I love Audiobooks

Hearing a good story seems to do my heart and mind a lot of good. With the isolation, I have found the voices of the readers to be good company, and through them, I have gotten to know writing styles, met amazing characters, and taken myself to new worlds with every story.    Even before C-19, I made a habit of listening to good stories--downloading them from my public library.  As a resident of New York, I am fortunate to have access to the Monroe County Library System as well as the New York Public Library.  Between the two, I can usually find a good book to listen to at any time.  With the online system, the library is always open.

As my daily artistic life moves from creating musical scores (both classical and theatrical) into the realm of the visual arts (drawing and illustrating), I often put on an audiobook while I am working.  It seems to go well with the activity.  Because of the audiobooks, it is interesting to observe the differences between the two creative disciplines.

When creating music, I actively listen to something from another realm.  I create that sound, and then make choices about the way it should be notated for its future re-creation.  The movements of my body and mind are working together with my hearing (both internal and external) and sight.  This process takes my full attention and I try to avoid any distraction that would take away that focus. 

With the visual arts, my mind is engaged in a completely different way.  My mind directs the hand as my eyes take in the information of what the hand creates.  Once a mark is made, my mind judges it and directs the process.  Like music, there is no outside auditory stimulation in its process, but still I am listening and hearing my inner thoughts.    

Visual arts require patience.  Often, I must make repeated brush strokes and layer color,.  The repetition takes time and my mind must wait for the strokes to happen; it is ahead of what my body can do.  While I am making marks, this leaves time for other thoughts to enter as I am working.   When this happens, one thought may wander into circles of thought, and if those circles of thought are positive ones, all is well.  If destructive, then I do myself harm. 

Audiobooks seem to solve the problem, and listening to stories seems to help me focus even more on the physical work at hand.   I find it's double the enjoyment--making beautiful art and listening to stories.  Over the months of listening, I also notice that my listening skills have improved.  I seem to pay more attention to what others are saying in real life, and it is easier to remember names and details.  

What amazes me even more is of the marvelous and varied talents of the great readers.  

Some of my favorite stories of late have been from Young Adult series.  I love the Phillip Pullman, Sally Lockhart mysteries.  Oh my goodness!!  The reader, Anton Lesser, is absolutely amazing!  I have never felt such fear as he takes on the voices of the evil characters, and I always wonder if Sally will survive.   It's great!  

Alan Bradley's Flavia de Luce series, read by Jayne Entwistle, is also excellent.   She recounts the inner thoughts and tales of a young English girl enamored with chemistry and solving mysteries.  The character is delightful and Entwistle is brilliant.

I also just finished and loved the Enola Holmes series by Nancy Springer.  Netflix made a recent movie of this character, but the story Netflix tells doesn't even come close to the wonderful stories of the books.  The books are intriguing and so smart, and anyone who liked the movie will probably enjoy the books even more.

All in all, audiobooks are wonderful.  My life is better because of them.  It makes me so glad I have my library card and this time to listen.   

I Love a Fireplace in Winter

There is something about a fire on a cold, gray day makes the day less gloomy. I love to watch the flames dance, to hear the sound of wood burning, and to feel the heat on my face.  I even love the smell of the wood and how it lingers in house after the fire has died. 

Growing up in the South, I didn’t have many chances to enjoy open fires except around campfires.  With the mild winters there, few homes had (or have) working fireplaces.  In Macon, Georgia, I don’t think fireplaces are seen as necessary to Southern life, and the people I knew who did (or do) have fireplaces, often didn’t (or don’t) use them. 

 

Regardless of where I have lived, most people I know who do have fireplaces often complain about the soot, the ash, the debris that comes in with the wood.  Due to the lack of interest in building fires, they also don’t seem to be interested in keeping their fireplaces in good working order. Growing up, I always wondered if that would be me or not.  As a teenager, I had always thought of a fireplace as something romantic, and therefore desirable to have in spite of the complaints.

 

When I moved to Rochester, NY, I bought a house that has a working fireplace.  For over twenty years, I too have experienced the ash, the soot, the debris that comes in with the wood … but I believe this is an integral part of the experience.  I have such respect for fire, the fireplace and its maintenance.   Over time, I see how my fireplace actually helps make me take better care of my home!   And so, for over twenty years I have enjoyed it so much, because I don’t seem to mind the not-so-welcome tasks that go with it. 

 

Over the years, I developed the habit of picking up sticks on my afternoon walks. and use them to start my fires.  The sticks are dried hardwood that fall from the trees in my neighborhood, and they make a fire crackle and pop more than without them.  The poet in me hears rhythms that the flames dance to.  

 

As an artist, I believe a fire contributes to my creative process.  I love to write and compose music as the fire burns.  The fire requires me to take care of it, which in turn, makes me take care of myself with breaks from sitting for long periods, thus giving me pause to ponder. 

 

To me, a fire is magical.  No two flames are ever the same.   As I sit in front of a fire tonight, I hope I will always be amazed by its beauty, the romance of it, and never imagine a winter without one.

I Love the Rochester Public Market

 

Saturday mornings are busy at the Rochester Public Market.  It is open year-round, and during the summer, stalls are filled with beautiful produce brought in by farmers fromall around the Upstate New York area.   During the winter, farmers also bring in their stored root crops, and other fresh vegetables that grow in their greenhouses.   Food wholesalers are also there.  The market is an amazing place, and I love it.

 

Last March, I started going to the market regularly on Saturday mornings.  I was inspired by Alice Waters, a chef who is passionate about food, and advocates for "buy local".  She claims that seasonal and local produce tastes best.  Because of the Rochester Public Market, I tried her idea, and I believe Alice Waters is right.

When I consistently began buying food that was grown within 50 miles of my home (and produce in season), At first, I noticed it all tasted so delicious, and I ate a tremendous amount.  Food was so satisfying and I stopped feeling guilty about eating.  After awhile, I noticed that I started eating less, and that the seasonal aspect started to meet my nutritional needs.   Food is beautiful.

Later, my goal each week became to find something I had never eaten, and I began to experiment with whatever was available--jerusalem artichoke, fiddlehead fern, celery root, scapes, trumpet mushrooms, etc. My meals transformed, and after a year, I find that I have become a food snob ... for several reasons.  Here are a few:

• The produce is fresher--often within a few hours from having been in the earth.
• The food is less expensive, 
• and better quality than the grocery store.
• There is less plastic packaging.
• It supports local farmers and local businesses.
• It contributes to the community of Rochester.

Every week, I photograph the bounty and the beauty of the food.  Every time I do, I feel the privilege of having such a wonderful place to go--even during a pandemic!!  It's why I love the Rochester Public Market.

 

I Love Birds

 

 

In second grade, I drew a cardinal.  It was my first bird drawing, and I was so proud of it because I hadn’t traced it.  When looking through old pictures and past drawings, I notice many of my images are birds.  So, I think it is safe to say, I love birds.

 

In 2019, I started drawing them in earnest, simply because I wanted to get better at drawing.  Birds are a great subject, and I found a really wonderful bird artist on-line, John Muir Laws, who has a fantastic blog with all kinds of helpful information to improve bird drawing.  His tips are practical and easy to follow, and I noticed that my drawings get better every day that I practice.

 

During the first few months of the C-19 shutdowns, I was alone in my house in Rochester, and it was the birds who kept me company, so I drew them.  All kinds of birds came to my yard—a wood thrush, a dark-eyed junco, a hermit thrush, a rose-breasted grosbeak, even a woodcock and a wild turkey! 

 

All About Birds and the National Audubon Society were great resources that helped me identify the birds, and with the information in hand, I felt a deep connection to the bird I was drawing.  As the winter changed to the early spring, I observed that no matter what the weather, a bird is always energetic, alert and in the moment.   Every posture expresses something, and a bird changes and adapts to every condition and in every moment.

 

Sages tell us that our past is only a trail we leave behind, and that life is generated through the energy of our present moments.  If this is true, then birds are a good example of how to live.  

 

A bird doesn’t seem care if I see it; it flies away if I get too close.  A bird doesn’t have to have an audience, or have a need be admired when it sings, dances in the leaves, or flies. Instead, birds live their lives.  They simply do what they do: fly, look for food, feed, build their nests, have their babies, and teach their babies how to fly and sing.  It is through the process of living in present moments that they bring beauty to the world and with it, a simple by-product called joy.  

 

I wish the artist in me could be more like that … showing up and living in every moment of creation without expectation … and just like my drawings, maybe that takes practice too.  Until then, I will keep admiring these little creatures, keep being reminded, and keep saying: I love birds!

  

 

 

I Love a Convertible!

 

I love a convertible!  I really do, and I remember the exact moment I fell in love with them.

When I was a senior in high school in 1980, a not-so-popular girl came to school  in a 1970 Cadillac DeVille convertible.  It was bright red with white leather interior, and everyone was excited about it.  All the popular kids wanted a ride.    I remember thinking that when you have a convertible, it doesn't seem to matter what make or model it is -- or even what year it is, the car can be ten-years-old and it's still wonderful!  

I didn't buy my Sebring convertible until 2006, and I am so glad I did because it has given me years of pleasure.   Over the years that pleasure hasn't faded, and I find I can never be in a bad mood when I put the top down.  It's magic!  There's something about unlocking the top and pushing that button that makes all the worries of the day fade away.   

A lot of people might think that a convertible isn't practical, but I find it does more than a regular car.  Besides promoting happy thoughts and feelings, I often call it my bohemian pick-up truck because I can haul just about ANYTHING in it as long as it isn't raining.  

Winter with the top down is the most fun.  I loved it this year especially because we brought our Christmas tree home in it, and it made people smile to see the tree in the back.  That kind of thing brings joy into the world.  People laughed and waved.  They got it.

It has amazed shop owners to see how I have hauled beds and chairs and outdoor furniture, configuring it in all kinds of ways to make it fit ...  and I constantly amaze my husband with how many building supplies can be put into it.  My most impressive feat was a stack of 16-feet boards.  He bet me I couldn't do it ... and an old man at Lowe's watched me because it was so impressive; he even offered me help once he saw it could be done.  I kid you not!!  My husband bought the beer that night!

The greatest joys for me, though, are the long trips.  I have driven from Rochester, New York to Seattle, Washington (It's an amazing feeling to fly through Montana on I-90 with the top down.) From Tacoma, Washington to San Francisco, Rochester, NY to Macon, Georgia.   Every time, it's wonderful!     

For the rest of my life, I hope I will always drive a convertible.  Life is too short not to.  

I Love the Bassoon!!

Until my daughter was three-years-old, I never paid much attention to the bassoon.  I liked it, of course.  As an orchestrator, I ­love every instrument, and believe the bassoon to be an unusual and misunderstood instrument—filled with character and often comic, color support for lower strings … but beautiful on its own—and essential to overall orchestral sound.  But until I took my child to ESSO (Eastman School Symphony Orchestra) concerts, I had never stopped to think about it as an instrument that ignites someone’s passions.

In picture books about the orchestra, she was instantly drawn to the bassoon, knew all the instruments by name, and what they sounded like because of my work.   At the concerts, we would look for the instruments, but what was amazing is that while the orchestra was warming up, she would pat my arm and say, “Mama!   Mama!  Do you hear the bassoon? Do you hear the bassoon?”   

 

No!  I didn’t.  

 

Honestly for me, it was hard to hear a bassoon in a mixture of orchestral warm-ups, although if you listen specifically for its timbre, you can hear it.   That’s why it was so amazing that she could hear it so easily and get so excited about it.   

 

When she was four-years-old, I was working on my post-baccalaureate music teacher certification, I studied woodwind methods and brought a bassoon home, which she LOVED!   She was enthralled when putting a bassoon together and loved to help me.  

 

It is quite the process, and she would lay the seat strap down, go get clean water for the reed, watch me put the bassoon together, and wait for me to practice.   She loved blowing into the reed.  She even loved helping me take it apart, clean it, and put it back into the case. 

 

For a long time, I thought she would become a bassoon player, but she chose to play the flute instead.  From elementary school through college she played ... until she went through an Immersion Program at Eastman three years ago.  

 

There, she checked out a bassoon during the Christmas break and started studying with a teacher through the Eastman Community School.  In the Spring, she bought a bassoon (expensive and no small feat) and took her bassoon to Austria during her Fulbright, and studied in a conservatory for two years.  Now, she is back in Rochester, studying again with a teacher, recently auditioned for the orchestra, and now plays in the University of Rochester Symphony Orchestra.   

 

To watch such growth in such a short period of time is remarkable, but seeing an instrument bring so much joy to someone is thrilling.  This is love in action, and I love the bassoon because of it.  I can’t help but reflect on that excited question of long ago: “Mama! Mama! Do you hear the bassoon?”

 

Yes!!  You bet I do! ... and I love the bassoon!!

I Love My Violin!

When I say “I love my violin!”, I am not only saying that I love the physical instrument, or only one violin.   I have several—one in my house in New York, one at my sister’s and two in Washington State.   While each came to me in various and odd ways, the convenience of having them gives me no excuse.  The violins are there wherever I go, and I must practice. 

 

My violin study has been a mish-mash of teachers over the years.  In 2002, I was introduced to violin playing when I did my post-baccalaureate music teacher certification at Nazareth College.  Nancy Hunt, who plays with the Rochester Philharmonic, was my teacher, and she was wonderful.  In her class, it amazed me how comfortable I felt with the violin.   I loved the power and openness of the violinist’s stance. I even liked the way the hard wood of the violin felt under my chin.  At times, I dreamed of continuing to play, and it was my father’s generosity that allowed me to buy a very nice instrument, an 1870 Silvestre, which I love very much.  

 

But … life got in the way, and I didn’t pick up the instrument until much later … in 2016, when I was inspired by Betsy Turner Sprague’s playing of my score of AUSTEN’S PRIDE.  What an amazing player and teacher!  Unfortunately, with my travel schedule, life again got in the way.

 

In 2019, I met another wonderful player and teacher in Washington State, Lynn Thompson.  She also played my score of AUSTEN’S PRIDE at the Seattle 5^th Avenue Theater.   (It’s amazing how you get to know someone’s musicality and ability by the way they play your music.)  I love her too(!), and studied with her as my travel schedule allowed—enough to reclaim my knowledge of the instrument and begin shifting.  That is, until C-19 interrupted.   

 

For over a year, I have been without an in-person lesson, relying on myself, my musical training, and everything I can read about the violin and learn from my own practice.   For many reasons, I do not want to do a Skype or Zoom lesson during the shut-downs.  I don't know why exactly--I suppose it boils down to the fact that I am old-school--but! what this decision did was to make me really dig into my life as an artist in completely different ways.  

It has been extraordinary, and I often think about early settlers alone in their cabins who played violins: how did they learn to play?   I suspect, they picked up the instrument and kept practicing until they liked what they heard.  They had to experiment with their bowing and intonation and vibrato … so that means that much of playing an instrument is simply putting in the hours, learning to listen, observe, and try again.   Teachers get you there much faster, for sure.  They know many tricks of the trade, but ultimately the journey is the same, and it is a personal one.  

 

So, when I say “I love my violin!”, it is the sheer pleasure of learning to play another instrument—of being a beginner and growing into an intermediate player, and recognizing this accomplishment.  It makes me so grateful for my teachers; it helps me appreciate myself for being highly skilled as a pianist, composer and orchestrator.  My daily practice makes me less cynical, understanding of others, and vulnerable to the process, and in return, I receive the inexpressible joy of making music.   

Slaying Monsters

Around Valentine's Day a few years ago, I decided to learn a little bit about archery.  I have always loved the romanticism associated with archery.  Perhaps it is Cupid, a god who can shoot a bullseye with a few feathers on a stick, straight into the heart with his little bow.   

From a physics standpoint, it’s amazing how an arrow flies through the air and into the target.  There is so much to consider: distance and wind, as well as the force with which the arrow leaves the string.   All sorts of things must be considered from the shooter too: stance, aim, angles, release, to name only a few.  But then, I don’t profess to be a great archer, nor have I ever aspired to be a scientist or a physicist, so perhaps my desire to shoot came the scene in the film of Edith Wharton’s “Age of Innocence”, where Winona Rider shoots perfectly, and wins a diamond archery pin.  

 

But who cares about reason?  Archery is fun.  

 

Looking around on the Internet, I found a Genesis Bow.  I love it!!  Mine is a compound bow, royal blue, and perfect for my level of shooting.   I also ordered bright colored arrows!  

 

Out in Spanaway, my husband, Awesome Doug, created a safe space for shooting, and we gathered all our plastic wrappers and stuffed them into a canvas bag to make a target.    Since I knew the target would be blank and wasn’t going to be round, I was inspired to paint something on the canvas to shoot.  

 

Thinking about what to paint, I knew I didn’t want it to be an animal.  I would hate to think of myself as killing an innocent animal.  But, what about monsters?  I don’t mind slaying a monster.  Monsters are figurative, and as we get older, we always seem to gather more and more of them into our lives—these emotional monsters of thought that torture us and make us unhappy with our regrets, our grief, our guilts and frustrations.   

 

Amazingly, by painting an enormous monster on the canvas and filling it full of holes, it became a satisfying and therapeutic practice.   Oddly, over time, I find that I love the monsters that I shoot.  It’s like I am making friends with them, and the monster serves a useful purpose.   

 

We had to retire our first blue monster; he was too full of holes, but I couldn’t throw him away.   Instead, he is hanging up down at the shooting range in a make-do Hall of Fame.  Perhaps, he will be a mentor to the next monster we will slay!

A Garden Shrine

I love nature, and I love gardens … especially when gardens seem to blend in and work with nature.  When I walk around the yard in Spanaway, I love to pick up sticks and rocks and feathers, and I have vases of found feathers around the house, and a sizeable collection of birds’ nests.   To me, these are Nature’s treasures--Mother Nature’s handiwork--and I struggle to find places for them in my house.  That’s why I made my garden shrine.  

 

The shrine took me a long time to create—a little over ten years.  Its form started from the bottom of an old fiberglass shower stall.  When we re-did the bathroom 2010, I created a walk-in tiled shower with a concrete floor, and struggled with taking the fiberglass to the landfill.   However, when I saw the bottom of the shower on its side in the yard, waiting for the trip to the dumpster, I decided to keep it.   

 

For almost ten years, it sat under the cedar trees along the side of the yard.  I waited, partly to see where it wanted to live, and partly to decide how to make it work.  Later, I found a spot on a bank under the hazelnut bushes near the stone labyrinth.   It lived there for a few more years and started to deteriorate; moss began to grow on it.   

 

What finally made me finish the project was something my husband’s grandson said, “Oh!  She’ll never do that!”.   I laughed SO HARD!!!  I HAD BEEN CHALLENGED by a 10-year-old!!!  ... and set about to tile it—good or bad—ugly or beautiful!!  

 

I think what had stopped me from working on it was not knowing how the mosaic or design would look.  Even when I drew out my ideas, I felt that the shrine would never be able to blend with nature in the way I felt about it.  But, when I just gathered all the materials and started working with the monochromatic tiles of white and off-white, magical things began to happen.   I realized that all the shrine needed to be was this neutral space to make the treasures become the focal point.

 

The tile work also strengthened the integrity of the form and allowed for the outside coating of old towels in concrete, which created a rough surface on which the moss is growing.   To me, it is a magical place, and I love the things I find even more because they have the space.   The squirrels seem to love it too … they steal the feathers! 

 

 

"I Put Shells on Things ... like cups ... and shoes"

My daughter loves Noel Fielding.  He is a British comedian, who has off-the-wall ideas and a HUGE following around the world.   I don’t always get his humor at first encounter; it seems to fly over my head.  

 

 

In particular was a comedy sketch I saw a few years ago about Fielding’s visit to a seaside town. Fielding goes into a pub and meets a local artist who covers everyday objects in shells—cups, shoes, telephone books—even his own wife!!!

 

My daughter just laughed and laughed, but I thought it was weird.  I just didn’t get it--that is until this Christmas when I was attempting to make star ornaments with broken glass and adhering them to aluminum with mastic.  I started laughing hysterically.  When I looked around my house in Spanaway, I discovered, that I too, “put shells on things”—only my shells are tiles.  

Inside and outside, within the past ten years, I have broken tiles and adhered them to a shower stall, broken tiles and put them on the countertops in both bathrooms, broken tiles and put them on walls.  I have even broken them and attached them to the base of the old fiberglass shower and created a garden shrine.  

 

It took me years to understand, but I freely admit … and laugh now … “I put tiles on things!”  

Love Locks

   Photo by David Porter

The images of the love locks around Austria are part of the inspiration for my #messageoflove #artinstallation.  

When I was visiting Austria in 2018, my husband and I encountered love locks on bridges in many of the big cities--Graz, Salzburg, Vienna, etc.   Evidently locking an inscribed padlock to a fence on a bridge is now a 100-year-old ration.  Lovers write or scratch their initials onto their lock, then attach it to the fencing on a bridge, and finally throw the key into the water below.  It symbolizes abiding love.  

Abiding love is powerful.  In my opinion, it is the greatest kind of love because it chooses to love in spite of hatred or unkindness.  

Because I believe this (even though I am human and cannot love all the time), this belief compels me to create a #bridgeoflove along the sidewalk in front of my house.  On it, I want to attach #hearts that will hopefully amuse my neighbors and the people from @stronghospital who walk the neighborhood, and still make them think.  I want to emphasize the message that #loveisaverb

 

Perhaps if we are reminded that #loveisachoice, we can work together and heal our nation.

for Knitters - Easy Weaving Tutorial

I love knitting on beautiful yarns--wools, cashmere, silk ...  and when I am done with a project and the weaving in is done, I have a collection of four to five inch strands of the most beautiful yarn scraps.  I'm sentimental about them because their combination is beautiful and I know the yarn is good and I hate throwing them away.  So this is an idea I came up with so that I won't have to part with them ... and the finished coasters hold happy memories of my knitting.  

Over the course of a year, I can collect enough to create several coasters by weaving them on a simple loom. 

Here's one way to do it:

1.  Wrap a simple loom with leftover yarn from a project onto a potholder loop loom.  This creates the warp.  The weft is created by using the collected yarn scraps.  As you finish knitting projects and weave ends into your finished garments, save the scraps for the weft, and weave them into the coaster.

2.  After you have enough weaving done and you like the dimensions  carefully cut the weaving off the loom and tie them off.  Then weave these strands into the coaster.  If you want to make it extra secure, take a sewing machine and stitch along the frayed edge side ... but really, you don't have to.

3.  Enjoy! 

Here are some examples from over the years.  I used different yarns as my warp and the combinations never disappoint.  

Mixed Blessings - Expanding

No doubt this year has challenged our world.  "This whole Covid thing" has brought the world to its knees and made everyone view life differently.   

For me, as a Composer-Playwright & Artist Educator, I have been forced (out of necessity) to look outside of who I was, because every avenue of my life was deemed "non-essential" and shut down by the "powers-that-be."  This includes my Musical Theatre work: composing and arranging  for performers, my performing and working in classroom settings with classroom workshops and artist visits ... EVERYTHING!!

Yes.  As a result, I changed.  AND, because the powers-that-be deem my work as "non-essential", this had a devastating effect on me because it seemed to put a kibosh on my creative output in all of those areas. 

So, instead of focusing on what I couldn't do and can't do, I decided to turn my attention away from this kind of sadness and (1) learn new things (i.e. origami, daily haiku writing), (2) revisit my love of creating art, and (3) explore new musical instruments -- all with the goal of maintaining my sanity and becoming a better person in spite of Covid-19.   

This has turned out to be a mixed blessing.  While I struggle without my in-person community of artists, I still have grown!   I found that I can illustrate and tell stories with #CovidOvid--a little bluebird who lives in isolation at the edge of a beautiful woods, which I post on Instagram and Facebook.   I did a huge mosaic, made my first 'how-to' video!!  I have experimented with new art materials because of #getsketchbox and I have learned to play the ukulele and shift into 3rd Position on my violin.

Like everybody else, I don't know when the restrictions will end and life will be returned to the performing arts.  Until it does, I will do my best to persevere and keep trying to make my life as wonderful as I can in spite of it all by what I create.

I wish everyone who believes in Christ a "Merry Christmas" and to the entire world "A Blessed New Year!"

THE MYTH OF THE BROADWAY SOUND: Orchestrating AUSTEN’S PRIDE

by Amanda Jacobs

 ‘Broadway Sound’ is the terminology that was originally used to describe the orchestral sound of Robert Russell Bennett’s orchestration during the Golden Age American Musical Theater of the 1950s and 60s.  Bennett was the king of orchestration during these years, and scored over 200 musicals.  He was the ‘go to’ man of Rodgers & Hammerstein, Kern, Berlin, Lerner & Lowe … and all the other Golden Age writers of Broadway musicals.  In his autobiography, he describes the way in which he came to orchestration, his background and training, and how he went about creating the organic and orchestral sounds he generated with smaller orchestras. He also wrote some important essays on the orchestration process.

As his life and career were ending, Broadway musicals were shifting in sound as Rock and alternative types of music entered the scene.  Bennett’s  ‘Broadway Sound’ no longer served the style of music being created and songwriting began to take on newer forms of sound that no longer fit in an organic sound world.  Electric guitar, greater prominence of percussion and amplified sound began to be the norm and sound engineers became extremely important.  Song writers of the 70s and 80s were not as tuneful and harmonies began to be simplified and predictable.   

This simplification of sound and song created a very real need for arrangers and orchestrators to be better skilled than the composers because the melodic and harmonic writing of the scores did not carry the emotional messages that the tuneful melodies of the past did.  

Arrangers and orchestrators had to fulfill those needs through their writing with their additions and symphonic tricks of percussion and musical commentary on lyric, because the songs themselves were inadequate.  These scores were what Jonathan Tunick described to me as ‘needy’. 

The quality of the songs needed the aid and band-aids of the arrangers and orchestrators to provide the emotional impact and to support the actors on stage.   As a result, ‘Broadway Sound’ became a catch-all phrase for orchestrators who happened to be working on Broadway at that time.  In reality, so-called ‘Broadway Sound’ splintered into styles that orchestrators claimed.  And so, the myth of ‘Broadway Sound’ was born.

Producers further complicated things because they needed even smaller orchestras due to the rise in salaries of the union musicians, as well as the rise in costs of producing musicals in Broadway houses.  Thus, more and more synthesized sounds came into the pit along with doubling and tripling of instrumentalists.

As a result, we now have Tunick-sound, Starobin-sound, Jahnke-sound, Besterman-sound, Hochman-sound, Troob-sound, etc.   Today, musicals are matched to the need of the score based on style.  These orchestrators create very successful scores because producers and composers agree that orchestrator-style will enhance the musical worlds of the stories.   

For example, if you want a clear, clean and elegant score of early 20^th-Century, you go to Tunick.  GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE is only nine players by my count.    If you need bells and whistles, listen to Troob.   His ALADDIN is magical with the Disney sound he creates.  If you need bold, synthetic sound, try Jahnke—KING KONG--genius.  If you want huge sound that will blow you away, best go to Hochmann—BOOK OF MORMON, BIG FISH.  The unique style of sound of each of these highly skilled orchestrators is matched to the project in order to honor the world of the story and flesh out the original musical ideas provided by the composer and creatives. 

RE: AUSTEN’S PRIDE 

AUSTEN’S PRIDE is a lush and fertile score, so it does not need tricks to create emotional interplay between song and ear.   In other words, it does not need to be nurtured and tended to for the life to be drawn out of it (e.g. constant presence of a thick sound) because melodic shapes and harmonies were specifically created to evoke these emotions.   The arrangements are constant conversations between the singer and the instrumental.   The characters of this world would idolize the sound of the Classical period.  This is the sound that they would know and understand, and this is why they would sing.

We know this to be true about the arrangements because the score is beautiful with piano alone.   Its orchestral needs should be created by enhancing its present elegance and adding the shimmer and glitter of percussion.  The support comes internally with the strings and winds.

The story of AUSTEN’S PRIDE does NOT take place in the Romantic period.  The novel world of FIRST IMPRESSIONS is set in the late 1790s and the world of AUSTEN and the story of her encounter with her novel takes place in 1812.   If we look to music history for support of the show’s sound world , Beethoven was still in his early period (Classical sound), and his heroic period (or middle period) occurred during the setting of AUSTEN’s world.   Scholars do not recognize Beethoven’s late period until the late 1820s.    So, musically we are not yet to the Romantic period.

Over the years of the show’s development, I see how my piano-vocal arrangements can be confusing to those who first encounter them because the arrangements of AUSTEN’S PRIDE are written with Romantic harmonies super-imposed on Classical styles of writing. A skilled pianist reads the writing of the arrangements and approaches it like a Classical score.  They see the phrasing and writing and know to play these romantic harmonies in a Classical style, whereas the less skilled player will play it in a Romantic style.  This is why it sounds beautiful on piano alone with a skilled player.  

Armed with this knowledge, successful orchestrations of AUSTEN’S PRIDE happen when both orchestrator and musicians understand the world of sound in this way.  The players in the pit simultaneously nod to the classical and romantic worlds, and the orchestrator wraps it all up with a generous sprinkling of shimmering glitter and the glamour of Broadway.

REFERENCES:

"The Broadway Sound": The Autobiography and Selected Essays of Robert Russell Bennett.  2002.  Rochester, NY: Eastman Studies in Music. 

Personal Interviews with Jonathan Tunick, July 7, 2015 and September 29, 2015.

Personal Interview with Chris Jahnke.  January 22, 2016.

Phone Interview with Doug Besterman.  May 2014.

Phone Interview with Larry Hochmann.  Summer 2015.

How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?

When I was a child, I thought this was the funniest joke.  "Practice, practice, practice!"  And, while there is a great truth in these three words, the word 'practice' embodies so much more.

Tonight, I give my Carnegie Hall debut with THE SONG CYCLES of BEACHY HEAD as both a performer and a composer ...  Performing in Carnegie Hall was something I only dreamed of doing all those years ago.   Yet, today, as I prepare myself to go on stage, I keep thinking, "How did I get here?"

Yes.  I did practice ... years of practice to be able to play as well as I do ... Yes.  I did practice-- creating and composing music ... Yes.  I did practice playing this recital in many cities around the globe ... but, today ... as I sit here contemplating, I know that ALL of that practice comes down to whether or not I believed in myself.  A performance in Carnegie Hall never happens without belief, which I believe is action fueled by love.

I am filled with overwhelming emotion ... so much love will be there tonight ... family and friends ... perhaps even some of my greatest critics or enemies ... Who knows ... ?  But ... what I do know is that tonight my performance is a statement of belief about myself ... and I am saying to the world:  This is my best!!

Thank you, Beth Dolan, and Shelley Waite ... my favorite Beachy Heads!!
See you at WEILL HALL
TONIGHT!!  7:30PM