Category Archives: TFC

Getting closer to MacMemorized…

Whew.  I’ve definitely got movements 1, 2, and 5 down, and I think I have 3 and 6 too.  I’m sure I can learn 8 quickly enough.

Now that we’ve found out that we can use the scores, I’m not worried about 4, which has slow stepwise movement for the basses, and 7, which is really all about the timing not the notes, and 9, which has an almost interminable pedal tone with words coming at varying, hard-to-predict moments.  The score will be REALLY helpful there for all of those, and a load off my mind.  (Though I’d still rather we be memorizing the whole piece… I certainly plan to do so.)

I’m proclaiming myself ready for the not-really-off-book off-book rehearsal tomorrow!

Oliverisms

What are these “Oliverisms” that I refer to often in this blog?

I’ve been singing for John Oliver since 1991.  He was conducting  the MIT Concert Choir then, and I was just making the transition from ‘pianist’ to ‘singer.’  Learning to sing in that choir with John was like learning to drive in a parking lot but with a $100,000 BMW.  You got the impression you were being treated very nicely, but you didn’t have a real way to experience it.  Even with that limited experience singing with John, I got to appreciate his musical knowledge, his style and typical adjustments, his well-trained ear….  and his wit.

John has a great way of breaking up the pace of rehearsals with a funny story or a one-liner that just cracks everyone up.  It functions as a nice tension relief, too, to break up all that concentration on the music in front of you.  (Having sung for Allen Lannom later with the Masterworks Chorale, I got to see first hand how weary it can be to drill, drill, drill without a break in the action.)  But more importantly… they’re just damn funny!

For years, now, I’ve always wanted to capture every one of those spontaneous lines (my term: “Oliverisms”).  He throws at least a couple out there every rehearsal to lighten the mood and keep the rehearsal moving forward.  Many of my favorites are lines he throws out when someone screws up.  He’ll regularly stir up friendly rivalries amongst the sections, with lines like “You sound great, basses — MUCH better than the tenors.”

Three of my all time favorite lines:

  • “That’s too soft.”  (Said with an earnest look as if he’s serious, when an entire section misses its first entrance.)
  • “The problem is that the sopranos are flat when they’re exposed.”
  • “Try to sing… as if the person next to you… might be right.”

I’m trying to capture my favorites as I remember them from rehearsals going forward.

Oliverisms from first Large Chorus MacMillan rehearsal of the year

Some recent Oliverisms I managed to jot down:

“We’ll have to rehearse all of these smaller chorus parts.  That means some of you will have to sit and wait while the other side struggles.”

[After the altos hit a low E-flat] “The altos haven’t visited that note since that night on the beach in 1960!”

“Careful — the trombones are doubling you up until that point, then you’re there with your asses hanging out.”

You are the rock

MacMillan progress: 1st and 2nd movements memorized (except for that crazy Peter’s denial nonsense, which I can’t for the life of me figure out), and most of the 3rd movement (I think I have all of Pilate’s lines down now in the 3rd movement as well as the “Hail, Hail” and “Crucify him”, but not the Judas conclusion. The rest is mostly still limping along.

Today I think I nailed the end of movement two, and I really like the subtext of this one.  Peter has just screwed up — he’s denied Jesus three times, and the cock has crowed (via a frantic trumpet-led arpeggiated lead-in).  This is where in most Passion readings you feel bad for Peter.  In St. Matthew’s Passion story, Peter goes out and weeps — Bach has his evangelist do this magnificent sobbing on the word “weinete” when Peter goes out and weeps bitterly (Und ging heraus und weinete bitterlich).

No such moping here.  Our text is about building up off of failures:

Tu es Petrus et super hance petram aedificabo ecclesiaum meam

Translation: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church.”  Rather than chide Peter for his failings, MacMillan chose text to remind Peter, and therefore all of us, that even though he has failed, he has great deeds ahead of him.  Pick yourself up!  Dust yourself off!  No matter what happens, you will be the foundation of my legacy on earth.

This is further emphasized by the music.  In a piece with tone clusters, glissandos, indeterminate pitches, occasional yelling, and some painful dissonances, for this entire piece the chorus is locked in strong, on the beat rhythms, in tonal chords.  There’s a bass pedal tone anchoring the whole thing through many of the measures, like a cornerstone on that foundation Petrus is creating for us.  Meanwhile the orchestra is dancing all over the place with crazy accented outbursts from the brass, tremolos from the strings building up intensity, a gong playing…  to me, it’s all the distractions, all the failures, all the things that can go wrong, all assailing that foundation trying to bring it down.  But Peter is the rock, the petram, and none of this stuff shakes the chorus’s foundation as we methodically build this choral church up to a fortissimo at the end.  And in a nice goose-bumpy touch, the organ comes blaring in at the end asserting this foundation on the same chord that we’ve just finished holding for a long three measures… saying YES THIS CHURCH IS HERE TO STAY with a final flourish.

I love this effect.  It’s a nice respite from all the sadness of the rest of the story.

Reflecting Catholicism… in music?

It’s 20 days until the off-book rehearsal, and I’ve almost got the large chorus first movement portions of the MacMillan St. John’s Passion memorized, including that nasty tone cluster part for the movement-concluding reflection.  It was in that reflection that I gained yet new appreciation for the composer’s ingenuity as I uncovered more hidden gems.

The Latin text of this first movement (or at least its translation) is familiar to any Catholic.

Accipite, comedite:
Hoc est enim Corpus meum quod pro vobis tradetur.
Accipite et bibite ex eo omnes:
Hic est enim calix Sanguinis mei novi et aeterni testamenti qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum.
Hoc facite in meam commemorationem

Which translates to what even the least faithful Catholic will recognize from going to Mass: “Take this, and eat it — this is my Body.  Take this, and drink, this is my Blood, of the new and everlasting Covenant, shed for you and all sinners.  Do this in memory of me.”

For the non-Catholics, some background.  The transubstantiation mystery, a.k.a. the celebration of the Eucharist, is pretty much the whole point of the Mass, and one of the central tenets of Catholicism.  How can one treat this epic event musically?

Ta da — we have the tone cluster.  Each individual part in the diviso, starting with the low basses and up to Soprano 1, sings each successive syllable of the “take this and eat it” or “take this and drink it” text, and sings it one half-step higher.  In the end it’s the equivalent of mashing your face on the piano keyboard.  The effect is mysterious and spooky, like when John Williams asks the chorus to do it at the beginning of his Close Encounters of the Third Kind score.  Then we all sing the same melody, if you could call it that, except we’re each singing it from our base starting note.  This is like rolling your face around on a keyboard… or perhaps picking it up and mashing it down in a very set pattern.

And you know what?  It works.  It certainly conveys that something funky is going on, that this is unlike anything else you’ve experienced, that you should pay attention because something magical and mysterious just happened right in front of you.  It’s like the altar bells, only much more in your face.

Now for the rest of it… all the stuff about the new and everlasting Covenant, and so forth.  It’s all chanted pretty regularly by the whole chorus in a solid chord.  But whenever the text mentions the people being saved, it drops to an out of place, discordant chord that is at odds with the rest of the chant.  This happens for “vobis et pro multis”, meaning “for you and for many.”  It also happens for the word “peccatorum”, or “sinners.”  This is quite consistent with the general Catholic approach, which is to say we’re all sinners and aren’t worthy to even glance at the big toe of God or Jesus, but if we pray hard enough and seek forgiveness and healing through the Sacraments then maybe, just maybe, we might be deemed worthy of God’s grace.

All that conveyed in the 60 seconds or so of this passage.  Brilliant.  I love it.

Kids Matinee was a blast!

I went into the Kids Matinee this year with a sense of dread.  We had several “kids songs” that didn’t feel like very good kids’ songs.  “Christmas Time is Here” from A Charlie Brown Christmas?  (Do kids even watch that any more?)  “Must Be Santa?”  They say kids learn this one in school but I had never heard of it until this year.  (Then again, I had never heard “The Man with the Bag” until our Santa Medley included it.)  Plus “Children Go Where I Send Thee,” for which I think everyone expected a soloist who was a stereotypical Big Black Woman with some gospel soul in her heart… only to see the diminuitive, perky, and very white Maureen Brennan make an appearance at the orchestra rehearsal.  She would be the guest soloist for all the kids’ shows this year.  It was a  facepalm moment.  I was so happy I only had one kids’ matinee on my concert schedule.

Fast forward to last Satuday at 11am.  The concert’s about to start.  The chatter in the crowd was decidedly in a higher register as I saw all the kids in the crowd clearly excited to be there.  When the opening piece started, one 3 or 4 year old in the 1st balcony stood on his mom’s lap and waved his arms frantically trying to imitate Keith conducting.  When Maureen came out all perky and bouncy with her hi-boys-and-girls attitude, it felt very genuine and really engaged the audience, young and old.  (As opposed to when she turned it on briefly at the orchestra rehearsal a few weeks earlier, all she really got was a lot of eye rolls from the choristers.)  When Keith announced that we’d be doing an excerpt from A Charlie Brown Christmas there was definitely an oooh from the crowd as they recognized it — even though, as Keith jokingly pointed out, when he was little it was only on once a year.  If you missed it you had to wait a whole ‘nother year to see it.  There were no DVRs, no On Demand, no cable.  Didn’t matter, it was a hit.  And don’t get me started on when Santa came out, and stayed for all of Must Be Santa (with everyone singing along).  In fact, the whole show was a hit.  It really put me in the Christmas spirit and left me quite energized.  It was nice to remember that THAT was why I sang at Holiday Pops!

So I almost feel bad that we didn’t drag our older son Jack along to a concert this year.  Almost.  Last year the big sing-through piece was The Polar Express and that was a big hit with him at 3-1/2 years old.  This year it was a medley of Christmas carols telling “the original Christmas Story” with Robert Honeysucker or our old pal Jim Demler narrating and singing.  No one was foolish enough to think that would keep the kids engaged, so it wasn’t even on the children’s matinee program.  Yet at almost a full 90 minutes this year (with no intermission!) I think there were enough fun things that Jack and his attention span would have made it to the end.

Volunteering vs. Giving Freely

Interesting lunch conversation the other day with other TFC chorus members between Holiday Pops performances.  We talked about how, as much fun as the Holiday Pops is, in truth the Pops Orchestra would find very few volunteers from the chorus from the TFC if it wasn’t a requirement for staying in the chorus.  Oh, sure, nothing is ever written out to this effect, as far as I’ve seen.   But there’s very much an attendance and participation requirement as for being part of the chorus — stories abound of people not making later rosters after cancelling out last minute or missing too many rehearsals.  A lot of us are part of the TFC because we love the higher level of performance (and accountability!) that comes with the pieces we do as well as the thrill of getting to perform at Symphony Hall or out in the Berkshires.  So it’s understandable that the BSO/Pops require us to sing the Holiday Pops concerts — there are a lot of good singers, and why not judge just on your voice but also on your attendance, reliability, and availability? 

It also made me feel bad for one singer who missed the morning concert that day; he had written down that he was doing 2 concerts but thought it was the 3pm and 7:30pm.  He knows it’s a black mark that may come to haunt him some day when rosters are chosen!

Now, mind you, I love singing for the Holiday Pops.  It’s been a part of my life for… 13 years?  14?  I’ve lost count.  But by the time you hit that 6th and 7th concert, you’re mostly Pops’d out.  Especially given how busy December is for everyone anyways.  There was a stretch of several years during which I was ONLY on the Holiday Pops roster, sort of the TFC Junior Varsity team.  If you’re on that side roster, then you are very excited to be doing Holiday Pops!  It’s your one chance all year to get on stage and be a part of the spectacle that is a Symphony Hall performance.  I took great pride in those appearances.  It helps to remember that.  But that was a man in the desert happy to find an oasis.  When you’ve got running water, the oasis pond looks kinda muddy… are you really gonna drink that?

We noticed that this year they stopped saying that we “sing for the joy of it” and that we were a “completely volunteer chorus” during our introduction.  Now Keith Lockhart simply says that we “give freely of our time” during this busy season.  Definitely more accurate.  We give for free because we want to be a part of this chorus, and committing to 6-8 Holiday Pops concerts is the de facto admission price.

The MacMillan off-book date is *gulp* WHEN?

The rehearsal schedule was rejiggered… and the off-book date was moved up.  To January 11th.  Yikes!  That’s not such a big move, but the reality of that date finally hit me.  That’s about three weeks away!

For the uninitiated, the TFC memorizes the music for all of its performances.  That’s always been one of the things I love about singing with the chorus, for two reasons.  First of all, it means you really get to know the music inside and out.  Secondly, it means most of the “work” of being the chorus is shouldered by the individual members on their own time and pace, rather than by grinding it out through weekly evening 2-3 hour rehearsals to work on notes together.  Typically the last piano rehearsal before we rehearse with the conductor on concert week is known as the “off-book” rehearsal.  You can have your music with you, but you’re expected to have it memorized by that point. 

There was a time when people didn’t take that off-book date too seriously.  We would make note cards with text on it as reminders, or little cheat sheets to get through some of the tough parts.  A few years ago John Oliver came down hard on that.  “Off book is off book,” he admonished us, specifically calling out note cards and cheat sheets as signs you were not ready.  Some of us still sneak a few notes or peeks at the music to confirm what we think we know.

This piece is certainly going to be one of the harder pieces we’ve had to memorize — though I’m told by most accounts that Moses und Aron, the Schoenberg opera, probably tops the list.  I expect we’ll have a lot of people sneaking peeks at music on January 11th.

Right.  January 11th.  Holy crap!  Did I mention that’s only about 3 weeks away?  I’ve been soaking up the music but I’ve only sat down and truly studied a few movements, trying to imprint both the notes and the text in my brain.  Time to step it up!

Falling for MacMillan’s St. John Passion

I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Bach’s St. Matthew Passion.  As a “recovering Catholic,” I have been to countless Passion Sunday and Good Friday services and know the story almost as well as the Christmas story.  Regardless of one’s religious beliefs, the Passion itself is so full of drama, bordering on melodrama, that it makes sense to communicate some of that pathos via a musical setting.  I especially enjoyed several elements of Bach’s composition: how he always gave Jesus a “halo” with the orchestra strings, how the dramatic crowd scenes can give shivers down one’s spine (Laß ihn kreuzigen… let him be crucified!), and what I consider the whole point of the piece, when after the earthquake and the curtain tears in two, the guard sings Warlich, Dieser Ist Gottes Sohn Gewesen (“Surely this was the Son of God”)

Now I’m falling in love all over again… this time with modern composer James MacMillan’s retelling of the St. John’s Passion.

Mind you, I’m not a big fan of modern music – as John Oliver briefly implied during a rehearsal this week, oftentimes it seems like modern composers are trying all sorts of crazy stuff just to see what they can get away with, and it comes across more as noise.  And without context – if you just drop into any part of MacMillan’s Passion and just listen to a segment of some movement — take, for instance, the opening of movement 5 – it can feel as cacophonous and pointless as most modern compositions.  Weird harmonies and dissonances.  Time signatures that fluctuate between 4/4, 6/8, and a hefty dose of 7/8, like when Pontius Pilate talks.  Is it “one-two-three, ONE two, ONE two”… or is it “ONE two, one two, ONE two-three?”  Depends on where you are…!  Not to mention odd effects like glissandos, tone clusters, and very un-melodic lines.  Who would choose to listen to this?

But as I continued studying and listening to it, and put it in the context of the Passion, I began to see its brilliance as I ascribed meaning to its passages.  Some of my favorite moments:

  • Jesus still has his halo… as the only soloist, every time he speaks it is this sing-song, halting, measure-defying, wandering but otherwise pleasant non-melody.  The piece establishes the halo right from the first movement.  It’s an otherworldly juxtaposition that emphasizes not only is he not of this world (and won’t be bound by our conventions) but also how bizarre is it that he should be put to death by the people he came to save.
  • There is still a narrator too, but rather than the virtuosity of a tenor soloist as in Bach, it’s a separate small chorus.  They set the tone of each movement – starting off matter-of-factly, then throughout the piece adding a layer of emotion: hostility as Jesus faces the high priests and Pilate’s questioning, tenderness as his mother standing at the foot of the cross…
  • One of my favorite narrator moments actually drew a lot of derisive laughs in the first rehearsal, probably in the same vein of “these crazy modern composers” – the narrator chorus dies away (the composer remarks in the score that it’s a gliss with “pitch indeterminate”).  While others found it silly, I found it chilling, at least in the recording we have… as Jesus waits on the cross to die, his strength ebbing, while soldiers game for his clothes… it effectively communicates his life draining away and a hopeless sense of “it doesn’t get much worse than this, huh.”
  • When Jesus talks about his kingdom to Pilate, the brass crash in with a majestic fanfare that crumples in on itself, as if to say, “This is so absurd, like a bird explaining the sky to a tadpole.”
  • The crowd scenes are even more violent and jarring to the ear than Bach’s furious fugues – and, really, why should a crowd screaming “Away with him! Crucify him!” like in the 4th movement be singing tonally?  In many cases, rather than the fugue form, MacMillan uses a canon with every part offset a measure or half a measure – which, given that the lines are not always melodic nor do they harmonize this way, becomes a pretty effective mob.
  • Just as I love the “Warlich…” passage in Bach’s Passion, so do I love the tender yet sad way the narrator chorus proclaims that Jesus bowed his head and gave up his spirit.  It just crushes me to hear that passage, almost like I’m hoping this time it won’t happen, it’s so full of inexorable love and sacrifice.
  • And finally, perhaps my favorite part is in the middle of the choirless tenth and final movement.  The basses and cellos play this new, previously unheard theme that sounds noble, majestic, and purposeful, while the clarinets do the same awful squawking that they do in a previous movement, trying (but failing) to drown out the theme.  It’s as if to say the crowds involved in the crucifixion can’t stop Jesus from accomplishing his purpose.  The whole 10th movement serves as a very effective denouement, a sad end to the tale.

Overall there are a lot of neat discoveries in this piece like this, and I’m finding a few more each time through.  If you’re part of the performance, I hope you found these insights interesting; if you’re not performing, I hope you consider attending.

The Process of Memorizing New Music

As people familiar with the Tanglewood Festival Chorus know, about 95% of our performances are from memory.  A singing friend of mine asked me yesterday, “How do you guys do it?”  She wasn’t expressing disbelief or praise.  She really meant it.  What does one actually do to go about memorizing all these pieces when you have so few rehearsals?

My answer was almost automatic.  “50-60% aural, 20-30% visual, 10-20% touch/mechanics.” Growing up learning to play piano, I had to memorize every piece I learned, to the point where it was hard for me to be happy playing something if I hadn’t memorized it.  That quote was from my music teacher; she always told me that learning a piece was a mixture of those senses but that you definitely needed all three.  Most people focus on the visual (reading the music) and the mechanics (once you’ve played/sung something often enough, it becomes ingrained in your muscle memory.)  She emphasized this by having recording my playing and practicing so I could listen to myself.

So when it comes to learning these pieces, I usually get a hold of a recording as soon as possible and use that to begin the osmosis into my brain.  I start passively listening to it everywhere – on morning commutes, on business trips, sitting at my computer doing other things.  I say passively because I’m not studying the music, I’m just trying to get a feel for its character, its structure, where the chorus comes in, that sort of thing.

Now, smarter singers than I have specific preferences about which recordings they buy and listen to, but I’m cheap and not really a connoisseur: I’m quite happy with the recording the chorus manager supplies for us.  And John Oliver himself has said he rarely listens to the recordings, because he can sit with the score and hear it in his head (and therefore not be trapped into one particular interpretation and its dynamics or tempi.  Hey, I’m Just Another Bass.  I’m not that good.

At some point I will sit down with the recording and the music and walk through it together, preferably with a piano nearby to play out tough passages.  The goal is to the point where when I’m passively listening, I can follow along mentally because I know the notes and text.  That way I can turn those passive sessions into active sessions and transform otherwise worthless commute time into study time.

As the off-book rehearsal looms closer, I start to do things like “on this 30 minute drive, I’m not getting out of the car until I’ve memorized this passage.”  I’ll sing along with the music, sometimes turning it off to see if I can sing it without the musical prompts.  I’ll back up and play the same 4 bars again and again… then add another 4 bars… then try the next 8… then see if I remember the first 8… then jump to another part of the piece and listen… then go back to the part I’m learning and see if I’ve forgotten it.  Sure enough, by the time I’m walking from the parking lot to my office, I’ve generally got it in my head.  On the way home, the challenge is, is it still in my head?  So I repeat the process.

Sooner or later, there’s a moment of panic.  Uh-oh, the off-book rehearsal is soon, and I still don’t know the piece!  That will usually trigger several hours of at the piano work with the score, or continually running a section over and over again trying not to look at the music as I sing.  I will write note cards (visual and tactile) to help memorize tricky text portions and flip through those while I sing the notes.  Hopefully by the time the final piano rehearsal comes along I’m feeling dangerous enough to forego those note cards, as they’re a crutch that’s frowned upon during those memorized rehearsals.

Whether you are memorizing your music or not, I’m interested to hear – how do you learn music?