After a bit of digging, I discovered she's one of the believers that the concerto I played was originally written for flute, and transposed for oboe. I'm fairly sure that it's the other way around (and Wikipedia agrees with me), but just in case, I halfway conceded. Wikipedia can always lie.
They want me to do English horn next, and I personally have nothing against that - I'd rather do English horn; it means I can sit when I play and everything seems more stable on it. Notes come better, the sound is never thin and whiny, and plus the music seems to have a somewhat lower technical demand, which is never a bad thing.
Three recitals per year are required by the conservatory I go to, and today was my first out of the eventual six I'll do before I graduate. I played the first movement of the Mozart Concerto in C for oboe, which I'd used for my NYSSMA (a sort of jury evaluation, to be brief) the year before. Needless to say, I had it down to a science, although I still made many errors.
Apparently, I was the only one that noticed.
Upon leaving the small recital hall ("room" is a better word), I was very nearly literally assailed by compliments from people I'd never met. A very outgoing and enthusiastic Asian woman and her husband positively raved over how I had done. Their son was easily the best pianist there, and I regret somewhat that I didn't reciprocate by saying how well he had played. Anyway, that was only the beginning.
The dean (now executive director; it'll take me a while to get used to that) didn't offer criticism for once, and instead said that I did well. It was a little reserved to the extreme, and I'm still unsure as to whether she meant it or not.
The assistant dean, whom I'm assuming is still assistant dean, was more enthusiastic and had praise. I got more specific feedback from the registrar that I befriended, in a way, in my theory class. Apparently, I phrase consistently well, shaping broader phrases without disregarding smaller bits. Er, thanks? As far as I know, I just play.
A little bit of confusion ensued when the dean/executive director said she wants me to play more of the "standard repertoire". As far as I know, Mozart is, well, pretty standard. After a bit of digging, I discovered she's one of the believers that the concerto I played was originally written for flute, and transposed for oboe. I'm fairly sure that it's the other way around (and Wikipedia agrees with me), but just in case, I halfway conceded. Wikipedia can always lie.
They want me to do English horn next, and I personally have nothing against that - I'd rather do English horn; it means I can sit when I play and everything seems more stable on it. Notes come better, the sound is never thin and whiny, and plus the music seems to have a somewhat lower technical demand, which is never a bad thing.
09 December 2011
Decisions, decisions
So, this summer, with my fantastic plans of camps and lots of musical adventures and the like, I thought I was pretty much set with an absurd amount of auditions, preparation, stress, and application fees. Well, this was quite true until about an hour ago.
My family and I took my friend and her parents to Ireland last summer. It was absolutely fantastic, and with that being the second trip we'd taken with them, we know we travel well together. So, for my friend's birthday, they're apparently going to Africa, and wanted to know whether we'd be willing to join them.
Talk about inner conflict.
I would absolutely love to go to Africa, but I love my music too. Neither of these things can really be procrastinated, as this is pretty much one of my last summers I can go to a music camp as a student. Going to Africa? Not exactly something everyone gets to do in their lifetime. I'm now conveniently stuck in the middle of an annoyingly difficult decision.
I think music is going to trump, though, largely because Disney offers some trips to Africa. Ugh; I'd love to go. Russia is still higher on the list of places I want to visit, though. I'm determined to see St. Petersburg and Moscow before I die.
My family and I took my friend and her parents to Ireland last summer. It was absolutely fantastic, and with that being the second trip we'd taken with them, we know we travel well together. So, for my friend's birthday, they're apparently going to Africa, and wanted to know whether we'd be willing to join them.
Talk about inner conflict.
I would absolutely love to go to Africa, but I love my music too. Neither of these things can really be procrastinated, as this is pretty much one of my last summers I can go to a music camp as a student. Going to Africa? Not exactly something everyone gets to do in their lifetime. I'm now conveniently stuck in the middle of an annoyingly difficult decision.
I think music is going to trump, though, largely because Disney offers some trips to Africa. Ugh; I'd love to go. Russia is still higher on the list of places I want to visit, though. I'm determined to see St. Petersburg and Moscow before I die.
07 December 2011
This is getting ridiculous.
My life has gotten to the point where "I can't, I have rehearsal" has changed to "I can't make rehearsal, I have rehearsal".
There's the summary of my week for all of you.
There's the summary of my week for all of you.
04 December 2011
Music Jokes
I just found this online, and thought I would share it with all of you (I claim no credit to it's creation, though I wish I could):
C, E-flat and G go into a bar. The bartender says, "Sorry, we don't serve minors," and E-flat leaves. C and G have an open fifth between them and after a few drinks, G is out flat. F comes in and tries to augment the situation, but is not sharp enough. D comes into the bar and heads straight for the bathroom saying, "Excuse me, I'll just be a second."
A comes into the bar, but the bartender is not convinced that this relative of C is not a minor and sends him out. Then the bartender notices a B-flat hiding at the end of the bar and shouts, "Get out now. You're the seventh minor I've found in this bar tonight."
Next night, E-flat, not easily deflated, comes into the bar in a 3-piece suit with nicely shined shoes. The bartender (who used to have a nice corporate job until his company downsized) says: "You're looking pretty sharp tonight. Come on in. This could be a major development." And in fact, E-flat takes off his suit and everything else and stands there au naturel. Eventually, C, who had passed out under the bar the night before, begins to sober up and realizes in horror that he's under a rest.
So, C goes to trial, is convicted of contributing to the diminution of a minor and sentenced to 10 years of DS without Coda at an up scale correctional facility. The conviction is overturned on appeal, however, and C is found innocent of any wrongdoing, even accidental, and that all accusations to the contrary are bassless.
The bartender decides, however, that since he's only had tenor so patrons, the soprano out in the bathroom and everything has become alto much treble, he needs a rest and closes the bar.
C, E-flat and G go into a bar. The bartender says, "Sorry, we don't serve minors," and E-flat leaves. C and G have an open fifth between them and after a few drinks, G is out flat. F comes in and tries to augment the situation, but is not sharp enough. D comes into the bar and heads straight for the bathroom saying, "Excuse me, I'll just be a second."
A comes into the bar, but the bartender is not convinced that this relative of C is not a minor and sends him out. Then the bartender notices a B-flat hiding at the end of the bar and shouts, "Get out now. You're the seventh minor I've found in this bar tonight."
Next night, E-flat, not easily deflated, comes into the bar in a 3-piece suit with nicely shined shoes. The bartender (who used to have a nice corporate job until his company downsized) says: "You're looking pretty sharp tonight. Come on in. This could be a major development." And in fact, E-flat takes off his suit and everything else and stands there au naturel. Eventually, C, who had passed out under the bar the night before, begins to sober up and realizes in horror that he's under a rest.
So, C goes to trial, is convicted of contributing to the diminution of a minor and sentenced to 10 years of DS without Coda at an up scale correctional facility. The conviction is overturned on appeal, however, and C is found innocent of any wrongdoing, even accidental, and that all accusations to the contrary are bassless.
The bartender decides, however, that since he's only had tenor so patrons, the soprano out in the bathroom and everything has become alto much treble, he needs a rest and closes the bar.
02 December 2011
All is once again well.
I feel somewhat idiotic for thinking it was a huge crisis, especially with how easily everything was fixed. All I did was go to the front desk and ask for a new one.
Boy.
Boy.
There are officially too many people here.
After this morning's two hours of rehearsal, I dropped off my English horn in the hotel room and went to check out the convention center that was hosting a, well, convention. After hitting a couple booths (only one, really; I'm not a fan of browsing) I went back to the room to grab some of my work to do.
Well, I tried. Unfortunately, I'd left my key inside the room.
So, currently, rehearsal starts in under an hour, my English horn is locked in my room, and my two roommates are nowhere to be found. Will hopefully update on how this turns out.
Well, I tried. Unfortunately, I'd left my key inside the room.
So, currently, rehearsal starts in under an hour, my English horn is locked in my room, and my two roommates are nowhere to be found. Will hopefully update on how this turns out.
27 November 2011
And this is why I don't let people touch my instruments
A while back, when I visited him in college, I promised my friend that I would give him a mini-concert with something I had prepared. I had doubted that we would have time, but as it happened, we did. I promised again that next time I saw him I would play for him.
Since he was home for Thanksgiving, we decided to get together yesterday, and I took him with my family to get our Christmas tree. A new experience for him, I think, with him being Jewish. Afterward, he wasted no time in making me take out my oboe and give him a concert. (I did; I'll be honest, it was terrible. I apologize if he's reading this.)
My double case was sitting out, with my English horn in it. He picked up the top two pieces, and after a minute of confusion, started to fit them together. While he was attempting to put on the bell, he did what a lot of oboists (and I would assume clarinetists, as it's basically the same thing) do: use your hip or pelvic bone as a sort of "floor" to press the pieces against to more easily put them together.
Except, it wasn't quite his pelvic bone that he was using. I can sum it up with what he said: "I am slowly destroying my children." As is typical, I was quite literally rolling around laughing.
I don't think he found it as funny as I did.
25 November 2011
Of all times, it had to break now.
In an attempt to make myself excited for All-State, rather than just terrified, I decided I may as well be prepared and listen to some recordings of what we're playing. Well, it worked, until I went back to practicing my part.
Now it's all back to fear.
Sometime between now and this coming Tuesday, this English horn needs some repairs. My left hand Eb key is tapping other keys when I press it (which is quite often) and its location just feels very, well, wrong.
The likelihood of this actually happening, on a scale of 1-10, is somewhere near zero. No matter how desperate my situation, a student oboist will have to wait if there's a professional who needs repairs. If there's one thing I've learned so far in my relatively scant years of playing, it's that. Though, I may as well try.
Now it's all back to fear.
Sometime between now and this coming Tuesday, this English horn needs some repairs. My left hand Eb key is tapping other keys when I press it (which is quite often) and its location just feels very, well, wrong.
The likelihood of this actually happening, on a scale of 1-10, is somewhere near zero. No matter how desperate my situation, a student oboist will have to wait if there's a professional who needs repairs. If there's one thing I've learned so far in my relatively scant years of playing, it's that. Though, I may as well try.
23 November 2011
Monetary Misery
Honestly, the number of times I've been told "Don't do that" or "Maybe music education?" or "Yeah, a double major is better, that way you'll at least have a job" is far, far beyond ridiculous.
I don't quite understand why people whom I've never spoken with before feel the urge to tell me that I'm doomed to live in a cardboard box on the side of the road by leaning toward music performance. Yes, I'm well aware that it's a difficult field - do you not think that I've already considered that? Sometimes it just makes more sense to go with what you want than what may provide you better.
At least, that's what my view is.
For the longest time (okay, less than a year, but still) I would say "Science and music double major" whenever someone asked what I was thinking of doing in college. Science would be the backup, something I've long enjoyed and have been good at. But, I know if I don't make music my profession, I'm going to eventually cease playing. I need something to practice for, and I've played with some of the community orchestras around here. Trust me: been there, done that, not going back, and trying to forget what it sounded like. If I'm an adult and employed in the sciences, I'm going to lose passion for it, and that is something I'd rather die than have happen.
Well, maybe not die, but I don't want to do it. I feel as though stopping playing is the same idea as stopping living - worse than death, perhaps? I know not. But at the very least I'll be losing touch with a part of myself that I think is closest to my truest core.
My teacher's friend's daughter (easy enough to follow, I think) had the same decision I'm starting to lean to: she ignored all advice telling her to find a backup, and poured herself into the music. Now, she's a Metropolitan Opera star with jobs here in New York and San Francisco (likely depending on who pays more). I find this admirable, and it's definitely weighing more in my thoughts than it has previously. I feel more at home in music situations than I do in those that are science-related. I enjoy science, I'm good at it, but I don't think it's where I'm going to be happiest.
Let's hope I'm right.
21 November 2011
Well, thanks... I think.
Today, as with every Monday, was the orchestra rehearsal at the community college.
Normally, woodwinds and then strings separately get a five to ten minute break, where the other section gets a sort of sectional rehearsal. I have a small group of people I know I usually talk with while we're on break. Unfortunately, every single one of them was absent.
After a few minutes of rather awkward standing on my own, I spotted the second oboe talking with a group of people I've spoken with occasionally, and a couple I'd never seen before. I went over and jumped into the conversation: they didn't mind.
After a minute, one of the people I didn't recognize turned to me and said, "I love your oboe playing! It almost makes me want to cry!"
That's not the first time I've been told that, oddly enough, but it was still rather peculiar. A few minutes after that, she mentioned how she had seen me at a local production of Hamlet during a summer Shakespeare festival, on the line to the ladies' restroom, of all places. She said how she saw me and thought I looked familiar, but couldn't place it. I laughed; that sort of thing happens to me all the time. I didn't think until later that I had previously thought I had never met this girl before.
Well, ... I guess that's what having all the solos gets you: people knowing you, while you've never before met them.
Odd.
Normally, woodwinds and then strings separately get a five to ten minute break, where the other section gets a sort of sectional rehearsal. I have a small group of people I know I usually talk with while we're on break. Unfortunately, every single one of them was absent.
After a few minutes of rather awkward standing on my own, I spotted the second oboe talking with a group of people I've spoken with occasionally, and a couple I'd never seen before. I went over and jumped into the conversation: they didn't mind.
After a minute, one of the people I didn't recognize turned to me and said, "I love your oboe playing! It almost makes me want to cry!"
That's not the first time I've been told that, oddly enough, but it was still rather peculiar. A few minutes after that, she mentioned how she had seen me at a local production of Hamlet during a summer Shakespeare festival, on the line to the ladies' restroom, of all places. She said how she saw me and thought I looked familiar, but couldn't place it. I laughed; that sort of thing happens to me all the time. I didn't think until later that I had previously thought I had never met this girl before.
Well, ... I guess that's what having all the solos gets you: people knowing you, while you've never before met them.
Odd.
20 November 2011
Who am I?
I'll leave the philosophy for another time, and instead give a brief background on my musical history, so all of you know who you're working with.
Currently, I'm hoping to earn a Bachelor's in music performance once I reach college, and then likely a Master's in education. Where? Who knows. We'll see when I get there.
I started playing in fifth grade, though it was the summer before (summer of '05, I believe). When I was in seventh grade, I joined my first orchestra at a local conservatory. Though it was disbanded because of a lack of players after two years, it was still a great experience and I still play with a few of the people I met there. Like the majority of musicians in my area, I played in All-County, as second oboe underneath a guy, whom I'll call James as he doesn't exactly know he's being mentioned, whom I'll be playing with in two weeks in All-State. The following year I positively bombed my audition (I hated the piece I was playing) and was invited to All-County band - I declined, and wasn't invited to go back to a NYSSMA festival until this year. (I still swear they took it personally.)
My freshman year, I joined a local orchestra at a community college in the area, and have been with them since. That year I picked up English horn after a piece we were playing contained an English horn part for the second oboe. I've loved it ever since.
The same year, instead of the chamber orchestra at the conservatory, I played with a violin, bassoon, and harpsichordist in a baroque ensemble, which continued until my sophomore year. The second year, however, we exchanged the bassoonist for a cello and got a different piano/harpsichord player. I was re-invited to play another year and denied, and am instead in a woodwind quintet (thus far, I much prefer it).
I've played in various pits around the county and in my school district. I've even managed to get paid for a few - not a bad deal, in my opinion. I'm still surprised that I can be considered good enough to be paid for playing. I underestimate myself on a regular basis.
I'm now first chair in the orchestra at the community college, and am teaching two other students at my school who are interested in taking up oboe and becoming better players.
That's about all I can think of for the moment.
Currently, I'm hoping to earn a Bachelor's in music performance once I reach college, and then likely a Master's in education. Where? Who knows. We'll see when I get there.
I started playing in fifth grade, though it was the summer before (summer of '05, I believe). When I was in seventh grade, I joined my first orchestra at a local conservatory. Though it was disbanded because of a lack of players after two years, it was still a great experience and I still play with a few of the people I met there. Like the majority of musicians in my area, I played in All-County, as second oboe underneath a guy, whom I'll call James as he doesn't exactly know he's being mentioned, whom I'll be playing with in two weeks in All-State. The following year I positively bombed my audition (I hated the piece I was playing) and was invited to All-County band - I declined, and wasn't invited to go back to a NYSSMA festival until this year. (I still swear they took it personally.)
My freshman year, I joined a local orchestra at a community college in the area, and have been with them since. That year I picked up English horn after a piece we were playing contained an English horn part for the second oboe. I've loved it ever since.
The same year, instead of the chamber orchestra at the conservatory, I played with a violin, bassoon, and harpsichordist in a baroque ensemble, which continued until my sophomore year. The second year, however, we exchanged the bassoonist for a cello and got a different piano/harpsichord player. I was re-invited to play another year and denied, and am instead in a woodwind quintet (thus far, I much prefer it).
I've played in various pits around the county and in my school district. I've even managed to get paid for a few - not a bad deal, in my opinion. I'm still surprised that I can be considered good enough to be paid for playing. I underestimate myself on a regular basis.
I'm now first chair in the orchestra at the community college, and am teaching two other students at my school who are interested in taking up oboe and becoming better players.
That's about all I can think of for the moment.
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