Geraldissimo's Thoughts on Vocal Artistry, Performance, and Teaching

There are lots of things going on: auditions, learning new music, getting ready for a new group of students at a new school, writing program notes, practicing, working on business plans for our new group. I’m in a very practical frame of mind, and not especially creative when it comes to looking at the big picture of what’s going on. And my readership has dwindled, probably because I’m not publicizing the blog enough. So if you’re here and seeing this, my apologies. In the dog days of summer, there is not much to say. I will start a new series of ???… soon.

This summer has not really afforded me a vacation in the traditional sense, though I have spent time in some locales that others vacation in. Last week I was in Idyllwild, up at 6,000 feet in San Jacinto State Park, checking out a summer festival that I have heard about for years.

First impressions of the place are somewhat surprising. It is an all-year school that boards students summer and winter, and one of the more expensive such schools in the country. Yet driving in, one sees wooden signs and structures that might have been erected by the National Forest Service, with colors blending into the surrounding landscape. On closer inspection, a proper campus begins to reveal itself, with buildings set near the road and on hills. A modern library, recital hall, and a host of classroom buildings are situated on one side of the road, while on the other side and up a hill, a full campus of rehearsals rooms and studios, a student center, a large and very modern dining hall, a concert hall, and an array of dormitories can be found. In the summer sun and among the tall trees, the school looks like the most luxurious version of a summer camp one imagine. Students walk up and down, carrying instruments or art supplies. There are sounds drifting everywhere, of percussionists practicing, a choir sectional in some distant hall, and a band saw cutting wood. Meals in the large dining hall are plentiful and well prepared, and sleeping accommodations comfortable. One can scarcely imagine how such an environment can be sustained year round, nor is it clear that the young students there have any real idea of how extraordinary their surroundings are.

The small museum in the library building documents the founders’ original vision, provides photographs and filmstrips of the first few years of the festival, and displays many optimistic and inspirational messages about the power of art to change lives—so many, in fact, that they may seem cliché. Yet there is little doubt that these founders made a great discovery of purpose and place, and that many others appeared to help make the purpose a reality. Now there are myriad modern structures, a breathtaking natural setting, and over 300 students from around the country and the world—a place where every “special” or “odd” creative youngster might find kindred spirits and a place to pass through a charmed adolescence.

Certainly this is primarily a playground for wealthy or privileged teens. Superior educational opportunity is hardly an egalitarian entitlement in American society, and I was uneasy when I contemplated all of the talented students of more modest means who might blossom in such an environment and yet would never have that chance. The benign economic or cultural racism that still pervades elite schools was also on display, in that students of color were very conspicuous by their absence. (I saw only two young people in a choir of some 70 students.) But this does not detract from the inspiration I also felt as an educator. The concert performances I heard of the summer choir were perhaps the best I’d ever heard from any high school level choir. The student drawings and paintings on display are interesting and often startling. The literary magazine published during the school year is full of pieces reflecting teenage angst, but theme is explored with well-written sentences that use very “adult” imagery and techniques.

A few of the students that I have taught on the college level had attended Idyllwild as part of their high school experience, and they were all positive, open, and highly motivated to learn and grow. Perhaps the greatest gift of such an environment is that students can bring their receptivity to their work each day and not be disappointed. As it has throughout history, wealth can breed great art, and at Idyllwild, the breeding starts young. Social consciences aside, educators dream of these kinds of students, and we hope to find this kind of a working environment. It is good to know such places exist for young people to nurture their uniqueness.

Right now, my site appears to be receiving 3-4 hits a day, and perhaps some of those folks are actually glancing at this blog. If you are curious about this, please read and leave a comment. Mostly, this is a place where I stop to reflect a bit, especially if that reflection is something of some possible interest to subscribers.

I’m off on a short audition trip, and then a vacation for the next week or 10 days. Please stop by at the end of the month, and perhaps there will be something new to share with you here!

And by the way: if you are prospective student in the voice studio, please DO let me know who you are, and what questions you might have. Lessons will begin in early September…and perhaps you will be part of that!

As a more “mature” artist, I am finding myself increasingly drawn to the idea of helping younger artists succeed. Of course, I would like to be paid for teaching and coaching, so this is not a purely altruistic thought. But right now, much of my mind is moving more like an impresario than as a performer. I am privileged to watch the birth of a new organization, and to be part of the energy of that event. This group will provide a space and some support for younger singers, especially those who have recently completed university level study. There is a group of enthusiastic “singer community activists” who have come together, a website, and a plan for a variety of activities over the next year. The very definition of grassroots, and there will be a steep learning curve for all involved. This is a different kind of creation, for we are not only creating art and music, but an environment within which that creation can take place. More on this topic as things unfold over the next month.

I am about halfway through Nicholas Carr’s “The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to our Brains.” It is an edifying and somewhat alarming read. As I understand it, the main thesis is that our brains are being re-shaped by the fractured experience of using the Internet. A history of reading technology is set out in detail, as well as a setup for this by discussion of oral literacy and traditions going back many centuries. So we can follow an historical progression of how reading technology has both developed from and been shaped by the structure of our brains and how they effect language processing. As a more “verbal” individual with some aptitude for languages, this is of particular interest to me.

The neuroplasticity of the brain is a wonderful discovery which gives me hope that I will be able to remain mentally alert as I grow older. Perhaps it is the experience of watching a parent gradually disappear into the confusion of Parkinson’s disease that motivates me to really look deeply at this topic. Carr’s bottom line is that we are losing our ability to do sustained and deep reading of extended texts, and that this is almost certainly connected to the new experience that the reading technology of the Web provides. I certainly wondered about reading blocks I have encountered with students I have taught over the past several years, and truth be told, I find that I also have problems with wandering attention and struggles to concentrate while reading. There is, in fact, not much pleasure in reading these days, and the same can even be said for learning music. I might have chocked some of this up to other factors such as stress or occasional depression, and certainly those have been contributing factors. Yet Carr’s book provides a likely explanation for some of this faltering of interest in these areas, and has given me pause.

It also suggests a challenge. Like exercise, we have to keep up our practice! Writing here will continue to provide an outlet for shaping ideas and spinning them out in writing. I don’t think I could write a dissertation, ever again, but I do want to write essays and a book. But if I am having trouble reading deeply, what might this mean for my attempts to write deeply? We shall see.

Thankfully, I now have some time now to truly practice some new music! Maybe that will bring back some of the concentration that has slipped away. That, and some daily meditation. Creativity needs to be nurtured.

Sooner or later, collectors of recorded music face stacks of compact disk recordings waiting to be organized. This always seems a Sisyphean task, but each time I attempt this allow me to re-visit some of my favorite choral recordings. The Brahms Requiem with the Robert Shaw Chorale, Bach’s Mass in B minor with Jon Eliot Gardiner, and my multiple recordings of Britten’s War Requiem have all been part of my active musical consciousness in the past few weeks.

Truth be told, I have a particular fondness for those recordings where my own voice flickers as part of a larger electronic spectrum of sound. For example, I’ve been on something of a Mahler kick lately, and the BSO recording of the Eight Symphony has come back out. I am still amazed and humbled that I had the experience of singing this great work of German Romanticism as young man. Even today, I can still feel the visceral power
and exultation of this music in my musical memory. Or take a recording of Schütz sacred concerts, a live performance from Germany some years ago. The acoustic of the church, the sounds of the instruments, even the squeak of the pedals on the portative organ rise again in my consciousness.  Even though my stereo sound system is (at best) average, it makes little difference. All of it comes rushing back. The sounds, the energy of the group, the dance of vocal and instrumental timbres, everything is there again. I suppose that I was, at the time, a junkie for the high that such an electrifying experience could bring. Most people desire that their senses be sated in some way, and for all of us, this was our fix. The memory of it is still there…all I need to do is close my eyes.

The artistry of other select ensembles is also an ever-present source of fascination for me. One student of mine just attended a Chanticleer summer workshop, and this sort of nudged me back to a few of those recordings. My Tallis Scholars CDs take me back to live performances I heard in a year I can no longer remember, but the music is part of my musical memory that seems to transcend a particular time or place. Is this sublime
music that of the young composer portrayed in “The Tudors” on BBC America? Will someone explore his music because Tallis is a secondary character in an historical romance full of impossibly beautiful actors? Perhaps yes, perhaps not. But it is a reminder that a person that once lived, ate, and breathed music composed musical masterpieces that are part of our cultural heritage. And how many singers experience singing “Spem in Alium” in 40 parts, as I was once thrilled to do?

There is nothing revelatory about this, but to remember it with each piece of music the CD collection holds challenges me to honor the artistry of each musician who was a part of it. More fun…old recordings of Handel and Haydn Society performances are there on cassette tape, waiting for a transfer. How did singing Messiah with under the baton of Christopher Hogwood alter my musical and spiritual karma? How many times must I have rehearsed the finale to Beethoven’s Ninth, so that I can still sing it from memory more than a decade later? Was there a “window of opportunity” for imprinting these works on my memory?

Here is an old photo from my Emmanuel Music days, courtesy of the Web. I am standing in front of a tall and mustache wearing Don Wilkinson, still a Facebook friend and expert in all things ornithological. (At least, I am fairly certain it is me…looks and old fashioned print photos fade with time.) Our conductor Craig Smith passed away a few years ago, and I still remember his love of Bach, his passion, and occasional irascibility. 

All of this music, for 16 or 60 or 600 is a powerful drug. And it can be an inspirational one. I’ve now sent some students out to follow this path in graduate schools and a variety of professional choirs. If there experiences are half as meaningful as mine, that will indeed be a great musical gift for them.

Somehow, the earlier version of the blog went down, and I could not retrieve or repair it. As my readership to this point is not vast, it was left to a faithful member of that small yet select group to alert me to this problem. After some time attempting to figure out what went wrong, it seemed a fresh start was called for. So here it is.

The SQL backup utility is more mysterious than my brain could handle this week, though if I investigate it further, I may find it quite easy to use. But right now I don’t much care, as some of the old blog was preserved in my laptop’s cache. So not every entry was lost. I’ll re-work or re-post some of those, perhaps, along with ideas as they emerge.

Last week I was watching the film “Groundhog Day,” and wondering if the filmmakers actually realized that the film was a perfect depiction of being trapped on the wheel of samsara. Coincidentally with viewing this comic meditation that featured a cameo by Punxsutawney Phil, I found this photo on Flickr. I should credit it, but don’t know who took it. It kind of sums up the different emotional destinations toward which my mind has been journeying over the past few weeks. In this, I’m not much different from everyone else.