2
Posted by Teresa Ulrich
on
1:44 AM
Last night I attended a concert put on by the students. They had two rock/pop portions sandwiched around a classical guitar session. I had tons of fun watching them. It almost makes me wish we had such an opportunity to perform together like that at ISU. However, not everyone can play electric guitar, and I certainly can't play the piano or drum. Or electric guitar...
At any rate, I had a good time.
The profound moment, for me, came before the concert, though. I read some of The Robert Shaw Reader whilst I was in the office. Something he said actually made sense (I say that because his verbage is a little more complicated than I care to read during the times at which I choose to read his book--usually in the late evenings):
What is required of the conductor is that he make available and attractive to his co-workers disciplines which educate—not simply dictate, to the end that each person ultimately is capable of accepting his own honest and entire musical responsibility. Granted, it’s the conductor’s job to teach “notes”; much more important is his responsibility to teach ways of learning notes. If two rehearsals on a Benjamin Britten cantata do not short-cut and simplify the problems of learning a Walton cantata, then the conductor also should leave rehearsal at intermission—and stay away.
Big deal, right? What's so important about that?
My impression of Robert Shaw before I started reading this book was that he was a "hard taskmaster." Dr. Carlisle always talks about Shaw because he sang with him. When Dr. C brings up Shaw in rehearsal, some of us members secretly roll eyes at each other and crack a joke after the fact. But something about this man is starting to intrigue me. No wonder he was the most influential American choral conductor to date; his musings on music are very profound and compelling.
The quote above resonated with me because one of the discussions Mrs. Heaton (my supervising teacher at Plainfield HS) and I had was about reconciling performer/conductor vs. educator. I (well, she had the final say, of course) had a tough decision to make about something regarding the winter concert... and that conversation has stuck with me ever since.
A part of that conversation dealt with the mindset of a student/new teacher. I have just ended a wonderful experience--being immersed in post-secondary music studies. Post-secondary choral ensembles are much different from secondary choral ensembles. Students in post-secondary choral ensembles can be expected to be able to learn music quickly (i.e., sing something once and have it down). Students in secondary choral ensembles are different. They (generally) aren't taking theory and skills or music history or even voice lessons in addition to that ensemble, and cannot be expected to synthesize that material in order to become a better musician. Most of their music exposure in school is just that--choir.
So, that makes sense in my head in how what I've been thinking about fits with that quote...
Robert Shaw was a performer, a conductor. I never really thought about him as an educator. But that quote leads me to believe otherwise. I guess that's how it makes sense in my mind. Does that make better sense?
At any rate, at 5 PM, I sat down at the table out in front of the arts building. The classical guitars were practicing their numbers, and then Note started improvising over someone's chord progressions, and it was beautiful, and I was reading more of the Shaw.
And, it hit me.
Music just fits.
I can joke around all I want to, saying, "If I weren't in music, I'd be a geologist," or, "If I weren't studying music, I'd do accounting." Okay, so those aren't really jokes.
But if you knew anything about the first half of my college experience, you'd know that I questioned whether or not I was supposed to study music. Then I got really involved with ACDA my junior year and went to the Central Division convention (which I am missing this year to be here in Thailand--and Chanticleer is performing!!), and something lit inside of me. Senior year was a dream, and I can't tell you how many times I wished I'd not waited so long to become devoted to my studies, to choral music.
My mind can wander around all it wants to about other professions and other paths, but my mind always comes back to music. It just fits. I don't know how I can say it any differently.
Music is where I feel at home. Music is where I retreat to calm my mind when I'm stressed. Music is where I feel most connected to the Divine, where my faith in God feels the strongest. Music doesn't define who I am, but it is a part of me. And it was in that moment that things just made sense.
During the Thammasat concert, so many different things were running through my mind. But when I was up there with the choir, I can't tell you how much fun I had. I can watch that video I posted and see that, yeah, there are things I need to improve upon. Yeah, I could do some things better. I'm sure Dr. Buchanan would point out some aspect of my conducting that we'd tried to eradicate during lessons. But I had fun. That's what mattered at that moment.
And now, I can start working on those things that I saw... those little things can be practiced, but if you're not passionate about it, then none of that matters. Time can fix errors, but time cannot instill passion and drive. Those have to come from yourself, which can be deepened over time.
Anyway, enough rambling, but it was on my mind, so I wanted to get it out. :)
At any rate, I had a good time.
The profound moment, for me, came before the concert, though. I read some of The Robert Shaw Reader whilst I was in the office. Something he said actually made sense (I say that because his verbage is a little more complicated than I care to read during the times at which I choose to read his book--usually in the late evenings):
What is required of the conductor is that he make available and attractive to his co-workers disciplines which educate—not simply dictate, to the end that each person ultimately is capable of accepting his own honest and entire musical responsibility. Granted, it’s the conductor’s job to teach “notes”; much more important is his responsibility to teach ways of learning notes. If two rehearsals on a Benjamin Britten cantata do not short-cut and simplify the problems of learning a Walton cantata, then the conductor also should leave rehearsal at intermission—and stay away.
Big deal, right? What's so important about that?
My impression of Robert Shaw before I started reading this book was that he was a "hard taskmaster." Dr. Carlisle always talks about Shaw because he sang with him. When Dr. C brings up Shaw in rehearsal, some of us members secretly roll eyes at each other and crack a joke after the fact. But something about this man is starting to intrigue me. No wonder he was the most influential American choral conductor to date; his musings on music are very profound and compelling.
The quote above resonated with me because one of the discussions Mrs. Heaton (my supervising teacher at Plainfield HS) and I had was about reconciling performer/conductor vs. educator. I (well, she had the final say, of course) had a tough decision to make about something regarding the winter concert... and that conversation has stuck with me ever since.
A part of that conversation dealt with the mindset of a student/new teacher. I have just ended a wonderful experience--being immersed in post-secondary music studies. Post-secondary choral ensembles are much different from secondary choral ensembles. Students in post-secondary choral ensembles can be expected to be able to learn music quickly (i.e., sing something once and have it down). Students in secondary choral ensembles are different. They (generally) aren't taking theory and skills or music history or even voice lessons in addition to that ensemble, and cannot be expected to synthesize that material in order to become a better musician. Most of their music exposure in school is just that--choir.
So, that makes sense in my head in how what I've been thinking about fits with that quote...
Robert Shaw was a performer, a conductor. I never really thought about him as an educator. But that quote leads me to believe otherwise. I guess that's how it makes sense in my mind. Does that make better sense?
At any rate, at 5 PM, I sat down at the table out in front of the arts building. The classical guitars were practicing their numbers, and then Note started improvising over someone's chord progressions, and it was beautiful, and I was reading more of the Shaw.
And, it hit me.
Music just fits.
I can joke around all I want to, saying, "If I weren't in music, I'd be a geologist," or, "If I weren't studying music, I'd do accounting." Okay, so those aren't really jokes.
But if you knew anything about the first half of my college experience, you'd know that I questioned whether or not I was supposed to study music. Then I got really involved with ACDA my junior year and went to the Central Division convention (which I am missing this year to be here in Thailand--and Chanticleer is performing!!), and something lit inside of me. Senior year was a dream, and I can't tell you how many times I wished I'd not waited so long to become devoted to my studies, to choral music.
My mind can wander around all it wants to about other professions and other paths, but my mind always comes back to music. It just fits. I don't know how I can say it any differently.
Music is where I feel at home. Music is where I retreat to calm my mind when I'm stressed. Music is where I feel most connected to the Divine, where my faith in God feels the strongest. Music doesn't define who I am, but it is a part of me. And it was in that moment that things just made sense.
During the Thammasat concert, so many different things were running through my mind. But when I was up there with the choir, I can't tell you how much fun I had. I can watch that video I posted and see that, yeah, there are things I need to improve upon. Yeah, I could do some things better. I'm sure Dr. Buchanan would point out some aspect of my conducting that we'd tried to eradicate during lessons. But I had fun. That's what mattered at that moment.
And now, I can start working on those things that I saw... those little things can be practiced, but if you're not passionate about it, then none of that matters. Time can fix errors, but time cannot instill passion and drive. Those have to come from yourself, which can be deepened over time.
Anyway, enough rambling, but it was on my mind, so I wanted to get it out. :)
