November, 2002
Volume 18, No. 1
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November, 2002
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Contents: Spring And Fall In The Berkshires
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Spring and Fall in the Berkshires
In May come the choral conductors, singers and teachers. In June, the song-leaders assemble. In October arrive the composers - and this year, in November as well. For these periods of concentrated study, the hills of Hawley are alive with song, as more and more people learn of the delights of study in these rural surroundings. Participants in the Fellowship I program were father-and-son team Philip Clemens (PA) and Jim Clemens (IL), Stephen G. Hoyle (VA), Catherine R. Mathia (TX), Lucille Reilly (CO), and Marlys Trunkhill (WI). The song-leaders included Anne Heider from Chicago, Jay Martin (PA), Angie Clemens (IL, Jim's wife) and Linda Troyer (PA). One of the things that pleases Alice about these workshops is the variety of backgrounds, experience and expectations of the students: there are accomplished musicians sitting beside 'un-degreed' amateurs, each contributing from his or her own strengths. The world of song can accommodate us all! After a first workshop for composers last year, with only three participants, there was an explosion of interest in this Fall's programs. In October, seven people gathered from all across the country: Sid Davis, Houston, TX; Dan Forrest, Greenville, SC; Glenn Mohr, NY, NY; Joan Pinkston, Taylor, SC; Donna Schultz, Tacoma, WA; Mitzi Scott, Farmington, NM, and John Thornburg, Dallas, TX. The second group, a month later, included Mary Lynn Badarak, Atlanta, GA; Rachel Bagby, Charlottesville, VA; Brenda Heard, Wichita, KS; Amanda Husburg, Brooklyn, NY; Bonnie Johansen-Werner, Edgewood, IA; David Poole, Albuquerque, NM; and Nancy M. Rene, Los Angeles, CA. Post-class comments included "I especially valued the singing, practicing my skills and being pushed, the openness, the insight into process." "I got to do what I had seen on several occasions: create improvised polyphony - an invaluable practice opportunity in a safe and caring circle." "Getting inside of the creative process and having dialogue about my works was valuable and encouraging." "Like an aural chiropractor, she (Alice) re-aligned our senses, and we quickly grasped a delight in the tickling subtleties of melody and improvisation."
Musical Chairs At the MELODIOUS ACCORD Board meeting in September, Marilyn Pryor was elected chair of the Board of Trustees. "I could not be more pleased that Marilyn's dedication, insight, and enthusiasm for the special brand of music we promote will continue to benefit MELODIOUS ACCORD, now as chair of this wonderful organization," said Tim Riley, who has served as Chair since 1997, and will continue to serve on the executive committee. Marilyn, the Ida and Marion Van Natta Professor of Biological Sciences (emerita), and former Dean of Studies at Mount Holyoke College retired in 2000 and has since devoted much of her time and energy to the Alice Parker Music Company and MELODIOUS ACCORD, most recently as Secretary of the Board and as editor of the Melodious Accord Newsletter. We all look forward to Marilyn's skillful leadership as MELODIOUS ACCORD continues to grow, expand, and touch the lives of so many singers and song lovers through our innovative programs.
An Aha! Comment on Opera "Oklahoma! Is naïve and politically incorrect; Carousel is preachy. No matter. A model comedy and a model tragedy, they are the core of a tradition that extends from Show Boat to Passion. I would call it American opera, with the caveat that it be kept as far from the opera house as possible. Opera is high art enjoying its highness. American opera, or the musical play as Rodgers and Hammerstein perfected it, moves back and forth seamlessly between speech and song because singing is just doing what comes naturally. It is a grand illusion, easy to confuse with lack of artistic sophistication." from Out of Our Dreams, by David Schiff
The View from Here The Fall has brought its overflowing cornucopia of food and flowers, colors and scents, heat and cold - and very little rain. Many of the trees look dry and faded, but the blessed maples are just beginning their annual show. The streams are all exposing their rocky beds, and their singing is muted. The annual closing in is under way: storing the outdoor furniture, clearing the beds of annuals, raking leaves and stacking firewood. I'm pulling back, too - finally making the decision to limit my traveling and spend a lot more time at home. I've been here for two and a half months, the longest ever. I find I respond instinctively to the slower pace, the time for thought, the ability to concentrate on one project at a time, the open mornings to sit at my writing desk and enjoy the changing landscape. If you imagine that my studio is neater, then forget it - there are stacks of papers all over, reflecting my many interests and activities. The difference now is that there is occasionally some time to organize them, put them away, and clear space for the next undertaking. Family and friends and community figure more strongly in the equation now - there's more time for them, and they eagerly fill it. The renovation of the old East Hawley Meeting House is progressing, and the church is full of activity. Of course, Melodious Accord remains a strong focus, and we have renewed hopes for getting our already-recorded CDs in the hands of our listeners next spring. Instead of planned workshops in Vancouver and Denver this Fall, I have not one but two Composer Workshops right here, with 14 participants coming from all over the country. So, as the Fall equinox passes (in a supernaturally bright full moon), and as the dark comes earlier each day, my life and my work and the year turn slowly towards the winter. And this is the place to sink into those rhythms, to relax into those cosmic and intimate pullings-back which herald the winter season. Alice Parker
Editorial "Today I celebrated the beginning of my thirtieth year of teaching by doing something I have always wanted to do ...but never seemed to accomplish. I taught my choir class without speaking a single word. We sang sixteen songs...some learned new by rote, some with a melody line and text printed on a song sheet. I wanted the students to simply respond to the music. I decided to "trust the melodies." And it worked. Without even a "welcome" from me...I just started singing, and was soon joined by the 59 students. We sang non-stop, one song immediately followed by another until the class was over. It sure did feel good. Why has it taken me thirty years to be brave enough to not talk?" Jim Heiks, Appleton, WI Jim's note cheered me immeasurably. I've been preaching for years that we spend much too much time talking 'about' music, and not nearly enough time actually making it. In taking courses 'about' music, we learn theories and language which we are eager to impart to our students. These are based on logical structures, stated in language of more or less grace and complexity -- but because they are words, they are not music. In a very real way, we cannot learn 'music' through the written page, or spoken words. We learn through making it ourselves. Just as with riding a bicycle, or swimming, we have to give ourselves to the medium (air, water, sound) and our thinking minds are a real hazard. Who learned to ride a bike by studying aerodynamics? Or to swim, by learning about flotation? Years ago at a conference of music theorists, I saw a film presented by Tim Galway, author of the book "Inner Tennis". He had advertised to find an adult who had never been interest in any sport. On camera, he handed a racquet to an overweight, clumsy woman and told her just to watch him. He bounced the ball in place, chanting quietly "Bounce, hit; bounce, hit." The camera behind her caught her increasing interest (what is he going to do next?) and a simultaneous tiny motion of the racquet on the word "Hit". Tim then walked to the other side of the net, and without changing rhythm or tone of voice hit the ball over the net. (He was a good shot, and placed the ball right in front of her; furthermore, he had an endless supply of balls.) Quietly he said she didn't need to do anything, but any time she wanted to try to 'hit', she could. After three or four more balls, she did -- a beautiful, easy shot, right over the net. He returned it without comment, and in a few strokes they were in a lovely easy deep volley. In the same quiet voice, he said "This one's coming to the other side," and she returned one of the most graceful back-hand shots I've ever seen. The word 'back-hand' had never been uttered, and no word of advice had been given. She just watched and then acted, encouraged by the calm unjudgmental attitude of her teacher. Tim explained that our rational minds really get in the way of our bodies. We learn physical things just the way a baby learns to walk. It does no good to explain the technique, or to scold, or even to demonstrate. We're demonstrating just by living, and her determination to achieve that upright stance is entirely self-motivated -- it can't be hurried. He goes further, and says our rational minds must be diverted, or silenced, in order to allow the body to do what it already knows how to do. Hence the chant "Bounce, Hit" -- it diverts the conscious mind from making observations or judgments about what the body is doing. The body knows how to work as a whole: we don't learn to walk by learning the left leg, then the right leg, etc. The more we compartmentalize, or hold up an ideal method, the harder it is for the body to function naturally. This demonstration was totally convincing to me. I thought with regret of all the piano students I'd taught the way I'd been taught: a book, fingers carefully arranged on the keyboard around middle C, eyes on the BOOK of all things, and teacher counting in the background. Ugh! What would I do now? Explore the whole instrument with the child: how does it work? High, low. Loud, soft. Black, white. Then we'd sing together a song the child already knows, and then I'd play it as beautifully as possible. Then I'd teach by rote: phrase by phrase, hand motion by hand motion, with constant mirroring by the child -- no explaining, no scolding, not even any praise. Sing the words to the song if you must say something. The goal is to have the child play the song beautifully by the time the lesson is over. What an advantage we have in vocal music! Children already know how to sing: they are born singing. By the time they have learned to talk, they easily combine words and tones - no one has to teach them how to do this. If they are surrounded by adults who sing, they sing along. The problem is much more how to stop them! They sing back what they hear -- and pretty much only that, just like the woman with the tennis racquet. If we want them to appreciate classical music, we must sing classical songs with them. Listening is not enough, and certainly the history course or the paradoxically named 'appreciation' course can be an active step in the wrong direction. These are 'right' only when the student has a large bank of song already in the active memory, and can apply theoretical principles to living (if interior) sound. Back to Jim Heiks: Here he is, after thirty years of fine teaching (I've watched and listened with admiration), coming full circle back to the beginning, back to the way we all learned before music became an 'academic' subject, or our rational minds excluded the intuitive side. Nothing will convince me that the intuitive does NOT have to come first; the rational can work well only when it has a large file of intuitive experience to use in making its connections. As teachers, conductors, song leaders and encouragers of song, we have to realize that we are engaged with the physics of sound, and that learning begins with doing. "Science = to know; Art = to do." We can theorize with great satisfaction and understanding only after the doing has become second nature. We need to teach the doing. In closing: last week I led a SING with a large group of public school teachers outside of Chicago. I did too much talking, trying to help them make the connection between what I was doing and their own classrooms, but we did manage to sing some ten songs, learned by rote and then improvised upon. Other offerings at the workshop were concerned with fulfilling state requirements, evaluation, testing, and new printed materials. The teachers are surrounded by printed 'aids' to help them fulfill all the expectations. Almost no voices are raised to say "Get them singing. Singing well. Loving it." We must stop 'preparing the student' to listen, or sing, or play, and grading their progress by written tests. The ears are the best teacher, and the voice the best test of understanding. And the result? After the SING, teachers clustered around saying "That was such FUN!" Indeed -- that's just what that tennis player said -- and what Jim felt. Alice Parker
From the Mailbox I've thought now and then about your idea of uniting the music lovers of the world, and Alice, it simply will not work. Do you realize that there are millions of people who think that the noise I hear when I scan the radio dial or walk in the mall is music? And not so incidentally, have you heard what the Afghans played when once they were free to do so? ...Can you imagine the arguments over whether John Cage writes music or not, and by the way, I'm not all that fond of Berg, either...No, it won't do at all. Jane Montgomery, Newton, MA My daughter, newly arrived at Seminary, signed up for a Hymnology course, then found it was to be offered only on-line. Can you imagine? Singing over the internet? I mean it's not like she's not right there on campus, together with other students who want to take the same class. After all, it's why they came: to be part of a living, breathing, singing community. Janet Janzen, Wichita, KS Quotes from The Thinking Ear, by R. Murray Schafer "The ear, unlike some other sense organs, is exposed and vulnerable. The eye can be closed at will; the ear is always open. The eye can be focused and pointed at will; the ear picks up all sound right back to the acoustic horizon in all directions.... As a practicing musician, I have come to realize that one learns about sound only by making sound, about music only by making music." from Ear Cleaning, pg. 46 "...The time has come in the development of music when we will have to be concerned as much with the prevention of sounds as with their production. Observing the world sonograph, the new music educator will encourage those sounds salubrious to human life and will rage against those inimical to it. . ." from The New Soundscape, pg pg. 97 "Through broadcasting and recording the binding relationship between a sound and the person making it has been dissolved. Sounds have been torn from their natural sockets and given an amplified and independent existence. Oral sounds, for instance, is no longer tied to a hole in the head but it is free to issue from anywhere in the landscape...As the cry broadcasts distress, the loudspeaker communicates anxiety." from The New Soundscape, pg. 140-141
The Poet's Corner "There is no poetry for the practical man. There is poetry only for the man who spends a certain amount of his time turning the practical wheel, because if he spends too much time at the mechanics of practicality, he'll become something less of a man or be eaten up by the frustrations that are stored in his irrational personality. An ulcer is the unkissed imagination taking its revenge for having been jilted. It's an unwritten poem, an undanced dance, an unpainted water color. It's a declaration from the mankind of a man that a clear spring of joy has not been tapped and that it must break through muddily on its own." from poet John Ciardi The Song and the Songleader "So I asked Deacon Reardon why he started his songs so quietly with a beginning so soft and fragile that it comes to life in need of help and you give your voice to the song to help it out. Now I did not say "help the songleader out." The songleader is not the point. The point, and what is alive to be nurtured, is the song. So when the song creeps into the air through a master songleader, it comes in asking for help so that it might not falter or die unfulfilled." from Bernice Johnson Reagon Both from When Words Sing, pg 233: "Where the word stops there starts the song, exultation of the mind bursting forth in the voice." Thomas Aquinas, Comment in Psalm, Prolog. "A verse without music is a mill without water." Folquet of Marseilles (d. 1231)
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© 2002 MELODIOUS ACCORD, INC. The Melodious Accord Newsletter is published three times a year, reaching 4000 musicians in the United States and Canada. Send address changes, deletions, name changes, etc. to Judy Ellis, P.O. Box 27, Indian Valley, ID 83632, (208) 256-4440 (phone only); e-mail:newsletter@melodiousaccord.org. |