The Movie
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjxugyZCfuw
"This Is Me: 1" took a look at the first ever presentation of this iconic song. It was a workshop presentation for Fox to determine whether to give The Greatest Showman the go ahead for production. Keala Settle's performance was, in my opinion, the meaning of the song, starting with her quietly, behind the music stand, wearing glasses, and leading to the remarkable climax.
The movie version shows the intent of the song. It serves to put the world on notice that there are those of us who "march to the beat I drum." And if you don't like it, world, pity. The number is beautifully shot, the freeze frame of the chorus while she continues to sing, and their fall to drive home the song sent shivers up and down my spine.
Understandably, though, it lacks a certain rawness. The song most certainly is the anthem it is meant to be and delivers the power it should. But the "holy shit, girl" feel isn't there, whether because of the rehearsal and recording process or the director's call.
I saw the movie first and was stunned and excited by this number. I thought it was one of the absolute best things in the movie. But I didn't really feel it, didn't truly get it, until I saw the that very first read-through, the singer discovering her song.
Graham Norton Pre-Oscars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BNRBgxiS2c&t=302s
After the huge reception The Greatest Showman received, both Hugh Jackman and Keala went sent out to do publicity, and once the Oscar nominations were announced, Keala did several solo performances. This meant singing the song as Keala Settle, no beard in sight. It's so incredibly exciting to see how she played with it a bit without breaking the integrity of the song. The song is powerful; Keala is powerful. Shaping it and making it her song, not the Bearded Woman's song, not that number from that movie, makes it explode with energy. This is after the nomination but before the ceremony.
I've included the interview following her performance because I really do think it's the real Keala Settle. Her story is still that of getting the part and not believing it or the words. Jackman insisted that she sing it and that she be in the movie.
Oscar Performance
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6GrbAJq7tM
Deservedly, the song was up for an Academy Award. Rightly, it was sung by the original artist. And I think that it also shows that she was able to fashion the song more to Keala's comfort. The song, of course, morphed into A Big Production Number, as it should...Hollywood, the Oscars, and all. What I like about this, though, is that she manages to get that catch in her throat for "This is brave, this is bruised, this is who I'm meant to be." She was fighting back the tears in the workshop version; in the Oscar version, she brought it back and the song was all the better for it.
There may be a third blog in this series, where the song has gone, the song without Keala, and how the song takes on a different meaning, depending on the singer.
Thursday, April 16, 2020
Saturday, April 11, 2020
This Is Me: 1
First hearing
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLFEvHWD_NE
Music has held a mystery for me all my life. Whether I sit alone and listen or I'm in the midst of a crowd and it's washing over all of us, whether I sing it or write it or direct it, it can cast a spell that I cannot deny.
That's why I'm so grateful to follow this song from the first time it was sung to well beyond servicing the movie for which it was written. The video posted here shows not just the original version but how a singer with a song she understands transforms the people hearing it, singing it, accompanying it. It's incredible to watch this happen.
In the opening interview, it's established that she didn't want move from behind the music stand to perform the number. Lord knows this is something I understand.
0:58 She hears the slight intro and does what she's supposed to do...sing the song, despite it being new to all concerned, including her. She knows she needs to get out from behind the music stand.
1:28 She looks at the singers and that gives her a poke.
1:45 She looks at Hugh Jackman, who has wanted her for the part since they first met. I wish we could see his face; it clearly inspires her (and really...who can blame her?).
1:52 She realizes that art needs the artist to take a chance. She steps out from behind the music stand.
1:56 Note the look on the pianist's face. It registers that she's left her comfort zone, at least to those who've worked with on this song. I'm embarrassed to say I don't know if he's the composer.
2:06 She and the singer in front of her make eye contact. The singer knows something's got to happen.
2:14 She now encourages the male singer to give it his all. He does.
2:18 The magic has begun. The singer in the light top is now thoroughly involved, the woman beside her is, too, and you can see the pianist's head bobbing from time to time.
2:34 Her spin back to the singers, the flip of her head, the look of the pianist from accompanying to being part of something way special.
2:45 "Glorious" frees everyone from this being a workshop to being a moment to remember.
2:56 The male soloist and Keala look like they're doing a call and response. He's there.
3:03 The camera pans to Hugh Jackman across to the other side of the room and more singers.
(3:08 I totally understand the woman at the table. That would probably be me at this point, too. We all boogy our own way.)
3:15 The other side of the room is alive. They have come into the magic, too. There is nowhere else on earth they'd rather be.
3:26 Jackman now feels the music, keeping time with his green apple.
3:31 There is now no one who is not in the moment.
3:35 Keala realizes the she and the song are one. It's necessary to step out from behind the music stand.
3:43 As Keala and the song consume each other, the pianist clearly is beyond delighted, which makes me think he is one of the composers or perhaps the music director.
3:48 The glasses comes off. She is now fully exposed.*
3:52 This is the start of what she talked about in the intro. She sings to Jackman, "When the sharpest words wanna cut me down." I think this is when the song hits her full force.
4:00 They are both in tears because of that realization. "This is brave, This is bruised, This is who I'm meant to be. This is me."
4:07 Jackman involuntarily makes a sound. It's as if he can't believe what's happening.
4:10 Singer, song, everyone become one."
4:25 Jackman is up and loving it.
I've been involved in enough rehearsals to know that there is frequently that moment the artist understands and feels what it's about. The know the words, they know the notes, they know what they're supposed to convey. And then, with luck, it all connects. It's magic.
It's also a mystery.
I'd like to follow this with the clip from the movie, a performance on The Graham Norton Show, and also a video of how a song can change its meaning slightly, depending on who sings it.
*I took a one-week crash course in choral directing. The instructor was adamant that no one should ever direct wearing glasses. It separates your eyes from the chorus or the audience.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XLFEvHWD_NE
Music has held a mystery for me all my life. Whether I sit alone and listen or I'm in the midst of a crowd and it's washing over all of us, whether I sing it or write it or direct it, it can cast a spell that I cannot deny.
That's why I'm so grateful to follow this song from the first time it was sung to well beyond servicing the movie for which it was written. The video posted here shows not just the original version but how a singer with a song she understands transforms the people hearing it, singing it, accompanying it. It's incredible to watch this happen.
In the opening interview, it's established that she didn't want move from behind the music stand to perform the number. Lord knows this is something I understand.
0:58 She hears the slight intro and does what she's supposed to do...sing the song, despite it being new to all concerned, including her. She knows she needs to get out from behind the music stand.
1:28 She looks at the singers and that gives her a poke.
1:45 She looks at Hugh Jackman, who has wanted her for the part since they first met. I wish we could see his face; it clearly inspires her (and really...who can blame her?).
1:52 She realizes that art needs the artist to take a chance. She steps out from behind the music stand.
1:56 Note the look on the pianist's face. It registers that she's left her comfort zone, at least to those who've worked with on this song. I'm embarrassed to say I don't know if he's the composer.
2:06 She and the singer in front of her make eye contact. The singer knows something's got to happen.
2:14 She now encourages the male singer to give it his all. He does.
2:18 The magic has begun. The singer in the light top is now thoroughly involved, the woman beside her is, too, and you can see the pianist's head bobbing from time to time.
2:34 Her spin back to the singers, the flip of her head, the look of the pianist from accompanying to being part of something way special.
2:45 "Glorious" frees everyone from this being a workshop to being a moment to remember.
2:56 The male soloist and Keala look like they're doing a call and response. He's there.
3:03 The camera pans to Hugh Jackman across to the other side of the room and more singers.
(3:08 I totally understand the woman at the table. That would probably be me at this point, too. We all boogy our own way.)
3:15 The other side of the room is alive. They have come into the magic, too. There is nowhere else on earth they'd rather be.
3:26 Jackman now feels the music, keeping time with his green apple.
3:31 There is now no one who is not in the moment.
3:35 Keala realizes the she and the song are one. It's necessary to step out from behind the music stand.
3:43 As Keala and the song consume each other, the pianist clearly is beyond delighted, which makes me think he is one of the composers or perhaps the music director.
3:48 The glasses comes off. She is now fully exposed.*
3:52 This is the start of what she talked about in the intro. She sings to Jackman, "When the sharpest words wanna cut me down." I think this is when the song hits her full force.
4:00 They are both in tears because of that realization. "This is brave, This is bruised, This is who I'm meant to be. This is me."
4:07 Jackman involuntarily makes a sound. It's as if he can't believe what's happening.
4:10 Singer, song, everyone become one."
4:25 Jackman is up and loving it.
I've been involved in enough rehearsals to know that there is frequently that moment the artist understands and feels what it's about. The know the words, they know the notes, they know what they're supposed to convey. And then, with luck, it all connects. It's magic.
It's also a mystery.
I'd like to follow this with the clip from the movie, a performance on The Graham Norton Show, and also a video of how a song can change its meaning slightly, depending on who sings it.
*I took a one-week crash course in choral directing. The instructor was adamant that no one should ever direct wearing glasses. It separates your eyes from the chorus or the audience.
Tuesday, December 4, 2018
My Favorite Sound Effect
Assassins was, at least at the time, a reasonably perverse idea for a musical...the musical history of the US presidential assassins. One of the theaters for which I designed sound announced that Assassins would be part of their season. I was delighted.
The director let us do what we wanted, both actors and designers. However, he reserved the right to say "make another choice," which he did sometimes even after approving a cue. Everything existed for the sake of the play or musical or revue. It may have been the right idea perfectly executed, but maybe something changed and the cue no longer fit.
By this point, I'd worked with Joe, my engineer/editor, on several shows. We were a good team, and he was relentless to get a cue to sound perfect. I decided that I wanted a distinct sound for each of the assassins' guns. It wasn't so much that the audience needed to tell them apart as it was, to me, a matter of history. Joe liked the idea and we exhausted a couple of sound libraries to get the different sounds. The elusive one was for JFK.
We found the sound of the make and model of the rifle used in Dallas, but it wasn't strong enough. I wasn't being morbid; rather, this was the assassination that most people in the audience would have remembered. It wouldn't be enough to kill President Kennedy. The audience would have been familiar with a lot of what happened, but the sound of the shot itself hadn't been recorded.
We'd developed several nicely squirm-making sounds for a hanging (breaking a watermelon and enhancing the sound) and for an electric chair execution (the sounds from an old horror movie lab), both of which were successes in my estimation...they added to the scene and, since the actual hanging and electric chair deaths were done in blackout, the melons' snaps and the electric zaps helped the audience make their own visuals.
One of the more pleasant challenges was finding the individual gun sounds. One prop gun would be covered by a kerchief: would that muffle the sound? One was a small, cheap gun used by a very scatterbrained woman. The small gun sound was easy and we made it kind of staccato because it seemed to describe her.
The second-hardest sound was John Wilkes Booth's handgun. I think it was the first gunshot heard in the show. Joe and I agreed that everyone has heard gunfire, whether on TV or for real, so it wasn't a matter of introducing anyone to that sound. It was, however, a statement of character. Was it the same gun that killed Lincoln? Probably no one thought about that, but we felt it justified a loud, resonant shot. It was not just that he committed suicide with the gun; he killed the country.
The same could be said for Lee Harvey Oswald. The trouble was that there wasn't really much of a "special" sound for a Mannlicher-Carcano rifle. Nothing particularly sinister and certainly nothing to suggest an assassination rifle. We agreed that the shot (a single shot in the show) needed to stir up emotions from 50 years before. It had to make the audience think of the TV news clips they saw. It had to be the shot that killed a dream. We also agreed that it was the show's climax, at least as far as sound was concerned.
We spent two hours working on that sound. We wound up not using the sound of the Mannlicher-Carcano because we found a deeper sounding shot. We layered it so that it lasted longer than the real shot, gave it a good bit of bass and reverb, a hint of treble, but it really did take a long time to tweak and remove and add. And at one point, we looked at each other and smiled. That was the one.
It certainly achieved the desired effect. People gasped, some burst into tears, some cradled their head in their hand, some looked terrified...and, to be fair, some looked like they were watching a show. It didn't steal the show, it didn't detract from any of the actors' performances, but it was a vital part of the show. The shot is at a specific point in the music. I followed the music score so I could hit the gunfire exactly on cue for every performance.
Nothing is real in theater, and sound once was the least convincing of any of the arts used in the creation of a play. The sound designer is presented with the same questions the other designers have to answer. So often to me, sound seemed to be treated as an afterthought or a burden. Thunder is thunder. Birds are birds. Traffic is traffic. Except, of course, it's not. The sound of firing the rifle that killed President Kennedy could have been an effect found in the sound library, but it would never have had the same impact. It is my favorite example of creating a sound for a play.
The director let us do what we wanted, both actors and designers. However, he reserved the right to say "make another choice," which he did sometimes even after approving a cue. Everything existed for the sake of the play or musical or revue. It may have been the right idea perfectly executed, but maybe something changed and the cue no longer fit.
By this point, I'd worked with Joe, my engineer/editor, on several shows. We were a good team, and he was relentless to get a cue to sound perfect. I decided that I wanted a distinct sound for each of the assassins' guns. It wasn't so much that the audience needed to tell them apart as it was, to me, a matter of history. Joe liked the idea and we exhausted a couple of sound libraries to get the different sounds. The elusive one was for JFK.
We found the sound of the make and model of the rifle used in Dallas, but it wasn't strong enough. I wasn't being morbid; rather, this was the assassination that most people in the audience would have remembered. It wouldn't be enough to kill President Kennedy. The audience would have been familiar with a lot of what happened, but the sound of the shot itself hadn't been recorded.
We'd developed several nicely squirm-making sounds for a hanging (breaking a watermelon and enhancing the sound) and for an electric chair execution (the sounds from an old horror movie lab), both of which were successes in my estimation...they added to the scene and, since the actual hanging and electric chair deaths were done in blackout, the melons' snaps and the electric zaps helped the audience make their own visuals.
One of the more pleasant challenges was finding the individual gun sounds. One prop gun would be covered by a kerchief: would that muffle the sound? One was a small, cheap gun used by a very scatterbrained woman. The small gun sound was easy and we made it kind of staccato because it seemed to describe her.
The second-hardest sound was John Wilkes Booth's handgun. I think it was the first gunshot heard in the show. Joe and I agreed that everyone has heard gunfire, whether on TV or for real, so it wasn't a matter of introducing anyone to that sound. It was, however, a statement of character. Was it the same gun that killed Lincoln? Probably no one thought about that, but we felt it justified a loud, resonant shot. It was not just that he committed suicide with the gun; he killed the country.
The same could be said for Lee Harvey Oswald. The trouble was that there wasn't really much of a "special" sound for a Mannlicher-Carcano rifle. Nothing particularly sinister and certainly nothing to suggest an assassination rifle. We agreed that the shot (a single shot in the show) needed to stir up emotions from 50 years before. It had to make the audience think of the TV news clips they saw. It had to be the shot that killed a dream. We also agreed that it was the show's climax, at least as far as sound was concerned.
We spent two hours working on that sound. We wound up not using the sound of the Mannlicher-Carcano because we found a deeper sounding shot. We layered it so that it lasted longer than the real shot, gave it a good bit of bass and reverb, a hint of treble, but it really did take a long time to tweak and remove and add. And at one point, we looked at each other and smiled. That was the one.
It certainly achieved the desired effect. People gasped, some burst into tears, some cradled their head in their hand, some looked terrified...and, to be fair, some looked like they were watching a show. It didn't steal the show, it didn't detract from any of the actors' performances, but it was a vital part of the show. The shot is at a specific point in the music. I followed the music score so I could hit the gunfire exactly on cue for every performance.
Nothing is real in theater, and sound once was the least convincing of any of the arts used in the creation of a play. The sound designer is presented with the same questions the other designers have to answer. So often to me, sound seemed to be treated as an afterthought or a burden. Thunder is thunder. Birds are birds. Traffic is traffic. Except, of course, it's not. The sound of firing the rifle that killed President Kennedy could have been an effect found in the sound library, but it would never have had the same impact. It is my favorite example of creating a sound for a play.
Monday, June 18, 2018
Why? Because the Bible tells me so
I am not an
ardent Bible reader. The Truly
Religious, the Falwellian Moral Majority, the righteous gay bashers, the
on-going “the Bible tells me so” types…I gave up on them and their rule book
years ago. More recently I’ve realized
that the parts of the New Testament printed in red
are meant to be ignored…that’s why they’re in red,
it seems. Not because Jesus allegedly said
it and it should be followed; rather, even though Jesus allegedly said it and it
can be ignored.
I had a sort
of religious upbringing. Presbyterian,
but back in the ‘50s and ‘60s, so they were still pretty literal. We did not read the Bible daily, although
father ultimately succumbed to some brand of “put your paycheck in the
collection plate and you’ll be saved” grift.
However, Sunday school was Bible drill and church was “I know the Bible means this…question me at
your peril,” so I had to know the drill.
And there was
also Old Testament and New Testament “study” at school, a small Christian
college for small Christians.
Now I’m
grateful because it helps me see how disgusting The Truly Religious are. Not just in their treatment of others, but by
their careful cherry-picking of Bible verses.
The most recent, as of 6/17/18, is our morally bankrupt attorney general’s
quote of Romans 13:1 to justify the separation of brown-skinned children from
their brown-skinned parents as they all still believed the bullshit and wanted
to find a better life in the once-great United States.
“Let everyone
be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except
that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been
established by God.” All right. That justifies ripping kids from their
parents.
But then there’s an “oops” in verse 6: “This
is also why you pay taxes, for the authorities are God’s servants, who
give their full time to governing.” This
comes awfully close to Jesus’ bout with the Pharisees in Matthew 22: 18 But Jesus, knowing
their evil intent, said, “You hypocrites, why
are you trying to trap me? 19 Show me the coin used for paying the tax.” They
brought him a denarius, 20 and he asked them, “Whose image is this? And whose inscription?”
21 “Caesar’s,” they replied.
Then he said to them, “So give back to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God
what is God’s.”
22 When they heard this, they were amazed.
So they left him and went away.
It’s not my
intention to use Romans 13:6 as an argument for why churches should be
tax-exempt (“It’s in the Bible!”) or for showing off one’s “deeply-held
religious beliefs” while refusing to make a wedding cake for an LGBTQ
couple. Also, it's in red. However, it is interesting to
contemplate.
And while we
all know that god himself wrote the King James Version, I don’t speak that
version of English, so this is the New International, written by mere mortals.
Anyway, our oh-so-honorable/god-fearing
attorney general (or his lovable lackey speechwriter) also failed to get to the
point of the entire chapter.
According
to Paul:
8 Let
no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for
whoever loves others has fulfilled the law. 9 The commandments, “You
shall not commit adultery,” “You shall not murder,” “You shall not steal,” “You
shall not covet,” and whatever other command there may be, are
summed up in this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 10 Love does
no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.
(Emphases
mine)
If verse 6 seems to paraphrase Matthew
22:21b, this is nearly an actual quote from Matthew 22:34-40:
34 Hearing that Jesus had silenced the
Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35 One of them, an expert in the law,
tested him with this question: 36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment
in the Law?”
37 Jesus
replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your
heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as
yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets
hang on these two commandments.”
Those
Pharisees could really be annoying, but nearly as annoying as that Jesus guy. Fortunately, it’s highlighted in red, so we
can ignore it.
However, for cherry-picking purposes,
how’s this:
Psalm 137:9: Happy
is the one who seizes your infants and dashes them against the rocks.
Or, if you prefer god’s own words:
Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the
stones.
(Emphasis god’s)
How long before
this one is used?
Monday, May 28, 2018
Music by Numbers
Jack referred to it as my "knitting." Although maybe a bit patronizing, he was right. I'm not a trained musician in any sense of the word. I lucked into conducting and found out how things were done, made it up as I went along, or did what came naturally. Arranging came about from necessity. Parts were too high or a certain passage was too difficult. When I started directing the gay men's chorus, I noticed there was not a whole lot music for men, so I learned how to re-voice and move parts around. This was in the Dark Ages.
I didn't mind about the "knitting" dig. I sat at the computer in the evenings and we'd talk...he'd watch TV or a DVD and I could hear it while working with music on the Finale system. He was a singer, a soloist; he wasn't particularly interested in my endeavors except when something involved him. I'm not good at writing melodies, so it's safe to say he wrote more poems about me than I wrote songs for him. On the other hand, he could dictate a melody and I'd type it in and then work on it until he was happy. Or I arranged songs he wanted to sing as part of an act. Then I wasn't knitting.
It is just a tad strange, though, that I am addicted to putting music into the computer either as is or to arrange...and now even to orchestrate. Part of it has to do with not being able to hear the choral music I like. The voices aren't human voices, but I can hear the composer's intentions and how the arranger, if not the composer, fleshes it out. I also love piano music, and playback on my computer now has the piano sound very well approximated.
Calling my music "knitting," as in "a hobby," also compares it correctly to painting by numbers or stitching on patterns already printed on the cloth. It doesn't demand very much creativity and it's rewarding for the hobbyist who may not have the imagination or the talent to be original. Painting by numbers and stitching a previously printed design can also serve as training. Unfortunately, it's training without a teacher, but you can paint those numbers and get a feeling for what the artist had in mind. If you are interested in painting, some aspects of it can be learned by the numbers.
Minus the teacher, for example, you can assign a different color to a number, make 7 the blue rather than the yellow that 7 is supposed to be. Your developing artistic mind can start to see different patterns without destroying the original work. Painting within the lines is good but restrictive.
And so it is with the music I type into Finale. It can be note-perfect, but I can also play around with the score because no one is ever going to hear what I'm doing and I want to hear what a change would sound like. I love to arrange piano music to sound like how I'd play it if I could play piano. The most fun recently comes from orchestrating a piece. It can open up a tune to new understanding of the work, a different slant on it, or reconfirm the brilliance of the music and/or text.
When I first started my revue of music in the public domain, I thought I'd use the piano part on the sheet music and maybe gussy it up a bit. I decided that wasn't sufficient. Most of these songs would have been heard in a theater or on records. I toyed with a 2 piano approach, but the novelty of two pianos imitating an orchestra wore off fast...plus it was rough for me to keep coming up with duo piano arrangements to accompany a singer. That's when I came to the (scary) realization that if a song were performed in public, it would be as a vaudeville act...and vaudeville theaters had pit orchestras. So I taught myself orchestration.
Lord knows it's not easy. It does, however, create another dimension for the song. And there are all sorts of orchestrations. Mostly, I do a band or small orchestra. I've also discovered the joy of jazz. There are a couple of professional arrangers (Kirby Shaw, Steve Zegree, Mark Hayes, Mac Huff) who love jazz and arrange accordingly. Because choral music comes with a piano accompaniment, I've now tried to rewrite the accompaniment for a small jazz combo or a brass combo (in imitation of Henry Mancini). I know I'm on the right track if I can imagine people mumbling, the sound of glass and ice, and smell alcohol and tobacco smoke.
It's also become a project from time to time to write out duo piano arrangements from choral sheets. There will be a piano accompaniment and the chorus, usually soprano-alto-tenor-bass, becomes the second piano, but with some necessary changes and additions. Almost all choral pieces start out with a solo or one part, usually soprano. That sounds nice for singing, but that it also sounds as if the pianist has trouble playing more than a melody line. This looks like a job for Arranger Guy!
As I approach age 73, typing music into the computer for my own private, personal purposes is quite satisfying. Depending on what I'm doing (and to what), I find great creative possibilities in just playing around with the music. No one will ever hear it, and that's fine. Music can be for a wide audience, but it's also intensely personal. And the more personal, the better.
I didn't mind about the "knitting" dig. I sat at the computer in the evenings and we'd talk...he'd watch TV or a DVD and I could hear it while working with music on the Finale system. He was a singer, a soloist; he wasn't particularly interested in my endeavors except when something involved him. I'm not good at writing melodies, so it's safe to say he wrote more poems about me than I wrote songs for him. On the other hand, he could dictate a melody and I'd type it in and then work on it until he was happy. Or I arranged songs he wanted to sing as part of an act. Then I wasn't knitting.
It is just a tad strange, though, that I am addicted to putting music into the computer either as is or to arrange...and now even to orchestrate. Part of it has to do with not being able to hear the choral music I like. The voices aren't human voices, but I can hear the composer's intentions and how the arranger, if not the composer, fleshes it out. I also love piano music, and playback on my computer now has the piano sound very well approximated.
Calling my music "knitting," as in "a hobby," also compares it correctly to painting by numbers or stitching on patterns already printed on the cloth. It doesn't demand very much creativity and it's rewarding for the hobbyist who may not have the imagination or the talent to be original. Painting by numbers and stitching a previously printed design can also serve as training. Unfortunately, it's training without a teacher, but you can paint those numbers and get a feeling for what the artist had in mind. If you are interested in painting, some aspects of it can be learned by the numbers.
Minus the teacher, for example, you can assign a different color to a number, make 7 the blue rather than the yellow that 7 is supposed to be. Your developing artistic mind can start to see different patterns without destroying the original work. Painting within the lines is good but restrictive.
And so it is with the music I type into Finale. It can be note-perfect, but I can also play around with the score because no one is ever going to hear what I'm doing and I want to hear what a change would sound like. I love to arrange piano music to sound like how I'd play it if I could play piano. The most fun recently comes from orchestrating a piece. It can open up a tune to new understanding of the work, a different slant on it, or reconfirm the brilliance of the music and/or text.
When I first started my revue of music in the public domain, I thought I'd use the piano part on the sheet music and maybe gussy it up a bit. I decided that wasn't sufficient. Most of these songs would have been heard in a theater or on records. I toyed with a 2 piano approach, but the novelty of two pianos imitating an orchestra wore off fast...plus it was rough for me to keep coming up with duo piano arrangements to accompany a singer. That's when I came to the (scary) realization that if a song were performed in public, it would be as a vaudeville act...and vaudeville theaters had pit orchestras. So I taught myself orchestration.
Lord knows it's not easy. It does, however, create another dimension for the song. And there are all sorts of orchestrations. Mostly, I do a band or small orchestra. I've also discovered the joy of jazz. There are a couple of professional arrangers (Kirby Shaw, Steve Zegree, Mark Hayes, Mac Huff) who love jazz and arrange accordingly. Because choral music comes with a piano accompaniment, I've now tried to rewrite the accompaniment for a small jazz combo or a brass combo (in imitation of Henry Mancini). I know I'm on the right track if I can imagine people mumbling, the sound of glass and ice, and smell alcohol and tobacco smoke.
It's also become a project from time to time to write out duo piano arrangements from choral sheets. There will be a piano accompaniment and the chorus, usually soprano-alto-tenor-bass, becomes the second piano, but with some necessary changes and additions. Almost all choral pieces start out with a solo or one part, usually soprano. That sounds nice for singing, but that it also sounds as if the pianist has trouble playing more than a melody line. This looks like a job for Arranger Guy!
As I approach age 73, typing music into the computer for my own private, personal purposes is quite satisfying. Depending on what I'm doing (and to what), I find great creative possibilities in just playing around with the music. No one will ever hear it, and that's fine. Music can be for a wide audience, but it's also intensely personal. And the more personal, the better.
Friday, May 4, 2018
Patches -- Farewell
Patches didn’t wake up
this morning. She was my last living link with Jack. Life just got a little bit
harder.
She assumed she was Queen of the Universe; I explained to her several times that she was the Princess, that Jack and I were ahead of her in the Queen category.
She took the catnip talk to heart...she didn't inhale, but she loved to eat it.
She chose us at the rescue shelter. When the associate pulled her out of her cage, Patches leaped onto Jack's chest and howled, "Get me outta here!" She would not let go. I like to think she chose well.
She was abandoned by a couple. Neither wanted her, I guess, and a neighbor saw Patches in the window. The neighbor knew the couple split.
She found hidey holes and lofty heights in our house we didn't know existed.
After Jack died, she became incredibly important to me and I spoiled her even more than when she had two big two-legged critters catering to her every need.
One time I was having a check-up and the doctor asked me if I had psoriasis. I didn't understand the question and she pointed to my forearm. "Oh," I said. "That's cat." When I sat at the desk, Patches would hop up for scritches. Because I'm quite fat, the top of my belly made a great, soft ledge for her and, when the scritches and belly rubs really got her off, she'd dig her claws into my arm. I'll be sad when that heals.
She liked sleeping on the bed, but she rarely slept beside me. I woke up to her snuggled up against me. Did she know she was dying and figured that was a way to show her love? I don't know. I think she knew she was loved. I hope so.
We were quite a trio, her, Jack, and me. Then we became quite a duet.
I don't think I want another cat. Or pet. Or person. But a line from Garth Brooks' "The Dance" keeps coming to mind: "Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the dance."
Love you, Patches.
Sunday, September 24, 2017
I Offer My Knee To 45
I feel I owe you more of an explanation. I kinda sorta took a little more Clonazepam (anti-anxiety) than may I should have last night and was listening to "Zigeunerweisen" and "Variations on a Theme by Paganini" and such, and a performance of Beethoven's 9th came up on the "We bet you'll like this" column. I was fairly mellowed and thought 80 minutes of uninterrupted music would be nice. The Clonazepam did what weed used to do for me...made me listen to the music, concentrate on what people were doing, playing, singing. Ricardo Muti conducted the Chicago Symphony and it was just mesmerizing. It wasn't as if it were the first time I ever heard...hell, I've sung it and sat through rehearsals for it. But it was a totally immersed experience. Muti is fairly predictable in what he wants from an orchestra, but he's important for a wannabe conductor like me to watch. Frankly, I was in tears in the first choral section and broke down at the end. It was an overwhelming experience. Beauty...human inspired and produced beauty. I watched the video of the national anthem today...so-so...and then heard the crowd booing and while I couldn't anything distinctly, I knew there was a lot of hate being shouted and directed in entirely the wrong direction to the entirely wrong group of people. I heard one of the most beautiful works of art ever created last night and heard the absolute worst of human utterances today. I've with that forever (indeed, we all have), but I think I never had the experience of hearing the joy of that music and the joy in the audience applause so close to such an ugly, vile, disgusting response to a personal belief. Beethoven never heard his 9th; I wish with all my heart the athletes didn't have to hear that shit being shouted to them.
Today was the day that National Football League players decided to show solidarity and flip off racial bigotry in this country and generally hand a big "FUCK YOU" to the nazi-in-chief. He, of course, didn't get it. He tends not to unless something goes his way. Happily, that's happening less and less.
Someone shared a video of players on one knee and staff behind them arm-in-arm in solidarity, a right guaranteed in our Constitution. "Taking a knee" has been compared to flag burning. Flag burning gets people riled up, but it's protected speech, according to our Supreme Court. Somebody sang the national anthem and the place erupted in hate...screaming, cursing, and that is covered by the Constitution, too, but it finally made me give up on this country. I wrote under the video:
"I wish I could just die already. These fucking people are so ignorant, so stupid, so unamerican. The biggest sacrifice any of them made was buying tickets for the game...and for the beer that's already in them. I just don't want to be part of the asshole's (and assholes') country anymore. You're going to tell me not to quit. Fuck that. I've worked for rights all my life. I'm fucking tired. There are those my age who are still trying to influence the government. My experience, while fulfilling and gratifying, shows me that they don't really give a fuck and, like the people in this crowd, don't and never will understand. You need to do my work for me. I fucking quit."
A person I feel particularly close to wrote back and suggested I should just take a break. I replied that I did and it didn't change anything. But I felt this person was owed a better explanation.
"We have been forced to grow tough skin through no fault of our own. We have had every ignorant statement, every hateful threat, every bit of indignant treachery hurled at us when we least expect...and for some of our tribe, it has been much worse. Until Jerry Falwell took over, usurped, and bastardized Christianity, I ascribed it to ignorance. Falwell and Robertson turned gay hating, gay bashing, gay fearing into a cottage industry, one that they both discovered changed their cottages into mansions. At our expense. And at the expense of anyone so stupid as to send these horrendous excuses for human beings all their money. I took the abuse, I tried to rationalize it, I tried to be patient, I tried turning every cheek I had, I tried to forgive them the suggested 70 x 7 times. And nothing changed. "So today, hearing about the church people who were shot and one killed, I found myself thinking "good." At least a few of them will actually be victims. (I DO feel differently about the people killed in Charleston.) I could muster no sympathy, no positive feelings for them, even the person who died. I heard the vile roar of a disgusting mob and decided I'd had it. I will love and encourage Christians and pay no attention to the xns. I will love and encourage my friends and other people I know here and pretty much disregard everyone else. I will devote my time to the chorus I direct and to the silly music I do through the week. As Constantine tells Skeeter in "The Help," "Everyday you wake up not dead in the ground, you gotta ask yourself this question: Am I gonna believe all the bad things those fools gonna say about me today." No, and I think I'll stop listening, too. If the decision is bad, then I made the wrong decision. If I can no longer love or believe or tolerate what's going on in this country and choose to turn my back on it, it's because I can no longer justify working to change it. That's for younger people to do. "I, a lily white boy from a lily white community, demonstrated, wrote letters, sat at a lunch counter to protest the treatment of people of color in our country. I vehemently protested the Vietnam War...NOT the soldiers who were sent there, but the war itself and then the increased lying by Johnson and Nixon. I have demonstrated and written letters regarding marriage equality. And I'm fucking tired. And it's as if anything I did, anything I believed, hasn't mattered. So, yeah. I've disconnected. I'll still be here...how can anyone leave this oasis? But I tried for years to make a difference and am ultimately discouraged by my failure."
I do not like the United States anymore and truly wish I could leave, but I can't. So I shall spend my remaining time in my apartment. Fuck it all.
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