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

The Curse of the G String

       If you ask someone what the difference between band and orchestra is, they'll probably tell you this: band plays the instruments you blow into and orchestra plays the ones with strings. This, to a certain extent is true, but I'll tel you the real difference, and that's this:

A band player will never know the horror of having their G string snap in front of the entire class, and orchestra players do.

       It doesn't seem like a big deal, and it's not, but just imagine this. You, a teenage female, must proclaim to your entire orchestra, composed partly of teenage boys, and your middle aged male instructor, that your G string, has in fact, snapped. It's a rare occurrence, but for some odd reason, the viola gods have put a curse on me, stating that ONLY my G string will snap, and ONLY at the most inconvenient of times, only enhancing the factor of humiliation. And just in case you don't understand why it's so humiliating, just take a look at the definition.

       I have only ever had a string snap three times in the five years I've played viola, and all three times it has been my G string. Why can't it ever be the C? Or the A? Or the D? Of course, I suppose the D isn't much better. And why is it, that two of those three times, it has happened in class? I stand by the theory of the curse. I mean, it could be because viola music is often very G sting heavy and I'm terrible at fighting the corrosion of my strings, but that's highly unlikely. Since when does poor maintenance result in broken equipment? That's right. Never. I'm cursed.

       The only time my G string has chosen to break with out an audience present, was just today actually. I was practicing the piece “Cannon in D” for a wedding I'm playing this weekend, and suddenly, in the midst of a highly dynamic phrase, it snapped. I was home alone, so I cursed. Loudly. And then begrudgingly dragged myself to the music store to buy a new string, since I had practice that night. I got home with my new G string in hand, only to realize that I had accidentally purchased a C string. Again, this is the work of the curse, NOT my idiocy. I went back to the store, awkwardly purchased and actual G string this time from the same man who sold me the C, and returned home. An hour and thirty dollars later, the problem was solved and it seemed as if I had won against the curse, using the word “won” extremely loosely.

       But, alas, as I walked up the cement steps to enter practice that evening, I tripped and fell. Curse: 4.7. Me: maybe, like, 0.5. I don't know what I did to deserve this, honestly. Besides not changing my strings regularly, mistaking a C for a G, and being generally clumsy and careless, I'm a viola playing saint! But the curse of the G string haunts me still, paying no mind to my good acts.

1-6-4-5

       Last week I learned how to play one of the most basic chord progressions on the piano, a 1-6-4-5 in C. That’s basically all I can do, though. I learned it in a brief music theory class in all of ten minutes, so I’m no Beethoven, but I’ve got some skills. If I sat down at a piano and played a C chord, you’d assume I know how to play piano, unless of course you are so musically inclined to know that pretty much anyone can play a C chord. But! I still feel accomplished! It’s a new skill I get to play around with.

       If you’re not familiar with the 1-6-4-5 progression, you probably would be if you heard it. It’s the same progression as “Heart and Soul”. Here's a video.

       Since learning it, I’ve spent probably too much time playing it, yet, I haven’t grown tired of it. I feel so accomplished, having learned a new instrument, even if all I can play is four chords. It’s exciting too, to be able to play more than just “Chinese rain” on the black keys. Having a start, even just a basic start, means I can do some really cool stuff. With a very basic knowledge of music

theory in my bucket of skills, I can learn to layer different chords
with melodies and harmonies, so that they might become actual songs.

       I have been experimenting with this a bit. From my limited knowledge of theory, which I hope will expand, I know that thirds and fifths sound nice. So, if I were to play a C, I might play an E or a G on top of it in a different octave. While playing around with this idea, I stumbled across the tune to the chorus of “Come Sail Away”, which is weird because that’s not exactly the sort of music I usually listen to. But, somehow, the ancient melody was resurrected from the time I played it in orchestra for our annual rock concert. I played a C and layered some E eighth notes on top, and before I knew it, I was playing something that resembled that song.

       Viola is the only instrument I’ve ever played, and the piano feels foreign, like Paris. I feel like a double threat now. I feel like a real musician. Now that I have a very basic understanding of theory,and a new way to experiment with that knowledge, I feel like I could eventually learn to compose.