Mara Gerety on Violinist.com

The Provocateur Strikes Again

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 17:30:34 GMT

It's "cucumber season" again, everybody! It's hot, it's humid, a nasty thunderstorm knocked out power to half the city (including my house) yesterday, so here I sit in the library on a malfunctioning laptop but one nonetheless with free wi-fi.

Anyways, regulars of this site will know that I'm fond of posting provocative, even incendiary opinions, whether I agree with them or not, to spark debate and watch gleefully what madness ensues. Here is today's offering, a commentary on elitism and high culture (quite relevant to us musicians!) from Ms. Susan Jacoby, published a few days ago in the New York Times. I can't post the full text here without running into copyright restrictions, but here's the link:

Susan Jacoby: Best is the New Worst

Happy arguing! :)

Random thoughts while waiting for a practice room

Tue, 05 Feb 2008 02:02:16 GMT

"Welcome back to Oberlin Conservatory! We hope you had a good vacation, those of you who actually got a vacation. However, we regret to inform you that there is not a single practice room available in the entire blasted building tonight. This situation will likely continue for the next two weeks until people start slacking off en masse again. Have a nice semester."

So, while I'm waiting for a practice room (and contemplating taking over an unused third-floor classroom for the evening), a few random musings on the much-heralded End of Classical Music. Why this topic? I dunno. Maybe I'm just feeling a little morbid as I contemplate the imminent end of my violin career due to lack of practice space.

I'm always a bit skeptical of the doomsayers who say classical music is on its last legs (haven't they been saying that for the last 100 years or so?) but it really irritates me when people start talking about the need to make classical music more "Accessible" for it to regain its popularity. Things like half-jazz half-classical concerts, concerts entirely of movie music, multimedia presentations etc...and I often end up wondering if maybe that isn't part of the problem.

Isn't it possible that, in their earnest efforts to reach out to a wider audience, producers and managers and music directors have not only inadvertantly alienated classical music's historically loyal followers, but also diminished its appeal to "newcomers"?

One of the most obvious symbols (though by no means the only one) I see of this push for "accessibility" is the ubiquitous "World's Most Beautiful Adagios" or "Romantic Classical Piano Favorites" CDs that are always gumming up the classical section at Borders. They're supposed to be appealing to a wide audience, to "bring classical music to the masses" and all. But in that quest for accessibility, the producers of such albums have instead achieved insipidity and bland sameness. The inevitable result is a society full of people who think classical music is something quiet and soothing to have playing in the background during a fancy reception or romantic dinner. "Oh, well, Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik is just lovely," goes the familiar refrain, "But honestly, for the most part I find classical music just a bit...boring." Well, no wonder.

As I see it, the push for accessibility, however well-intentioned it may be, is fundamentally flawed. Great classical art music is not supposed to be relaxing, soothing, a bubble bath for the senses (although sometimes Debussy has that effect on me anyway), or even accessible upon first hearing.

Classical music, in short, is not a form of passive entertainment. It requires thought, concentration, intellect and at least a rudimentary literacy in the language of music to be able to fully appreciate the greatness of a Brahms symphony, Haydn string quartet, Beethoven piano sonata etc.

The criticism so often leveled at such an attitude is that it is "elitist." To which I say...well, YES! Classical art music IS elitist by nature and always has been. I can already see many of you Gentle Readers instinctively recoiling at such an archaic, aristocratic and anti-democratic notion, but to my way of thinking "elitist" is no insult. Rather, it is a philosophy of life that values excellence and genius (rather than conformity to some lowest common denominator in the name of some twisted version of egalitarianism.)

The difference between this sort of elitism and the oppressively aristocratic system many people think of when they hear talk of "Elites" is that this rank of elites is not closed to anyone. Anybody with a brain can become musically literate, it just takes some time and effort and energy. The Accessible Classical Music Movement attempts to bypass that unavoidable need and offer up a version of classical music that requires no effort on the part of the listener. But since that goes against the very NATURE of classical art music, the result is only a pale, watered-down simulacrum.

Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Bartok and all the other Great Masters are not pushovers. They demand thought, intellect, contemplation and concentration. Fans of instant gratification will yell that it's unfair. But that's simply how it is. And for those who are willing to take on the challenge of great music...the rewards are unfathomably transcendant.

OK. That's enough of my blather. That empty classroom is calling...

How to Cheat at Blogging

Fri, 04 Jan 2008 04:19:50 GMT

So....yeah. I haven't blogged in a while. My "adventures" as concertmaster (concertmistress, whatever!), the Three Glorious Days of the Tak�cs Quartet's residency at Oberlin, several blizzards, final exams and Christmas vacation have all passed by un-blogged and un-examined. But as Socrates said, the unexamined life is not worth blogging....wait, that makes a paradox. That and I've just been too bloody tired to write with any of my usual sparkling wit and style, so as a result my blog has been empty for quite a while.

And yet still I continue my lack of output! Here, rather than an ode to K�roly Schranz, a nature special on the life cycle of the common Nocturnal Oberliner, or a deliriously partisan celebration of Barack Obama's victory in Iowa a few hours ago, is a transcript of a marvelously weird conversation that took place in the dining hall some time last month.

______

Allie: (reading from popular music textbook): This is fascinating. Hey, did you guys know that Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders is from my hometown?
Jesse, Joe, Mara: ....................
Allie: Never mind.
Jesse: Yeah, that's not really my forte.
Allie: Oh, come on, surely you guys know something about this. It's classic stuff. Here, I'll quiz you.... What was the name of the new-wave punk group who produced the hit songs "Roxanne" and "Message in a Bottle?"
Joe: um, Marilyn Manson and the Heartbreakers.
Allie: No.
Joe: The Beatles.
Allie: No. Ok, try this one: Who was the foremost androgynous glam character of the 1980s, with his hit, "Ground Control to Major Tom"?
Joe: Herbert von Karajan.
Allie: ..........wow. Let's try something else. Define a rock "supergroup."
Joe: Um, well it's a band that has magical powers.
Allie: Oh my gosh, no. You're horrible at this. Name a song by Neil Young.
Joe: Arabesque for Solo Violin! ........oh, no, that's Jeff Young.
Allie: (sigh) Right.
(Joe glances at book, begins humming)
Jesse: ...Joe... are you headbanging to "La Bamba"?
Joe: Yes. Hey, didn't the Beatles do "Y.M.C.A."?
Allie: No, that was the Village People. Ok, you better know this. Who is the best-selling pop star of all time?
Joe: umm... the Beatles.
Allie: No.
Joe: Alice Cooper!
Allie: No.
Joe: Fergie! John Corigliano! Mahler!
Allie: NO. Michael Jackson. But nice try.
Joe: (looking at a picture in the book) *gasp* Who�s that? They look like terrorists.
Allie: That�s the BeeGees.
-- ten minutes later --
Joe: Is Mr. Fulkerson in the book?
Allie: .....um...well... he's not a rock-n-roll legend, per se...
Jesse: I respectfully disagree.

____

And that's all. More creativity later.

Enescu, yet again

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 02:09:21 GMT

So I'm all loopy again after listening to the Enescu Octet for Strings...more details on the piece and my reaction to it later, but right now I just need to know: is there ANYWHERE in this country I can buy a nice cheap mini-score to this work?? My searches have been fruitless, and the IMSLP got shut down a few months ago. It's the Octet in C major, op. 7...

Some brief musings on technical perfection

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 15:51:25 GMT

So many times I hear my friends and colleagues raving about some violinist or the other on account of his or her perfect, flawless virtuoso technique. "The articulation was so clean! The intonation was so accurate! The spiccato was so fast! The tone was so even!" I can appreciate those things too, but after people have been going on and on about them for long enough I just want to reply: well, obviously.

It's much more understandable when people are talking about other students. What are the conservatory years for but perfecting and refining a virtuoso technique? It's when the topic of conversation turns to world-class artists that I get confused and, frankly, annoyed.
There comes a point, a certain level at which technical perfection ought to be taken for granted. Great intonation? Clean articulation? Even tone? Everybody at the highest echelon should have that, so it should be nothing remarkable! And if the player's flawless technique is all anyone can ever find to comment on, then maybe that player is missing something.

Instrumental technique is like grammar. Essential to master completely, but only the means to an end, never an end in itself. No one, upon reading Tolstoy, would spend time enthusing about how well he conjugates his verbs and declines his nouns, so why is it so common to get so excited about flawless intonation and accurate articulation?

Why stop there?

Thu, 18 Oct 2007 13:49:53 GMT

So Hilary Hahn is now officially a v.commie. Cool! :) Welcome Hilary, and may you long enjoy our protracted flame wars about shoulder rest usage, the endless debate over gut vs. synthetic, nit-picky technique discussions and grand Romantic rhapsodies on "What is Music??" :)

But heck, why stop there? ;-) As long as we're picking up famous people, I'd like to extend an official violinist.com invitation to:

Itzhak Perlman, for all the zillions of stories he could probably tell us, and for his sense of humor,

Maxim Vengerov, for being awesome,

Barnab�s Kelemen, also for being awesome,

Any or all of the members of the Takacs Quartet, to provide the insight into the finer points of high-level chamber music that we actually don't hear around here as much as we might (the insight I mean, not the music),

Joshua Bell, to make Sydney happy :)

Gilles Apap, if he ever gets over his dislike of computers, just for the inevitable bruhaha his appearance here would cause,

Sergiu Luca, to tell Enescu stories and add his many-more-than-two cents to any Bach discussions,

Pinchas Zukerman, to argue vehemently with Sergiu Luca about proper Bach interpretation, to the general entertainment and edification of the rest of us,

And if Ilya Gringolts ever feels like coming back, he'll get no objection from me. :)

OK...what gives?

Sat, 06 Oct 2007 18:50:54 GMT

So, as I feared, I did indeed lose my third chair first violin spot....BY MOVING UP TO SECOND CHAIR (associate, assistant, whatever!!!) FOR SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE NEXT MONTH. What...the hell...GIVES here???

I hope this doesn't seem like bragging...really, I'm more mystified than anything.

The Increased Difficulty of Concentration

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 05:31:58 GMT

With sincere apologies to Vaclav Havel, an absurdist look at Oberlin life.

SCENE: stage is simply set. Looks like a big practice room. Two doors: one stage left, another stage right. Grand piano, table with open violin case resting on top, desk covered with manuscript paper, MHST 101 homework, and scribblings of figured bass realizations. MARA sits at the desk, ostensibly doing her homework but actually nodding off to sleep. Just as she is about to totally collapse like a wet noodle, the stage left door bursts open and in barges MILO�, irate.

MARA (awakes with a start): Whaaa...?
MILO�: Come on! It's me, Milo�! The personification of your violin? Or don't you recognize me? (sniffs haughtily) I wouldn't be surprised...
MARA: Cripes, Milos, I can't practice NOW! I'm so tired I feel like I might completely collapse and disintegrate any second now! Trying to practice now would be completely counter-productive. And besides, look at all this...
She indicates the Leaning Tower of homework teetering precariously on the desk. A book falls off the top. Milos pokes through the pile, looking more disgusted by the second.
MILO�: What is this? Are you a music history major? Are you a music theory major? Are you a solfege major? Why do you even have to learn solfege?
MARA: I wish I knew...
The stage right door swings open. EMIL and JIM barge onto the stage, arguing furiously. Completely oblivious to the other characters, they bicker nonstop while walking across the stage, and exit stage left. There is a brief silence.
MILO�: Anyway, what I was saying...
The stage left door swings open. Enter the entire Oberlin Orchestra, moving like a herd across the stage.
DAVID: Rehearsal is in Finney Chapel again! Hurry up!
Five seconds of silence after the last orchestra member leaves the stage, the door opens again and the assistant concertmaster scurries sheepishly across the stage and disappears through the door on the opposite side.
MILO�: What I was SAYING is, you are a violin performance major. To hell with all this other stuff.
MARA: But I'll flunk out of theory!!
MILO� (impassioned): So what?! You'd hardly be the first! (suddenly emotional) How do you think it makes me feel, when you're always studying or sleeping or blogging or just "too tired" to spend any time with me? I...I hardly saw you outside of rehearsal today!
MARA: Wednesdays are a madhouse, Milo�. Don't take it personally. I was practically unconscious. Remember how I almost fell asleep DURING the Berg?
MILO� (sullenly): Still, you could put a little more effort into our relationship...
Stage left door swings open. Enter JOE, KONSTANTIN and BORIS.
JOE: Are you mad at me because I'm Slovenian??
MARA: Joe, that's still a ridiculous question...just because my country used to own your country's little Slavic butt doesn't mean I think any less of you.
JOE: OK. I'm going to go listen to some Mahler now. (Exits.)
KONSTANTIN: Did I ever tell you zat I am a conductor? I vant you in my orchestra zis semester!
MARA: Really? Sweet! You're actually asking a lowly freshman?
KONSTANTIN: Of course...you are brilliant...you vill be concertmaster, and ve vill tour all over Europe next year...
JOE pokes his head back in the room from the stage right door.
JOE: Disclaimer: only the first half of that exchange ever really took place. (Exits.)
BORIS: Hey, do you guys like my new shoes??
MARA (exasperated, addressing all three random Eastern Europeans at once): Guys, I love you all, but can you please get lost? I'm having relationship issues with my violin.
Exit random Eastern Europeans.
MILOS: Finally, a bit of peace and quiet. Now I can tell you what bothers me the most: you have all this music in you! All these ideas, these sparks, these caprices and flights of fancy, lamentations of a poet, ecstasies of a mystic, sublime revelations of a philosopher! And I never get to hear any of it, I can never be part of any of it!
MARA leaps to her feet dramatically, as the climactic scene is now upon us. As she stands from the desk, the audience can now see that she is bound with symbolism-heavy chains.
MARA: But I CAN'T, Milos! I just can't! No one will ever hear it! No one will ever be able to hear it!
There is a sudden commotion offstage, with sounds akin to that of a bull in a china shop. The stage right door is kicked right off its hinges and EUGENE IONESCO tears through, wild-eyed and frantic, running as fast as he possibly can. Moments later, to bring this absurdist late-night rumination in the form of a play to a suitable close, a large rhinoceros stampedes through in hot pursuit of IONESCO. The rhino knocks over the large stacks of books, completely burying both MARA and MILOS. Exit rhino, stage left. Curtain.

Oh my god. I should have been in bed long ago...but writing this was too much fun to pass up. :)

My Italian

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 03:59:32 GMT

In which I quit slacking and FINALLY write about my most recent life-altering event.

When I walked into Peter Prier and Sons violin shop in Salt Lake City about two weeks ago, I was expecting to return to Tulsa a few days later armed with information, a few questions answered, a sense of what a really fine violin is like to play, and hopefully a repaired violin. I was not really expecting to come home with a NEW violin, but I think somewhere in my gut I knew that's what I was heading for.

Flashback. Innsbrook Institute, early June, near St. Louis. My violin had been finally behaving itself almost well, and for once it wasn't hair-tearingly difficult to play. Right on cue, at the end of rehearsal on the next-to-last day, I somehow seriously overdid an up-bow and smacked what I thought was the E string but turned out to be the bridge. When I took it out of its case later and started noodling on some scales, my fingers almost fell off the fingerboard on the G-string end and I finally noticed that the bridge had moved a good two millimeters. I managed to weasel it back more or less into position, but it still sounded pretty lousy and felt worse.

For the last year at least, I'd made a regular habit out of kvetching about how hard my violin was to play. I know the violin just IS difficult to play as a matter of principle, but it shouldn't be THIS hard, I kept telling myself. I developed an absolute obsessive-compulsive mania for experimenting with string brands/types, different rosin, rehairing the bow before it really needed it, and driving my local luthiers absolutely bonkers with my persistent complaints. I felt like I had hit a brick wall--I could not play any cleaner, I could not get any more colors. Typically of me, I was convinced I was simply a mediocre violinist at best, artistic gifts limited, mercurial practice habits and an excess of improvisatory exuberance all to blame for my lack of progress. It was really bloody depressing.

But then came the Innsbrook incident, and I couldn't stand it anymore. The damn thing was, at last, completely unplayable. A former teacher of mine had frequently regaled me with stories about the magician-luthier Peter Prier (he also regaled me with tales of Sergiu Luca returning from a European tour with four Strads and three Guarneris in tow, but that's another blog) so long story short, my mom and I headed out to Salt Lake City a few weeks later.

The plan was to have him take a look at my injured fiddle and see what he could do to fix it, and while I was there I figured I'd play whatever drool-worthy Cremonese jewels he happened to have lying around the shop, just to know what an extraordinary violin felt and sounded like.

Well, the charmingly Austrian-accented Maestro Prier took one look at my violin and knew exactly why I had been going out of my mind for the past year: the C-bout was extraordinarily wide, therefore the bridge was quite high, therefore the neck was at a strange angle. An unusual violin--perhaps still an excellent violin for someone with nice big hands and long arms (i.e. not me), but for me it wasn't working. It was fixable, but hardly cost-effective.

Before we'd left Tulsa, we had communicated some with Peter's son Dan, who also works in the shop and is also some sort of wizard. As soon as my mom described me, my playing and the general issue, he said "I have JUST the violin for her."

So that was the first violin he handed me: Carolus Moretti Anconiensis, Rome, 1928. I liked it immediately: nice shape and size (it's on an elegant Guadagnini pattern); spectacular red-brown varnish; rich, contralto tone that was nevertheless as clear as, for lack of a better term, a bell (La Campanella?). Best of all, it was soooo easy to play, I could play things that I hadn't touched in four years and play them pretty nearly spotlessly (when I remembered where the heck to put my fingers, that is.)

I must have played forty other violins that day, most of them in the same general price range as the Moretti, and none of them even came close. I was granted the privilege of playing the Firebird Stradivari (seemed annoyed that I wasn't Salvatore Accardo), a nameless Strad from around the same time (sounded like it hadn't been played in centuries) a pristine Vuillaume (gorgeous, but a touch too French for my taste) a Guarneri del Gesu (had a husky dark voice like a soulful old gypsy, but a total beast to play) and then I fell quite madly in love with a 1791 Storioni, absolutely flawless, never had a scratch, sounded better than the two Strads and the Guarneri put together, obeyed my thoughts instead of my hands.....erm, and cost more than my parents' house. Back into the vault with it.

Aside from the million-dollar instruments, nothing came close to the Moretti. I was nervous though--buying a violin so immediately? The first place I looked? Was I nuts?

The next day, we were all paid a visit by Baltimore Symphony assistant concertmaster (and fellow v.commer) Igor Yuzefovich. He had arrived early that morning with "nothing but his empty violin case", on direct orders from his former teacher and old friend, Victor Danchenko. Turns out that Mr. D. had been in the shop just the week before and played all the instruments in that same vault, and as soon as he came across the Vuillaume, as I understand, he immediately whipped out his phone and called Igor. "Igor--you MUST get this violin! It is PERFECT!!" (Having spent two ENCORE summers in his studio I must admit, I can totally picture him doing that.)

We then proceeded to put on a free concert: we went into the weird little recital hall next door and first Igor played my Moretti, and I noticed that it sounded just as good if not better in the audience as it did under my ear. Then he played the Vuillaume--the standard opening of the Tchaikovsky concerto, opening of the Brahms, first page of Tzigane to check the G-string--and then we looked at each other and I swear he winced. It didn't have the clarity of the Moretti, and the sound choked up high on the G. Uh-oh.

But then, we were treated to an exhibition of the finest wizardry for miles around. Both Peter and Dan Prier are complete geniuses when it comes to instrument setup, and they can move a soundpost or bridge literally a tenth of a millimeter in just the exact right direction and turn a hunk of wood into a singing nightingale.

Yes, it's late at night and my poetic excesses are beginning to assert themselves, but trust me--a few precision-aimed whacks with a soundpost-mover-thingy, and the Vuillaume sprang to life. (Adding to the situation, of course, was the fact that the poor Vuillaume hadn't been played since 1978.) After noodling around a bit more, Igor asked me to play the Vuillaume so he could hear it from the audience.

Uhhh. Right, OK, you just played like a god and now you expect me to get up there and follow your performance.

Thankfully, my inner stage hog took over. I played some Tzigane, a few of the Romanian Folk Dances, a bit of Debussy, a bit of Dvorak and some Bruch. (After I'd played the exposition of Tzigane, I distinctly heard Igor mutter to himself "Oh right, so that's how that passage goes!" and my mild case of nerves vanished.) One thing that we both noticed immediately is that the Vuillaume likes a rather light touch, a fast, springy bow, and not too much weight into the string--in short, it likes a French violinist. I wouldn't think it would suit a very Russian player like Igor so well, but apparently it does. (Igor--are you reading this? How's the fiddle treating you?)

Anyways, I assume he left with the Vuillaume stashed safely in his erstwhile empty violin case; I certainly left with the Moretti enclosed in mine (and my old violin being schlepped along by my mom in a ratty old spare case that looked like it had been through the war.)

So, that's my bizarre saga. Who knew? Anyway, I love the violin and I'm totally going to nail my seating auditions with it at Oberlin next month...knock wood...

Eee-hah!

Mon, 04 Jun 2007 04:29:14 GMT

A surprising discovery.

So I was just on the phone with one of my old violin teachers, and it turns out that his teacher, Sergiu Luca, studied briefly with George Enescu! I'm a direct musical descendant of Enescu! Yippeeeeee!