Musician’s Musing – November 2018

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO board member and associate principal violist, Sarah Oxendale

I didn’t find music; music found me.

As a young girl growing up in the northern suburbs of the Twin Cities, I had no knowledge of classical music. I had no family members that were musicians, and in our neighborhood, few families were able to afford music lessons for their children. Playing an instrument had never crossed my mind, until I was 11 years old and I had the chance to get out of reading class.

One day in fifth grade, Mrs. Wilson visited our classroom. She brought along a violin and played a few songs that most of us could recognize: Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Row Your Boat, and other childhood songs. She also played music I had never heard before, but instantly I was fascinated by the sound of the violin, with soaring melodies and sparkling notes. Mrs. Wilson handed out paper and asked us to trace our left hand with a crayon. Then, one by one, she looked at each student’s hand drawing and asked them if they would be interested in learning an instrument. When Mrs. Wilson saw my hand, she exclaimed at my long fingers and said “You can play any instrument you want to! Would you like to try the string bass?” I shook my head no- the violin had found me. Orchestra class was once a week during reading class, and although I loved reading, I loved doing things with my friends even more. A few of my friends signed up for orchestra, and I went home and told my parents I wanted to play the violin.

Many things attracted me to the violin. I, of course, loved the sparkling and dazzling sound of the instrument. I also loved the look of the instrument- carved out of wood and lacquered a beautiful orange-brown color. Most of all, I was drawn to the process of learning how to play the instrument. I loved the tactile experience of holding the violin in the left hand and the bow in the right, and learning how to coordinate the movements to produce a sound (although it took some time to learn how to stop squeaking!). Learning how to move the fingers in my left hand with rhythm and precision took a lot of practice, and I found myself, even at a young age, practicing for hours to master each song for orchestra class.

By the time I was 13, I was fully immersed in orchestra. Mrs. Wilson, who had inspired me to begin violin, recommended to my parents that I take private lessons. I did, and with the help of my teacher, I successfully auditioned to join the Greater Twin Cities Youth Symphonies. There I got my first experience with “real” classical music. In the symphony, we played entire pieces instead of short excerpts, and we had a full orchestra including winds, brass, and percussion instead of my school string-only orchestra. Yet I still didn’t love classical music. As I told my mom, I loved playing classical music but I didn’t like listening to it.

When I entered high school, my musical world broadened. I began studying privately with a new teacher, Lynda Bradley-Vacco. My high school had many opportunities for musicians outside of regular orchestra class, including chamber orchestra, pit orchestra with the musical theater, and all-conference and all-state orchestra groups that I joined by audition. It wasn’t until I was playing music several hours a day, several days a week that classical music found me- I finally began to understand and appreciate classical music. I learned to hear how music evolved with history, from the sturdy Baroque sounds of Handel and Bach to the passionate sounds of Debussy to the unusual and even strange sounds of 20th century music. I began listening to classical music constantly and for me it became an outlet for expression, a respite from stress and worry, and a reflection of joy and happiness.  I learned how to apply my musical skills to bring expression and personality to the music. Around this time I also learned that I loved something even more than the violin- the viola! Compared to the violin, the viola is slightly bigger, with a lower range, a deeper sound, and more richness and depth. There are fewer sparkling, dancing melodies, but more interesting harmonies and beautiful singing tones that spoke to my quiet personality more than the flashy, center of attention violin. With the support of my teacher Lynda (who was primarily a violist herself), I began to learn the viola and decided to switch exclusively to viola when I began college.

Inspired by my teachers, I decided to pursue a degree in music education, hoping to become an orchestra teacher myself. However, as I began to take education curriculum courses, I realized that my love of music did not include a love of teaching. I began to explore other career options outside of music, and I discovered occupational therapy. Occupational therapists are healthcare professionals that work in the rehabilitation process, helping people with disabilities or injuries to gain or regain skills that they need to function in daily life. My particular interest area was hand therapy; this is a specialty of occupational therapy that helps people recover from injuries and surgeries of the shoulder, elbow, wrist, and hand. From my experience as a violinist, learning how to teach my hands to work and refine skills to play an instrument, I knew that I would love helping others with rehabilitating their hands to be able to do the things they love to do. I learned that some hand therapists specialize in working with musicians and treating musician injuries, and I was fortunate enough as an OT student to do a clinical internship with the musician’s clinic at Sister Kenney Rehabilitation in Minneapolis (now a part of Courage Kenney Sports and Physical Therapy).

After graduating with my Doctorate in Occupational Therapy in 2008, I began working full time as a hand therapist. Unfortunately, during my studies I had put my viola aside, as I did not have opportunities or time to play my instrument. Classical music was still an important part of my life and I missed my viola, but my passion for my career, and then my family, came first.

Then, music found me again. In 2013, I had stopped working and was a stay-at-home parent to my infant twin daughters. Lynda Bradley-Vacco, my former teacher, sent me a Facebook message one day and asked me if I’d like to play viola with the orchestra she was leading, the Bethel University Orchestra. I jumped at the chance to start playing and performing music again. I pulled my viola out of storage and dusted it off, and to my surprise it felt easy to play, even after taking a seven year hiatus from playing. My hands remembered what to do; the hours and hours I spent refining my skills paid off as muscle memory. It took a little bit more time to refresh my speed at reading music and understanding rhythms, but I worked hard to gain those skills back to perform with the Bethel Orchestra. Music found me and I felt back at home doing something I loved. Lynda was proud of me for returning to my passion for music, and I was grateful to her for giving me the opportunity and inspiration.

Less than a year after we had reconnected, Lynda tragically died of cancer. For me, and for so many of her former students, the pain we felt could only be expressed in music. Her funeral included music performed by a full string orchestra and honored the gifts of faith, love, and music that Lynda gave each of her students. I decided that reconnecting with her and finding music again had a purpose, and that I wanted to stay involved in music in part to honor her legacy. Years ago, Lynda had played occasionally with the Bloomington Symphony Orchestra and had spoken highly of her musical experience with the group, and I decided that I would audition to join the BSO. I’ve now been a member of the BSO viola section for 3 years and I’m grateful that yet again, music found me.

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Musician’s Musing – October 2018

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO board member and timpanist, Trevor Haining

I’ve been a percussionist for most of my life. It started with pots, pans and furniture. Then my parents got me my first drum set at age two, a Mickey Mouse kit that I allegedly broke within a few days.  Coming from a musical family, I’m very thankful for an upbringing that allowed me to embrace music. Though my focus was jazz drum set, classical and orchestral music still captivated me. In high school my passion for classical music was ignited by attending my brothers Minnesota Youth Symphonies concert. After being inspired by the musicians playing great, challenging music at such a high level, I decided that I had to be a part of it. I made the symphony orchestra with Manny Laureano conducting and it remains one of the best experiences of my life.

I went to college to study jazz drums and with the help of my drum set professor, convinced the faculty to let me play percussion in some of the orchestras on the side. I remember sneaking into the timpani practice rooms, practicing out of method books and playing excerpts, dreaming of one day playing them in an orchestra.

I first heard about the Bloomington Symphony when I was playing a jazz gig one night. Our oboist, Patrice Pakiz, happened to be in the audience. We ended up chatting and she told me that she played in the BSO, that Manny Laureano was their conductor, and that their timpani position was opening up. I remember thinking how much I would like the opportunity to play with the BSO and to work with Manny again. However, having not played timpani since college, I didn’t think I could win the audition. After my dad kept twisting my arm to audition, I decided to dust off my timpani and go for it, and I’m very glad I did. Playing in the BSO has challenged me to grow personally and musically. I’m very thankful for the opportunity to play great challenging, inspiring music with an amazing community of musicians. It’s a dream come true.

I’ll leave you with a quote from one of my favorite composers, Felix Mendelssohn:

“Though everything else may appear shallow and repulsive, even the smallest task in music is so absorbing, and carries us so far away from town, country, earth, and all worldly things, that it is truly a blessed gift of God.”

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Musician’s Musing – March 2018

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO first violinist, Jessica Cheng who shares her experience with the Minnesota Orchestra Fantasy Camp.

The Major Leagues – A Fantasy Camp Experience, Part II

Fantasy Camp with the Minnesota Orchestra was an incredible experience. I had no clue what I was getting myself into. All I knew is that my friend, Cynthia, expressed interest in participating, and she managed to sucker me into doing it as well. I had initial doubts if this was going to be worth my time since I had to take time off of work. But as I look back on the two days that I spent in Orchestra Hall, I can confidently say that the time was well spent.

 

Some highlights from the Minnesota Orchestra Fantasy Camp:

– I had the privilege of sitting next to Rui Du, the assistant concertmaster. I was extremely humbled (and intimidated!) by his talent, but the best part about sitting next to him was getting to know him outside of his profession. We talked about our Asian backgrounds, our families, and how this event was something that he also enjoyed. We also talked about how we are both transplants to Minneapolis and the associated challenges that transplants often face. This ability to empathize with similar issues made me realize that I, Jo Schmoe with a corporate job, am actually not that different from a professional musician.

– The orchestra knows how to have fun. I remembered mentally preparing myself to be as professional and serious as possible on stage, especially in front of Osmo. But my nerves quickly faded away when I saw everybody smiling and joking around, including Osmo. You could truly tell that these musicians loved playing together. And there’s definitely some ‘class clowns’ in the orchestra (e.g. viola section, Peter McGuire, dare I also include Michael Sutton?)

– I am proud of the musicians that the Bloomington Symphony brings together. We are a talented bunch. I was taken by surprise after the second rehearsal when Jonathan Magness, second violin, and I were chatting and he told me that I sounded great! I was thinking, “who? Me?!” The compliment has since resonated with me, so Jonathan, if you’re reading this– thank you. That meant so much to me.

– If you have never played at Orchestra Hall, you absolutely have to. The acoustics are out of this world. The ability to play in such a beautiful and pleasing space was worth every penny.

– And last but not least, the highlight of the entire experience was the standing ovation from a completely sold out concert. We struck our last chord of Berlioz’s Roman Carnival Overture, and the roar of clapping and whistles was overwhelming. As I looked out, I saw a row of my closest friends and colleagues, and my heart was filled with so much joy. In that moment, I realized that I had just played with the Minnesota Orchestra, and I was so happy that I was able to share that moment with the people who are so important to my Minneapolis community.

I thank the Minnesota Orchestra, Sarah Hicks, Osmo Vanska, and my fellow amateur musician friends for making the Fantasy Camp so fun. I am honored and humbled to have had the opportunity to play with some of the best musicians in the world in an incredible venue, and I look forward to doing it again!

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Musician’s Musing – February 2018

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO Principal Percussionist, Paul Madore.

 

From Jazz to Classical

 

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved music. So much so that my earliest childhood memories center on drums, phonograph records, or a combination of the two. I distinctly remember pounding away on a Quaker Oats oatmeal canister, trying to play along with the calypso rhythms I heard as “Belafonte Sings of the Caribbean” spun around on our RCA “suitable for mono” portable record player. (Yes, I realize I’m showing my age here.)

Before I was old enough to read, I could go through my parents’ LP collection and pick out whatever they requested, much to my mother’s delight and bewilderment.

From there, it was a short leap from just listening to music to wanting to learn how to actually play it, and I begged my parents to let me take drum lessons. My mother spoke with a local drum instructor who advised her to wait until I reached the ripe old age of seven before making that commitment.

When my seventh birthday finally arrived, my parents could no longer delay the inevitable and told me I could start my drum lessons. I was so excited! I still remember my first lesson with Mr. Riccardo. He had a music studio set up in the finished basement of his house. As I walked down the stairs, I peered up at the photos on the wall of his trio playing at the “Marco Polo”, a local Italian restaurant that featured live music.

At the foot of the stairs was the main area of the basement, and as I rounded the corner, an alcove transformed itself into a musical Valhalla, with a piano, a stereo, and most importantly, a real set of 4-piece Slingerlands in blue sparkle finish! I had never seen a real drum set before, and was surprised to find a foot pedal behind the bass drum. Having previously only seen pictures of a drum set photographed from the front, I had somehow imagined that the bass drum’s only purpose was to support the small tom-tom and ride cymbal. Clearly I had much to learn…

Fast-forward to 6th grade, and I by now I was playing in a real rock and roll band! The original band name was “Mantissa”, which is some mathematical term that I’m still unfamiliar with. We quickly opted for the easier-to-understand and more picturesque “Red Moon”. We were a power trio of sorts, and did covers of classics like “Honky Tonk Women” and “Smoke on the Water”, along with some half-baked instrumental originals with inscrutable titles like “Japan” and “Corn Kernels”.  I felt super-cool, because the other 2 guys were in high school, and here I was with them playing at high school dances that I would have been too young to attend, had I not been one of the performers on stage.

As I grew older, my musical tastes became more refined, and in addition to playing in the school concert band and jazz band, I enjoyed listening to jazz and funk, and tried to emulate the style of my favorite drummers. I was a big fan of that outdated musical hybrid term “Jazz/Rock”, and I immersed myself in the crisp drumming styles of Bobby Colomby (“Blood, Sweat and Tears”) and Danny Seraphine (“Chicago”).

When I was 15, I auditioned for and won a spot in the percussion section with “America’s Youth In Concert”, a nation-wide concert band and choral group that played such venues as Carnegie Hall in New York and the bicentennial in Philadelphia, before embarking on a month-long tour of Europe.

After graduating from high school, I attended Berklee College of Music in Boston, where I studied jazz theory and jazz drumming, played in various big band ensembles and received my Bachelor of Music degree in performance.

While living in Boston, I lived the aspiring “musician’s life” of working a day job to pay the bills, and playing various gigs at night to fulfill my musical passion. That template remained more or less intact, even after moving to Minnesota during the great Halloween storm of 1991.

Since moving to Minnesota, I became more involved in classical music, performing with the Dakota Valley Symphony, while continuing to play in various horn-driven funk/R & B bands, such as “Down Right Tight” and “Under Suspicion” and jazz bands such as “The Stan Bann Big Band” and “Beasley’s Big Band”.

My first experience performing with the BSO was back in 2003, when I was hired as an extra to play triangle and tam-tam in Mahler’s Second Symphony, “The Resurrection”. I was very impressed by the high level of musicianship of the players, and completely blown away by the magnitude of this magnificent work! Having at the time only a limited familiarity of Mahler’s music, I eagerly began exploring his other works and today consider Mahler one of my all-time favorite composers.

Around 2010 or so, I made the conscious decision to concentrate exclusively on performing orchestral music, primarily with the BSO, but also subbing with other orchestras, such as the Metropolitan Symphony Orchestra and Saint Paul Civic Symphony.

When approached about writing this edition of the Musician’s Musings, I was asked to write about my experiences moving from jazz to classical. I’ve always likened the idea of a musician playing different styles of music as akin to a skilled athlete playing different sports. Proficiency at one sport is no guarantee for success at another. And yet, there is a common ground that some people skilled in athletics share. The hand-eye coordination that is required in one game may present itself differently in another game’s execution, but that basic coordination will still be required in some shape or form.

It is the same in the world of music. Certainly there are common fundamental requirements in order to play the correct notes, sing the correct pitches, etc. Stylistically, though there can be many subtle and not-so-subtle differences. Each musical style presents its own inherent logic and set of rules with which a musician must be familiar, or risk sounding amateurish.

A good example of this is evident in Jazz music. When all the players are in sync rhythmically, the music is considered “swinging”. Jazz music is triplet-based, with a typical ride cymbal pattern driving the rhythm: quarter note, 1st & 3rd triplet, quarter note, 1st & 3rd triplet, etc. Though it’s played like triplets, this rhythm is often written as: quarter note, dotted 1/8th & 16th, quarter note, dotted 1/8th and 16th, etc.)

A common mistake for “legit” or classical musicians is to play this rhythm strictly as written, which sounds “square”, “unhip”, and definitely NOT swinging. In order to sound correctly, a certain creative license must be employed, which means the player must not play exactly what is written on the page.

On the flip side of the coin is the seasoned jazz musician, who may know all the standard tunes in the repertoire by heart, or by reading off a lead sheet (a sort of musical shorthand that shows just the melody line and the chord changes), but may not have the sight-reading skills necessary if called upon to sub for a symphony orchestra. And all those European musical terms might feel like a foreign language, because they actually are!

Of course, there are many versatile musicians these days who can bridge both jazz and classical styles. Perhaps the most famous is Wynton Marsalis, whose trumpet virtuosity has extended into highly acclaimed recordings and performances in both sound worlds.

Since orchestral music can have limited percussion parts (or no percussion at all, in some cases), I sometimes get asked if I get tired of waiting to play, or having to “count so many bars of rests” before making an entrance. On the contrary. One of the great things about performing as part of an orchestra is that you get to listen and bask in the collective sound of the group as a whole. This is true even when you’re not playing, sometimes even more so. While I love playing a busy, challenging part and the “go-for-broke” spirit that goes with it, it can be equally enjoyable to just sit back and listen. In fact, I’d rather listen to music that moves me even if there is no percussion, than to play something I don’t connect with emotionally just for the sake of playing. I’ve always believed that to be a good musician, you must first be a good listener. I can think of no greater thrill than being on stage with the BSO when we’re making music at our highest level.

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Musician’s Musing – January 2018

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO Principal Cellist and former Board President, Laurie Maiser.

 

The Major Leagues – A Fantasy Camp Experience

I’m a small-town Minnesota girl.  Born and raised in Austin, MN, it was a special event when we would have a school event to trek up to “The Cities” to see the Minnesota Orchestra.  As a student cellist, the MO was the brass ring – the incredible group of hometown professionals I daydreamed about being a part of someday.

But then 25 years passed, in which I switched from my Music major to Economics, worked in IT, married, and had kids.  The aspiration switched from performing at Orchestra Hall to just making time in a busy life to attend the concerts.  Then one day last spring I had three people send me the same email – the Minnesota Orchestra was hosting a Fantasy Camp

Fantasy Camp was a 2+ day event in July, culminating in a performance of Berloiz’s Roman Carnival Overture on stage in a side-by-side with the Minnesota Orchestra, under the direction of Osmo Vänskä.

I wrote about it a lot on social media, so when the BSO Board asked me to write a blog post about my experience and what I can bring from it back to BSO, I thought it would be easy.  No problem, I can do that in a week.  That was a couple of months ago.

Turns out, it was harder than I expected.

The experience was sublime, no doubt.  The performance flew by so quickly…. followed by rousing cheers and a standing ovation. The crowd was full of our “plants” – each camper got 10 comp tickets – but still, the crowd reaction was icing on the cake. Two thousand people cheered us on. The MO musicians smiled and congratulated us as we walked off the stage – they were gracious and classy at every turn.

But what did I learn?  What can I bring back to BSO?

There were little cello things I thought of right away – how I learned so much from sitting next to Tony Ross, principal cellist, and trying to mimic shift timing and bow articulation.  How well Osmo Vänskä can imitate the roar of a motorcycle.  How the cellists all stick their end pins right in the floor – and have metal files backstage to keep them dangerously sharp.  But most of you don’t care about that.  So I kept thinking.

I left that camp a changed musician, but why?  If it wasn’t the little things, then what were the big ones?  I think I needed some time to live with these changes to put them into words, but I finally found some.

Preparation, preparation, preparation.  Without doubt, the level of preparation of MO musicians is exemplary.  We were told when accepted into Camp that we needed to know that music when we arrived, and they weren’t kidding.  We had sectionals on our own, but our rehearsals with the MO musicians were little more than run-throughs.  When you walk on that hallowed stage, you are expected to have every note down.  How much would we all grow if we had that mindset whenever we played?  We are largely amateurs in BSO – we all have other commitments – but what if we all did our best to come into that first rehearsal performance-ready?  What if we could use those rehearsals to work on ensemble and musical expression, because the notes were already there?

Think like a conductor.  Sarah Hicks, Minnesota Orchestra’s principal conductor of Live at Orchestra Hall, did a seminar for us on The Art of Conducting.  She went through the preparation of a conductor– what they must think through, what decisions they must make – before they lead an orchestra.  This was truly eye-opening.  I always study recordings of our BSO repertoire, but am laser-focused on the cello line.  This inspired me to listen differently.  What else is going on?  Which line are we taking over?  Where do we fit in the context?  I hear music differently now than I did before, and even catch myself conducting in the car.

The orchestra is a family.  BSO’s own Concertmaster, Michael Sutton, was tasked with talking to the campers about what was loosely titled “Auditions.”  They couldn’t have put that job to anyone better suited.  We heard his personal story, asked a bunch of questions, and eventually through his candid and colorful storytelling heard some hysterical “inside jokes” of the orchestra that – more than anything all week – connected us to the MO in a personal way and made the “fantasy” come to life.  What can each of us do to bring that culture of professional respect, personal courtesy, and a playful sense of humor to our playing experiences?   How can we make coming to rehearsal a personal pleasure beyond the music?

Above and beyond all of this, however, I walked out with overwhelming gratitude for the Bloomington Symphony.  You see, unlike some of the other “campers” I met there, I did not leave camp wistfully wondering when I would get to play symphonic music again. I have an incredible opportunity every week to make music at a high level with truly wonderful people.  I can keep learning under the inspiring leadership of Manny Laureano and Michael Sutton – who through their examples make every rehearsal like our own mini Fantasy Camp.  I’ve always been proud and grateful to be part of the Bloomington Symphony, but never more so than now.  Like any incredible vacation, Fantasy Camp was a tremendous thrill to experience.  However, at the journey’s end… there’s no place like home.

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Musician’s Musing – December 2017

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO Principal Bassist, Chuck Kreitzer.

Chuck Kreitzer, Principal Bassist

 

Hello, my name is Charles Kreitzer although I prefer to be addressed as “Chuck”.  I was most happy to contribute to the musician’s musings when asked by Sara Tan, I am a returning bassist this year with the Bloomington Symphony Orchestra as I played a couple of seasons previously in the late 1990’s when Bill Jones was the conductor.  I was born into a musical family; both of my parents were public school music teachers in Sioux Falls, SD, my father was a bassist and my mother a cellist.  All of my 5 siblings also are practicing musicians in one genre or another.  I remember as a child that my friends were a bit jealous in that I always knew what I was going to be as an adult: a musician.

My first experience with music was learning the piano at an early age.  When entering the 5th grade I began my journey learning the French Horn.  I played the French Horn through college and was actually a French Horn major as a freshmen in college.  One day while I was attending the University of South Dakota the orchestra director found out I could play the bass a bit he recruited me to play bass in the orchestra.  Playing a stringed instrument in an orchestral setting was far more enjoyable than playing French Horn in a concert band setting (I no longer needed to worry about breath control nor my embouchure!).  Truly playing a wind / brass instrument is an internal experience whereas playing a stringed instrument is external.

I have a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of South Dakota (if you have never been to see the Shrine to Music, now known as the National Museum of Musical Instruments, you really should!) and then received a Masters of Music from the University of Colorado in Boulder.  Both degrees were in performance, I later finished my teaching certificate in 1984.  When I began teaching public school music in 1985 I was only planning on teaching no more than 5 years, my goal was to be playing in a professional orchestra by then.  But the years flew by and then I had a family, plans change.  I’ve very much enjoyed the past 33 years teaching public school orchestra but sometimes wonder what life would have been like if I had made it into a professional orchestra?   I have auditioned for the Phoenix, San Diego, Denver, Omaha, Minnesota Orchestras to name a few…

As most of you know, when you show up for an audition there’s well over 100 other fine musicians trying for that coveted spot.  At my “seasoned” age I’m thankful that I still have the opportunity to actively participate as a musician rather than just a consumer of music.  For me, music is an aspect of my life that will never fail me, I feel very fortunate that I’m in a profession where I get to teach young people the joys of making music, and hopefully it will become an important aspect of their lives too.  When my mother developed dementia, when she could no longer communicate verbally she could still play the piano without missing a note.   I’m thankful for once again being a member of the Bloomington Symphony Orchestra, thank you!

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Musician’s Musing – December 2016

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO Board Member and first violinist, Kristin Brinkmann. 

Kristin Brinkmann, Violin

Kristin Brinkmann, Violin

As a fairly recent addition to the first violin section of the Bloomington Symphony (this is my third season), I have to say that it’s provided the perfect infusion of musical nourishment, which I desperately needed during a difficult time.  And it’s that continuing infusion of musical nourishment that keeps compelling me to get into my car way up in White Bear Lake, and trek all the way down to Bloomington on Sunday evenings for rehearsals.  For many years, I used to get into my car and make a similarly long trek to go and play with a different orchestra most days of the week – the Minnesota Orchestra.  Based on the various versions of my lifetime career model which used to run through my head, my car should still be driving me to Orchestra Hall and not to the Bloomington Symphony, although the BSO does feel quite a lot like the Minnesota Orchestra most of the time.  My fellow Minnesota Orchestra second violinist and frequent stand partner, Michael Sutton, is playing just a few feet away from me, and Manny Laureano is conducting, which he also did from time to time at the Minnesota Orchestra, when they would occasionally let him put down his trumpet for a few days.

Why does my car now drive me to the BSO, and not to Orchestra Hall?  First of all, it’s only a 2002 Honda Civic, so it’s technically not capable of taking me anywhere I haven’t decided to go.  It isn’t a cutting edge driverless vehicle whose computer brain got hacked and suddenly began driving me to the wrong orchestra one day.  Rather, it was my brain that got hacked over 15 years ago, and a neurobiological form of malware began running, which caused me to develop young-onset Parkinson’s disease when I was 33.  Parkinson’s is a neurological degenerative movement disorder, with some good treatments, but no cure at this time.  It is almost unthinkable for a violinist to suddenly face losing the voice we’ve spent our lives cultivating to a disease that causes you to lose motor control.  In most cases, we’ve spent our entire lives and countless hours in violin lessons, practicing, at workshops, music camps and music festivals, and have often completed multiple college degrees learning, among other things, how to consistently make unbelievably precise movements so that we have the technical ability to translate our soul, passion, musical ideas and creativity from our minds, through our bodies, and into a wooden box and a stick with some horse hair attached to it.  And Parkinson’s isn’t at all predictable.  The saying in the Parkinson’s community is, “The only thing that’s predictable about Parkinson’s is that it’s unpredictable”.

Kristin playing in nature

Kristin playing in nature

That’s what I was faced with early in my career with the Minnesota Orchestra, and I have to say that in many respects, things have gone much better than I ever imagined they could have 15 years ago.  I might be wrong, but I believe that the fact that I was already a professional violinist when I developed Parkinson’s has helped me stay as healthy as I am for so long.  But crazy things happen with no warning, and I’d be ready to walk out the door to play a concert at Orchestra Hall when my left arm and leg might suddenly go into severe tremors for no reason I could discern, and that could go on for 15 minutes to eight or more hours.  At that point, I often couldn’t really walk, much less open a violin case and pick up my violin without likely smashing it to smithereens.  After about a decade of having Parkinson’s while in the Minnesota Orchestra, the unpredictability and severe fatigue caused by the disease brought me to the point where I had to leave the job and the orchestra I loved so much, and I suddenly found myself without my “musical tribe”, and alone at home with a violin.  For about two years, I couldn’t listen to music.  At least not any of the music that I’d played before, or had hoped to play in the future.  Or music that reminded me of music that I’d played before or had hoped to play in the future.  We’ll call this my “Beatles Period.” And I didn’t practice very much for the some of the same reasons.  Add a few spine surgeries into this mix, and then the fact that there simply wasn’t anything to practice for.  No upcoming rehearsals or concerts!  This was the first time I’d ever had a calendar completely devoid of anything musical since I took my very first violin lesson!

That brings us back to the point where my car began driving me to the Bloomington Symphony for Sunday rehearsals.  I knew that I could still play really well when all things neurological and musculoskeletal aligned perfectly, and I’d had an ample amount of sleep, and when I’d taken my various Parkinson medications on the precise schedule I’d worked out over a decade earlier, and if I was just plain lucky that day.  And while some violinists in a similar situation might relish being alone to play the J.S. Bach Sonatas and Partitas for unaccompanied violin for whatever amount of time every few days that everything was working somewhat normally, I really missed playing in an orchestra!  I was already familiar with the BSO because several of my Minnesota Orchestra colleagues had been the concertmaster here over the years.  I went online to see where all of the community orchestras were rehearsing, who was conducting them, what music they were performing, and to familiarize myself with who was doing what where, and did White Bear Lake have an orchestra that I wasn’t aware of?  Once I saw that Manny Laureano was now conducting the BSO, and that Michael Sutton was the concertmaster, I knew that the BSO was where I needed to go!

I didn’t know whether I’d be able to play an entire rehearsal without some weird Parkinson’s movements starting up, and I can’t always do that.  And I didn’t know whether I’d be able to play every single rehearsal and concert, and I can’t.  But once I’ve gotten myself there and we begin to play, a part of myself I thought I might have lost forever reawakens!  I believe the first piece we played at the very first rehearsal I attended was the Wagner Overture to Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg – a piece I’d played countless times since high school.  But it was as if I were playing for the very first time all over again!  Hearing the sound of the full orchestra around me again, and playing that first violin part that has you soaring up into stratosphere gave me more than anything that any of my favorite doctors or the best treatments could provide!  Another popular saying in the Parkinson’s community is “Exercise is medicine!”, and I firmly believe that to be true.  But in my case, the more important saying would be “Music is medicine”!

People ask me what it’s like playing in the BSO after having been in the Minnesota Orchestra, and I suspect that they think they know how I’m going to reply. We rehearse in a church basement instead of Orchestra Hall, we’re a far smaller group, and not everyone has had the same amount of musical training in their background.  But beginning with that first rehearsal three years ago, through to our most recent concert in the Schneider Theater on November 20, I have to say that there’s no difference at all in anything that really matters!  I feel the same rush and the same sense of accomplishment and comradery after having played well during a BSO rehearsal or performance as I did during and after my concerts with the Minnesota Orchestra!  I’m very fortunate to have found the BSO three years ago when I desperately needed musical nourishment after living in a musical desert for some time, and the Bloomington Symphony Orchestra has most definitely become my new “musical tribe”!

 

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Musician’s Musing – November 2016

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by BSO Board Member and second horn player, Brian Rule. Read his Musing to learn about how his encounter with a piece of hair metal turned his high school teammates to the beauty of Beethoven.

The Wango Tango.  If you are a classical music lover, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had no idea what this song was (nor would I really blame you) but this hair metal band piece is a strange example of promulgation of classical music, whether you believe it or not.

Brian Rule, BSO Horn player and Board Member

Brian Rule, BSO Horn player and Board Member

We talk of music and its importance to each of us, but music in my life never existed in a vacuum.  I was also engaged heavily in academics (as many musicians are) throughout K-12 and college, and I saw accomplishments in sports that mirrored the ones I had in music, and possibly exceeded my musical endeavors.  In my younger years, I was treated to a great deal of music according to my father’s tastes- pop music from the 50’s and 60’s, but also his love for folk music, and I also experienced his adoration of the Boston Pops, as well as an extremely treasured find he came home with one day- a used record of solos by trumpet virutouso Rafael Mendez.

But all things being equal, my interest in classical music was minimal when I had my first chance to play a musical instrument starting in 6th grade.  In fact, aside from a few well known pieces, the thought of sitting for a lengthy symphony made me practically queasy.  It wasn’t until I had unwittingly landed myself into auditions for the Greater Twin Cities Youth Symphonies that the allure of classical music began to reveal itself to me.

Within a year, classical was all that I listened to, and all other music had lost its appeal.  I would rather sit and listen to Handel’s Water Music on a loop than a single hit on mainstream radio.  By the time of my sophomore year, I could barely fathom the time before my classical music renaissance any longer, and it was at this point, as I was beginning to hit my stride musically, that I managed to pull myself into our school’s State 200 Medley Relay team as their best (and only) breaststroker.

At meets, I would sit quietly before my main events with a pair of headphones listening to the old hand me down Walkman player my dad had let me use listening to the most inspiring classical music I could find.  Favorites included Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries (of course), the finale to Dvorak’s Ninth Symphony, Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony and Chopin’s Military Polonaise, but no piece stoked as much flame within me so much as Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.  Everyone knows those opening chords to the symphony, and to be fair, they do and have always caught my attention and drawn me in, unwilling to allow myself to be satiated by only a quick blurb of this iconic work of musical art, but this is not the part that I look forward to most.  No, as I sat there at the University of Minnesota Aquatic Center in a side room waiting our turn to swim our relay in a swim off for a chance to compete for the 16th place spot in the finals the next day, I was listening to the third and fourth movements of the piece on loop, and the sensation I got from that symphony was visceral.

How we had gotten there was in itself a story.  We were a motley crew of sorts; our butterflier was our top man in the individual medley, who owned a spot on the record board for many years, but who was also a cad who saw himself as a ladies’ man.  He once told me when he was accused of egging a well-known teacher’s home who lived two houses down from me, “I didn’t throw a single egg and I never would have, but you can’t blame me for handing them to the other guys in the car as fast as I could.” Our backstroker was a young prodigy of sorts in the water and the youngest of the team, who also owned a place on the record board for a ridiculous amount of time after graduating, and whose advanced talent in the pool was contrasted perfectly by his delayed emotional maturity while our freestyler was the quintessential pretty boy, perfect grades in school as well as a soft mannered jock and all around likeable guy whom I very much looked up to.

And then there was me: scrawny for my age, overly chesty, awkward in every sense of the word and far more of a dork than I care to remember.  We had tied the other relay for 16th place going into prelims down to the ten thousandth of a second and now had to face off for the right to make it to the next day.  The other team all shaved their heads and disappeared into a group chant on the bleachers opposite our side of the pool.  The stands were filled with virtually no one, save the 8 sets of parents, versus bleachers that moments before had been packed with thousands of people, and we, the four of us from Elk River, sat preparing with as much individuality as our varied backgrounds would suggest.  Spencer, our team captain and butterflier watched me, listening to a Sony Discman when his curiosity got the better of him.

Whatever I was listening to, it was having an effect on me, and he wanted to know what it was, so he cut a deal with me- if I’d listen to his music, he’d listen to mine.  Worried it was some kind of cruel setup, I cautiously applied his headphones, and he mine and my eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as the earphones lit my ears up at full volume “ALRIGHT! IT’S ZEE WANGO, ZEE TANGO!”  The music was odd, too loud and left me speechless, but strangely I couldn’t quite hit the stop button.  Meanwhile, Spencer was lost in the rapture of Beethoven, stopping after a moment to tell me “holy ****, this is intense!”

The exchange caught the attention of our coaches and team mates, who also were too curious to let my motivational music slide by without a listen as well.  The consensus?  Definitely Beethoven.

Behind the blocks, we stood, each stretching and shaking our limbs loose while our opponents stood as a group egging each other on to greater and greater levels of impetus.  Their coaches chanted and hollered to their athletes, and they were unified in one purpose and mission.  On our side, Coach Eidem stood with Spencer’s Discman, banging her head to Wango Tango, while Doesken contemplated Beethoven, and our respective parents attempted to fill the empty aquatorium with their screams.

“Take your mark! BEEP!!” and the race was on, and we were on fire.  As the last man of the other team slammed into the wall, he looked up at the board and immediately caught his time.  He marveled at the fact that after a long, hard day of competing, they had managed to cut their time a half second from their original swim.

“That’s great,” his coach derided, “but they dropped 4 seconds.”  Had we managed that same feat earlier in the day, we would have been solidly in 5th place, instead of 16th, but then, it didn’t matter.  We were going to finals, which was a first for all but one of us.  The school record we set that day also lasted for many years, though I was equally proud to see the new names replace it when the time came. But even if their time was faster, I stand firm in the knowledge that the magic of their swim didn’t compare to ours.

And Spencer? Before he graduated, he’d occasionally come to me to share new classical music he’d discovered and to ask about what else I had to share, and word spread among the rest of the swim team.  When I wasn’t sitting prepping for a race myself, others wanted to borrow what I had to inspire themselves, and the results were equally as magical.

Wango Tango still brings back fond memories, but the Beethoven?  To this day it still makes me rocket from wherever I may be standing.

For those who are curious, we leave you with this:

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Musician’s Musings – September 2016

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by substitute flutist and BSO Board Member, Charlotte Bartholomew. 

Does music give you chills?

Charlotte Bartholomew, BSO Board Member & Substitute Flute/Piccolo

Charlotte Bartholomew, BSO Board Member & Substitute Flute/Piccolo

Having been born to two parents who were musicians, I assumed everyone in the world felt chills or had emotional responses when listening to music.  Imagine my dismay in junior high when, upon doing a scientific survey of one – with my closest friend – as we swooned over songs played by the most popular band on the radio at the time, her answer to my question about whether she felt chills was, “No.” I hid my shock, having thought the question was basically rhetorical.

Five years later, as a music major in college, I instinctively knew I was among fellow chill-feelers.  Whether we are simply listening, or participating in making the music, apparently 50% or more of us have this type of reaction (read the article!), and the percentage is much higher among musicians.  While this sensitivity may or may not make me a better communicator, it influences my drive both to create and listen to music, not just in a vacuum, but in the rewarding and unpredictable province of Other People.

“Music can name the unnameable and communicate the unknowable.”
– Leonard Bernstein

As with all artistic works, there is something wholly impressionistic about music – the experience of it is different for each individual; at once, we share it with others and own it for ourselves.  In an orchestra, we seem to be doing both simultaneously.  During those glorious moments when we are musically and mentally in sync, I equate the chills I feel to a sympathetic vibration with everyone else in the group, and I believe that collective sensation is telegraphed to audience members. They, in turn, feel chills or whatever the music happens to evoke for them.  That is when we are communicating beyond printed notes on a page.

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Musicians Musings – April 2016

Jenna Loeppke

This month’s Musician’s Musings was written by substitute second violinist and BSO Board Member, Jenna Loeppke. Jenna brings a great deal of enthusiasm and passion to the BSO and we are grateful for the wisdom she is sharing with our audience through this post!

5 Ways Music Has Changed My Life

I’ve been playing my violin since I was six years old and playing piano since second grade, flute since fifth grade, and singing since seventh grade. But within all of my musical training, my mom worked hardest to make sure I would play the violin. She always dreamed of playing it herself but when her orchestra teacher chose her to play the viola instead, she thought she’d had no choice.

And during my early teen years, whenever my mom would sit down at the piano and decide it was time for me to practice, I also thought I’d had “no choice.” It wasn’t the playing that bothered me. I loved hearing the notes sing out of my instrument when I drew my bow across the strings. It was the incessant rehearsal of difficult passages and techniques my teacher and my own mother were forcing on me. I remember feeling as if I was locked in some sort of torturous prison.

Looking back, I’m so thankful that I never let myself quit playing music. That’s not to say that my mother hadn’t threatened to call my teachers and cancel all of my lessons if I’d refused to pick up my instrument.  Many tears were shed and tantrums thrown in our family room next to our upright piano. But at least I wasn’t as bad as my friend who used to throw her violin in the trash just to spite her mother. And just to prove that music can turn around even the most difficult child: this friend of mine is now training to be a professional opera singer.

I’ve come to love the music that was engrained in me for so many reasons. But to encourage you or your children to continue playing or learning music, here are my top five reasons for sticking with it:

1) Music has allowed me to build strong connections with others

Over the years, I’ve met people in school, in my neighborhood, at church, and in sports. Sure, these are all wonderful places to make friends but I can honestly say that my fondest memories come from the times I shared with fellow musicians. From childhood group lessons to Minnesota All-State Orchestra to joining a Community Orchestra in France, these are memories and people I will cherish forever. Music is a powerful tool that can be used to create lasting bonds that conquer over barriers like languages, age groups, and differences in personality.

2) Music teaches discipline

Sometimes I think the only reason I was able to make it through some of my college classes or crazy schedules as a teen and young adult is because I had the discipline to push through the insanity. Self-restraint is something that most people don’t naturally possess. Generally, it needs to be practiced – a lot.

Music, and specifically the violin, has brought stability and structure to my life. That stability has helped me make small, daily decisions and important life choices too. It has led me to achieve things I never thought I could accomplish. I truly know that things don’t come easily – something I found while trying to tune the chords Bach’s Partita No. 2 in D Minor, BWV 1004: III. Sarabande. Life is tough; it’s best to have the discipline to make the most of it.

3) Music forced me out of my comfort zone

Music made me uncomfortable in the following ways: competition, taking criticism (sometimes in front of large groups of people), performing, and meeting new people. Most everyone can understand why these situations aren’t always comfortable for a six year old or even an 18 year old. But now, every time I am faced with a new, uncomfortable situation, I have the tools to help me get through it.

4) Music took me to Europe

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with Europe. I’d dream of the castles I’d see and the history I’d uncover in my travels across the many countries. My chance to go there finally came when I was in high school and I joined the program, Minnesota Ambassadors of Music.

So far, that expedition has sparked three more trips to Europe and two study abroad experiences. When I was a senior in college, I spent my last semester in Pau, France where I met many new friends in the community orchestra I’d joined, L’Orchestre Symphonique du Sud-Ouest. These French musicians remain very special friends to me, even though they live thousands of miles away.

5) Music inspires me

Finally, there isn’t anything that inspires me more than a piece of music. Sometimes, it’s a piece that we’re playing in symphony and sometimes it’s something I heard by accident on a drive home. It inspires me at my job, in my personal life, and even in my musical life, encouraging me to be my best self and to produce my best work.

Music has been an integral part of my personal growth and I am forever grateful to my mom who knew the impact it could have in my life. Though dedication to music hasn’t always been easy, I know it has the power to bring out the best in me and in the lives of others.

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