The Subtleties of Music

Music is a living thing. It breathes in silences. It eats and drinks the sounds that give it substance. It communicates with whatever audience might be willing to listen to it. Notes flow through phrases and into lines like blood flows through veins.

Although this might be an extreme way to look at music, it can be helpful in order to understand the subtleties of music. I've noticed lately how difficult it is for some musicians to understand the difference between a rest in the music and a breath, or between a moving of the phrase and a crescendo or an accelerando. But there is no denying the differences. For example, many musicians may have heard their teachers talk about the front and back ends of the beat. When one plays on the front end of the beat, you aren't necessarily speeding up the tempo, you are simply creating an idea of restlessness and movement in the music. Similarly, when you play on the back part of the beat, you aren't slowing down the tempo, but instead creating a downward, lagging feeling in the music.

Another, more complicated example would be creating a phrase going to a certain point. The minute a teacher says to not let the phrase die, many students will simply get faster and get louder in order to achieve the effect. Unfortunately, this ends up sounding exaggerated and overdone. Instead, it would be better to keep a more sustained sound that keeps one note going to the next without a break in the phrase. As far as dynamics are concerned, many musicians have a tendency to not keep any swings that flow with the phrase within the dynamic written in the music. It is possible to have a variance without leaving that dynamic level, it simply has to be more subtle.

One final thing that often causes confusion is the term "breath." When we breathe during a phrase, sometimes we mistake this as a break, or a stop. But really, the term "breath" should be meant as more of a comma than a period, comparing a phrase to a sentence. The ringing of the sound should never stop, and neither should the motion of the bow (at least for string players), otherwise it will sound like the phrase itself dies, when the purpose of the breath is to make more sense of a long phrase.

Even though I'm talking all about how little things like pushing a phrase or breathing should be taken as more of subtleties than actual changes to the music, there are times when exaggeration is necessary. Music is not an always or never business, and sometimes exaggeration helps the phrase. But not always. I've noticed this in my own playing lately (the very reason why I'm writing this post): I tend to exaggerate EVERYTHING, when really I don't need to. It comes across as overbearing to the audience. This is something I think every musician (especially myself) struggles with at some point, if not all the time, and it helps to be aware of it.

-Phil

Forgive my terrible singing... Purple Eyes

Lyrics:
Yesterday was a beautiful day
All the skies were so white and grey
We were laughin' at the breeze
And hiding our eyes under the trees.

All the clouds covered up the sky.
Looked at you, saw your purple eye.
You were dancing in the rain
Washing away all the pain.

- Purple Eyes -

When the sun came out again
All the birds started singing amen.
Grass grew tall and the roots grew deep
And all the rain began to seep.

Drop of water rolling down your cheek
Not from rain this one is so unique.
Purple eyes shedding tears of blue
You look so sad, so I am too.

- Purple Eyes -

When the wind blows through your hair
I see a vision of the mountain air.
Snowflakes fall on your face so pure
And all I feel, is so unsure.

What is this myst'ry about you I see?
One look from you and I feel so free.
Purple eyes gazing back my way
As if to say, "come and play."

-Purple Eyes -

-Phil

Far - Another Music Video

Lyrics:

I'll take my home
And fly away.
Leavin' this place
I don't get to stay.
I don't wanna stay.

Keepin' my heart
You can have the rest.
Leavin' this town
Gonna head out west.
I don't wanna stay.

'Cause I'm here, alive
And screamin'.
And I feel like I
Am dreamin'.
And I find myself surrounded
In a world far beyond.

So I'll find a place
To settle down,
Or wander aimlessley
All around.
I don't wanna stay.

I'll hold my own
Wherever I go.
I'll follow the stream,
I'll follow the flow.
I don't wanna stay.

Cause I'm here, alive
And screamin'.
And I feel like I
Am dreamin'.
And I find myself surrounded
In a world far beyond.

Somehow I'll make it
In the end.
I'll pull my way
Through every bend.
I don't wanna stay.

The future's bleak
But I am strong.
The past is not
Where I belong.
I don't wanna stay.

But still I'll miss
Those who said goodbye.
I'll turn my back
And heave a sigh.
I don't wanna go.

Cause I'm here, alive
And screamin'.
And I feel like I
Am dreamin'.
And I find myself surrounded
In a world far beyond.

-Phil

My New Song on VID! yay :)

Performance

So every once in a while, you get to play a concert that's somehow becomes really personal. You get completely into the music...completely involved in what's going on throughout the phrase. I've only had a very few performances like this. One was at a tiny week-long music camp in Arkansas about 4 years ago. I don't even remember the piece we played, but I remember the story our conductor, Mr. Wadalo, told us about it. The piece was written as a memorial for the American soldiers who died during WWI. Mr. Wadalo, though, had his own story that he wanted to dedicate the piece to, at least for this performance. About 2 weeks before the camp, he told us, his lifetime best friend died. At the performance, he explained the whole WWI reference of the piece, but just before we began, he whispered to the orchestra "...and for [so-and-so]" (I don't remember the man's name). I'm pretty sure in that instant about half the orchestra started weeping at the sadness of the very first note of the piece, and by the end the other half joined in with tears. It was one of the most beautiful performances I've ever been a part of.

Another instance happened at another music camp, this one a 10-day camp, under the director David Barg, a man I have a great deal of respect for. For ten days we worked tiredly tirelessly on Barber Adagio for Strings and the slow movement of Mahler Symphony no. 10, both incredible works for string orchestra. Again, the performance was one of the most emotional experiences I've ever had. Mr. Barg has a strong ability to bring out an incredible amount of musicality in young musicians, and that's what he did with those two pieces. I doubt there was a dry eye in the building.

My list includes a few more stories similar to these. Some acted more as very personal performances, some were important landmarks in my life. Still, every performance gives you something new. I don't exactly how to describe it. It gives you some new insight into life. It lets you introduce yourself - not just your name and how you play - it lets you introduce who you really are to the world, or at least a small part of it. That's something hard to explain, and hard to compare to.

The reason I'm writing all of this is because I had a performance today with my quartet. We played for about an hour. Our big piece was Mendelssohn Op. 80 Quartet (I've talked about it in previous posts). It went extremely well, and honestly it seemed like one of those amazing performances where you become indescribably a part of the music. Especially on the beautiful third movement...by the end I was nearly in tears. Some might say that's embarrassing, but honestly, if you've ever felt moisture in your eyes at the end of some spectacularly beautiful piece that rings through the hall as you wait for every ounce of emotion to pass before you let go....it's not embarrassing. It's passion.

-Phil