Mentors (Part 2)....

This post is about a very remarkable man named Dr. Jack Jarrett.

When I wrote earlier about the insidious side of what mentors can bring (using Simon Cowell as an example of how mentors can be wrongheaded, abusive and debilitating to your creative spark), I strongly cautioned you in that post to be careful about who you let into your life - or let stay in your life, and what you let them tell you.

Point taken, but there is another side, and that is what serendipity can bring you:

1977:
In the spring of '77 I was finishing my first year at Virginia Commonwealth University music school.  Having barely squeaked by in my audition by playing the jazz chord solo version of "Misty" - on a guitar more suited for heavy metal - to people who only knew classical music -- I was in the thick of my redemption from my non-triumphant admission to the program.

I was soaking up the boot camp of music theory in my first intensive class - 10 hours a week!  One day the professor, the wonderful and woefully under-remembered Dr. Loran Carrier, assigned us each to write a short atonal piece, and he saw something special in the one I did.  We went over the pieces in a very early (8 AM) morning session.  When he came to my piece, Dr. Carrier played it over and over again - while praising it strongly - to a class of sleepy, clearly non-plussed students.  Afterwards he took me aside and told me he thought I had a real talent for composing, and that I should pursue it.

"Go to Dr. Jarrett and request he give you private composition lessons this summer", he said.

SCARY!
You see, Dr. Jarrett directed the chorus I had been singing in throughout all of the preceding year.  The chorus in which people - who weren't singing majors, or who weren't orchestral players - went to fulfill their requirement for an ensemble credit.  This basically meant that people who had virtually no business  singing were up against the serious choral literature of music history.  We began the semester with the Poulenc 'Gloria' in G Major.  Great piece - not that hard for me now, but no picnic at the time…

Jarrett was a force, and a flaming genius -  albeit with a down to earth quality.  Yet he seemed to not understand - or maybe not care about - how HARD this was for us.  "THE RHYTHM IS DOTTED!!", he would shout.  "THAT'S A BAR OF 5/4!!!  GET YOUR PITCH FROM THE TENORS IN THE PREVIOUS BAR!!!!!  YOU'RE IN G MINOR HERE!!!!!!"  He was yelling.  Not friendly.  Hard assed.

I'll always remember that trial by fire.  In the room where we rehearsed for example, they kept the piano keyboard locked (so people couldn't wander in off the street and access the keyboard to play).  At the beginning of the rehearsal Dr. Jarrett would crawl under the piano keyboard and find a way to play a single pitch…and that was it for the whole rehearsal!  No accompanist.  It was a point of pride.  It felt like (in drill sergeant's voice): 'Get your act together you maggots!'

Now, I've been in some pretty serious New York City choruses since, and over the years I've sung in accompaniment to Robert Merrill, Marilyn Horn, Leontyne Price, Sherrill Milnes, Jerry Hadley and many others (including Pavarotti) at Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, The Met, and elsewhere in those choruses…

....and I've NEVER seen that done since.  They all  have pianos playing along with you when you rehearse.

In those groups, for a while I thought, 'why do they want to make it so easy'?  'wouldn't we learn it better if we struggled harder to really understand the music?', 'what if we heard ourselves without someone banging out the notes?'.  I guess now maybe now I'm a hard ass myself.

LEVEL ONE:
Reed back in 1977 - being an idealistic sort - thought to himself: 'shucks, this is IMPORTANT, what we're doing is IMPORTANT'.

Perhaps I didn't actually use the word "shucks"...

....but I might as well have.  A large, large part of the reason for my feeling that surge of seriousness of purpose....is energetic - in large measure because of the sense of integrity and work ethic - the energy - that Jack Jarrett brought to those rehearsals.  I didn't actually get it at the time, since I think I was largely punch drunk from the proceedings, and basically a blank slate.  But I felt it.  Let's think of this state of seriousness as 'level one'.

Think about this though: it is far easier to settle for non-excellence in order to keep things friendly.  But he walked the walk.  Plus, he could DO anything he was asking for, with at least one hand tied behind his back. I loved that 'no compromise' way of being.

BACK TO THE LESSONS:
I asked.  He said 'yes'.  Yet not only was I NOT prerequisite-ready for these lessons, but also the school had a quite strict policy about private composition lessons - juniors and seniors only.  When pressed by little ol' me, the people in the office were quite sure they didn't want to make an exception on my account.  Let's face it: I have never fit the profile of the high achiever…at least on paper.  When I went back and told Dr. Jarrett what had transpired, he said, "well I'm going to take Dr. Carrier's recommendation, follow me".  With that, he led the charge as we 3 (Dr. Jarrett, Dr. Carrier, and I) marched over to the front office, and he made it happen.

So, during that summer, he was a glorified babysitter.

Patient.

a.m.a.z.i.n.g sight reader.  He seemed to focus about %25 of his energy in actually reproducing the music, and the rest was multitasking his surroundings.  He sat and puffed on a tobacco pipe, and he would sit at the piano with one leg folded under his gluts, and he would make comments while he was playing. "You could go into minor here/how about this chord?".

As the years went on, I tried to create more thorny/complex scores, with lots of instruments, and transposed parts, and meter changes - bigger the better I thought.  That was an adolescent phase for me, before I'd found a real 'voice' of my own.  I was more focused on trying to invent something, than expressing myself.  Yet, there was nothing that ever threw him as he read my stuff, the whole time he worked with me, and he'd still be just chatting away.  Plus he'd get to the end of your piece, then say "great, now you could go here" -- and suddenly the piece seemed to improve - now that he was spontaneously composing 'your' music!

Still, as nice as he was to me, he didn't pull any punches - even when we were alone in private lessons.  I once had written a passage of uninspired harmonies that I - deep down - knew was academic and pedantic in the worst sense.  I said to him, hoping for validation in my best adolescent style whine, "What will this sound like? will it sound OK?".  He retorted with typical frankness and gentle condescension in his light southern accent. "Well" he said, "it'll SOUND like a bunch of parallel diminished chords".

Ouch.

OK, back to the drawing board.  Obviously he's not going to glad-hand me here…and my instincts about how lame this is are on target...

Lesson learned: trust your instincts, especially when you feel something isn't working.

After that summer, I regretfully had to stop taking private composition with him, since they moved me on to a less experienced (or do I mean less cool?) teacher, and his fall schedule filled up with the 'real' composers (juniors and seniors).  I did still have classes with him throughout my time there.  Conducting, class composition - plus I was in his ensembles.  I was especially honored when he conducted one of my orchestral works (pictured below, click to enlarge) at the end of my time there:

MY PASSION FOR MUSIC:
All the while I was taking in everything I got to know about him, by study and by example.  There was a bit of a father-figure relationship going on for me (especially since my real father passed away when I was a child - before I really got a chance to know him), yet only one of us really knew the extent of it - even to this day I suspect.  I was always quite shy around him.  Very quiet.

I wanted to be really good...skilled -- like him.  Not only is he skilled at playing and reading, his compositions are superb, and I soaked in a lot from analyzing them.  For a while, as a composer he was my main influence, and those with a knowledge of us both would still hear it today.  I loved the way he is an unabashed romantic in much of his writing.  He embraces tonality, and with a wonderful and unique style.  Terrific harmonic sensibility.  I remember this sudden modulation in the middle of a phrase of one choral piece to evoke a feeling for a particular word...genius!  I asked him why that worked, and he  emphasized that you can be in a new key anytime you want to be, without preparation if you like...

This was the opposite approach to 'follow the rules'.  I ate it up!

For examples of his music, please visit his website (linked below).  Check out the 'Choral Symphony', for example:  We sang that piece with him conducting chorus and orchestra, and during the rehearsal period I sat at the piano, home alone nightly with the choral score to that piece - knowing my classmates were partying the night away.  I was busy meticulously analyzing his choral parts, picking them out on piano.

GET ORCHESTRATED!
Thanks once again to Jack, a great opportunity came for me when I wrote my first true orchestra piece.  I had presented a short score in juries (music school thing) the previous semester, and the jurors were purportedly all excited to see the orchestrated version.  I was making real progress.

When I brought in the orchestrated version at the end of the next semester for juries, it was clear (to everyone but me - obviously) that I needed more experience hearing live orchestras.  So Dr. Jarrett, who was at juries that day, again used his clout and made it possible for me to play percussion in the school's orchestra.  Can you believe it?  Being someone who had scant experience to play orchestral percussion, it's hard to express how special an opportunity it was for me to be in those rehearsals learning about the orchestra first hand.

I'd hit the bass drum, the triangle, whatever was easiest.  The real percussionists were very, very cool about it, and so I got a chance to stand in the back of that orchestra and see everything….how they were seated, how the violinists use a bow, when wind players have to breathe, how great composers combine the instruments….everything.  With some pieces, I actually played the percussion parts from the scores, so that I could see what was going on on the page.

In fact, Jack - as I was now knowing him - was in my experience himself going through a personal renaissance of sorts.  He was a sweetheart in these rehearsals.  What gives?

Hmm.  Well, I attributed it to the fact that he was getting more what he wanted from those players than from the 'singers', since they were doing what they were trained for.  It was a far cry from those rehearsals a few years earlier when he barked all those corrections in exasperation.

…Of course, looking back, maybe there was more  - it may not have hurt that he found a sweetheart in, and then married one of the bass players in the orchestra, Shirley.  Shirley was a really lovely person with a warm smile and easy way about her.  You used to see them coming into rehearsal with her carrying the front of her bass and him carrying the back.  It was sweet and heartwarming.

One day tragedy struck.

AN INCALCULABLE LOSS:
I come into rehearsal one day, and the mood is dark and somber, and there is another conductor.  Word goes out that Shirley has been killed in a tragic car accident, caused by another driver.

How are we going to go on, I wondered? Especially ... Jack.  How will he go on?

The music department was a tightly knit enough place that everyone had known Shirley -- and everyone, myself included, was deeply, deeply mourning the loss.  There was a service, in which we sang a movement from the Brahms Requiem.  There were many tears from everyone in the room, including those of us on the stage, and Jack was clearly in deep mourning as he sat in the front row listening to our performance of "How Lovely is Thy Dwelling Place".  After it was over, we didn't see him for a while, I think it was 3, maybe 4 weeks.

It felt like forever.

One day though, without warning, he's back on the podium to lead the orchestra in rehearsal.  Scant few words are said, and he tells us to get out a piece we were rehearsing for an upcoming performance: movement 4 from Holst's "The Planets".  The movement is called "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity".  You may not know it by the title, but if you're not deaf, or from some remote outpost of the world, you've heard it many times -- a happy, and in places triumphant soaring, piece.  He raises his baton, and still shell shocked, we proceed to give it what would be best called a 'polite' reading.

After we finished, a polite and gentle scolding comes from our courageous conductor.  I can only paraphrase what he said, but this is what I heard:  "Things have been challenging around here lately.  Even though our hearts are broken, we must go on.  This piece has 'Jollity' in the title" (I can especially remember him emphasizing this a few times in his remarks). "No matter how we feel right now, we are musicians, and we can use this piece to lift ourselves, and connect to our humanity."

He stood there, looking at us, more solid than any rock I've ever seen, focused and fully engaged.  A tear dripped from my cheek, and I struggled to hold it together.  In doing so, I looked down and averted my eyes, and could feel the swell of emotion in the room, but for my own composure I did not dare look up.

This is a moment I will never forget.

Some time went by.  It felt like a long time.

After this emotionally charged luftpause, we went on to play through movement 4 again, and something had shifted.

And in that exact moment, the other shoe dropped for me.  Let's call that something 'level two'.  Something clicked.  Something about art and about music - and about life.

Something clicked for me about Jack too: while I had always seen him as this musical genius, this incredible composer, this great musician…I had now - in an instant - become completely cognizant of a new level that I had been seeing all along, but taking in mostly by osmosis, during those preceding years.  It was about leadership, courage, integrity.  Once again I thought, "This IS important".  Only this time for different reasons...

The right ones.


CODA:
To this day and forevermore, I look to this precise moment in my life for a lesson in how to provide leadership in the most challenging times. I think the most important qualities aren't our abilities, but what we give to the world through them.  We all have our skills and talents, but they can't be developed and shared without leadership.  To have excellence and integrity, you have to provide that, first to yourself, and then to others. Myself: I struggle, I certainly fall short, but I never would have come half this distance without the mentoring of an amazing artist, musical genius, and finally a treasured friend:

The amazing Dr. Jack Jarrett.

Not only will I never forget it, but for you dear reader, just one of these people - a real mentor in your life - can take care of all the Simon Cowells the world will ever throw at you.



POSTSCRIPT:  Over the years I had been trying to contact Jack, and just send him a short note about how much his help had meant to me.  After being at VCU, he went on to become the chairman of the composition department at the Berklee School of Music for 10 years (impressive), and then had invented a notation software called 'Notion', which has become a major player in the notation market.  A while ago he left the company to concentrate full time on composing, and can be found at JackMJarrett.com.  I urge you to pay a visit.


I wrote him emails, first at Berklee, and then at a record label he was on, both with no success.  Finally, I wrote him at Notion, and included a CD of my latest film score.  A couple of months later a lovely note comes with an explanation that he has moved on from Notion and had not received the package for a while, but with very generous comments about my work and about remembering me and knowing me.

It was a milestone for me, a trip full circle.

Hey, I know I'm no Jack Jarrett - but I'm getting there.

Pt-4 THE WEDDING, DINNER AND A MUSICAL HAIKU

note: the following blog post will be split into 6 installments, of which this is the fourth, and each will be posted in roughly 2 day intervals beginning August 1st 2010. your comments are welcome below. As always, click the pictures to expand them if you like.

see the first installment here
see the second installment here
see the third installment here





A bed and breakfast definitely can create an interesting microcosm of people and activity, and we're interfacing with all sorts of odd people, some amiable enough, some bordering on insufferable.

First there's Jane. She is an elderly woman from England that has come back to Maui from England to help take care of her daughter's baby. She has all the stereotypical English mannerisms: very polite, tells un-amusing anecdotes and then laughs at them quasi-nervously herself like they're quasi-funny. She generally has an uptight personna - straight out of "Upstairs, Downstairs".

Don't get me wrong - she's very nice - and perfectly pleasant to have breakfast with (which is when you see the people). It feels stiff though, so I have problems connecting with her, since I have my own stiffness problem when I don't know someone. I don't make much conversation, as my inner morning person is AWOL. Alecia gently engages her in the mornings, asking questions and showing interest in the answers.

Then there's a boarder (a little more long term, I get the feeling) who - if I recall correctly - is Spanish. Swarthy. Neck-down hirsute. The scuttlebutt is he hasn't paid recently and he won't leave. He sunbathes around the grassy grounds a lot (what - like you can't find a beach here?), and smokes as he walks around outside in his bathing suit. He nods and then quickly looks away without speaking when you see him. We rarely see him though.

Finally there's Mike. Mike is here from Los Angeles. He initially comes off - to Alecia and I at least - as a giant pain in the ass. He's gone on and on about some real estate deal he did, talks about his money successes and big screen TVs a little too much (not impressed, dude), and speaks disparagingly to me about a woman who he's here to see in Maui with other people present (in a way that I wouldn't do). Basically he strikes me a nebbish Donald Trump wannabee minus the comb-over.

It's hard to describe here, because it's really more about his tone than the actual content of his sentences. Trust me, he's an eye-roller. A groaner. We generally aren't enjoying his antics. I'm trying to steer clear of him entirely, but Rosemary has a way of engaging him, as she's nicer than I am. As she's speaking to him I'm thinking: "In the name of all that is holy and good...please don't ask him another question!" Oh well, we finally get done with him and after a quick visit to a nearby beach it's off to the wedding.

I was tipped off by Alecia that there was going to be a poster board (as it turns out the other side of the poster seen at right in the 'preparations' picture below) where we will be invited to make a haiku. We've been staying in Haiku Hawai'i, so it's called 'a Haiku in Haiku'. Going with my strengths, I sit down in the room right before we leave and compose a little musical haiku. I've honestly never heard of that before, but someone must have thought of it, right? Anyway, as a haiku I decide it is to be three measures long (for the 3 lines), and while I composed it in music notation software there in the room, I'll write it in hand on the paper at the event. For my method, I interpret syllables as beats. You could argue that rhythm (and not beats) should be syllables, but I won't be debating that point. It'd be way too short then! As it is, it only lasts maybe 15-20 seconds.

A Haiku is 7 plus 5 plus 7 right, right?? Piece done.

Here's my, uh, musical haiku (as it turns out, the first draft):


The idea (in my fantasy mind at least) is about 2 elements existing in harmony, but each with their own autonomy. I did this with the harmonic language, and the element of right vs. left hand. At the start, I made the melody (right hand) outline a C chord which is juxtaposed over a Bb major chord. Then when the left hand chord moves to a C harmony (2nd inversion - don't want to be too obvious now, do I?), the melody moves to a B natural, for a cross relation against the Bb chord. I try to be clever with that kind of stuff. The last chord is a real ring-y pan-diatonic D over /C maj as seen in the examples.

Yes - Blah, blah, blah…pretty chords. If you don't understand it by its description here don't worry, I play the haiku below for them in an embedded youtube video.

Arriving at Ram Dass's house, the preparations are beautifully laid out. There are rocks lining the path, and flowers flowing with the rocks.


A woman opens the ceremony by blowing a conch shell instrument and then singing a hawai'ian song, which traditionally is thought to clear the spirits. Then Gopal will recite a verse, Krishna Das will play a song, Alecia will recite a lovely poem she chose and then a man from India, KK, has a reading and will direct the couple to circle the bowl of incense 7 times while he directs them through some vows.

Ram Dass does beautifully, and even injects some humor from time to time (when Saraswati's response can't be quite heard at the "Do you take this man" part, he says enthusiastically with a smile - "She said YES!"). People giggle.

Every one else does well too:

Gopal's reading is wonderful, which he delivers with quiet intensity in a no-nonsense style (My favorite line: "May this marriage have a fair face and a good name, an omen as welcome as the moon in a clear blue sky." Ode 2667, Rumi).

Krisha Das plays a beautiful song "A Heart as Wide as the World". Even right now, 4 days later the melody flows gently through my head when I'm in silence. It has a little picardy third cadence in there (for some of you music geeks), that never gets old even though it comes again and again.

Alecia's poem, which she recites from memory, is also marvelous and touching - I happen to know she worked on it hard (an excerpt: "There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom. " 'From Blossoms' - Li-Young Lee).

Should I have brought tissues?

The 7 circles ritual caps it off nicely. Wonderfully evocative.




Ram Dass at the ready:


Cousin Ronnie walks the bride down the aisle:


The happy bride during 7 circles:


The first kiss as husband and wife:


Dear friends share a heartfelt moment:



After the ceremony we head to a lovely restaurant called 5 Palms which is on the beach to see the sunset and then have dinner. But on the way in the car, I'm told that a haiku is actually 5 plus 7 plus 5.

CRAP.

I'm a little freaked out (seriously, like anyone's gonna know?…). Still, when I get to the restaurant, I take out my laptop and start revising furiously, sitting on the beach while the sun is setting. Krishna Das walks by as I'm working, and seeing me on a laptop he says, "writing a letter?" When he sees it's music though, he's intensely interested. How cool is that? Well, I guess a score is, after all, a visually beautiful thing.

2nd and final draft:

Ultimately, I'm happy with this because I think the second effort is better. Unfortunately, when I finish in about 5 minutes - by that time everyone is seated. Even worse, I also went and did the piece in hand first before sitting, since I needed room on the paper. Now I've got no place to sit…except the kids table - the REAL kids table.

Yay! I see a place at the bride and groom's table - too good to be true, I start to walk over...someone sits down…wait there's an empty…nope…how about…

It's high school all over again! Actually, I had a little more luck with this in high school on the first day, but that's another story for another time…

Well, I finally found a seat and it was fine, but again I'm a little uncomfortable. I sat with a group that were all living on Maui - locals you could say. Once I got over my initial nervousness I was OK. Very nice people. Still, I couldn't hear what some of them were saying all that well though, so I found myself just nodding and smiling a lot. I wish I could blame it on dialect...Is my hearing on its last legs as well?

It's at this moment that the exact low point of the trip comes for me. I'm sitting here with my folded-up body language, nervous, not knowing what to say. Saraswati and Raghu pass by, saying their hellos to all, and mention that their friend is going to serenade them with her guitar, and if anyone else would like to play…

OPPORTUNITY! Deep down, I know I could create a magical moment, really give Saraswati and Raghu a serious present. I know it, but do I believe it? Also - let's face it - it could also be my instant ticket out of nowhere-land. This was the instant 'get-out-of-beating-free' card when I was 12. The friend gets up. There's two false starts, which she blames on the surf/noise distractions. I can't think straight. I'm not paying attention.

I start to think about a couple of songs I could do. I'd have to sing - too noisey in this environment for solo guitar. Hmmm. The first song that comes to mind is "Little Wing". Perfect description of Saraswati. Yet it's a little high for me, but only about a half step. "What if my voice cracks?", I think. "Is there a guitar pick? I could tune the guitar down"…but I'll need it at concert pitch for the second thing I think of (an obscure but quaint little Duane Allman song called "Please Be With Me…"). "It's low, could I make myself heard?"

"I haven't practiced singing in weeks!"

I'm frozen, completely up in my head watching this moment pass by in slow motion like a car crash - and then the opportunity dissipates without being seized…people start eating - some wander about…the moment is lost…

Forever……shit.

Shyness. I don't wish it on you. In the end, the friend's false starts (which to me - the music professional - should be the only viable justification for the continued administration of capital punishment) were nothing worse than charming to the attendees of this gathering. There's something to be learned from that.

Later, I confide in Alecia about it. She's kind and supportive to me, but inside I remain pretty pissed at myself despite her kindness. If there's in good news in this matter it's that the confiding itself is a small victory, as is mentioning it here.

This was so easy for me when I was 12 years old...what happened? Lack of threats of physical violence? They oughta have an emergency room with nothing but therapists in it. I could've been hauled in on a stretcher at that point.

PAGING: DR. PHIL...

Not long after though, one of the highlights of my trip comes at the end of the dinner. I have a good talk about music, and life, with KD. For someone who has such a following, he is quite kind, full of humility, and generous and respectful to me. I tell him about my projects, and we end by promising to be in contact and possibly work together. My heart fills a bit.

.....the universe taketh away, and the universe giveth.....I guess....



At the wedding with KD before heading off to the restaurant:


…and here is the final version of the haiku, which I recorded in this video for Saraswati and Raghu once I returned to NYC:


Next: BREAKFAST, AND THE INMATES RUN THE ASYLUM

Mentors (part 1)....

Not long ago a friend and I were talking about American Idol:

I will reveal with trepidation that I have watched on and off during the show's run. What appeals to me about it is not the music but the human drama. They put these people, who are basically green - sometimes totally so - through a horrendous hazing. I'm sure these newbees are working exhausting non-stop 12 hour days, trying to wring out as good as possible a presentation in the short time they have. Then they are put through a harrowing gauntlet as they are critiqued on live television after basically baring all - singing in a situation with virtually no safety net. It's brutal.

How do they even handle it? When I'm slightly behind on a work deadline my heart starts pounding like I'm going to go into cardiac arrest!

One can certainly argue vociferously against certain aspects of the show, and I would join you happily in that viewpoint. For example, imagine a young Bob Dylan, or Jimi Hendrix, or Patti Smith, or David Byrne, or John Lennon trying out for Simon Cowell? The artistry that those people created would be totally lost on him. So the show's viewpoint is very narrow -- painfully, painfully narrow.

And that brings me to the point of this...

Watch out for what your mentors say. It's not the truth:


You read that right - it's not the truth. Think about that for a minute...

The other night as I was doing some sidework in the studio, I had a show on the TV in the background called "American Idol Rewind". That's where they rehash the trajectory of the show's events from a previous season. I usually hate the rehashes, but I was struck by this particular show. It was devoted to a contestant named Chris Daughtry, who was eliminated in a previous season in the 4th spot, but who has gone on to a very successful career (more successful than some winners). In my opinion, he's one of the more authentic performers to have come from the show.

To start off with, Simon voted thumbs down at his audition, saying he could hear his singing in any two-bit bar in the country (paraphrasing). In my opinion that's hubris, pure and simple. It wasn't because it was in any way cringworthy, he just didn't like it because of the bee in his bonnet, which was masquerading as the "truth".

All along the way - condensed in the rewind show - Simon had similar kinds of comments about Daughtry.

It started dawning on me that the narrative that exists out there about Cowell "telling the truth" is incorrect. Simon Cowell is decidedly UN-shy in giving his opinion, but his opinion should NOT be construed as the truth.

In fact, looking back on this particular case, I perceived Cowell spoiled snob who's unable to recognize another reality might simultaneously exist. Yes, Simon's been able to have success guiding people's careers, and that's an admirable accomplishment, but it's an act of creation, not reduction. Put another way, there's not right, and there's not wrong. It's all possibility. Maybe his 'make or break' credentials in the industry lead him to believe he's looking through some special "truth lens", but what he's really doing is deciding on a personal preference and then mobilizing to make that possibility (one of many) a reality.

My guess is one of two things - 1) that he's not emotionally awake enough to have that distinction...either that - or 2) he's an actor playing a very piss-y part.

Enough said, I don't mean to pick on him for not being a spiritual guru. I'm no Bodhisattva myself.

But what I mean to say is this: Be very, very careful when you listen to those voices that tell you you're not doing it right, or that you're not good enough - even from high places. Learn to recognize when the harsh voices in your head are yours (hint: if they're overly harsh that's unlikely) or someone else's. Also watch as to whether they resonate truthfulness, or instead prey on insecurity.

Here is a key distinction taught to me by a kind and mindful spiritual teacher I know: If you find yourself internally judging yourself rudely or harshly, it's not your voice doing the talking.....it's the voice of others - strangers, friends or family - who have judged you unkindly in the past. In fact, if you think hard enough, you can usually identify the speaker (as in, my mother used to say "x", my high school teacher told me "y".).

Although it may be sometimes hard to believe, you love yourself unconditionally.

Here's the kicker: those voices are not going anywhere - and don't expect that they will. Sometimes they will be made manifest in your head, by people on the periphery, or by people actually in your life, and they will undoubtedly litter your path throughout your journey.

But if you play your cards right, and work to keep them in perspective, they will be a small residual refuse of something great that you create....

A work in progress...

Yeah, I'm not thrilled about sharing works in progress...it scares me.

I'd be the guy who would spank it, knead it, massage it, refine it, update it, refashion it....until it's exactly as I want it to end up. That's because I want you to LIKE me, and I don't want to be criticized. Not very Buddha nature, I know.

So that's my dilemma. I have to work with the challenge of being unfinished, and unpolished, unrefined, undone. So in that spirit, I'll stop typing now, and without looking back, I'll just post a little snippet of an idea I've been working on, which I'm going to add to later, and make a full piece out of.

OK, maybe I'll just go back and check my spelling once.......

Ellis Paul....naked

Tonight my buddy Murray and I went to see a musician named Ellis Paul at the Rubin Museum here in New York City, located just two blocks from my place.

The Rubin is an AMAZING space, devoted to art of Tibetan and Eastern cultures. The influence is heavily Buddhist. The museum is in the space formerly occupied by tres chic Barney's Department store, and is now several floors of beautifully displayed art. Also there's a lot of great stuff in the gift shop (maybe slightly cheesy, but I love this kind of stuff) and a really nice looking bar/cafe.

My relationship with Ellis Paul is a 6 degrees of separation kind, but I really have a lot of respect for his music, because my first introduction to it was very profound....

Here's the back-story: I have a buddy/colleague/collaborator who began his association with me as my guitar student, back in Richmond Va. in the 80's, named Damion Wolfe. Damion is an amazingly talented guy who was not then a prodigy, but has by now grown into a musician that has a depth that can't be acquired by easy means. We had been out of touch for many years, when one day his CD arrived, maybe 1997 or so, unsolicited in the mail. I felt a lot of trepidation when I put it in for the first time, remembering the friendly but struggling student from years before, but to my surprise, the CD blew me away.

That was the beginning of a new relationship with Damion in which we became colleagues, and it made it very satisfying, particularly knowing the part I played in his earlier years.

So our relationship progresses, and we come to a point where we are working on Damion's second CD, "Here, There and That Way", from 2001. The work was progressing nicely when September 11th 2001 occurred, and I naturally (living about a mile from ground zero) had a bit of trouble getting back into it. Of course we all remember it well, but it is notable that 14th street was the furthest downtown that you could go (I'm on 18th). There were heartbreaking posters on bus stops and store windows of people who were missing with handwritten pleas by family members to contact them, there were candlelight vigils every night in Union Square Park, which is two blocks below me and in my view from my window, and smoke was still billowing up from where the tower had stood. People were walking around in stunned silence weeping uncontrollably.

In this backdrop, I languished for days, not being able to find the strength to go back to work. Finally one day, I decided to force myself back to the studio. Well, Damion had given me a stack of CDs that had examples of the kind of sound he was looking for (He had changed from mild mannered student to ball buster in the intervening years...). I picked up one of the discs and read the post-it note on the case: "Track 11- nice vocal sound". I put it in the player, located track 11, and from a high sweet vocal (accompanied only by a solo guitar) came the following lyric:

"Tell the man who repairs the wings for angels,
That one has fallen among the mortals on Bleecker Street.
I lent a hand, but she looked up at the steeples,
as if to blame them for the pavement beneath her feet.

She said 'I don't really much like flying,
but the job requires trying,
the hard part's avoiding buildings and concrete.'

Spread the news: I saw an angel fly from Manhattan,
in front of paparazzi, in front of television crews
let the people choose, would a little faith come to harm them?
print the headlines up in the New York Daily News-
It was just another day, like any other, other day,
a Tuesday afternoon....."

Wow.

I cried like a baby. For days I did nothing but listen to that one song- over and over and over. Even as I write this, I get a little choked up thinking about it.

That song was my first introduction to singer/songwriter Ellis Paul. It's called "Angel in Manhattan".

So when I heard Ellis was coming to New York to play at the Rubin Museum in the Naked Soul series I was quite excited to see him. Naked Soul is a series which takes place in the Museum's 137 seat theater, built almost entirely of Cherry wood, which is acoustically very live. The musicians use no amplification of any kind.

Ellis was solo, and he had 2 guitars and a nice (real) piano for the show. It was not incredibly well attended given the hall's capacity, but the folks who were there were obviously fans. Ellis is an amazing performer. He has an enticing way of sprinkling in good humor, interesting stories and easy banter which really makes the audience feel comfortable, and he himself has a great comfort level. For those who have not experienced it, it takes a lot of fortitude to actually stand in front of a group of people alone and sing, naturally, with no huge band or vocal effects to hide behind. Also, the emotions, the subjects of his songs are heartfelt, and presenting them is also an act of courage. It's quiet courage, not aggression, but it's courage nonetheless.

For the Naked soul series, the performers are asked to pick a piece of art from the space which is then projected on the wall behind them. They are supposed to tailor their song selections around that. Ellis had chosen a work called "Circle of Bliss", which were two figures in copulative bliss, accompanied by a lot of imagery. It depicts a sacred and tantric kind of sex.

He is also a song machine. Much to my chagrin, he didn't perform "Angel in Manhattan" (I assume because it didn't fit the mission), but he obviously had a plethora of material to choose from, since I knew a few of his songs (good ones) that he did not do. He also performed new stuff. In fact, in one spot he forgot the words, and it got a little scary for a second. Thank god Simon Cowell wasn't around to comment!

But it was a solid hour and a half of good material. There were moments of real transcendence. His voice is very high (a true gift in a male singer) and his intonation is impeccable....almost. There were a few long held notes that went flat as they sustained, but it wasn't too bad. It was a concern for me however. When I mentioned that to Murray (who has ears like a dog) he said "yeah, but only a couple of times". I agreed. Murray then said that he was sometimes bothered by the intonation of the guitar. On this I couldn't have cared less.

The thing I loved about the guitar is that he only played one piece in a standard tuning without a capo. There were a lot of alternate tunings, which I love. As a veteran guitarist, the sound of a different tuning gives me the feel of a different instrument, and so there's a variety there that is really great. Many of the tunings he used were real earthy, so that lent a sense of the primal to the songs -- really evocative. When you're retuning all the time, intonation will be challenging. Also he broke a string, which adds a difficulty. I never use new strings on a gig because they go out of tune quickly.

With his guitar playing, he has an almost orchestral approach, he emulates the sound of a rhythm section in his finger picking and there are percussive techniques used there. [As a side note, Damion has also incorporated this approach, and takes it to an amazing level.] Ellis' chords are filled with all sort of beautiful voicings and accessory tones, and he fills the melodic points of rest in with sweet little 'hooky' kinds of fills, hammer on/pull off stuff, sliding 4ths and other tasty things. It's really nice.

On the piano his approach is a little more one dimensional. I couldn't see his hands, but I could hear what's going on. Mostly it's octaves in the left hand and triads in the right. There were very few fills complementing his lovely singing.

How's this for a suggestion Ellis: in "Home" the chorus is C-F-am- C/G->G. How about adding a 'd' (the ninth) in the 1st C chord, a 'g' (also the 9th) to the F chord and/or the 'a' to the G chord? Those 9ths with no 7th would add the sense of yearning you are creating. That's what you'd do if it were on the guitar, I'll bet. Also, add a passing tone or two in the bass to make more of a part out of it. Lose the octaves, except maybe in the climaxes. Try to separate the hands a little to create more of the 'orchestral' effect you achieve on guitar. Add a fill or two in the right hand at a point of rest in the melody, or maybe a passing chord. A couple more curlycues here and there.

Also watch for the rhythmic spaces, if anything wait longer in that profound moment where there's a 4 beat silence. My piano teacher used to say about my solo piano playing "what are the drums doing?". When you play solo guitar, I know exactly "what the drums are doing" (if you get what I'm saying).

Now before someone says that I didn't enjoy it because of the last two paragraphs, I have to say that 43 years of music making leaves me with very strong ideas about the possibilities. Don't take that as more negative than it is. The piano is on balance an addition - another color. This guy delivers from the heart, and he does so with an amazing amount of talent and commitment and gentleness and warmth and humanity. This evening was one of the great evenings for me. Also, this is one of the first tickets I've paid for in 2008, and that says something, because I do see a lot of concerts.

Postscript: As the days went by after 9/11, I finally realized that Ellis probably had other songs on this album I would like, so one day, instead of starting with track 11, I went to the top and played the whole CD straight through. This is a live album, and so there is some talking on the tracks. I was surprised when I got to track 10 to find Ellis explains what the song 'Angel in Manhattan' is actually about, and turns out that the song is written with a transvestite in mind, who Ellis saw ride up on a bicycle one day to an outdoor cafe he was sitting at. The guy had a lyre I believe.

It's really about a guy living his life in a unique way. Which leads me to the next paragraph.

So, one day last May my next door neighbor, a beautiful man named Dan, passes away in a suicide, and I once again returned to the song "Angel in Manhattan". Regular readers of my blog will remember this episode. We had known each other for 23 years, and I was the last person to see him alive. He was also a guy living his life in a unique way.

Well, I worked up a cover of the song -- mostly just to get myself through the day. The cover is transposed down a little, and the guitar (again it's just guitar and voice) follows the emotional arc of the music a little more 'classically' than his does (which grooves a little more throughout). I built in stops, and moments of silence, stuff like that. I also end it in a more introspective way, as Ellis' ending is quasi triumphant.

I've never performed it for anyone, but I thought about doing it for Dan's family at the service. I couldn't ever get through it without tears...

I figure I'll probably do a recording at some point. It's daunting though, because although people give me good feedback on my singing, I'm really a guitarist/pianist who sings a little. Ellis is a SINGER. I had hoped to do a quick take and personally give it to Ellis to hear, but I didn't get the chance. Oh well...

There were a few too many folks lined up to say hi, and my conversation topics were all long ones...Does he remember Damion? How does he like Charlottesville? (he moved there, and I spent a lot of time there on day trips from military school - another story for another day). So I just bolted. Also I would've wanted to tell him what I've told you above. Oh well...

So thanks for the music Ellis, and a wonderful show, and that's from the heart...

On the Net:

Ellis on myspace
Buy an Ellis Paul record, or contribute to his new one.
Damion's page
Rubin Museum

Singer Todd Almond comes in.....

Todd Almond was in today for an awesome session. I'm working on a number of pieces for release, and I had him in for some backup vocals. Wonderful man, so easy to work with, incredibly talented, beautiful voice.





Happily, it took my mind off the election, which was just what the doctor ordered.

Watch for his CD with Ellen Mandel coming soon. (see the previous post for my thoughts on their wonderful work.) What I didn't expound upon enough in the previous post was the incredible voice he has, and how much he brought to that project.

I'll have Todd on speed dial from now on!...

the first of all my dreams...

Multitalented composer Ellen Mandel joined me recently in the studio for the mastering of her gorgeous project, entitled "the first of all my dreams." The project is basically piano and voice, featuring tenor extraordinaire Todd Almond.



This is the second collection of songs for piano and voice from Ellen. The first was exclusively settings of the poet ee cummings. This one includes ee cumming texts, but also some Yeats, and some original Mandel text. On the instumentation side, she stretches out the piano/vocal thing this time out, to include some bass and also a guest vocal or two.

I have been working with her for almost 15 years, and I can say the music is some of her best. Very American sounding in spots, with beautiful introspective moments, as well as exuberance and subtlety. Perfect for its subject matter, tasty, nostalgic, full of sentiment and power, this music will definitely be on my playlist at home in the future. I don't say that about too much stuff that I work on.

The really good thing? She didn't make me turn it up to 11.....


On the net:

Ellen Mandel

Todd Almond

Walt Elson in for mixing

My good buddy Walt Elson was in for a mixing session today, for his new piece "Let Me Luv U".



Some of you may remember Walt did a great job singing on my song "I Don't know Why", which appears in the movie "Strange Girls" which I recently finished the music score for. He did an amazing job with that. I'm still getting great comments that track.

Here he's in his element. He's doing his own song, which was recorded in his home Pro Tools set up. He brought it to me to do a final mix, and for some of my 'ear candy'. I think it was sounding great when we finished, and so did Walt. Big smiles all around. You have to work to get this man to smile!

Great hang too.

Here he is trying to take over:



Also featured on Walt's track was our friend Monk, who brought the rhymes.

Great session, I'm already looking forward to the next one!


On the Net:

Walt Elson ("Let Me Luv U" will play first)

Monk

Here to listen to Walt sing "I Don't Know Why"

Remembering Bob Bass (part 2)....

As I promised, I am posting part 2 of my experiences with the conductor Robert Bass, a great mentor of mine. Looking back, our relationship was not helped by my shyness and reticence. Even as I post this story, which on its surface seems exclusively to be about a conflict we had, the truth is the conflict was mostly inside me, and I'm remembering this with great fondness and warmth towards him -- and a large dose of amusement. He was, at least on a certain level, oblivious (and I don't mean that unkindly - it's almost 'cute'). In the the end the important part is what I learned, and that's a lot.

Bob did offer me some of the first opportunities I had -once I had come to New York - to do real work in this city. Today I relate an episode on which I now look back and laugh, but at the time I couldn't have been more upset.

It was 1991, and one evening Bob was downtown, doing some work in my studio. He was a little out of his element being an upper west side, classical musician guy. I don't remember exactly what it was we were working on, but at a certain point in the proceedings he started glancing around at all my equipment. In those days music studios were more distinguishable as such, because they had lots of 'music-looking' things. In other words, now I have a single keyboard and lots of computers, whereas in those days you typically had multiple keyboards, lots of tape machines, etc. It looked more 'music-y'.

So, Bob looks around the studio and says "we're getting ready to enter a contest, how would you like to write a piece of music for it?" I was very receptive and said I'd love to do it. It was to write and submit a version of a jingle for Diet Pepsi which was running on TV at that time featuring Ray Charles. The tag line was Ray saying "You've got the right one baby, Uh-huh". The submission would be a videotape, and the prize was $10,000.

Then he says excitedly, "and you can use all your toys!"....looking around at the various keyboards. His voice rises as he sweetens the offer: "We'll split the money with you."

Fair enough. I went to work quickly and came up with some music for the spot. Below is the shortened 15-second version in my own handwriting:



I decided to go a different way for the spot than techno or pop, and instead wrote a parody of a baroque 'classical' piece for chorus. Really it was a direct takeoff on a style prevalent in Handel's Messiah, an oratorio from 1742, known for the famous piece the "Hallelujah Chorus". This Diet Pepsi piece was supposed to be a little more like "For Unto Us a Child is Born", from the same work. You can check that out here on youtube. The humor was that I had the chorus sing an extended melisma on the word 'Uh-huh' (notice the way the sopranos sing the word 'born' starting at 32 seconds on the youtube clip - lots of notes on a single word, which is very typical of that historic period). It had a 1 bar introduction and then it was straight in. The urtext version was 30 seconds, total. If you can read music, you'll notice the version above isn't long enough to make a that big an impact on it's own, but if it were preceded by showings of the full spot, it invokes the memory of the Handel-like approach. I was thinking big!


Also (and I'm saying this because of the linked clip), I would have loved to have had an orchestra, but I knew I could only use piano, or something similar, as the budget for musicians was zero, so I wrote for choir and piano (or I would have preferred harpsichord). The only thing it had in common with the commercial in the music was the very first and very last bar in each version (that's a typical thing - think "At McDonald's", for example - it's called a musical logo). I knew syncing up to prerecorded sound would be a problem in this environment, so I didn't go there.

Looking back, I don't think Bob really thought of me as classically trained at that time, so he was expecting some sort of little pop ditty.

Anyway, I sent him the score. [In those days, not everyone was doing audio demos for all submissions like they do now, and we counted on our imaginations and training to be able to look at a score and make sense of it. Plus he was a conductor, so I assumed there'd be no problem]. One night the phone rings and Bob's on the other end:

"Hi, I got your piece," he says. "Is this all?"

"Yes".

"There's nothing else? No other instruments?" he offered...

"Nope".

Well, a little red flag went off in my head, but I didn't think too much of it.....

Finally the night of the videotaping, we arrived at Cami Hall, a space on 57th street across from Carnegie, and we started rehearsing for the taping. It was a nightmare. To begin with, he had the wrong approach completely, he was doing it too slow, heavy and ponderous. It might as well have been bad Wagner...terrible. It's supposed to be light and crisp. He must have had the quarter note at 60 BPM (beats per minute) instead of the 90 that is marked in the score, and everything was at least forte (loud) if not louder, not piano (soft) as marked.

I was stunned, aghast, a deer in the headlights. I was raising my hand wildly and trying to get his attention. It was not generally understood by the members of the chorus this was my work, and so I wasn't in the front of the room. Instead, I was all the way in the back, in a room full of 200 people. I couldn't get a response, although I'm sure he was aware of me gyrating in the back.

If it were now, I'd march up to the front of the room, and make my views known, as I have developed a backbone - but I didn't have the courage then. After unsuccessfully trying to get his attention, I sat there and watched this slow motion train wreck. He was completely rewriting it after a while. He had stuff being sung up an octave, he was adding notes, and having everyone sing everything (that's a typical Bob thing anyway).

At the end of the night I was FURIOUS. I just left without a word, and as the weeks went by, I thought about it, and thought about it, but I was just too scared of him to confront him directly. Finally I sent him a long letter, where I explained myself in detail, the musical approach, and my feelings about the outcome. I'm sure if I read the letter today, it would be equal parts humbling and hilarious. I cannot overstate how angry and hurt I was. After writing it, I put it in the mail to him. It was a feeling of satisfaction, and also of dread, since I knew I'd be hearing from him...

Another week goes by, and one night, about 11PM the phone rings, and it's Bob. I happened to be in the studio with someone recording so I couldn't have a long conversation.

"Hi Reed, it's Bob", came the voice.

Reed: "Hi Bob"

Bob after a silence: "I got your letter"

Reed: That's good, thanks for calling...listen Bob - I'm in the studio with someone right now, can we talk about this later?"

Bob: "sure that's fine...One thing before we go though..............we won...."

Yep, you read that right - we'd won the jingle contest. Frankly, I still can't believe it!

Later there were interviews, which I was invited to attend,there were some news reports in the local media and the money was collected by the Chorale. I never did get paid, and I never was mentioned as the composer.

...and Bob and I never spoke of it again.

Good session today....

Today producer/composer Behn was in the studio. We did a mastering session for a new tune of his called "Shooting Starz", featuring vocalist Bliss. This will be available on itunes in the near future.

Behn has a great style. This one, like all his stuff has a lot of influences. There's a sort of Chinese vocal lick in there, 2 voices in fourths...you'd know the sound upon hearing it. I liken his approach to a sculptor who goes out in the street to incorporate all sorts of found objects. In the art world they call it 'pastiche' (but pastiche more in the sense of combining elements, than of imitation). I've mastered a lot of his records, "Vibemachine"






and before that "World of Paper, City of Boom".





Love the titles!






I also love he look he gets on his face when he's listening really hard. At first you suspect you're screwing up, but turns out he's just focused...


Here we are in a myspace type self portrait after the session, this was the best picture I could get, with my shaky camera technique. I couldn't figure out how to use the timer feature in the heat of the moment:


Behn was cool though, he could have brought up that it wasn't good I didn't have my camera technique down (in my defense, it's a new camera), given that he was trusting me with all this technology used in mastering his tune.

He tells me he'll be back through to master the whole album with Bliss, so I guess I passed. I'm really looking forward to it!


ON THE NET:

Check out Behn's myspace profile and hear some tunes here

Bliss

remembering Bob Bass (part 1)...

1989.

For me it was the year that an important relationship in my life imploded, and as a result my world took a precipitous nosedive. I was on really shaky ground emotionally, in a way that I've only been a handful of times in my life.

The story of that woman is for another day, but I decided that I needed some structure and inspiration in my life. As always I turned to music for that. It was a very active year. I started playing in a funk rock band, and I was working really hard writing music for dance performances. Also, lots of studio work was occupying me, and I had a "day" job - actually the graveyard shift at a satellite TV station.

I was not planning on giving myself time to ruminate on my situation!

One day an advertisement in the Village Voice caught my eye for an audition with a chorus, called the Collegiate Chorale, which is a venerable, famous old chorus of about 200 members founded in the 1950's by the legendary Robert Shaw. The Chorale did concerts at Carnegie Hall, and Avery Fischer, among other venues. I wanted to return to classical music, and this was a great vehicle. The year's program was the New York Premiere of a Richard Strauss opera called "Freidenstag" (see the concert's CD release here), a couple of concerts of Beethoven's 9th, and I believe, Mendelssohn's "Elijah".

The music director was a man named Robert Bass. I had already heard about him - and the Chorale - from musicians who I knew in Richmond VA, and so I was awestruck to be entertaining the thought of working with a man who was - to me - famous. In those days, a conductor, who had been concertizing in Carnegie Hall was a full out celebrity to me, and he had a reputation which proceeded him.

So I set up an audition. It was for a time when I would be the last appointment of the day. I would be meeting the maestro and a cadre of others at an apartment on 72nd street. It's a new York thing to meet musicians in apartments, I guess real estate is the driving force in that. I was a little nervous as I anticipated this meeting, but I was far more preoccupied with the downward spiral that I was experiencing in my other life.

The day of the audition, I had a very difficult phone conversation with the aforementioned woman, who had fled New York City a couple of weeks earlier for the companionship of someone else, and I was catatonic. So I went to a bar. I slammed down 4 beers on an empty stomach in just shy of a couple of hours. If you know me, you can probably guess that I was pretty 'lit'.

Still, for some reason I went to the audition anyway, despite my obvious disadvantage.

When I got out of the subway, I couldn't find the building, so after some searching I called and said I was running late. Finally I did find it, and so I went up to the apartment.

I still laugh when I think of the scene: 45 minutes late to a meeting with a famously 'type a' conductor: I stepped off the elevator with long hair (halfway down my back -and which probably hadn't been combed in a week) - God knows about my hygiene - in ripped blue jeans falling down drunk...

To this day I can remember the look on his face -- he was NOT happy!

We went into this little room with a piano, and I proceeded to belt out "Is Not His Word Like A Fire?" (For the uninitiated, here's a real singer singing it) which is the tricky aria that Elijah sings in Mendelssohn's Elijah, and I also sight read a little excerpt they gave me from Paul Hindemith's "Elementary Training for Musicians" (which BTW ain't THAT elementary), and from what I remember it was a musically perfect audition. I think Bob was somewhat stunned by that part, given the visual. The Mendelssohn was delivered mostly accapella, since they had already let the pianist go home. Bob plucked out a couple of notes as I sang it. I remember him having a lot of trouble turning pages. I nailed it though. I had been practicing it for an audition with the city to apply as a public school teacher. That person told me at the time of that PS audition that I was the only %100 he had ever given in an audition, so I'd been practicing.

Still, thinking back to that look on Bob's face, I thought -- No Way!

Later, the next day, I got the call that I had been accepted into the Chorale. I couldn't believe it! Ultimately, I was privileged to sing in a great season. Carnegie Hall, Avery Fischer...and I'll never forget the feeling a had in the last minute or two of the Friedenstag...400 or so people on stage, multiple chorus, full orchestra, famous soloists, and this moment at the big climax when a shiver went straight up my back. Being part of something that big, having that feeling, it was possibly the ultimate singular sensation I've ever experienced. I literally cannot describe with any words the magical feeling of the moment that was created there that evening for this good ole boy from Richmond VA, actually on stage at Carnegie Hall! Ultimately I spent 5 years in the Chorale, sharing the stage with Luciano Pavarotti, Sherrill Milnes, Leontyne Price, Paul Plishka, Beverly Sills, Marilyn Horne, Kathleen Battle, Robert Merrill, Samuel Ramey, Angela Bofill, Narada Michael Walden, Paul McCartney, James Conlon and a whole host of others. I have worked with the Chorale ever since, providing studio services, doing arrangements, remote recordings, mastering and such.

The time has sure flown.

...2008.

Bob died a couple of weeks ago at age 55. He had been in poor health recently. He had a heart transplant in May 2007, and then a stem cell transplant in November of that year. He had been conducting since then, believe it or not, and actually the last performance I saw him lead was, in my estimation, by far the best I'd ever seen him do. He was always at his best when the chips were down.

That last performance was a bookend to what was for me a remarkable relationship which lasted 19 years, and a chance to feel in full force the thrill of seeing Bob doing what he did, and being at his best doing it. A very happy moment for me.



The other thing I want to say is that he was like a father to me - even though I was only 4 years younger than him - in a way I'd never experienced (my own dad died when I was eight). It followed a classic trajectory: At first I just worshipped him. I was always seeking his approval and trying to please him. Later, as I grew and matured, I started to see some chinks in his armor, and I also had some bones to pick with him. There was a rebellious phase. [Later, I'll do a blog on some of those experiences, some of which are entertaining in their own right.] Finally, there was a sense of peace, and I felt, in my own estimation, like more of a colleague. I was so looking forward to sending him a CD of my latest film score, which I thought he might like (He had heard some of my music, but in my perception had never really given me the thumbs up). Most of this was (and is) going on in my own head.

I think deep down he knew all this, but like a parent who never quite "gets" you, we never discussed it in detail. Not the "father" part. I worked closely with him, yet we never had dinner. I expressed frustration and anger when times were hard, and yet there was never the feeling of real reconciliation with those, only acknowledgment. I always felt he never forgot that first meeting, and in a sense never thought of me with abiding respect. I might be wrong about that. Maybe that's just who he was.

I will say that I always respected his courage. Of course he was courageous in his response to his illness, but also in the everyday, moment to moment things. I always wished I could be more like him in that way.

There was one time though, after a 5 year absence from choral singing, when I joined a select group of the Chorale for the opening of the MTV music awards, held in 1999 at the Metropolitan Opera House, where he came over to me and patted me on the back with pronounced and genuine affection. For that moment at least, I felt as though I was respected, or valued, or acknowledged. It felt like a triumph.

Regrets? Well, I really regret that I hadn't talked to him since he'd been ill. Somehow he seemed invincible, so it never occurred to me that he'd pass away. Still though, I try to analyze what that means -- I felt like I'd be intruding. Really though, it's nothing more than fear on my part. I shouldn't worry about 'disturbing' people, or that I'm somehow not valuable enough to be involved. if you are showing your concern, that's far more important than waking someone up from a nap or disturbing their dinner. That'll be appreciated. If it isn't, your mirror still looks a little better to you.

I'm vastly un-proud of that. No second chance here, but I hope to learn from this. I could use a little more of Bob's courage, in the daily things.

Fast forward to last week. I went to the memorial service, and after, I went out to a bar and sat once again alone (this time with glasses of wine). It seemed fitting to memorialize this loss similarly to that failed relationship of 19 years ago on the day of our first meeting. I was there to get a buzz. There was a difference though: this time I drank to Bob - a silent solitary toast. I sat there in the Upper West Side neighborhood about 4 blocks from that first meeting 19 years ago (almost to the day), as people walked by and the world kept on whirling and tried to imagine it without Bob in our lives.

Later, I went to his apartment to celebrate his life with some of his friends and his widow, and I had made a little progress, first in having fought my instinct to stay away. When I arrived I sought out his wife Juliana, and I shared the story of our first meeting. She enjoyed hearing a little about my affection for him, and about the story, but I sensed she didn't completely "get" the significance of his meaningfulness to me, and somehow that was OK. I mean, Imagine what she's going though,anyway.

I didn't share it with ultimate skillfulness, but I did share it. Another triumph. On we go...

So here's to Robert Bass. Conductor, Musician, Father, Fearless and feared leader. Thanks for letting me make music with you. I wish I could have done more somehow...

Technical stuff has got me down...

I won't go into the details (this blog's already getting boring enough), but I decided to do some computer/studio updating work, to try and improve performance. It has turned out to be a slippery slope...I've been at it for the last two days!

Just as an example, how'd you like to see this message on your screen:

"Re-enter iLokManager Exception Description
Application: iLokManager
Error: com.webobjects.eoaccess.EOObjectNotAvailableException: No com.paceap.businesslogic.server.License found with globalID: _EOIntegralKeyGlobalID[License (java.lang.Integer)5073116]
Reason:
Stack trace:
File Line# Method Package
NA : Non applicable, JIT activated"

Yikes!

Thankfully I was smart enough to put it at an unbusy time when I could afford to do some tweaking...

My kingdom for an abacus!

Simon says....

...he hears the mix of "I Don't Know Why" as not being 'done'. He feels it doesn't sound like it's all in the same room.

Hmmm...I heard that for a second when I was listening in phones before I posted it, but I thought I was going crazy. Good ear Simon!

Now that I go back, I don't know how much I care. It does sound pretty great. I was listening and comparing to Isaac Hayes stuff from itunes (that's my model for this tune - and ya gotta revere the masters!), and I can hear Isaac puts more reverb in the higher instruments, so jangley guitars tend to be pretty wet, but he's more austere with say the drums. I think I'll try that.

Point taken.

The thing is, Simon said "the recording strikes me as being at a "demo" level, somehow". OUCH!!! He was never much for pulling a punch.

I DON'T DO DEMOS! Them's fightin' words where I come from!

Fortunately, I think we are talking about small increments at this point...

I know so much more about mixing orchestral music......

How cool is this? ......

I am doing a recording of a short classical piece I wrote for a funeral of a friend last year, performed live at the service, called "Dona Nobis Pacem". This means "grant us peace" in Latin. It's a pretty little 2 1/2 minute piece for a cappella 5 part choir.

I'm doing it as overdubs, so each singer will come in and record separately. I started with sampling software called 'Symphonic Choirs', which has a program called 'Wordbuilder' that allows you to build a performance of a choir by adding each syllable to the text. The sample then responds with the appropriate note and vowel. I can't tell you how tedious the construction of this is, or how long it takes! I will say that with the right know-how (which I think I have), you can produce a choir that is quite convincing in an orchestral texture, and amazing but a little too synthetic sounding in an a cappella (no instruments) setting. Not good enough for a final though, in my opinion.

So I'm bringing in some singers to replace the symphonic choir samples.

The first singer, who sang three pieces for me last Thursday, had trouble staying with the track. Totally understandable - because it speeds up and slows down, like any good classical piece does. Of course, she's in another room so I can't really signal or conduct her. Plus even with visual communication, there's a lot to do in a recording session if you're behind the board. I dealt with the timing issues in editing...and it's fine...but then I came up with an idea.

I recorded myself with a video camera conducting the piece to the track that preexists (not the most up to date camera there, but it got the job done). Then I imported the video into my computer and synced it to the music, which I'm then going to send out to a regular TV. It'll be a little tricky because the firewire bus tends to get overloaded when sending video and audio, but I'll figure it out (maybe I'll figure out how to run the video from a 2nd computer and sync it to the 1st). That way the other singers will be able to follow my conducting, and see the tempo variations. The video like the music, is random access, meaning you can start from anywhere virtually instantaneously.

A conductor is so much better than a click, because you also see the space in between the beats. Also a lot of the stuff you say to a performer to get the music shaped correctly is expressed in the physical gestures, so you have to spend less time explaining things.


click to enlarge

Anyway, the screen capture above is the Digital Performer environment, which includes a still picture of the movie of me conducting. Also in the picture is the mixer controls and sound wave data for existing tracks.

Now there are two of me...I'll be able to run the controls while another one of me will do the conducting.

Is that amazing or what!!!???!!!