Tag Archives: orchestra

Conductor

Conductor: (n) a person who directs the performance of an orchestra or choir.

I have a friend who has played oboe for many years.

I got a hankering to write some pop-classical music, and thought it would be wonderful if we could start a symphony orchestra in a medium-sized Southern town. (On another occasion I will go into the details of what it was like to promote such a high-brow idea in a town where thefunny wisdom on words that begin with a C
 Cracker Barrel is always packed to the gills.)

But the thing we immediately discovered was that female conductors and symphony orchestras do not necessarily coincide–and also that symphony orchestras and innovation have been separated for quite some time.

So rather than easing our way into the marketplace, we took a radical approach. Perhaps the most outlandish idea was placing the conductor in the middle, at the rear of the orchestra, facing the audience, so those who came to the hear the symphony could experience seeing the symphony conducted, right in front of them.

It was ground-breaking, and my friend was a natural.

We did this for about eight or nine years, and then grew weary of the tedium.

One wonderful thing about life–if you get tired of what you’re doing, you can go “conductor” yourself in another activity.

 

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Cello

Cello: (n) a bass instrument of the violin family, held upright on the floor between the legs of the seated player.

I wrote a screenplay called “The Drive.” I will not go into detail about the storyline because that is not the essence and purpose for this little sharing.

Yet there was a passage in this movie where I envisioned a cello solo to extend over about a four-and-a-half minute period of time.

I do not play cello.

My experience with the cello is seeing them from a distance in the orchestra, and hearing it performed by Yo-Yo Ma.

But I trudged ahead, wrote the composition, and hired a well-recommended cellist. I sent her the music, she arrived and we set out to record.

I found it difficult to hide my disappointment.

You see, I had always envisioned the cello to be this smooth-sounding, basal instrument of gentle tones. But as this professional played my passage, she was plagued with buzzes, growls and all sorts of foreign intonations.

A friend of mine who had been in orchestras for many years, explained to me that many cellos could be bowed and sound nearly smooth as silk–but if you planned on using it as a solo instrument, it often produced various noises of lamentation. She pointed out to me that on the Beatles song, “Yesterday” and the Rolling Stones, “Ruby Tuesday,” that the cello is quite prevalent, but very buzzy.

I cannot tell you that I ever got used to all the personalities of the cello. I still prefer it to sound like a warm-hearted bass-singing angel.

But when it was all said and done, the piece of music was perfect, and did exactly what it was supposed to do.

Honestly, I can’t say that about myself.

 

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Accelerando

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Accelerando: (adj. & adv.): with a gradual increase of speed (used chiefly as a musical direction)

It was another example of one of those times when I overstepped my boundaries and in the process, slipped on my own crap.

I wrote a musical piece for the piano and was blessed that a small symphony orchestra agreed to play it in one of their concerts. It helped that I was good friends with the conductor. She thought it would be excellent if I performed the piano part with the symphony, giving it more focus.

Never considering my limitations on the magical eighty-eight keys, I quickly agreed, and gave a passive effort of rehearsal.  It was passive because I had enough arrogance to believe that I was a fairly decent pianist, and also regarded myself as being acquainted with this particular music since I had written it.

When I arrived at the first rehearsal with the orchestra, it became quickly obvious that I was ill-prepared to be anywhere NEAR the musical instrument  provided to make the melody, especially when I came to the end of the concerto. Because I was unable to the play music in the correct timing, I slowed them up, which prompted a flutist near the conductor to raise his hand and ask, “Is this passage going to be rubato?”

My conductor friend shook her head without verbally responding.

He persisted. “So — should we anticipate an accelerando?”

She frowned and once again shook her head.

It was very embarrassing–similar to being in a foreign country, and in a clumsy way ordering off the menu, only to notice that the waiter has gone back to the cook to chat in their common language and laugh at your selection.

Later on, my conductor friend explained that the flute player was asking if my playing was going to be rubato, which meant purposely slowed up by my own choice, or if there was some way she could build a fire under me to create an accelerando ( in other words, play it right).

I discovered that day that even in the world of classical music, there is still language available that says, “Hustle up your butt!”

The fact that it’s being said in Italian only makes it a bit more elegant.

It also makes it a trifle more aggravating.

 

Abattuta

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAbattuta: (adv.) a musical term meaning to return to strict tempo.

Sometimes I think life should be more musical–not in the sense of bursting into song while you’re waiting for your meatball sandwich at Subway, but musical in the sense of flourishes in timing, with exciting melodies and enhancing harmonies. Music grants you the ability to suddenly play very fast. And then … you can abattuta! Return back to your strict timeframe.

Life is not that way. It takes sixty seconds to make a minute, an equal number of minutes to make an hour, and twenty-four of them eventually make a day. Wouldn’t it be great if you had some sort of control–like a conductor’s baton–to make certain portions of your daily composition go quicker?

In other words, when you go to the dentist and he’s drilling on your teeth, you could increase the tempo–get out of the chair with a flourish. And then, as you were allowing the Novocaine to wear off and you stop at that Steak and Shake to reward yourself with a delicious chocolate-marshmallow milkshake, you could slow the tempo w-a-a-y down, allowing the ooey-gooey to eek its way down your throat.

You could speed up church services and slow down romance.

You could accelerate the interchanges you have with your children to confirm that you’re a good parent, and slow down the ending of the game, which finally, for a change, is actually close and interesting.

Maybe that’s the whole problem–life is too abattuta. Because when we try to relish moments, the clock frowns at us and continues its steady pursuit of strict formality.

Yes, clocks are like that. Still, I will search for a way to freeze moments so I can enjoy them even more as they thaw out. And I will hum songs and think happy thoughts to speed through those activities that are truly grueling and boring. Yet I know there will always be the abattuta to taunt me back to the mature notion of remaining in strict time.

I guess I never saw God as the conductor of an orchestra. To me, He’s more like the guy who plays the triangle. He lets the symphony ensue, but every once in a while, inserts his two-note passage that seems to make all the difference in the world.