Over a significant part of the past year, I've observed two interesting, and occasionally bemusing, currents in social dynamics which have come across my path. One is the interest of a surprisingly high percentage of the people I know in personality tests, of the species that Myers-Briggs would belong. And the second is of a more esoteric, and in some ways more personal, conflict of ideologies in musicology.
Personality tests, say some, provide crucial clues to why people act the way they do. And the logic is fair enough; if you figured accurately - or as in this case, I simply told you - that I was an ENFJ (Extroversion, Intuition, Feeling, Judging) personality type, this may presumably lead you to predict the course of my actions. You may even read these very words and filter them accordingly; depending on your own personality type, you may decide whether any points I make make sense to you. My intuitive actions may reveal a decision-making process that either match or counter your own. In other words, and with the caveat of generalization, personality types reveal why we do the things we do.
But in recent days, I've come to think that personality types only reveal the method of delivery - the how, and not the why, of our actions. To put this in another way, it is perhaps less inevitable that you're reading these particular opinions, as it is that I've decided to pen them in this way.
Allow me to digress. I have a notebook named A Black Fat Cat, that like many meaningful things, has a unique and personal history. It's not a diary in any sense - because I'm philosophically but not particularly logically aligned against a dairy - but part of its content are thoughts in the middle of the night, the middle of the night being when I have most of my thoughts. (This being an early morning post should now give you pause.) And what I wrote recently was: "Is seriousness in content, or in delivery?"
In a sense it deals with an issue that I've faced in my struggles in producing research content, and then dealing with the resistance it faces from the hardline, and in some cases dominant strain of musicologists. I am serious about research in music, but I've also had an unusual grounding in communications, the field in which I obtained my first tertiary qualification. Some approach presentations of research seemingly having ever-present in their mind how it would look should these very words commute themselves to the esteemed pages of published proceedings. Others - with whom I am aligned - prefer to consider the audience of the day, with the idea that content may provide stature, while delivery quite simply retains one's attention. Humour, in this case and perhaps counter-intuitively does not detract from the seriousness of the research output; it simply makes sure that attention is garnered to its delivery. It comes from an understanding that it is my job to make you or keep you interested in what I do. In this regard, I think that adapting to the situation at hand is the preferable skill, and while a script or cue cards may be useful to have as a backup in case your mind goes blank, let's hope that a blank mind is not the game plan.
This of course extends beyond simple delivery. The choice of our content establishes the same approach: whether we choose to recognize research that directly relates to the performer, or whether we prefer - and some cases, for good or for ill, establish - research that exists on a more lofty and less applicable plane. For reasons that remain somewhat inexplicable to me, those in the latter category seem to be the most critical of others, in establishing a category of musicology that explains why people sometimes say, "That may be an interesting question, but really, it's just purely academic."
At one point, I considered that the concepts towards personalities and the approaches towards musicology may be parallel. And perhaps they are indeed so. Perhaps it is a simply a clash of personalities in musicologists between those who welcome the opportunity to directly connect to a room full of strangers, and those who prefer the security not only of the third person, but a topic far removed from a personal connection. But the more I mull over the like of the Myers-Briggs, the more I realise that as effective as they may be in providing a clue to one's personality, they provide little in terms of character.
And likewise, when dealing with the kind of musicologists who create barriers and attempt to place artificial constraints on how progress of thought must be - in other words, those who want to determine the boxes from which you are to choose - there are perhaps two plausible ways to consider this. One is that is simply a conflict not of ideologies, but of personalities. For whatever reason, probably beyond what even the Myers-Briggs can predict, these researchers need the security of you fitting into their personalities.
Or it could be a second plausibility: that it is less about personality than it is about character. And while it may always be easier in life to have people about you who have personality types you work best with, it comes down to character as to how people approach those who don't fit the boxes you'd like to create.
Accommodation of those who are different, throughout history of race relations, religious conflicts, civil rights, issues of gender and sexuality and political affiliation, all come down to an essential question not of which of the 16 personality types you happen to be born into, but rather what kind of person you choose to be.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Thursday, January 27, 2011
An Unvarnished Look at the MPO, the MPYO and Music-Making in Malaysia
Malaysia has a rather odd way of celebrating excellence. In sports, where representing your country is a given part of the game (well, unless you’re from China), the government provides incentives in the shape of financial rewards, your occasional car or even a house, and eventually a Datukship. In some cases – most notably Datuk Nicol David and Datuk Lee Chong Wei – this is certainly well-earned.
However, in other fields where representing your country is distinctly not part of the game the governmental policy seems to be to wait till Malaysians have left for greener pastures and prospered, then to give them a Datukship in hopes of laying claim to a part of the fame they have achieved. Worse yet, using the term “Malaysian-born” for the ones who not only don’t live in the country, but who have opted for citizenship of another country. (And ironically, who would probably still be Malaysian citizens if the government allowed dual citizenship.) We see this in academics and scientific discoveries, and we see this in the celebration in the press of an exemplary Malaysian student in a Singaporean school, somehow without the obvious discussion of why a bright Malaysian mind would prefer to go across the Causeway. We see this more than ever in film – when’s the last time you saw Datuk Michelle Yeoh in a Malaysian production? – and with Shahrukh Khan, it seems we also want a taste of the fame of those who don’t even have a clue they’ve been given a Datukship.
And yes, this happens in the field of music as well. Don’t believe me? Just Google “Malaysian born” and see what you get.
To put it starkly: we haven’t built a proper arts academy, conservatory or school of the arts in the same way as one builds facilities for the development of sports. Instead, we wait till some other country has obtained our talent, very likely by way of having offered them scholarships, and then we ‘claim’ them with a Datukship. Something tells me that you don’t have to get a Ph.D. in order to call out this strategy for its dumbship.
I hear a voice at the back of my own head saying, “Whoa, hold on a sec, surely that’s going a bit far. After all, Petronas built this amazing hall, established the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra, and in more recent years put together a pretty decent national youth orchestra.” And there’s some truth in that.
But here’s the catch: when you define Petronas on par with the government, it opens up that policy to the same scrutiny you would give a country’s ministry of education. Which is quite different from whether YTL would prefer to fund the Kuala Lumpur Symphony Orchestra or the KL Performing Arts Centre; quite frankly, as a private entity and patron, YTL can do whatever it wants with its money.
If we choose to be ungracious about it, the whole MPO effort is short-sighted and non-sustainable, opting to rent an entity and label it as an achievement. Once the MPO toyed with the idea of an apprenticeship, but it seems even a rent-to-own system is asking too much.
If we choose to be gracious about it, the whole MPO effort has been akin to trickle-down economics. This all comes with the faith that when you put something there for the best, it will have a multiplier effect of sorts – one could say, a reverse approach of micro-financing. The idea is that when you inspire people by showing them the MPO’s international level, or bring together the best of Malaysian youth, somehow this will have a transformative effect on the nation as a whole.
One could say that as a concept it has some history of success elsewhere, with Dr Marc Rochester’s blog recently dealing with this to some extent. For whatever reason, however, it just has not worked in Malaysia. While we have gems of teachers like Miranda Playfair, who was known to have lessons with hours of bonus time, and Orsolya Korcsolan and Gergely Sugar, who gave free masterclasses in Penang, and Joost Flach, who has developed winds in Ipoh, we also have too many stories of MPO members who revel a bit too much in their expatriate status. There are too many stories of MPO members who circumvent the system of subsidized teaching through the organization in order to charge RM250 an hour privately for lessons which often go undertime. How many of these stories are accurate is indeterminate, but it did seem strange that a while back, it was insisted that the MPYO members provide the names of their teachers under the guise of forming some level of engagement and furthering a larger plan of music education. Being one of those teachers, I told my student that I didn’t expect even one email, and sadly my cynicism was proven correct, leading to my suspicion that it was a front for hunting down the MPO members who, for want of a better word, led to a black market in music education.
The larger point, though, is that the little island nation to our south decided instead to offer scholarships, bringing back newly-minted professional Singaporean musicians to their own country via bonds attached to those grants. And as I mentioned to Dr Marc, if both the MPO and the SSO were to face an untimely demise, there would be far more Singaporean professionals remaining, than Malaysian ones – not because of a lack of talent, but rather which magnet brought that talent on board.
The MPYO, unbeknownst to most of their members, is facing a similar issue. They can regard their orchestra as the elitist instution of their generation, or they can choose to take their new training as an obligation to not only trickle-down, but truly multiply the talents available in their hometowns. Not surprisingly akin to the MPO, there are examples of both of these, and in some circles the bad apples are indeed spoiling the bunch. In others, up-and-coming musicians are gaining the respect not only of their peers but of the generation before them. This fork in the road, above all else, will be the defining decision of today’s generation of aspiring musicians. Karma-like, it will determine how their own aspirations will be treated by those who established a foundation, well before the MPO began, and with lesser funding and far more challenges.
It comes down to this: when you build the Sepang F1 track, it doesn’t automatically make Malaysians into champion race drivers. It might work in places where the distance between Main Street and the race track are closer, and it is up to us to bridge that gap. This comes from institutions like Petronas, as well as the public in scrutinizing how their national property is utilized – and most importantly, the young musicians, deciding what their definition of talent really is: the ability to show, or the ability to share.
Andrew Filmer
However, in other fields where representing your country is distinctly not part of the game the governmental policy seems to be to wait till Malaysians have left for greener pastures and prospered, then to give them a Datukship in hopes of laying claim to a part of the fame they have achieved. Worse yet, using the term “Malaysian-born” for the ones who not only don’t live in the country, but who have opted for citizenship of another country. (And ironically, who would probably still be Malaysian citizens if the government allowed dual citizenship.) We see this in academics and scientific discoveries, and we see this in the celebration in the press of an exemplary Malaysian student in a Singaporean school, somehow without the obvious discussion of why a bright Malaysian mind would prefer to go across the Causeway. We see this more than ever in film – when’s the last time you saw Datuk Michelle Yeoh in a Malaysian production? – and with Shahrukh Khan, it seems we also want a taste of the fame of those who don’t even have a clue they’ve been given a Datukship.
And yes, this happens in the field of music as well. Don’t believe me? Just Google “Malaysian born” and see what you get.
To put it starkly: we haven’t built a proper arts academy, conservatory or school of the arts in the same way as one builds facilities for the development of sports. Instead, we wait till some other country has obtained our talent, very likely by way of having offered them scholarships, and then we ‘claim’ them with a Datukship. Something tells me that you don’t have to get a Ph.D. in order to call out this strategy for its dumbship.
I hear a voice at the back of my own head saying, “Whoa, hold on a sec, surely that’s going a bit far. After all, Petronas built this amazing hall, established the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra, and in more recent years put together a pretty decent national youth orchestra.” And there’s some truth in that.
But here’s the catch: when you define Petronas on par with the government, it opens up that policy to the same scrutiny you would give a country’s ministry of education. Which is quite different from whether YTL would prefer to fund the Kuala Lumpur Symphony Orchestra or the KL Performing Arts Centre; quite frankly, as a private entity and patron, YTL can do whatever it wants with its money.
If we choose to be ungracious about it, the whole MPO effort is short-sighted and non-sustainable, opting to rent an entity and label it as an achievement. Once the MPO toyed with the idea of an apprenticeship, but it seems even a rent-to-own system is asking too much.
If we choose to be gracious about it, the whole MPO effort has been akin to trickle-down economics. This all comes with the faith that when you put something there for the best, it will have a multiplier effect of sorts – one could say, a reverse approach of micro-financing. The idea is that when you inspire people by showing them the MPO’s international level, or bring together the best of Malaysian youth, somehow this will have a transformative effect on the nation as a whole.
One could say that as a concept it has some history of success elsewhere, with Dr Marc Rochester’s blog recently dealing with this to some extent. For whatever reason, however, it just has not worked in Malaysia. While we have gems of teachers like Miranda Playfair, who was known to have lessons with hours of bonus time, and Orsolya Korcsolan and Gergely Sugar, who gave free masterclasses in Penang, and Joost Flach, who has developed winds in Ipoh, we also have too many stories of MPO members who revel a bit too much in their expatriate status. There are too many stories of MPO members who circumvent the system of subsidized teaching through the organization in order to charge RM250 an hour privately for lessons which often go undertime. How many of these stories are accurate is indeterminate, but it did seem strange that a while back, it was insisted that the MPYO members provide the names of their teachers under the guise of forming some level of engagement and furthering a larger plan of music education. Being one of those teachers, I told my student that I didn’t expect even one email, and sadly my cynicism was proven correct, leading to my suspicion that it was a front for hunting down the MPO members who, for want of a better word, led to a black market in music education.
The larger point, though, is that the little island nation to our south decided instead to offer scholarships, bringing back newly-minted professional Singaporean musicians to their own country via bonds attached to those grants. And as I mentioned to Dr Marc, if both the MPO and the SSO were to face an untimely demise, there would be far more Singaporean professionals remaining, than Malaysian ones – not because of a lack of talent, but rather which magnet brought that talent on board.
The MPYO, unbeknownst to most of their members, is facing a similar issue. They can regard their orchestra as the elitist instution of their generation, or they can choose to take their new training as an obligation to not only trickle-down, but truly multiply the talents available in their hometowns. Not surprisingly akin to the MPO, there are examples of both of these, and in some circles the bad apples are indeed spoiling the bunch. In others, up-and-coming musicians are gaining the respect not only of their peers but of the generation before them. This fork in the road, above all else, will be the defining decision of today’s generation of aspiring musicians. Karma-like, it will determine how their own aspirations will be treated by those who established a foundation, well before the MPO began, and with lesser funding and far more challenges.
It comes down to this: when you build the Sepang F1 track, it doesn’t automatically make Malaysians into champion race drivers. It might work in places where the distance between Main Street and the race track are closer, and it is up to us to bridge that gap. This comes from institutions like Petronas, as well as the public in scrutinizing how their national property is utilized – and most importantly, the young musicians, deciding what their definition of talent really is: the ability to show, or the ability to share.
Andrew Filmer
Friday, December 17, 2010
Zoom Out, Bro
I've been back in Malaysia about two weeks, and I'm getting the feeling that my trips back - two years when I lived in Thailand, two years when I lived in the States, and now when I'm living in New Zealand - are all about reminding myself of the big picture. Not the least in that I've made some really close friends in New Zealand in a rather short amount of time - still, with friends and family here in Malaysia. Sweet as.
I remember back in Indiana when a new acquaintance showed me the local mall, as if this poor thing from the Third World country had never seen one in his life, and in that spirit asked me what I thought (read: how impressed you must be!). I recall saying something along the lines of, "Well, I guess if you take this mall, double its width and add three floors, you'd get one wing of one of the malls back in Malaysia where I used to shop until it became yesterday's news when something bigger came along."
Thankfully no one in Wellington shows off Lambton Quay like it's heaven sent, which makes me appreciate its rather quaint setting. And yet Malaysia never ceases to surprise me, most recently with Straits Quay - not really for its size (when you have a mall in KL which houses within it a theme park including a seven-storey high roller coaster, it gets hard to beat), but rather that when it advertises a picture of yachts with the words "fun by the sea", it doesn't tell you that the last time you were in this area, it was the sea. Yup, we reclaim land so quickly that as my sister pointed out, at this rate, the second link from the island to the mainland will be made redundant when we run out of ocean.
On one hand, we now have a "Penang Philharmonic", which is basically the Penang Symphony Orchestra for whatever reason not being able to hold on to the name of the orchestra it sought - and was successful at - overrunning through the less-than-subtle wheeling and dealings of state politics. And you have the Chairman's message shooting itself in the foot in the first paragraph, and then acting like Barney the purple dinosaur in the last. It's almost like having Dakota Fanning in a M. Night Shyamalan movie. That is, the screaming Dakota Fanning of War of the Worlds rather than that of Charlotte's Web, and the Shyamalan of The Village rather than The Sixth Sense, if you get what I mean. On the other hand, it reminds you that music is it's own judge in the end, no matter what name you'd like to call yourself.
I get reminded that in preparation for seminars here to really keep things basic - the problem with doctoral research is that you spend that much time with a magnifying glass that you sort of lose the bigger picture. In a sense it's an unusual place that there are particularly talented music students who can't recall who wrote the Eine Kleine, and yet you can get a random gigs paying you 200 bucks for half-an-hour's worth of music. I'm not sure what it means for long-term prospects - how long I'd like to keep painting in broad-strokes in sessions on music history and music appreciation. On one hand it's fun, and it's more affective and effective (not to mention potentially lucrative) for the gigantic pool of music students who have this as a significant missing link in their education, and on the other it would take away somewhat from producing niche research which would contribute to the field, but a field that's fields away from here. Who knows, I may be able to find an interesting balance in the end, and for now, it's just nice to zoom out, bro, and have a look at the gift of possibilities.
I remember back in Indiana when a new acquaintance showed me the local mall, as if this poor thing from the Third World country had never seen one in his life, and in that spirit asked me what I thought (read: how impressed you must be!). I recall saying something along the lines of, "Well, I guess if you take this mall, double its width and add three floors, you'd get one wing of one of the malls back in Malaysia where I used to shop until it became yesterday's news when something bigger came along."
Thankfully no one in Wellington shows off Lambton Quay like it's heaven sent, which makes me appreciate its rather quaint setting. And yet Malaysia never ceases to surprise me, most recently with Straits Quay - not really for its size (when you have a mall in KL which houses within it a theme park including a seven-storey high roller coaster, it gets hard to beat), but rather that when it advertises a picture of yachts with the words "fun by the sea", it doesn't tell you that the last time you were in this area, it was the sea. Yup, we reclaim land so quickly that as my sister pointed out, at this rate, the second link from the island to the mainland will be made redundant when we run out of ocean.
On one hand, we now have a "Penang Philharmonic", which is basically the Penang Symphony Orchestra for whatever reason not being able to hold on to the name of the orchestra it sought - and was successful at - overrunning through the less-than-subtle wheeling and dealings of state politics. And you have the Chairman's message shooting itself in the foot in the first paragraph, and then acting like Barney the purple dinosaur in the last. It's almost like having Dakota Fanning in a M. Night Shyamalan movie. That is, the screaming Dakota Fanning of War of the Worlds rather than that of Charlotte's Web, and the Shyamalan of The Village rather than The Sixth Sense, if you get what I mean. On the other hand, it reminds you that music is it's own judge in the end, no matter what name you'd like to call yourself.
I get reminded that in preparation for seminars here to really keep things basic - the problem with doctoral research is that you spend that much time with a magnifying glass that you sort of lose the bigger picture. In a sense it's an unusual place that there are particularly talented music students who can't recall who wrote the Eine Kleine, and yet you can get a random gigs paying you 200 bucks for half-an-hour's worth of music. I'm not sure what it means for long-term prospects - how long I'd like to keep painting in broad-strokes in sessions on music history and music appreciation. On one hand it's fun, and it's more affective and effective (not to mention potentially lucrative) for the gigantic pool of music students who have this as a significant missing link in their education, and on the other it would take away somewhat from producing niche research which would contribute to the field, but a field that's fields away from here. Who knows, I may be able to find an interesting balance in the end, and for now, it's just nice to zoom out, bro, and have a look at the gift of possibilities.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Lecture-Recital Preview: Instrumentation in Bach's Brandenburg Concerto No. 6
Alright, the embedding isn't the best, and if you want to look up close, the link would probably do better. That being said, this isn't like a YouTube video - you can actually interact within the box, by zooming in, zooming out, or selecting different sections.
Sunday, April 04, 2010
In the Company of Music
When I first started in a small Suzuki-like violin programme, I remember someone telling my mother that it was a good move as kids who stick in the programme don't end up in bad company later on. I think the actual words were along the lines of "how many violent kids do you know who play the violin?"
(Ironically, I ended up playing the viola. But that's another story.)
There's an interesting perspective to that though. That there are people who get their kids enrolled in music programmes not just for the intellectual development or just the enjoyment of sound - but because of a kind of culture that it promotes. That music kids are good kids.
The societal dynamics of how that goes on beyond childhood is entirely a new matter, of course. In the States you have high school students who proudly wear jerseys with orchestra badges, to in a way match the young American football stars with jerseys of their own. In Penang about eight years ago, there was a whole debate as to whether playing in an orchestra should be counted alongside the Scouts, karate teams, and most interestingly school bands - in the end, is the definition of a "uniformed body" simply being part of a something that promotes teamwork and hard work.
In the end, there is a kind of exclusion - being a "cool" scout patrol leader commanding his group of 15 devout followers - that somehow didn't quite apply to someone being able to play Bach from memory. I think sometimes the backlash is a created sense of elitism. That a young student grasps and displays musical initials like "ATCL" up in order to match someone else's "ATL". And in the end we lose sight of the larger picture that it matters less if you are indeed an Associate of the Trinity College of Music or an Assistant Troop Leader than what you do with the skills you possess. When I took Penang Free School's 1st Georgetown South Troop up on a camping trip, I decided to perch myself on a tree and observe, and noted a scout leader go round trying to help the loners get better integrated to the rest of the team. And at that point it didn't matter to me what initials he had before or after his name - or in a different perspective, I'm glad he soon gained the letters ATL which I think he certainly lived up to.
We in music are challenged every day to live up to these ideals of a team that is a right place for good kids that grow up to be good adults. We are challenged by those among us who actively work to break up that idea and that ideal, like those who created this blog with what seems to the the sole intent of ignorantly insulting others in the comments section. And to add cowardice to maliciousness, to do so anonymously, not taking responsibility for one's words.
At times like these I am reminded to value the times when musicians do act in ways which help their fellow man, even if it's just what to do in the break time of a long and tiring orchestra rehearsal:
It reminds me that we always have choices, small ones and big ones, and those choices make up for one's true value - one's true measure.
(Ironically, I ended up playing the viola. But that's another story.)
There's an interesting perspective to that though. That there are people who get their kids enrolled in music programmes not just for the intellectual development or just the enjoyment of sound - but because of a kind of culture that it promotes. That music kids are good kids.
The societal dynamics of how that goes on beyond childhood is entirely a new matter, of course. In the States you have high school students who proudly wear jerseys with orchestra badges, to in a way match the young American football stars with jerseys of their own. In Penang about eight years ago, there was a whole debate as to whether playing in an orchestra should be counted alongside the Scouts, karate teams, and most interestingly school bands - in the end, is the definition of a "uniformed body" simply being part of a something that promotes teamwork and hard work.
In the end, there is a kind of exclusion - being a "cool" scout patrol leader commanding his group of 15 devout followers - that somehow didn't quite apply to someone being able to play Bach from memory. I think sometimes the backlash is a created sense of elitism. That a young student grasps and displays musical initials like "ATCL" up in order to match someone else's "ATL". And in the end we lose sight of the larger picture that it matters less if you are indeed an Associate of the Trinity College of Music or an Assistant Troop Leader than what you do with the skills you possess. When I took Penang Free School's 1st Georgetown South Troop up on a camping trip, I decided to perch myself on a tree and observe, and noted a scout leader go round trying to help the loners get better integrated to the rest of the team. And at that point it didn't matter to me what initials he had before or after his name - or in a different perspective, I'm glad he soon gained the letters ATL which I think he certainly lived up to.
We in music are challenged every day to live up to these ideals of a team that is a right place for good kids that grow up to be good adults. We are challenged by those among us who actively work to break up that idea and that ideal, like those who created this blog with what seems to the the sole intent of ignorantly insulting others in the comments section. And to add cowardice to maliciousness, to do so anonymously, not taking responsibility for one's words.
At times like these I am reminded to value the times when musicians do act in ways which help their fellow man, even if it's just what to do in the break time of a long and tiring orchestra rehearsal:
It reminds me that we always have choices, small ones and big ones, and those choices make up for one's true value - one's true measure.
Saturday, December 05, 2009
Do Re Mi Zap Zap Zoom Zoom!
I've opened the door towards using Fourier analysis (FFT - Fast Fourier Transform) in my upcoming research. Thanks to an old friend from Thailand, I managed to get freeware called Audacity late last night - and tested it with my voice:
This is going to be interesting once I get started on using it for instruments. The questions that arise are 1. how far I can use it in musicological research without needing external mathematical expertise in interpreting the analysis, and 2. how sensitive current technology is towards analyzing sounds which are pretty close to start with. One way or another, this will be an interesting adventure.
This is going to be interesting once I get started on using it for instruments. The questions that arise are 1. how far I can use it in musicological research without needing external mathematical expertise in interpreting the analysis, and 2. how sensitive current technology is towards analyzing sounds which are pretty close to start with. One way or another, this will be an interesting adventure.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Life as a Musician: A Very Human Music
The number of things that one has to do to make music tends to distract from what it’s really all about.
We start off as students, and many of us get into this about whether we’re first clarinet or second clarinet, and whether we’ve some level of music exams that too many young people equate to actual musicianship. Then we’re at a stage when hey, this music thing could be serious, and there’s this massive planning about travelling to get high level lessons, or thinking about investing in an instrument and how much it’s going to cost and what we can afford. And suddenly you find out there’s a bow or a mouthpiece that you never knew you needed and you can’t imagine living another day without it. And then you enter university studying music, or dive straight in to the working world and you try to squeeze 25 hours out of a day which stubbornly wants to stick to 24, struggling in personal practice in that push to be all you can be while teaching or working part time to to make sure you have enough to get something to eat. You start thinking about new applications, auditions, competitions. As you get more into the industry, you realize that if you want to be involved in certain projects you’ve got to take a role in actually organizing it, and then you get into scheduling of rehearsals and booking a hall and licensing and sponsorship. And then it’s networking, meeting the right people, worrying about whether you said the right things at the right time, and self-examining which part of each of us is most useful in fitting in to this giant jigsaw puzzle.
Investments. Practice rooms. Arrangements. Scheduling. Organizing. Networking. Public relations. All these things which make up being part of making music, and all necessary in moving ahead in the world. It’s a real world, and these are all elements of that reality.
But the best parts of making music are the things that don’t really get mentioned when we think about a career path. For many it’s the parents that start us all off on some instrument because they think it’s going to good for you not so much as a future job but in developing who we are – and for some, when that money for lessons doesn’t come easy. It’s about the teacher who knows better than to argue with you wanting that exam certificate but tries to make sure that in process you get more inspired about the music itself than the piece of paper. The friend who knocks on the door of your practice room and reminds you to take a break before your arms fall off or your lungs explode. The fellow musicians who welcome you back when you return after your studies elsewhere – or welcome you in a new role as a colleague and partner. And musicians who introduce you to others and help you to find a place in their world. Sometimes because some time, somewhere, somebody did the same for them. Sometimes because some time, somewhere, somebody didn’t do the same for them, and that’s the opportunity to make the world a little bit better than the way they found it.
For every one of these very special people, there are probably a dozen backstabbing others, or more often those who are just more in it for themselves than anything else. But then, that’s exactly why we call them special.
People. At the end of the mad race for success, that’s what music is really all about.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
A Purple-Toned Celebration: Showcasing the Viola
Concert programme introduction for An Afternoon of Chamber Music, Sunday, September 6, 2PM.
The viola has been called many things, from the “Cinderella” of the orchestra, to the mysteriously “purple-toned” instrument.* Those who have met the unique viola on the playing field have ranged from the world’s best violinists such as Yehudi Menuhin, Nigel Kennedy and Maxim Vangerov, to more unlikely characters like Jimi Hendrix, newly-crowned American Idol Kris Allen and the fictional Fantastic Four character The Thing.
The viola has been called many things, from the “Cinderella” of the orchestra, to the mysteriously “purple-toned” instrument.* Those who have met the unique viola on the playing field have ranged from the world’s best violinists such as Yehudi Menuhin, Nigel Kennedy and Maxim Vangerov, to more unlikely characters like Jimi Hendrix, newly-crowned American Idol Kris Allen and the fictional Fantastic Four character The Thing.Perhaps the magic of the viola is that just a shade more so than the signature grandeur of the trumpet or the characteristically ever-graceful harp, the viola’s triumph is in its versatility of colours in truly shaping itself to the hands and ideas of its player. Its imperfect dimensions (somewhat squashed as the ideal size for its pitch range being too long for even the best basketball players to handle) on one hand makes the player work even harder for sound colour. But on the other hand it is perhaps why the viola has been attributed as being able to convey the imperfections of humanity more clearly than any other instrument. Further, while the cello still boasts the frequency of vibration closest to the human heart, it is the viola that fits the range of the human voice.
This afternoon’s selections showcase the viola in the diversity of its roles, from a viola-only duo and quartet, to partnerships with the cello, violin, and a more traditional role in the string quartet. The centerpiece of the programme, Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 is so rarely performed because of its challenging instrumentation focusing on the mid- and lower-range. Here we see the violas shine in a solo light as well as in the ensemble, exploring the full baroque range, celebrating the compositional genius of Bach in fugues and fluid phrases that flow from one viola to the next, and bounce back again.
Andrew Filmer
* And oddly enough, both of those descriptions came from the same violist: the world-renown Kim Kashkashian.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
An Afternoon of Chamber Music - FREE ADMISSION
September 6 at 2PM
ARECA Center of Performing Arts ~ 50, Peel Avenue
Programme:
W.F. Bach: Duo No. 2 ~ Tan Mei Ying and Samuel Khoo, violas
W.A. Mozart: First movement of the duo for violin and viola, arr. viola and cello ~ Joycelyn Tye, viola and Stephanie Tye, cello
A. Corelli: Arrangement of Concerto Grosso No. 8 "Christmas Concerto" for four violas: Lo Mei Yoke, Joycelyn Tye, Wong Chin Ning, Andrew Filmer, violas
J.S. Bach: Brandenburg Concerto No. 6 ~ Wong Chin Ning, Andrew Filmer, Joycelyn Tye, soloists. Ensemble: Lo Mei Yoke, Samuel Khoo, Tan Mei Ying, Stephanie Tye, Chee Hui Hui, conducted by Khoo Teng Jian.
Handel-Halvorsen: Passacaglia ~ Khoo Teng Jian, violin, and Andrew Filmer, viola
A. Piazzolla: Libertango and Por Una Cabeza for string quartet: Khoo Teng Jian and Lo Mei Yoke, violins, Andrew Filmer, viola, Stephanie Tye, cello.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
What One Does for a Little Friction
I still think my string experimentation shopping and experimentation spree once upon a time was far more caffeine inspired, but the current go on rosins isn't exactly decaf either. Curiosity, they claim, ended the feline's 9-run streak, and its that which has led me first to try the higher end "Superior" hand-crafted Colophane, which was supposed to be an upgrade from the Jade which I've always liked.
I then transfered the Jade to the violin, and used the new Colophane on the viola, which turned out to be a disaster. The viola bows in particular didn't react well - though they could produce a slightly better tone when at slow bow speeds, and when just the right amount of rosin was used, the bows were just careening off the highway with anything close to fourth gear. And for some reason the Jade on the violin just didn't match up to my old Bernadel.
Now here's where human nature takes away from life sometimes. The obvious thing was to go back to what I was using before, but the thing is I have a real life commitment to my viola compared to the violin, and the Jade, the so-called inferior rosin was in a plastic case while the new Colophane was in a hand-crafted wooden and magnetic case with the company seal emblazened twice. It took the viola a while to tell me in no uncertain tones not to aquit the book by its cover. And the new Colophane is working fine with the violin now, and the Jade was reunited with the viola... till I came across the Larsen.
So far so good. It's the first rosin I have tried - or for that matter, heard of - which has a version specifically for viola. It's not the same kind of bite that I hear the cello rosin has, but still, a good grip, without too much dust. We'll see how long this particular affair lasts... I think the last stop on this particular road will be the Andrea Bang. But for now, that will remain another journey entirely.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Please help me in the YouTube Symphony Orchestra contest
Hello everyone,
I didn't even expect to get this far, but I've been selected as a potential finalist/alternate finalist for the YouTube Symphony Orchestra. If I make it to the second round, it will mean a sponsored trip to New York to play as a member of the orchestra in Carnegie Hall - a really great opportunity.
Part of this selection will be based on ratings by YouTube users (the number of stars at the bottom of videos). From 14-22 February, each YouTube user will be given the chance to vote once each day, and these votes will help influence who gets chosen.
If you have a YouTube account (or if you wouldn't mind setting up a free account), I could really use your help!
My entries are at: http://www.youtube.com/user/andrewfilmer. (I think the second video is the one to vote on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CuhNU_Kq72U.)
I would like to say thank you, terima kasih and kop khun kap in advance for any support you could provide.
Cheers!
Andrew
I didn't even expect to get this far, but I've been selected as a potential finalist/alternate finalist for the YouTube Symphony Orchestra. If I make it to the second round, it will mean a sponsored trip to New York to play as a member of the orchestra in Carnegie Hall - a really great opportunity.
Part of this selection will be based on ratings by YouTube users (the number of stars at the bottom of videos). From 14-22 February, each YouTube user will be given the chance to vote once each day, and these votes will help influence who gets chosen.
If you have a YouTube account (or if you wouldn't mind setting up a free account), I could really use your help!
My entries are at: http://www.youtube.com/user/andrewfilmer. (I think the second video is the one to vote on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CuhNU_Kq72U.)
I would like to say thank you, terima kasih and kop khun kap in advance for any support you could provide.
Cheers!
Andrew
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Gone With the Wind
I think I put it through a little unfair competition though: played in a gig next to the ocean, and the wind was so strong that the salt particles from the breeze ended up making the bow lose almost all traction. Nice chance to test out survival skills gained in the last two years of study though: played the entire gig with one foot holding down my stand and the other holding down the cellist's stand. A Jewish wedding in Malaysia, rather fascinating - and I thought I saw it all when a year ago I saw a groom read his vows (of his second marriage to someone half his age) from large cue-cards held up by his mother.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Five Things I've Learned This Music Camp
1. When it comes to Primrose's (and I'm guessing, Michael Tree's) "not apparent" vibrato, faith isn't just a belief in things not seen, it's a belief in a thing not heard.
2. There's a quote from a friend's Facebook, which I think might be from Monty Python: "When I'm good I'll be very good, and when I'm bad I'll be nasty." That should really be the viola credo.
3. In music you'll have good days and you'll have bad days. And then you'll have days which could have been better if you weren't still hung over from the bad day before.
4. The effect of better rosin seems to continually surprise me.
5. As does the way musicians get to meet up and reconnect if not soon, then definitely somewhere down our long winding road.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Off the Presses
Must say, it is a thrill to actually see it in print. Hopefully somewhere down the line, I might be able to see how the research was applied. In the meantime, onwards we go.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Upcoming Event
I'll be doing the Handel/Halvorsen Passacaglia with the MPO violinist at the close of the violin masterclasses.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Official website launched!
I'll still be blogging here; this is for professional purposes.
Do drop by the guestbook!
http://andrewfilmer.wordpress.com/
Do drop by the guestbook!
http://andrewfilmer.wordpress.com/
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
From the Editor of the Journal of the American Viola Society
Hey viola enthusiasts!
The Fall issue of the JAVS will be out in a few weeks!
Some of the exciting articles include Andrew Filmer's article on Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante, Barbara Sudweeks's inspiring article on teaching a blind violist, the Orchestral Training Forum on Brahms's Fourth Symphony with Robert Vernon, and a fascinating approach to recital preparation with David Wallace and his article on Interactive Performance.
If you are not yet a member of the American Viola Society, please visit
http://www.avsnationaloffi
Please contact the AVS National Office at info@avsnationaloffice.org to order extra issues.
Thanks!
David
Friday, June 20, 2008
Scribble
A little over two years ago, I was thinking of moving on, and the whole thing with applying for a Master's was far from being a done deal. There was a possible opening - there were a couple of entrepreneurs who had considerable success in something akin to tuition classes, but more formalized, with larger organization and oversight, and facilities that rivaled most international schools. They called me in for an informal discussion about starting up a new programme in music, that moved away from our standardized notation. Something involving colour-coding, notation based on physical positions on instruments, and playing by ear. It was an innovative idea, and it was quite tempting in my position then to tell them what they wanted to hear and teach what they wanted to teach. But I thought that the right thing to do was to articulate an honest disagreement on the grounds that the students under the programme would have to learn both systems in order for them to be able to operate outside of their new classrooms. Plus, the complications of printing all music in colour, reprinting older music and where the Suzuki programme had already gone. It was a difficult thing to say, and I didn't get a job. I did however, get into a Master's programme, so it all worked out for the best.
Just because I didn't agree with that particular form of innovation didn't mean that I think our musical notation is perfect. My guess is that it's been over a hundred years since we've made any changes - not including contemporary music notation, of course. The last change from overall notation was probably the direction of the stems and tails of notes. I have always thought that the alto clef should be revised, since the only instrument which uses it regularly is the viola, and we only go one notch below the stave. On a practical level, that's either a waste of paper or a waste of ink (the latter being the constant changes of clef). I once moved the viola notation of the Prelude to Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 down two steps so that violinists could sightread on the viola. And I thought I was hot stuff in the discovery business until I learned that what I had done had already existed a few hundred years, and was called the soprano or sopranino clef.
Here we are years later and I get a message on YouTube from a fellow Indiana U. alumnus, who happens to be involved in a project to evolve the notation system. It's called: The Music Notation Project. Always fascinating the way things revisit us, challenging us to continually fine tune our ideas. Sometimes I think that this is the nature of intellectual endeavours today: not necessarily to discover, but to link, rethink, and always be open to welcoming back an old idea.
The Chromatic Staff, from the Music Notation Project.
Just because I didn't agree with that particular form of innovation didn't mean that I think our musical notation is perfect. My guess is that it's been over a hundred years since we've made any changes - not including contemporary music notation, of course. The last change from overall notation was probably the direction of the stems and tails of notes. I have always thought that the alto clef should be revised, since the only instrument which uses it regularly is the viola, and we only go one notch below the stave. On a practical level, that's either a waste of paper or a waste of ink (the latter being the constant changes of clef). I once moved the viola notation of the Prelude to Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 down two steps so that violinists could sightread on the viola. And I thought I was hot stuff in the discovery business until I learned that what I had done had already existed a few hundred years, and was called the soprano or sopranino clef.
Here we are years later and I get a message on YouTube from a fellow Indiana U. alumnus, who happens to be involved in a project to evolve the notation system. It's called: The Music Notation Project. Always fascinating the way things revisit us, challenging us to continually fine tune our ideas. Sometimes I think that this is the nature of intellectual endeavours today: not necessarily to discover, but to link, rethink, and always be open to welcoming back an old idea.
The Chromatic Staff, from the Music Notation Project.Sunday, June 01, 2008
Chamber Caffeine
I still have this romanticized idea of chamber music being intellectually intimate. It's this vaulted idea that you get passionate musicians with physical skill and musical ideas, goals and philosophies to match. You put them together and they ignite each other and you have this great collaboration that, gives you the pyrotechnics of musical fireworks. Many things appeal to me about doctoral work: continued progress on the instrument and its repertoire, the power of knowledge, the research and publication. But the aspect of it that really makes me grin is the idea of being in a pool of people and finding ones to get together and get that spark going, that energy, that very essence of inspiration that begins any music worth a damn.
Curiously enough I have no idea why I feel that way. There hasn't been much to prove that the ideal really exists - hardly anything to even scratch out a decent faith in the unknown, a sense of the adventurer discovering the undiscovered country. I've had the occasional pleasant chamber music experience, but for the most part they have been wrought with troubles. Let's just list a few: personality clashes, badly mediated differences of musical opinion, when you actually do get along personally and musically with someone, having the difficult task of correcting and being corrected without offending anyone. The most talented group of musicians I've played with thought of themselves as soloists, so despite technique, it was just about the worst chamber music experience.
The professional quartets seem to have a particular kind of work philosophy - much like any solo repertoire they tend to step back and allow the cerebral side as much space as the emotive side - and the results are beautiful. There's a calm dedication to being a professional quartet, setting aside a rehearsal schedule, a certain kind of organization. Calm professionalism, planned cooperation. I know that it's this which produces the best of music, and the best in musicians.
But despite knowing better, that's not my ideal. I think teaching or perhaps even research will eventually be a stronger dominating force in my path, and that kind of zen will be a necessitated ingredient in the recipe. But I want some element of chamber music that knowingly and unwisely abandons calm. Let's get some musicians together. And let's gladly let those notes explode, live on the edge and on adrenaline and on the promise of today, yesterday forgotten, and tomorrow be tomorrow. It's not the main course. It's not dessert. It's my strongest expresso, shoot me with caffeine and keep it coming.
Curiously enough I have no idea why I feel that way. There hasn't been much to prove that the ideal really exists - hardly anything to even scratch out a decent faith in the unknown, a sense of the adventurer discovering the undiscovered country. I've had the occasional pleasant chamber music experience, but for the most part they have been wrought with troubles. Let's just list a few: personality clashes, badly mediated differences of musical opinion, when you actually do get along personally and musically with someone, having the difficult task of correcting and being corrected without offending anyone. The most talented group of musicians I've played with thought of themselves as soloists, so despite technique, it was just about the worst chamber music experience.
The professional quartets seem to have a particular kind of work philosophy - much like any solo repertoire they tend to step back and allow the cerebral side as much space as the emotive side - and the results are beautiful. There's a calm dedication to being a professional quartet, setting aside a rehearsal schedule, a certain kind of organization. Calm professionalism, planned cooperation. I know that it's this which produces the best of music, and the best in musicians.
But despite knowing better, that's not my ideal. I think teaching or perhaps even research will eventually be a stronger dominating force in my path, and that kind of zen will be a necessitated ingredient in the recipe. But I want some element of chamber music that knowingly and unwisely abandons calm. Let's get some musicians together. And let's gladly let those notes explode, live on the edge and on adrenaline and on the promise of today, yesterday forgotten, and tomorrow be tomorrow. It's not the main course. It's not dessert. It's my strongest expresso, shoot me with caffeine and keep it coming.
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