Welcome to the Flute Doctors blog. These every day anecdotes and musings casually weave in classical music references to whet the appetites of the culturally curious amongst you. Feel free to click on any of the red highlighted sound files or video links to see what gets you jazzed.
June 2011:
Ode to a City
This month finds me writing about Vancouver again. Just last year we were the poster child for Olympic host cities as we pulled off a nearly flawless Games. Back then, our streets were most noted for sidewalks so pristine you could eat off of them, and for the peaceful fervor that filled all our city’s corners, incident-free. But sadly, our recent run for the Stanley Cup tarnished all that. The world now knows us for the image of a kissing couple, fallen to the tarmac, with their city’s backdrop awash in flames and rioters. So many of us who love this place were sickened by these acts of disrespect and destruction. And, of course, the international media has only chosen the photos of burning cars, looted stores, and police bashers in their reports of this post-Game 7 disgrace. But it’s what happened just hours after a handful of hoodlums slandered our global reputation that has moved me most. In a truly poetic reaction to the riots, citizens throughout the region mobilized to take back our streets. Thousands were downtown by dawn with brooms and trash bags to lend a hand. And the plywood that boarded up dozens of shattered storefront windows became platforms for love letters to Vancouver. Read more
May 2011:
Sounds of Summer
Vancouverites have it pretty good. Living in a cosmopolitan city with a vibrant cultural scene, surrounded by spectacular coastal views and mountains to play in, year round, leaves one little to complain about. Or so you’d think. But this insane, almost unjust proportion of riches seems largely overlooked for the seven months per year when we Lotus Landers drown in our least favorite four-letter word, RAIN! OK, not every year is this bad. In fact, after five Picasso-esque years of living in Arizona, which my husband and I aptly named our Blue Period, we were eased into moving back to the Northwest with two unusually dry, warm winters (as witnessed by the world when we hosted the nearly snowless 2010 Olympics). But in our third year back, I was reminded why BC natives have single-handedly kept Hawaiian tourism alive and well. And thanks to Sally Dominick, my old band camp bunk mate with a guest house in Haiku, we had ourselves our first pre-requisite Maui getaway this winter too. Read more
April 2011:
Music Fit for a King
(
image: Kate and William's iconic balcony kiss)
A momentous event occurred on April 29, 2011. I am not referring to the devastating tornado that ravaged Alabama and killed more the 300 people. Nor am I talking about the exchange of vows between Kate and William, before 1/7th of the world's population who, like they have for milleniums, gawked at the royal couple with sycophantic fascination. No, most notable to me is the fact that these same one billion people shared an experience in which classical music played a central role. There has perhaps been no other time in history when so many people were simultaneously exposed to the wonders of Bach. And many of Britain's finest composers (whom most people have never heard of) made the playlist too. As someone who has strived to grow the classical music listening audience throughout my career, this fact thrills me. Enough that I stayed up until 3 am to participate in the collective global experience. Read More
March 2011:
Applauding Average
(
image: A leisurely skate ski near Whistler)
I can admit it. I’m a highly competitive person. The first time I ever tried to play darts I got a bulls-eye. So, I never played again, for fear that I might never repeat a performance that good. But as I age, I’m trying to pursue some activities for pure pleasure rather than for a sense of accomplishment. And my latest foray into skate skiing has been my most humbling. I love a good workout, but nothing compares to this 600-calorie-an-hour burning sport. Predictably, the people who compete at it tend to be hard-core. So, when I threw my name into the hat for Whistler’s first loppett race, just for fun, I was fully prepared to come in dead last. There were 100 of us at the start line for the 15 k circuit. And once the cluster dispersed, my friend Heather and I, who had agreed to race together for moral support, remained happily at the back. Or so we thought. When we crossed the finish line, side by side, her tips were two inches in front of mine. But I knew that I managed to beat at least two people, because we’d passed them one kilometer before the end. When the results were announced, I heard my race number, 255, called. I didn’t understand. It turns out that it’s a European tradition for loppetts to reward the single most average racer of the day. Apparently, I’d been far from 3rd to last after all. Instead, I finished 50th out of 100, and was embarrassingly lavished with gifts for my utter mediocrity. I went home with wine, a spa certificate and some sweet ski clothing, wondering about this practice of applauding average. It made me realize how much this is often missing from our celebrity-oriented, high performance lives. So, I’ve decided to dedicate this entry to recommending several underrated composers, through the ages, who though perhaps overshadowed by the masters of their day, were anything but average. Read More
February 2011:
If the Shoe Fits..
(
image: My first pair of coveted Fluevogs)
In principle I resist consumerism. When Jell-O ad stickers began showing up on my banana peels, I realized that no space was sacred and all surfaces were fair game for manufacturing my consent. Aware of my vulnerability to the sales pitches that permeate my world, I try to keep my purchases to a minimum. A few years ago, I also took the word “need” out of my vocabulary, replacing it with “would like” for anything on my wish list. As a privileged North American, I know that I am truly wanting for little that is essential. All this said, I am a huge consumer of experiences: travel, food, culture. And I put virtually no limit on their price. Perhaps it’s the guilt of my white-collar upbringing that makes me value the ephemeral over the accumulation of “things”. But I have to admit that some unneeded and even frivolous objects can still bring enormous pleasure, as last month’s splurge for my first pair of Fluevog’s made abundantly clear. Read More
January 2011:
What's Up With That?
(
image: Cuban crooner at the Rum Museum in Havana)
I’ve wanted to go to Cuba for as long as I can remember. Born in the States, the embargo has spanned more than my entire lifetime, so the rebel in me has always been drawn to this forbidden land. Plus, any place that considers its artists, athletes, and doctors to be its most prized possessions is somewhere I want to be. So, since opening an odd but prophetic fortune cookie , when I was just 17, claiming “You will win a trip to Canada.” , I secretly planned my immigration to this northern nation, whose more tolerant foreign policies would eventually allow me to visit this curious island for myself. To say that going to Cuba is like traveling back in time is cliché. Images of pimped-out ’57 Chevy’s, lining Havana’s streets, have become the ubiquitous symbol of this anachronistic place. Noting how song and dance pulsates through the blood of every Cuban is not an original thought. But regrettably admitting that I barely heard a note of authentic music during my two weeks in this birthplace of salsa and rumba may lend to the only unique insights that I have to offer about this nonetheless amazing country. So, let me deviate from my usual classical music suggestions to offer you a little musical tour of Cuba. Read More
December 2010:
Everybody Deserves Music (aka. Michael Franti tune)
(
image: The Magnets rehearsing at Rock Camp for Girls)
I just read Abraham Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: Physiological (food, shelter, health); Safety; Love; Self-Esteem; then Self-Actualization (Creativity, Problem Solving, Morality). His theory seems to assume that someone with the luxury to self-actualize already has their lower four basic needs met. If so, I wonder if it follows that with this privilege comes a moral imperative to apply one’s creativity to help problem solve for those whose needs are not met? Proponents of the growing Arts for Social Change movement might say so. Across the globe, people have been doing community-based art projects for decades. A few recent films are bringing attention to this important work. In the Sundance Award-winning film, Wasteland, Brazilian photographer Vik Muniz employs trash collectors, from the slums of Rio, to create warehouse-sized reproductions of their portraits, all out of garbage. He then re-photographs these images, sells them in a London auction, and gives hundreds of thousands of dollars from the sales to their labor organization. Another film,Girls Rock, features the empowering work of Portland’s Rock Camp for Girls. In just one week, 8-18 year-old young females learn instruments, form a band, write the lyrics as well as the music to a rock song, and perform it for a huge audience just six days later. I actually had a kick coaching a group of these young rockers, The Magnets, at the Portland camp in 2008 (see photo). Both of these projects offer their participants the agency to make and do art rather than to be merely the passive observers of art. I am learning that this is a strong tenet of Cultural Development work. Read More
November 2010:
My Morning YouTube Cry
( image: 3 Yr-Old Jonathan Conducting Beethoven)
I know that most of us are tired of waking to an inbox full of unwanted spam and annoying chain letters. But occasionally someone links us to a gem that makes us remember the internet’s potential to be a powerfully inspiring tool. Cropping up all over the world, flash mobs are the latest phenomena tickling people’s senses. Whether a Sound of Music dance to brighten Antwerp commuter’s day, a choir singing Etta James, At Last in Heathrow Airport to sell t-mobile phones, or Canadians choreographing a fundraiser for the NGO, the Girl Effect, in a shopping mall atrium, these spontaneous celebrations of art are moving people around the globe. And on the classical music front, I’ve recently been excited to receive a number of video links which affirm my belief that this music is for everyone. Read More
October 2010:
Maybe Bach was an Urban Hipster Too
(image: Glenn Gould practicing with his dog)
Striped pants with an un-matching plaid shirt, eyes shifting behind thick glasses to avert direct social contact, foot nervously tapping while fingers pulse against the café table in a complex 3 against 11 multi-meter. This image of the classical composer or brainiac concert pianist is held by many. And like with all stereotypes, this is not without “some” due cause. The late Canadian pianist, Glenn Gould, made famous by his two epic recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, (collectively having sold 1 million + copies), always insisted on wearing knit gloves in summer, amongst other eccentricities. And I have personally witnessed Pulitzer Prize winning composer, Ned Rorem, with his bishon fris poodle on his lap, at an Jordan Hall performance of his complex and beautiful work, Bright Music. But just as Freshman Music Theory classes establish strict voice-leading rules, only to then illustrate how every successful composer in history has deviated from them, I want to demonstrate the many exceptions to this limited conception of the classical artist. Read More
September 2010:
Don't Read a Street Dance by It's Headscarfs
(image: scene from Rachel Portman's opera, The Little Prince)
I believe that classical music often suffers from commonly-held misconceptions. For one, most non-listeners think it’s “only for old people”. Though a modern symphony concert hosts its fair share of the blue-rinse crowd, many venues are succeeding in attracting a younger audience. For example, in our visually-oriented culture, more and more 20-40 somethings are attending the opera. Since its debut production of Mozart Marriage of Figaro, the Met’s Live in HD series has had great success garnering new Gen X fans. Hosted at movie theaters around the world, tickets are only $20 compared to the $80 + prices that people have to pay for a Lincoln Center seat. However, recent studies show that 92% of attendees say their experience at the movie theater will influence them to purchase a ticket for a live event. New York City Opera has also been increasing the life expectancy of their followers with their “Opera for All” series, launched in 2005, premiering the young British composer, Rachel Portman’s adaptation of The Little Prince. Similarly featuring affordable $12-30 tickets, but for live events, they prudently cast emerging artists which also helps them draw younger crowds. And opera is not the only myth-busting classical music medium. Read More
August 2010:
Gaga's no Yo-Yo but she gives Lang-lang a run for his money
Christopher Guest, eat your heart out. If he thought an arena full of dog lovers (Best in Show), a washed up rock band (Spinal Tap), a small town theatre company (Waiting for Guffman), or a middle-aged folk singers’ reunion (Mighty Wind) were enough fodder for a film, imagine what he would make of an international flute convention! Yes, every year, more than 4,000 tooters come together to see who can play higher, faster, louder; whose concert gown boasts the most cleavage; whose dissertation about an obscure Macedonian composer has the most pages; or whose flute costs more than a Ferrari. In my head, I resist these gatherings like the plague, but in my heart, I have to admit what a great time I have, every five years, when I manage to drag myself to one. (.....) In addition to catching up with lots of old friends, we heard a host of inspiring performances and we managed to discover a few new works for two flutes that we can’t wait to program in the future. But the musical treat that we least anticipated came as the result of a surprise text message that Liesa received just after landing at LAX. Do you want to see Lady Gaga with Paris Hilton tonight at the Staples Center? Read More
July 2010:
Losing the Fairy for the Trees
Today, I burst a gut with a colleague as she regaled me with stories about her gig as a mermaid. This world-class harpist spent many a sweltering summer night poised inside a clam, playing schmultz for stiff shirts with Ariel fantasies. To add insult to injury, she had to be carried by a Nordic God to her shell, since the costume’s tail had no feet,. And though he came back during each break to give her some water, she’d always refuse, since she couldn’t move to get to the little girl’s room anyway. The humor in such situations is certainly not lost on me, but it did make me question why a musician with a successful international recording career still needs to do such work to make a viable living. I made the leap from a cushy, tenure-tracked music professorship to a career as an independent artist at the ripe old age of 40. I did so with grand aspirations to focus only on satisfying artistic projects that offered me the creative freedom to select my own collaborators, venues and repertoire. As my previous entry explained (Life Beyond Facebook), I did so with a strong faith in the power of music to move people to truly meaningful experiences. And I intended to infuse all of my work with the spirit of advocacy that I described in Yes, We Canada. I still wholeheartedly believe that I can best advocate for the arts as a producer and performer whose work is in the service of building new audiences for classical music. But I also recognize that this requires cultivating people’s deep listening skills in an ADD world where everyone has so many competing demands, from work and family, sports and television, to facebook and twitter.Read More
June 2010:
Yes We Canada - Taking arts advocacy lessons from the Obama campaign
My story about attending Obama’s Inauguration, as a dual citizen of Canada and the States, ostensibly, may seem unrelated to issues of classical music. But today it’s relevance became abundantly clear. So, I begin. As an American-born activist, I was horrified, during the Gulf War, to hear my university colleagues chanting “Whack Iraq” at a pro-war rally in 1991. This experience and others made me vow to flee the land of George Bush Sr. for grassier patches. Strangely, when I was 12 years old, I had received a fortune cookie that prophesized “You will one day win a trip to Canada”…no lie. From that time forward, my northern neighbor always intrigued me and I finally made the leap, in 1993, to pursue a doctorate at McGill. My attraction to the progressive values of Canada led me to plant my roots here and I proudly swore in as a citizen in 2001. Read More
May 2010:
No Snobs Allowed
As I sit in the café that I least often frequent in Vancouver, I am reminded why I don’t usually choose to do my daily writing here. I hate snobs! I mean, if I prefer weak, coffee-flavored milk for my daily fix, why can’t I just order a large, decaf, single-shot latte without getting a sermon about the purity of some roaster’s beans and the fact they will dilute their precious brand if they serve a latte to me “my way”? I think consumers should have the freedom to experience any product of their desire on their own terms. This is why I am so committed to finding alternative ways to present classical music to people who feel that the prevailing concert hall format has too many barriers to entry. Read More
April 2010:
Life Beyond Facebook
(image: Malcolm Gladwell, author of Blink, Tipping Point, & Outliers)
I’ve endured years of razzing from friends who resent my insistence on living cell phone-free. And as far as registering for facebook, I only caved last month because too many friends would no longer send vacation or baby photos by email. But, suffice it to say, I am a proud member of Luddites with Blogs. Don’t get me wrong. My insatiable curiosity has been well satisfied by the at-your-fingertips answers that the internet provides for so many of my burning questions. And I find several social media tools incredibly useful in my quest to attract new listeners to classical music. Plus, I am a voracious emailer. But I think that cell phones and facebook prove to be nagging distractions that don’t allow people to be fully engaged in the present moment. Read More
March 2010:
Classical Music Doesn’t Have to be the Kid No One Plays With at Recess
My life long affair with classical music did not exactly start with love at first sight. It was a passion that grew on me. Since fourth grade, I practiced Bach Sonatas and Mozart Concertos, hours a day, purely because I loved the sound of the flute, I got a kick out of performing, it was fun to be good at something, and I happened to find a great teacher from the Symphony, through my Dad’s colleague. Until high school, my weekends were still spent like other New England kids in the 70’s, at basketball practices or Star Wars movies, playing Atari, and sometimes taking road trips to ski, where I would listen to Eagles and Billy Joel 8-tracks endlessly. Then, at age 13, I joined the Boston Youth Orchestra and everything changed. I gradually began quitting sports teams and skipping school trips to spend my Saturdays and Sundays hashing through the challenges and wonders of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring with the only teenagers I knew who “got” me. We were rebels, and nerds, and bohemians, all united by our zeal for making music. We loved knowing that this turn-of-the-century Russian masterpiece, which we all found extremely cool, had the audience throwing tomatoes at the stage in it’s 1913 Paris premiere, because it made us feel radical. But ironically, once I got my driver’s license, on the two-hour commute to rehearsals, I’d still whisk past any classical station on the dial, in favor of alt rockers like Violent Femmes or the Cure. Read More
