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Violin BlogsV.com weekend vote: If we could time-travel for concerts, which U.S. president would you be curious to hear, playing the violin? By The Weekend VoteFebruary 10, 2012 16:03 If we could time-travel for concerts, which U.S. president would you be curious to hear, playing the violin? After much searching and confirming, I can tell you that three former U.S. presidents played the violin. Wouldn't it be interesting, to see how they played? At least it's something to consider during the two upcoming U.S. holidays, Lincoln's birthday and President's Day. Here is a rundown of the fiddle-playing presidents:    From left to right, Thomas Jefferson (as portrayed by actor Bill Barker), a statue of John Tyler in Rapid City, SD, and Richard Nixon as a child. Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826) Third president of the United States: Jefferson was a lifelong violinist who may well have owned some very nice equipment. He had three fiddles -- one which may have been a Niccolo Amati, and he also may have had a Tourte bow. He said that he practiced violin three hours a day as a youngster, and he learned to read music, collecting a library of music by Vivaldi, Corelli, Handel, Campioni and Haydn. He also romanced his future wife, Martha Skelton, by playing for her. John Tyler (1790-1862) 10th president of the United States: Tyler apparently played the violin quite well -- a number of sources call him a "gifted violinist" and one even says that he aspired to be a concert violinist. A statue of Tyler with his fiddle stands today in downtown Rapid City, S.D. (Another source also says John Tayler "organized his 15 children in a White House minstrel band"!) Richard Nixon (1913-1994) 37th president of the United States: Richard Nixon was a classically-trained pianist, having started piano at age 7, and apparently he also played second violin in his high school orchestra, as Life magazine reported in November 1970. Though a few sources said Woodrow Wilson and Abraham Lincoln played the violin, a careful reading of the facts do not bear that out. I called the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library in Staunton, Virginia, and a librarian said that, though Wilson liked to sing and was in the Glee Club at Johns Hopkins University, he did not play the violin. His brother, Joseph Ruggles Wilson, who was 11 years younger, played the violin. Also, Paula Werne, a communications director at Holiday World in Indiana, contacted a historian at the next-door Lincoln Boyhood National Memorial in Lincoln City, Indiana - he said he's never seen any information indicating that Lincoln played the violin. Be careful, quoting the Internet! If we could go back in time, which U.S. president would you be curious to hear, playing the violin?
5. the mistake-friendly performance By Anna HeifetzFebruary 10, 2012 06:22 I was recently asked how to perform by the mother of one of my students who she described as "driven and frustrated." How often I hear these two words paired when it comes to violin, and especially, violin performance. She wondered if I had any suggestions. For me, the perfect performance is one where you set realistic expectations and achieve those small, but valuable leaps of both technique and your mental capacity to handle the risk of "putting yourself out there." Will you get all the notes correctly? Will you remember to have a straight bow hold? Will you treat yourself well after a performance? These things are imperative not only to feeling good, but they will have a lasting affect on the psyche and spirit, because you prepared, performed, and followed-up with a good attitude. You gave it the best shot you had. As a super-determined person myself, I often expect mountainous goals for myself. Sometimes I achieve these goals and more, but 9 times out of 10 I feel exhausted, abused from my own pushing, and dissatisfied because the process has been compensated for my greed of obtaining the goal. "How did I get to this point?" I ask my tired self after one more "goal" is deemed successful enough to move to another. How many "goals" must I pursue before my ego is permanently elevated? The secret lies in being happy with the little things, tempering your lofty goals with a bit of old-fashioned "Realistic Expectations," and whatever your goal is, multiplying it by three or four, and to treat yourself well along the way, embracing error as a means to knowledge and growth. Is this a fantasy for violinists? Can we be happy with mediocrity? Here's some advice I gave a student the other day who was looking for some performance-anxiety relief. I am surprised how many new students enter with this pressure. Where does it come from? "Hi ___, What _____ may be experiencing is true of most musicians as we strive so hard and sometimes expect too much too soon, and a self-critical voice can enter. It does not end once the piece is perfectly performed-- unless _____ starts now by giving herself some learned self-assurance paired with a reasonable expectation, and can embrace "failure" as a positive means to self-improvement. If ______ can lower her standards a bit, and focus on the practice of performing and getting through the piece as a means of her success, then she will be satisfied with the recital. Also, if she reminds herself, no matter what happens, to be forgiving and treat herself well after the performance, she will fear less, because what she fears may be how dis-satisfied she feels afterward. This is the more important than the notes, I would say, so maybe she can focus on that alone for this performance: no matter what happens, to be content afterward, and if it does't go well, then instead of self-critical thoughts, say "I would like to do this part this way next time, so I'm glad I had this experience in order to find this out." It's all a learning process. All musicians struggle with performances sometimes, and it creeps in whether you prepare overnight or for ten years. It's part of being discerning and determined, which is a good thing." My conclusion? Play with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind-- and don't forget to be thankful for every mistake that comes along. LOUD By Emily GrossmanFebruary 10, 2012 03:43 One of my students displays a disorder of some sort, which I am professionally unequipped to diagnose. She whispers and mumbles when she talks, and recent lessons have revolved around her unwillingness to give me anything past a mezzo piano, as she runs through her weekly piano routine. "More volume, more volume!" I say, and watch as she reluctantly adds weight to her fingers and tries it again. I know that she has a deep love for the piano, which is displayed by her continual devotion to her practicing. Unsolicited, she plays for hours at a time, as reported by her mother. My requests for dynamic contrast had become redundantly awkward. So, finally, I asked her what she thought about loud. "It hurts my ears," she whispered. She comes from a loving, well-balanced family. She has no reason to hesitate. She simply hates LOUD. Having no idea how to make her like LOUD, I thought about my own parents and their struggle to make me like onions. It's not that they failed, it's just that onions were way too strong for my sensitive palette. Sometimes, you are best to let it be, and not make an issue of trivialities. I mean, whoever failed in life because they didn't like LOUD? I told her mother that I planned to ignore her lack of dynamic contrast for the sake of preserving musical enjoyment. As far as educational agendas are concerned, I feel unfulfilled in letting a fundamental slide. But, what is my job, anyway? I've taught her about dynamics. She knows about dynamics. She doesn't like them. Thank You For Remembering By Terez MertesFebruary 9, 2012 07:28 Debussy’s String Quartet in G-minor is one of those pieces of music that I will listen to over and over, struck anew by the power that resides within it, its energy and originality and rich textures. The third movement, ever my favorite, seems to impart a secret message, one you must be very still and quiet to hear. It seems to encompass a story, one of love, pain and redemption that afterward haunts you. I had the opportunity to hear this quartet performed last Saturday at San Francisco’s Herbst Theater. Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato had joined the Alexander String Quartet in the world premiere of American composer Jake Heggie’s Camille Claudel: Into the Fire. DiDonato, in case you are unfamiliar with her, was recipient of the 2010 Gramophone “Artist of the Year” award, and has been hailed by the New Yorker as “perhaps the most potent female singer of her generation.” Featured on the cover of December’s Opera News, she’s generated a great deal of well-deserved buzz in the classical music world. To pair her performance with a rendition of the Debussy made for a spectacular night of music. The program opener, "Venezia," by 19th century composer Reynaldo Hahn, with Heggie at the piano accompanying DiDonato, was delightful, a sumptuous appetizer before the main course. Debussy’s Quartet in G-minor followed, and after intermission came Camille Claudel: Into the Fire. The evening’s performance, satisfying on so many levels, produced two particular moments of haunting transcendence. One, as I’d hoped and anticipated, was the Alexander String Quartet’s rendition of the Debussy, and that oh-so-crucial-to-me third movement. The second was DiDonato’s performance as Camille Claudel, in the song cycle’s final piece, the Epilogue, where the once fiery, exuberant young sculptress had become a subdued, shadow image of her former self. First, a bit of history on Camille Claudel. Born in 1864, she was an artist, a sculptress of considerable talent. She became Rodin’s student, protégée, lover, but was eventually betrayed by him, then by her family, by the dictates of a society that did not treat female genius sculptresses with favor. In the wake of increasingly unstable mental health, her family had her institutionalized. She never sculpted again, and spent the last 30 years of her life largely in solitude. Heggie’s composition contains seven movements, each one revolving around one of Claudel’s sculptures and her musings on the day she is to be committed. The exception is the Epilogue, which is based on a photograph taken decades later, Camille with a visitor at the asylum, her old art school friend, Jessie Lipscomb. The text, penned by librettist Gene Scheer, is thoughtful, powerful in its economy, particularly affecting here. Do you remember our studio in Paris? Everything moving. A photograph? Just me and you. Yes. I understand. I must be very still. Thank you for remembering me. And that’s how it ends. There stands Joyce DiDonato, as gifted an actress as she is a singer, having morphed into an aging Camille Claudel, left to languish. Spirit broken, bereft of illusions, there is nonetheless the youthful Camille still visible behind the eyes as she tells us in a small voice, “Thank you for remembering me.” Well, that pretty much broke me up inside, freeing the tears to come galloping to the surface. And how uncannily similar to the feelings the Debussy’s third movement evoked in me, both with their mix of gravity, tenderness, using pauses and breaths as effectively as if they were instruments. The final effect is devastating, unforgettable. It’s what fine art is all about. Claude Debussy ties in, in more delicious ways. He was a great admirer of Camille Claudel and her work. She’d presented him with a copy of her sculpture, “La Valse,” that he kept on his mantel until his death. La Valse: “the waltz.” One of the seven subjects of the song cycle, and the very feeling and image Heggie’s composition conjures up and carries through. I loved the 1988 film Camille Claudel, actress Isabelle Adjani’s performance and mesmerizing blue eyes, but I must say that I will remember Claudel even more clearly now, after hearing this composition, watching this performance. Thank you for remembering me. Thank you, Jake and Gene and Joyce and Camille and Claude and members of the Alexander String Quartet, for reminding us of the art and artists worth remembering.
Los Angeles Philharmonic's Mahler Project: Mahler Symphony No. 8 -- 1,027 musicians take the stage! By Laurie NilesFebruary 7, 2012 21:25 "Is Mahler 8 now your favorite Mahler symphony?" asked my son, Brian, 11, after performing Saturday night with 1,027 people on the stage of the Shrine Auditorium, including conductor Gustavo Dudamel, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela, seven soloists and 16 choirs.  I don't know about mine, but I'm pretty sure it's his favorite symphony now. He and his friends in the Los Angeles Children's Chorus spent some 40 hours in the week before the concert, rehearsing and performing this piece. The kids started learning their parts months ago, with the help of their director Anne Tomlinson.  The first movement is in Latin, the second movement is in German, but first they learned it all in solfege. They attended rehearsals at six different venues all over town, arranged their schoolwork around rehearsals, rode in carpools and generally worked very hard. After the concert, they were downright euphoric. Sitting among 4,700 audience members, realizing that many of them were in some way related to the 1,000+ people on stage for this event, I had a little revelation about how you attract a crowd to a concert, and about how you create a fan of symphonic music. It's quite simple -- and profoundly complex: ask 1,000 to share the stage, then invite everyone involved to come to the concert.  Photo by Greg Grudt/Mathew Imaging - Courtesy Los Angeles Philharmonic In the audience I noticed parents of young singers; spouses and friends and children of older singers; music teachers; administrators from all the organizations, regular symphony-goers; and the list goes on. On the stage were 1,027 who will never forget the experience, and who will always feel a connection to the Los Angeles Philharmonic. It was a tremendous endeavor for every singer, every instrumentalist, for the 91 musicians who traveled here from Venezuela to play, for the music directors, for all those behind the scenes who booked all the venues, raised the money -- for the that lady who decided where every singer would stand, for the librarian... Good heavens, it boggles the mind! But classical music isn't "easy," it never will be, and no marketing department can make it so. Do you want an audience? Do you want music in your community? You will have to work, and so will they, and then you'll get the most devoted audience you can find. Music brings together a community like nothing else, and Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra director Gustavo Dudamel knows this.  Photo by Craig T. Mathew/Mathew Imaging - Courtesy Los Angeles Philharmonic Dudamel grew up as part of Venezuela's El Sistema, started in 1975 as a social program to help underprivileged youth. It now includes 125 youth orchestras as well as a system of music schools that teach 250,000 children. Though this was Dudamel's first time conducting the "Symphony of 1,000," as Mahler's 8th is called, it certainly was not his first time conducting a humongous orchestra. How was the performance? Mahler 8 has only two movements. Based on the Latin hymn "Veni creator spiritus," the first movement blasts into being: organ, voices, brass, strings -- nearly all forces go full-forward from the first measure. Sitting on the ground floor, almost under the stage, I felt that a lot of the sound, and the diction, was flying over my head. It was hard to keep track of such a wash of noise. I was relieved with the arrival of the second movement, which Mahler based on the closing scene of Goethe's "Faust." It builds more slowly, and I could better grasp the depth of volume created by all these voices and instruments. For example, there were about 45 violins -- it makes for such a deep quiet, when they play quietly, and then they can unleash so much power! Each section played well as one, even in this muddy hall. (No vibrations in these floors!) I enjoyed the way the members of the LA Phil mixed with the members of the SBSOV -- young and old, male and female, Venezuelan and melting-pot Californian.  Martin Chalifour and Simon Bolivar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela Concertmaster Alejandro Carreño. Photo by Craig T. Mathew/Mathew Imaging - Courtesy Los Angeles Philharmonic Musicians from both orchestras took leading roles for this performance: Martin Chalifour of the LA Phil was concertmaster, Moises Medina of the SBSOV was Principal Second Violin; Carrie Dennis of the LA Phil was Principal Viola; and Edgar Caldero of the SBSOV was Principal Cello. As the second movement progressed passed the instrumental introduction, the choir entered quietly, syllable by syllable. I enjoyed the soloists most when they sang on their own; baritone Brian Mulligan was riveting; bass Alexander Vinogradov sang his heart out, with turbulent violins underneath; Burkhard Fritz's well-supported and beautiful voice hit the high notes during an extended solo. The appearance of Swedish mezzo-soprano Charlotte Hellekant, was so theatrical, alone in the dark balcony on the right, up-lit and glowing gold, like Tinkerbell without wings. As she sang the words, "rise up to higher spheres..." and I half-expected her to levitate! From the stage, sopranos Julianna di Giacomo and Manuela Uhl sang Mahler's impossibly high notes, with the whole choir growing in volume behind, and everything rising. The choir burst forth in unison, backed by the organ. From the other balcony, a choir of brass instruments blasted, back on stage cymbals chimed, organ, trumpet -- so much sound! The music stopped and the applause went on for 15 minutes. The person behind me said, "We pulled it off!" No doubt, thousands of people thought the same.
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Nicola Benedetti
