Do Your Shit

       Today, I heard quite possibly the most inspiring words of my life:

       “Do your shit.”

       These were the wise words of a college student who graduated from my high school, and ran photography club when I was a freshman. She spoke with me and some other photo clubbers first about a technique for exposing film without a dark room, and then, about our futures. Basically, she told us to be creative and pursue what we love. She told us to be free, and explore, and take risks. She told us to do our own thing, and that as long as we can get back on track, our mistakes won't really matter. Most importantly though, she told us, “DO YOUR SHIT”.

       So what is my shit? And how do you find yours?

       Step one: Find something you think is just sorta cool.

       Step two: Do it.

       Step three: Do it differently than the guy next to you.

       I think music is sort of cool. For years, I did it, taking private lessons, developing technique, and playing in large ensembles. Now, I play in a string quartet with a beat boxer. That's my shit. I'm doing that.

       I think writing is sort of cool. For years, I've done it, taking creative writing courses, analyzing style, and attempting to emulate it. Now, I'm not completely sure how to make it my shit. I'm not completely sure how to do it differently from the next guy. But that's the whole point. Now I get to do it. I get to pursue it. I get to take risks and explore and be inspired, and I get to be free in what I choose to do with my love.

       I just feel incredibly inspired to do something. Not only to do something, but to do something creative and meaningful. Something that allows me to connect with people, and hear their stories, like the Dear World Project.

       So how do you do that? You get out and try something crazy. The Dear World Project started because some guy asked people to write on themselves a love note to their city that had been destroyed by a hurricane. Meet people and do weird stuff. Be creative and free, and mindful of the world in such a way that you reflect all it's beauty in your own eyes. Do. Your. Shit.

A Breath of Fresh Air

       Well it seems that for the billionth time in my life, I have put off an assignment until the last minute. Yes, I am going to be blunt: I have put off writing both my required, 400 word blog posts, until the very night that they are due. I have exactly three hours to complete them. Let's start the clock.

       Because I have succumbed to my irresponsible teenage nature, I feel I must also muster up an excuse. This week I've been writing an absolute bear; a post for a blog that is not mine. The idea of writing for a foreign audience outside of my domain made me really nervous, so much so, that I re wrote the darn thing three times. That's not revision folks. I completely started from scratch three times.

       Ps. That is a shitty way to go about writing.

       However, the combination of my new and nerve wracking experience, as well as my procrastination, has made me realize something really valuable:

       I really love to write.

       Racing to write 800 words isn't stressful for me. The fact that I have to write it all in three hours, doesn't phase me either. Among the piles and piles of homework I receive, primarily AP US History, blogging is a breath of fresh air.

       In high school, all the classes you hate are required, and it makes it hard to discover your passions. Then, when you do discover what you love, the unnecessary busy work from all your other classes makes it hard to pursue that passion.

       Ray Bradbury says this of writing, and I think it applies to the pursuit of anything you love:

 “You must write every single day of your life. You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. May you be in love for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”

       In my blogs, I may not have the opportunity to remake worlds. In my homework drowned life, I may not have time to write every single day. But in my blogs, a small part of what I love doing is achieved. I get to write, plain and simple. To me, that is the most satisfying and freeing assignment I could ever receive. 

Caroling in Review

       The Spontaneous Caroling event that my team and me for Music Meetup at Iowa BIG, you know, the one I mentioned last week? Went pretty darn well. Of course, I'm keeping a few things in consideration when I say it went well:

A) It was our first time EVER planning an event

B) Thanksgiving Break

C) Marketing?

D) Surprise grand piano

       The design of the event was what I thought would be the hardest part, but as it turned out, it's a lot easier to bake a cake than it is to get people to buy it. Now, we weren't selling anything besides a bit of holiday cheer, but getting people to come to an event, is a real struggle, especially when you're sixteen and hardly know the meaning of the word marketing.

       Our approach, was basically just the distribution of this informational card we made, physically and electronically. To some extent, that was successful; success being defined as seven people attending that were not directly invited by any of my team members or me. But still, what even is marketing? How do you promote an event? That's the beauty of BIG, though: we get to learn.

       Also, our “failure” to market “purposefully” was partly due to the fact that Thanksgiving break fell about two weeks before our event. That meant that when we should have been out promoting, we were all on break. But get this: IT IS OKAY TO TAKE A BREAK. That's just the way it worked out.

       Our “failure” to market more “purposefully” actually worked to our benefit when it came to the actual performance. I'll tell you why: surprise, grand, piano. The space where we intended to perform was half taken up by a grand piano that we discovered the morning of the event. If we would have had more people come, there is no way we would have fit. Our group filled up the area like a bucket brimming with water, which gave the appearance that we were a much bigger group than we actually were (there were actually about 20 of us).

       In the end, it wasn't embarrassingly unsuccessful, but there were enough parts of the event that weren't quite right, to give us something to build on. It was the perfect start, and now our next steps are clear. We need more time to plan, more effective marketing strategies, and of course lay the ground work for the design of our next event. There is plenty to learn, and with the solid look into event planning that Spontaneous Caroling gave us, our next event will only be an improvement. 

ALSO: Shout out to our accordion player, Neil. He brought the party. 

Kids NEED to Know

       The houses seemed to sage, like shoulders when people sigh, or the skin beneath your eyes when you don't get enough sleep. Everything appeared to be coated in a translucent grey film, like the sun was tired, droopy eyed. Some porches were decorated for the holidays, the lights, unlit. The shitty white Chevy I drive, adorned with a giant dent in the side, didn't look out of place. There was a cop car parked outside the church.

       When I stepped inside that church, it was merry. There was a children's choir warming up in the basement, and the faint smell of sugar cookies. The Christmas celebrations were in full swing, and it seemed as if the entire neighborhood was participating.

       Of course, my quartet chose to perform selections from Lady Gaga.

       We played in the church cafeteria while everyone ate cookies and made small talk. Occasionally, a woman in a red sweater would stop us to make an announcement about a craft session, or family portraits in the atrium. We played, for maybe 

about half an hour.

       Like I said, we didn't play Christmas music. Our set list included Scottish tunes, One Republic, and of course, one song remotely pertaining to the holiday season: Cannon in D. It wasn't traditional, or appropriate, really, but it was cool. There's this one part, in a song called “Zombie”, where the key changes, and for like, twenty measures it builds up to this brilliant, BRILLIANT, break through, that, when I play it, makes me feel like a rock god or something. It's probably my favorite thing to play honestly, because it moves me so strongly, like I could rise up and start a rebellion. It's one of those songs.

       As I was drilling into some eighth notes, just as we were approaching the key change, I realized something: the kids watching this, have probably never been exposed to something like this. They've probably never gotten the opportunity to play a stringed instrument, or any instrument, really. They've probably never gotten to feel the way I do, swept up in a key change and some eighth notes. And this performance, just might be, their first exposure to that.

       And that's not based on where they live. It's based on the fact that a lot of the kids there were still in elementary school. In my town, most kids aren't introduced to music until they reach middle school, when they are required to join band, orchestra, or vocal. That's how I was introduced to the viola. I'd never had piano lessons, or even, like, a kazoo to dink around on before I was eleven.

       I've been playing for five years now, and I know that feeling, when the music just washes over you, when you are the music, how it feels like flying, and your favorite dessert, and going down hill on roller coasters. Every time I play, I wish I would have known it sooner.

       I have to wonder: Was there a kid watching us, thinking, 'I want to do that'? Did any of them tell their parents, “Mom, I want to play the violin”, or “Dad, I want to play that really big violin”? Could a few uplifting, nontraditional pieces, have ignited something in some kid in some church in some city that won't give them music sooner?

       I think that it I assumed that none of the kids in that church really cared at all, I may have been right. But, it would be wrong to just assumed that, and never try to expose kids to the wonders of music. Just look at Violins Over Violence in South Carolina, or Music & Youth's 13 music club houses in Massachusetts; if we assume that music is not a need, an immediate need, of the youth in our community, how will they ever know it?

       The truth is, it is an immediate need. Kids need to know music, before it is a required class, before it is forced upon them. So let's get moving and shaking, folks. It's time to make some music.

Spontaneous Caroling

       Pop quiz! Finish this sentence: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer...”

       ...

       That's right class, the correct answer is: “singing loud for all to hear.”

       If you've failed to answer this question correctly, I must inform you, with deep regret, that you are, in fact, a cotton headed ninny muggin. Stop that. Right now. Put on your Santa hat and get in the Christmas spirit.

       One very popular way to do that is to sing carols. Honestly though, I find traditional caroling to be incredibly awkward and annoying. It's nice at first, but then, after approximately 15 seconds, the magic of it all washes away, and you are left with a group of strangers standing at your door, serenading you. I 

hate being serenaded.

       Thankfully though, my Music Meetup team and I at Iowa BIG have found a much better alternative. The method that we have devised allows us to spread twice the cheer, three times the joy, and exactly 72.4% more family fun per tune. After weeks of carefully crafting such an intricate balance of holiday whim and the natural spread of all things jolly, our Frankenstein of a non-awkward-holiday-caroling-extravaganza is finally coming to life this Saturday at 10:30 am.

       That's right, folks.

       Two words:

       Spontaneous. Caroling.

       Instead of roaming door to door, our group of carolers will be casually strolling through a public space, spreading the joy of song to everyone around, and encouraging them to join along. No longer will people be forced to forge a strained smile as carolers dwell on their front steps for what seems like an eternity. Instead, listeners will be able to enjoy a bit of song without all the awkward associated with serenade. People will be free to join in, leave as they please, or simply sit and listen.

       Have we revolutionized caroling? Most likely, yes; but I'm not sure that's what really matters. Caroling is not something I'm particularly passionate about, in fact, I'm not sure I know anyone who is. However, I am very passionate about creating a sense of community, and caroling has proved to be a great means of doing so. Bringing people together to share good feelings and create something positive, is something I'm proud to be a part of. Buddy the Elf said it best: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer, is singing loud for all to hear.”

Buddy the Elf photo 

HOLY BALLS I WAS PUBLISHED

       I. Was. Published.

       For real.

       Last Sunday, I was published, for real. It wasn't for my school's literary magazine. It wasn't a blog post that managed to get more than two views. It was for real, and I still can't believe it happened.

       I'm part of a project based school called Iowa BIG, where I get to do work that is driven by my passions and get school credit for it. BIG doesn't replace my traditional schooling (I actually still take all my required classes at my high school) but it is a two hour chunk of my day that has provided me with more opportunities in one trimester than my regular high school has in years. One of these opportunities, was the chance to write an opinion article about BIG that would be published in our city's newspaper, "The Gazzette".

       When presented with the opportunity, it didn't feel like a big deal. I would be writing five hundred words about my experiences at BIG, and it would be published alongside about seven other mini articles that did the same. It was just five hundred words. How important could it be? The short answer is this:

My five hundred words were very important.

       When I saw the paper Sunday morning, I took a picture of my article and tweeted it, thanking “The Gazzette” and BIG for the opportunity, and within an hour, twenty people had favorited it. My principle emailed me wanting to know more about BIG and congratulating me on my piece. My relatives all wanted a copy of the paper. My teachers praised my piece in school on Monday. One of my teachers at BIG said it nearly brought her to tears. Now, this may sound a bit twisted, but I always love it when my writing makes people cry.

       That's what made me feel accomplished. It wasn't the simple fact that I had been published outside of school; it was the people's reactions to what I wrote. I've never received so much positive feedback. Ever. Especially regarding something I'm truly passionate about. In fact, I'd say BIG and writing are the two things I'm most passionate about, and to have people so excited about both of them...the feeling is indescribable.

       It's always been my dream to have my work published and to have people see it and to make those people feel something. On some level, I've already gotten to do that, and I'm only sixteen. I assumed it would just magically happen when I was twenty something, living it Chicago or New York. I assumed I would just become inspired, and the words would just pour out, and the world, would see it and know it and love it. I assumed that a publisher's approval, acting like the wave of my fairy godmother's wand, would make all my dreams come true.

       But being published didn't matter. It didn't come easy, but that didn't matter either. I'm only a kid, and still, that didn't matter. I wrote, and people read it, and that was all it took. Being published, while it is mildly crucial to the “people reading it” bit, doesn't really matter. You don't have to make it big to make a big impact; the simple act of writing, and sharing your writing, is enough.

Disclaimer

       As I enter my winter term this school year, I've decided to change up my blog a bit. I've already expressed my interests in literature on this blog, but from now on it is going to be more of a main focus. Music will still be relevant here, but this term I'm putting more emphasis on literature and education as well.  

Lazy

      No matter how much you may love something, you will, on occasion, absolutely hate it. For example, I love to write, but I am absolutely hating the fact that I have to squeeze out 300 more words right now. Now I am going to write a really long sentence to help fill my word count but also to achieve my purpose by illustrating that passions don't always produce a satisfactory product. That was not as many words as I had hoped it would be.

      This lack of love, or really, this lack of lust for a passion is pretty common in the musical world as well. Have you ever had to play a sixteenth note run 50 times in a row to nail what would ultimately become a mere five measures of background filler sound? Yeah. Me too. And it sucks! People like the idea of having talent, but don't like to put in the effort required to become talented. Example: me writing this blog post.

      Humans are lazy, and in general, we suck. Yeah I know I'm a jerk, but it's true, right? I see it every single day. High school kids are a splendid example of such laziness, always trying to get out of extra work, leave class early, or avoid a quiz. Why are we so lame? Come on teenagers?! Where is our initiative?! Our drive?! Our passion?!

      I only have to write 64 more words. Better wrap this thing up.

      I love to write, and I love to play music, and I love to read books, and I love to solve equations, but when my “passions” become “assignments”, they loose they're appeal and become tedious bits of paper shoved inside a folder.

 Fourteen more words is no problem for me to write for this fine blog.

How to Properly "Hate" Pop Music

       If you asked me if I like pop music, my answer would be a heck no. I'll say it's trashy and repetitive and unoriginal and that it lacks meaning, and to a certain extent, I'll mean it. But, if I meant it completely that would make me a complete hypocrite, but I don't, which makes me only 4/10ths of a hypocrite and I can live with that. I may not have a whole lot of respect for Jason Derulo as an artist, but when “Wiggle” comes on the radio, you better bet I'll be singing along.

       Hating pop music is kind of a hard thing to do. On one end, pop music really does suck sometimes and your hatred of the genre is completely justified, but on the other end, you can't hate something so basic without being deemed a snobbish hipster who only listens to obscure indy artists that, quite frankly, aren't all that great either. So how do you properly detest such a thing?

       Step One: Don't completely hate it. Pop musicians are artists, too, and probably posses at least a basic understanding of music theory, or so we hope, to validate their position in the musical world. Give them a little bit of credit.

       Step Two: Have an actual passion for music. Hating pop music because it's too “mainstream” is not a good enough reason. One of the most annoying things in the history of forever is when people try to have strong opinions about something that's not really relevant to their life. Hate is a pretty strong word, so if music isn't a serious part of your life, maybe consider a position towards pop music that is along the lines of “strong dislike”.

       Step Three: Don't write off pop music completely. Sure, the mindless spewing of words on topics as advanced as careless partying, substance abuse, and sexual intercourse, does in fact offers no sense of class to our generations musical culture. But, alas, pop music is still a very large part of our culture. Katy Perry may not be a musical genius, but she certainly defines pop culture today, and such a defining figure cannot be written off so carelessly. While I primarily dislike the musical stylings of Miss Perry, I will keep an open mind about her music.

       It's really hard to hate something without coming off as a real jerk, especially something that is so widely loved. The key to true loath, however, is to keep an open mind. The spectrum of human emotion is not black and white, but hate, is a very black word. Instead of trying to jump into a pool of thought that is completely white or completely black, try dipping your toes in the grey area. Hatred is charcoal grey, but ignorance is entirely black, and as they say, “once you go black, you can't go back”. So please, hate pop music-hate it with all your might-but do it with a bit of greyscale-esque class.

Photos found here and here.

Condemning Individuality

       In a musical ensemble, players make subtle adjustments in order to blend with the group. Most of the time, it’s a subconscious decision. Without even knowing it, a string player will shift the position of their finger by a point seventh of a degree to achieve the perfect tone. Sometimes though, the shift is intentional. We may change the direction of our bow to match the principle, or extend a rest when we’ve gotten too far ahead. Either way, musicians are the greatest conformists while remaining the greatest individuals.

       Subtle adjustments may seem like no big deal, and it may seem like an exaggeration to call musicians “conformists”, but we change to fit the mold. And get this: it’s not a bad thing. The tiny changes players make, whether they think about them or not, help improve the piece. If a violinist decides not to move their finger by that point seventh of a degree, claiming they are “unique” or an “artist”, they could end up a half step sharp three measures later, compromising the sound of the entire ensemble. Music is a great form of individual expression when you play solo, or maybe in a quartet, but in a large ensemble, you must conform.

       You may be appalled by my condemnation of individuality, but that would make you a hypocrite. I guarantee, even if you are not a musician, that you make subtle adjustments in order to blend. Do you talk in a different voice when you order food at a restaurant? Do you choose your words differently when you talk to your parents than when you talk to your friends? Do you ever refrain from raising your hand in class or speaking up in discussion? Sometimes we say tiny changes like these are just a different side of us, a polite façade. And it is. We can’t all be individuals all the time. A) We’d all be overwhelmed and B) we’d all be exhausted. There is a large part of us that is dying to stand out, but there is also a smaller, lesser known part that craves uniformity.

       So, I beg of you, please conform. And yet, I still beg you to remain an individual. Nail that accent! Milk that crescendo! Play out that melodic line! But, please, listen for intonation, play piano when necessary, and don't play on a rest. In music, and in life, there is always a balance, whether it be among instruments or among people. Be an individual, yes, but listen to the world around you. The first violinist may carry the melody for nearly the entire tune, but she is not an orchestra, and even a star like herself must know how to blend. 

The Key to Understanding the Meaning of Life

       There are two ways to understand the world: literally and literally. There is no figurative component to understanding. Some people achieve literary understanding through science, others through religion, some from common sense and cold hard facts. However, I believe the key to understanding “the meaning of life” , as the question has been posed, is embedded in literature.

       Literature, is the greatest love of my life. I know. What a dork? But it's true. Even music falls second to my passion for words. Drawing from that passion, I believe that to understand a well written piece, or even a poorly written piece for that matter, is to understand life. When ever you read something, you must know that it is a big long line of thought. You follow directly a small portion of the exact thoughts another person was thinking. When you can understand the inter workings of another human's brain, or even just a small part of it, and then relate it to the similar thoughts you think in your brain, you are understanding a significant piece of life.

       In science or mathematics, this piece of life could be understood by experimentation, data, and equations. In religion, it could be understood by passages of a holy book or visions from God or gods. In literature, that piece of life is understood by you. I don't deny the value of science and math and religion in the understanding of life. It is impossible for us to understand it all on our own. But when we read, be can understand small parts of our world by connecting others' thoughts to our own and others' around us. I think that's valuable. To be able to take a piece of the earth, hold it in your hands and say, “I understand”.

       Music is just another way of writing. In a similar way, we can follow the direct thoughts and feelings of a composer by dissecting their work. Music can almost provide a deeper understanding, as it connects emotions more than thoughts. To understand thought is a victory, but to understand emotion is nearly impossible. Understanding musical thought is complex, and requires a deep knowledge of theory, that I don't possess. I don't understand music as deeply as I understand literature, and even my understanding of literature is just scraping the surface.

       So what is the meaning of life then? And how can it be found within the pages of a book or the stanzas of a poem?

       I'll tell you when I finish reading.

A Favorite Song

       “What’s your favorite song?” is such an awful question. Some people will answer instantly while others stew on their answer, trying to remember any song they’ve ever listened to and formulate a favorite one. For the longest time, I was the latter, but recently, I’ve decided on my go to answer: “I Can Tell That We’re Gonna Be Friends” by the White Stripes.

       The first time I heard this song was actually in the second grade, but I didn’t decide it was my “favorite” until recently. Second grade, oddly enough, was a very influential year for me, and I loved my teacher dearly. At the end of the year, she put together a slide show with pictures of the class throughout the year, and the first song that played to accompany the photos was “We’re Gonna Be Friends” by the White Stripes. By the end of the slide show, I was balling my eyes out. I was very emotional then.

       When I started high school, I started going back to my second grade teacher’s classroom after school and volunteering. High school gets out about forty minutes earlier than elementary school, so I got to work with the kids for about half an hour once a week. At the end of the year, I came in on the last day to watch the slide show, and much to my surprise, “We’re Gonna Be Friends” was still the first song. I felt the same feelings I felt in second grade welling up inside me, although I held it together much better that time around.

       That’s why I say “We’re Gonna Be Friends” by the White Stripes is my favorite song, because it brings me back to such a happy time in my life. I think that’s what a favorite song should be. It’s not what you listen to most, or whatever you’ve been loving on the radio. It should be a song that has impacted you. It should make you feel something.

       I don’t listen to my favorite song very often. Most of the time, I listen to the classical radio on Pandora, and sometimes Olly Murrs’ station, too, but I save my favorite for special occasions. Sometimes I'll listen to it when school's been crumby. Sometimes I'll listen to it when school's been great. Sometimes I'll listen to it just because. Like an old friend, it's always there, and never fails to make me smile. 

The Uniting Force

 

 

Photo found here.

       I think all the uniting forces of the world can be boiled down into two core categories: love and loss, and even in the case of loss, there is still love. Well my friends, music is love. It is love and loss and so many other things, and for that, it unites us all.  

       I'm not sure there is such a thing as a person who doesn't like music, and if such a thing does exist, its exactly that: a thing, not a human. Even people who aren't super into music still like music. It's impossible not to. There's music in movies, commercials, and TV shows. We hear it on the streets and in restaurants. We hear it blaring out of the headphones of the person sitting next to us on the bus. We hear it at carnivals and loud parties and football games. If you think liking music is a choice, it's certainly not. Music exists in the same way your left hand does: rarely thanked, but constantly present. No one chooses to like their left hand.

       But still, we all could say we rather enjoy having our left hands, just like we could all say we enjoy a bit of music. Sure, not all of us could talk about it for hours, but we could muster up a bit of small talk. Not everyone can pick up a violin and carry a tune, but we can all hum a few bars of our favorite song. A sacred few choose to play the viola, but loads of people can play a chord or two on the guitar. Whether we have a complex, basic, or nonexistent knowledge of music, we are all united because of it.

       Music is love. I said it earlier and I'll say it again. Music. Is. Love. It's not just love songs. No. Music is the product of a passion. Music is the raw and the confined bits of our lives. Music is a human thing. It hasn't been around forever, but it's been around long enough. People have built their lives on it, and everyone else has built their lives around it in one way or another. Music is everything we want and need it to be! Healing! Joy! Sorrow! Forgiveness! Like cotton, it is the fabric of our lives! Our left hands! Our hearts! Our minds! What is music not?! Something so broad must be like a thread, stringing us up by our belly buttons and making a beautifully diverse garland of us all. 

I am NOT a "Gangster"

       As of last Friday, I have discovered, much to my dismay, that I am NOT a gangster. I used to believe I was hip and cool, but after using the word “hip”, I don't think I can make that claim.

       If you know me outside of my blog, you'd know that I am most definitely not a gangster, and even if you do only know me by my posts, you could probably assume the same. Alas, I myself did not come to this conclusion, completely, until this past Friday, when I did some audio work for a rapper in the grade below me. Previously, I had thought myself to be a reasonably cool-ish person, but I now realize that I might as well be 87 years old. Here's why: a haiku titled “Why I don't have swag”

I bake cupcakes, yo

I knit scarfs and read big books

cat socks are my bae

       While knitting and baking surely don't qualify as gangster activities, there is another major thing that's keeping me from being a legitimate “G”. I am, primarily, a classical musician. And what I realized while working with a rapper was that musical terms between genres are not the same. For example, I tried to use the word “accent” to describe to the rapper how he should hit certain notes, but that didn't mean a thing to him. One time, when he fumbled over his words, he said he was “tweekin” but that didn't mean a thing to me.

       So how do you cross barriers like these in music? Sure, they're not huge, but there is definitely a different approach to how certain genres go about making music. Now, I'm all about cross overs in music, but how do we do that? Seriously. I'm asking. Please help.

       I know I'm not a gangster, and as much as I wish I could “roll with the homies”, I don't think I ever will, simply because that's not who I am. Being who you are is certainly more important than blending less awkwardly with other musicians, but I think it's still good to branch out and collaborate with different genres. And anyways, who says a little awkward is a bad thing? I may not be a genuine gangster, but the important thing is that I branched out and got to experience a style of music I was not previously accustomed to. And, honestly, who expects interactions between a rapper and a orchestral musician not to be just a little bit awkward? 

Dueling Instruments

       Dueling pianists. Oh yes. Dueling. Pianists. It's a thing. 
       While trying to build a list of “musical contacts” for a project I'm working on, I stumbled across a bar in my area that has dueling pianists performing every night. Intrigued by the thought, I went searching for a video, and found this.
       Now, with the idea of dueling pianists in my head, I went searching for other dueling instruments. I found dueling violins and dueling saxophonists, but I'm sure almost every instrument has "dueled".

       The first thought I had when I saw these dueling instruments was, “How cool! I want to do that!” Can't you just imagine that? Dueling violists. Pretty awesome, right? It is when I imagine it, at least. I see myself riding onto the stage on a motorcycle, flames erupting from the stage, and I'm wearing a pair of bad ass shades and a leather jacket. Although, I'm not really wearing a leather jacket, because that would restrict my mobility while I played. And, if I'm being honest, motorcycles terrify me, but! There will be flames! Oh yes...

       Alas, my vision of dueling instruments in very different from what they actually are. As explained in the first video I linked, dueling instruments don't so much battle each other as they compliment each other, and I noticed that in all the videos I watched. So what is the difference between dueling instruments and ensembles?

       I'd say it's primarily the connotation of the title. Dueling instruments, as I perceived them, sounds like an epic battle of music, while ensembles sound stuffy and boring. Dueling instruments and ensembles aren't actually all that different, though. Both blend instruments together to produce a better sound, whether it's just two cellos or a banjo and a bass.

       So does that mean I've been a dueling violist for the past five years of my life? I've played in large group ensembles and string quartets, always considering them a blend. But could they be a duel? I've never thought of them that way, and as epic as it sounds, I don't think I want to think of playing as a battle. Granted, fighting to play your two measures of melody over the screeching violins, who seem to be playing a background part for the very first time, is certainly a battle, but we're still blending as an orchestra. The word dueling may be awesomely appropriate for piano v. piano or violin v. violin, but when it comes to ensemble, we're a team.

Unconventional Instrumentation

       Often times, people make the assumption that a specific genre of music must be confined to a specific range of instruments. We see jazz as a couple of saxophones and rock as some guitars and a drum. Why do we feel like we need to put everything in a box like this? Why are there so many preconceived notions about what music can and can’t be? Why do we make assumptions? Music is quite possibly the most expressive and innovative art form, and I’ll assure you, it can’t be confined by any single definition.

       Recently, I’ve joined a club at school that’s putting on a variety show of sorts, that’s goal is to weave together a hodge podge of musicians, actors, and writers. It consists of performances of the spoken word, like poetry and monologues layered with music. Since joining, I’ve teamed up with a drummer to work on a contemporary/ alternative piece called "Radioactive". Unlike peanut butter and chocolate, drummers and violists are not the classic combination, but after years of playing in groups of string players, it feels good to do something different.

       Other artists have ventured down that same path over the years. There is a group called "Crooked Still" that combines instruments like the bass and cello with a banjo and a vocalist. The jazz group "Resonance" includes a string trio. Here, another blogger has a list of six great songs that have gone beyond ordinary and included French horn, steel drum, and mandolin in rock music! You really can’t put a label on stuff like this.

       Unconventional instrumentation has emerged as means of uniting musicians across “genres” and making new and exciting sound. I think that too often, musicians believe they are “confined” somehow in a particular type of music. Or worse, musicians only explore the realm of the genre they like most. We become like cats in that sense, always putting ourselves into convenient little boxes, keeping ourselves separate. But is it really all that convenient? 

Cat Photo

       If you play violin, try joining forces with a jazz group rather than a quartet. If you play trumpet, try playing in a rock band. As a musician, you never know where you’ll fit in best. It’s easy to assume that you’re conventional. It’s easy to stay within the bounds of your genre. But what if you’re just the cellist that mundane garage band needs?

The Illusion of the Super Hot Guitarist

       Don't play guitar. I know, it's a classic, but I encourage you to break the mold. Believe it or not, not every girl swoons over a hunky guitarist's serenade. I'm not saying I wouldn't fall for it. I'm just saying it's been done before. If you really want to impress a member of the opposite sex with your musical talent, I suggest you go beyond the basics and try a new approach.

       You know what instrument is really sexy? A kazoo. The sweet, melodic buzz of a finely crafted plastic kazoo is sure to lure in the ladies. Of course, kazoos are really more effective on men. They jerk their heads at the sound of it. It's like in The Little Mermaid when Prince Eric hears Ariel sing and goes searching for the girl behind the voice. I guarantee, one stroll down the hall buzzing on the kazoo and you'll be an instant babe in the eyes of anyone who hears.

       On the other hand, the cowbell is a sure fire way to pull women. Us girls can't resist the well punctuated and perfectly timed clank of the cowbell. Hearing it is like suddenly realizing a person has really beautiful eyes. The cowbell is not as effective on men. I can testify to that. Last weekend I went to the mall and walked around the food court playing the cowbell, hoping to attract a mate. But, alas, the only male that approached me was the mall's security guard, and I can assure you, he was NOT my type.

       Going with the accordion is a risky move. When it works, it works, but if the performance is not executed properly, you could find yourself living alone for the rest of your life. No one, and I mean NO ONE, ever recovers from the humiliation of one's accordion performance being rejected. If you're into the rebellious type, you need look no further than the community of accordionists near you.

       In all seriousness though, getting a girlfriend or boyfriend is not the right reason to play an instrument. Play because it's something you love. Play with passion, play with joy, play with, sadness; play with every piece of you. That's what makes a guitarist so seemingly attractive. The simple act of playing guitar is not swoon worthy, but the act of being totally engrossed in something you love, is. 

Orch Dorks

       Orch dorks are a very rare and very specific breed of awesome. You see, orchestra students are bound together not only bytheir love for music, but by some unknown force specific to orchestra. Band geeks form bonds in the same manor, practically acquiring a second family as a result of countless hours of marching band practice, but for orch dorks, it's different.

       Orch dorks do not spend as much time practicing together as the marching band folk, at least not at my school. Marching band has performances nearly every weekend, where as orchestra only performs every month or so. Orchestra kids still have class together everyday, just like band kids, but practice outside of class doesn't occur very often. That rules out the theory that the brotherhood of the dorks is rooted in our time spent together.

       I think it may be our size that bonds us, actually. At my school, orchestra is a small group. When I was still a part of it last year, there were only four violas including myself. Is it our size that keeps us “dorky”? Or is it just something in the air?

       I've come to believe that the fellowship of string players is rooted more firmly in the latter. There really is just that something about being in orchestra that unites string players differently than other musicians. It must be the faint cloud of rosin that's released into the air when someone applies it too heavily. It must be the sound your strings make when you clean them for the first time in weeks. It must be the ugly floor length black dresses we're required to wear for concerts. It must just be orchestra.

       My fellow orch dorks, who I have come to call good friends of mine, are some of the coolest people I've ever met. Sure, being in orchestra doesn't make you instantly cool, but it does become a huge part of who you are, and nine times out of ten, who you are as a musician is pretty darn awesome. I think that's another thing that bonds us together, is our mutual coolness. And not just the fact that we are “cool”, as I have said far too many times, but that we're all cool/dorky in a similar way. I don't know if that's because we're all high of rosin dust or if it's because we share a common interest, but I do know this: orch dorks rule the world, and band geeks ain't got nothing on us.

*Snaps fingers*

*Drops mic*

*Swaggers off the stage*

Photos featuring fellow bloggers Austin and Deeja

The Big Day

       When you're a six year old flower girl or ring bearer at a wedding, your screw ups are nothing short of adorable. When you're a sixteen year old violist playing in a string quartet as the bride walks down the isle, your screw ups have the potential to ruin an entire wedding.

       This weekend I played in a wedding at a very hilly golf course. The ceremony took place at the bottom of a hill by the edge of a lake. Beyond the lake were rolling hills covered in trees just beginning to change for fall, and all signs of anything golf related were hidden at the top of the hill or behind those trees. The scene was picturesque. 

       I've always loved weddings, and the thought of playing at one had me thrilled. On the other hand, the thought of screwing up someone's wedding had my stomach in knots. Sure, I had practiced over ten hours over the course of the past two weeks to conquer pieces with difficulty levels similar to “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, but the thought still haunted me. What if I play out of tune? What if I loose my place? What if I start playing at the wrong time? What if I loose my music? What if I go to put my viola on my shoulder and instead it flies over my back and lands in the lake? Believe it or not that was a serious concern.

       A wedding, as I have always pictured them, is a day of complete perfection. Weddings are supposed to be one of the happiest times in a person's life. They're supposed to be like a fairytale, beautiful and romantic. When I arrived the day of the wedding, that's how everything seemed to be. The scenery was gorgeous, as was the bride, and the everyone there was beaming.

       At that point, I didn't know whether I should be happy that I would get to be a part of such a special day, or terrified that I might ruin it. At the rehearsal, everyone was pleased with our performance, but there was still room for error. With an outdoor wedding, there were a million what ifs to be accounted for. What if my music blows away? What if a bug flies in my ear and I scream? What if it's so cold my fingers can't do vibrato?

       In the end, I had nothing to worry about. The performance went beautifully, the couple was happily married, and I got to play a small part in a stranger's perfect day.

Photos found here and here.

On Triteness

       

       Have you ever tried to write song lyrics without sounding like an incredibly cliché moron?

       Well, of course. I'd describe my process as...

       Have you ever succeeded?

       Sure, maybe, yes...?

       Have you ever failed?

       No. Yes. Totally. Always. Please help me.

       We understand. We're here for you. Everyone say it with me, we're here for you Brad.

       *We're here for you Brad*

XXX

       In my opinion, there are three great, unforgivable sins a person can commit.

       1) Seeing the movie before reading the book

       2) If you're a cat and you step on your owner's boobs

       3) To be unoriginal

       When you're writing a song, or just plain poetry, it's extremely difficult to exclude clichés, especially if you're writing to rhyme. Throwing in a line about a broken heart or a diamond in the rough is so easy, and it may trick you into thinking your piece is really good, but the truth is, if you've heard it before, it's probably not all that effective.

       So how do you avoid it? In your first draft (yes, it requires more than one draft) write just to write. Let everything pour out of you your first time through, even clichés. Then, when you read through it a second time, simply delete any phrase you've heard outside of your own head. It's that easy! You can fill these holes in your piece by inserting imagery. Sensory images are “stronger than an ox” and far more original.

       It's easy to depend on over used sayings to fluff up our writing, whether it's for a song, a poem, or an assignment. But, you've got to remember that clichés don't mean anything. The word “baby” and the mention of a “broken heart” go in one ear and out the other. If you want your work to stand out, you have to create something truly unique. In a world where everyone can make a PB&J, you've got to be a meatball sub.

Photo found at: stephenmatlock.com