Leaning on the Empire State Building

It's always in the most mundane places that we tend to have the greatest experiences. Oddly enough, we can't remember the answers for our finals but we can remember the silliest things in years past. One of the earliest things I can remember quite vividly is taking pictures when I was 4-5 years old with my brother and sister. We each had our own tote bag and it had our pictures on it. We used those tote bags as our backpacks when we went to a care center called Mother's Day Out. This was a year before kindergarten! But could I remember all the things my Old Testament teacher lectured over for the Final today? Definitely not!

One of my favorite mundane experiences with music, isn't exactly in the most mundane place but rather in a place quite famous: The Empire State Building. My choir in 10th grade had the opportunity to go to New York for a competition called the Festival of Gold. Whilst we were in New York we planned to go inside and up the Empire State Building- I mean who wouldn't want to go up a famous monument? I do have to say, it was one of my favorite experiences during the trip.

Now, before I go into what I did, I need to explain the building a bit. You don't go to the very top of the Empire State Building, but rather there is a set floor that you can go to-and if you pay more you can go even higher to a certain floor. Of course, as it is a skyscraper the build is quite tall! So really, how to get up to the designated floor you need to take an elevator, walk around a hallway, take another elevator  then go through another hallway and climb a flight of stairs, then another elevator and so forth until you reach the floor. Now when you get a whole bunch of Choir Guys and Gals in a spot there is bound to be singing! So what did we do? Well as we were climbing up the stairs we started singing the arrangement of Lean on Me that we learned for Pop Show earlier than year. As we climbed the various floors we sang at the top of our lungs our parts! Of course, we weren't the only ones there! Other people joined in as well! All up the flight of stairs we sang and sang. I mean, it's not everyday that you can sing in the Empire State Building!

It's very funny, I always struggle to remember our concert rep that we had that year for that competition, but a memory like that is something that is quick to surface. It makes me wonder, why can I remember this musical experience vividly when I can't remember the actual performance-which was the entire purpose of the trip. Both were enjoyable and both were fun. We always tend to remember the mundane, it just sticks out like a sore thumb. The unnatural, or rather the imperfect. How simple it is to remember a mistake than a success? It kind of serves as a reminder. A reminder of what is important. We learn from our failures, we remember the joy we had in a random mundane event. If we only remember what we need to know, and our success- what is there to learn? Never underestimate the mundane- I mean you remember stuff for a reason you just have to figure out for yourself! So..."Lean on" those memories. They're useful :).

The Forgotten Ornament

As a vocal principal music major, one of the main things that I have put emphasis on is sound. Trying to achieve the correct quality of vowels in order to have resonance in my voice. For the most part the focus is on how you sound.

When we listen to a piece of music we focus on what we hear. The Rhythms, Melodies, Harmonies, Lyrics, etc. We listen to all these different aspects. Now, let me mention something a bit radical-try listening to a song for nothing. Yes, nothing. Listen to a song whilst honing in only on the silence in it. Or think of a song you know very where and think of spots where silence occurs.............It doesn't seem to be as easy to do is it? It's very common with instrumental music, but a lot of vocal music, or contemporary music doesn't really emphasize silence. It's less emphasized now than it used to be; instead contrasting dynamics are more common. It ironic, because it seems as though silence has really become silent.

The reason I point this is, is silence is just as important and loud as sound. A common mistake that I made in Aural Skills in the 2nd semester of my freshman year is that I glossed over and skipped rests when we were sight reading melodic phrases. Disappointment struck my teacher's face when that happened. Her response was: "We are in College, we are Musicians and we must follow and count rests." Rests, a point of silence, hold just as much importance as regular notes. What I'm really trying to get across is that silence isn't something that is there when no sound is present but ornaments the music.

Here are a few examples:
Modest Mussorgky's Night on Bald Mountain



Benjamin Britten's Rosa Mystica



In the Mussorgsky piece you can easily hear the use of silence within the first thirty seconds. The quick call for silence followed by an accent beat then back to silence. It's abruptness makes a statement with the dynamics slowly creeping in as it becomes louder and louder. The Britten piece is different. The silence I'll point out is around the 2 minute mark where for the majority of the piece up until this point the basses and tenors are singing an A throughout the piece while the sopranos and altos sing the melody. After transitioning into a different section and then all parts are unison. It becomes quiet for a brief second (2 minute mark). Next are several phrases which are set broken apart through a pause. This itself is an interesting technique. As after this section, the tenors and basses resume the A and the altos and sopranos go back to the melody. This creates a nice contrasting section compared to the rest of the work. The text is easier to hear, crisper, and it's as though the message of the song is contained in those fragments.

Sometimes we become too concerned with the sounds of music that we disregard the importance of silence as well since no sound waves are being amplified in your ear, transmitted into electrical signals, and sent to your brain. Though the beauty of it is that it is an ornamentation of sound itself, without the sound. If you don't believe me...well if you've ever played Slender or seen someone play it. The game starts out with barely any sound/no sound, and when you see Slender...BAM!!! A loud chord is played and it's quite startling! I mean, have you ever seen a horror movie with a hefty movie score? Silence just isn't a break or a rest to breathe, but it adds life into the music.

"Do-Do the Riviera!"

One thing that my choir director told me in High school was that through your life as a musician you will really only have 2-3 great performances. When I first heard this in 10th grade, I didn't quite understand what she meant by that. My thought process at the time was-aren't we always putting on great performances? If so, then I have way more than 2-3. Though in the recent days of Freshman year of college I've slowly come to realize what she meant.

Coming into college, I thought I had a great voice. I thought I was extremely talented and sang very well. Quite honestly, I thought all I was doing was right. Though I quickly learned that I was completely wrong. I didn't do a lot of solo voice, but through voice lessons and hearing people in performance lab it made me realize the mistakes that I was making. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing! I thought singing was just learning a song, notes on a page and just singing the notes; though it is so much more than that. I was ignorant to the many factors that make up a performance. How singing isn't something simple, but it is a complicated process that is built up on numerous factors. I didn't know how to breathe, I didn't know about vowel shapes, tongue position, or even how to pronounce words in a different language. I even admit now, as Freshman year closes there is still so much that I don't know/haven't perfected yet! With all of this in mind, it really makes me think: Did I really have a "great" performance, or have all my performances been just "good."

It's definitely something that claws my brain. Examining all my past performances to see if there was something that is relatively close to a "great" performance. However, that makes me ponder what a "great" performance is. Is it a performance where everything is perfect, goes right, and you follow all of the rules? Or is it something else? Maybe it's not dependent on you to decide, but someone else determines the verdict. It really is something that bothers me, like an irking itch beneath my skin.

So many factors can go into this that it seems impossible to figure out the answer to this question. The more I think about it, the more confused I get. Though when I really try and replay my performances back in my head-there is one that sticks out from the rest. It's the one performance that I remember the most from.

Here it is:


This was the first musical I was a part of at my school in 10th grade. If you get nominated for the Tommy Tune award for Best Musical you get to perform a number in the Hobby Center in Downtown Houston, where it is broadcasted later on TV. After watching the video, it's apparent that our singing isn't the greatest-I mean that last chord is pretty amazing right? Our dancing isn't all that-heck we were surprised that we even given a nomination for this award since we thought the musical wasn't all that great when we put it on. So why does this one performance stick out? Well It's not because it was broadcasted on the TV, or the largest stage I've performed on, or the largest audience I've performed for. Though I distinctly remember the feeling I had during the performance. On that stage, I wasn't Greggory Miller. I was Marcel, my character. Not only that, It felt as though the stage didn't even exist. Every ounce of nervousness was purged from my body, I didn't even think- I just sang and dance nothing more. That experience, however, felt so genuine and so unique to everything that I have done thus far.

In a performance viewpoint, I would say it's mediocre. It's obvious that there are so many things that we could have improved on. Though I believe that this was a "great" performance for me. It was the first time I truly felt that I was performing as a musician and not as a performer. And I believe that is the perfect criteria for what makes a "great" performance.

Needless to say, I don't think there is one specific set of criterion that makes up a "great" performance. It can either be what you believe, or maybe you rely on someone else's opinion to make it one. Though I am glad and thankful that my choir director shared this with me, because it's a very humbling fact. There are just going to be performances that are terrible or mediocre, but it's comforting that those are just stepping block into something even great. Each mistake, is a lesson learned which assists the course of what is next.

If you have any "great" performances you would like to share, or want to share what some of your criteria that makes up one feel free to share.

The Unique Essence of Languages

You know, it's very interesting. We hear so many different songs on the radio every single day. Countless new albums, songs, bands, genres, and styles are appearing out of nowhere. However, if you actually stop to think about all that you're listening to- there lies a common thread: English.

Some of us claim that we know all there is about music, or we are specialists in all the kinks of a genre of music though we always forget that English is not the only language in the world. We pride ourselves in knowing this language, which isn't exactly universal but very close to it. Though in reality, we use it as a box. A box that has parameters in which we become ignorant of all the music in different languages.

I wanted to try something new this past winter. For Christmas, my parents asked me what I wanted as a gift. I said that I wanted music. To my parents, however, music isn't specific enough. Long story short, after perusing around the internet I saw that Kari Jobe had a new album, Where I find you, and not only that she also had a version recorded in Spanish, Donde Te Encuentro. I don't know what really came over me, but I really wanted to own this album and listen to it-rather than the English recording. Quite frankly, after listening to it I only understood about half of the words but I felt that it conveyed a unique essence that the English version didn't. 

Here are the two versions of one of her songs off the album.

When you translate words into another language-there is bound to be some change in the literal translation-take the Bible for example. There are quite the amount of translations! Though if you listen to these different translations-the Spanish, albeit not the original recorded version, has a fluidity in the diction that the English doesn't have. Why? Well from what I've learned from Vocal Diction- each language has their own vowels and consonants. Spanish is very similar to Italian in many aspects, more so than English. In the English language we use many schwas and tend to have darker vowels. Not to mention homophones and that several words can have different pronunciations-don't you always fret when the word "Bow" comes up when you're singing? Also, examine the everyday conversation between English and Spanish. I mean when I first heard people speaking Spanish my first thoughts were: "Was that a sentence, or a paragraph?" The majority of the words in Spanish end in a vowel, whereas English contains many hard consonants at the end of the words- which interrupts/partially interrupts the air flow depending on the consonant. So really, this "fluidity" that I feel/hear is really the more constant and consistent air flow Spanish words produce when compared to English.

It really makes you wonder, in this case, does translating a song from English to Spanish add fluidity, if so then does translating a song from Spanish to English detract fluidity? That is of course, a whole investigation in itself, but what are your thoughts about this?

Magic is an Excuse to make an Effort

One of my favorite poems is Mending Wall by Robert Frost. It goes like this: 

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sens the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun, 

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast. 

The work of hunters is another thing: 

I have come after them and made repair 

Where they have left not one stone on a stone, 

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding, 

To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean, 

No one has seen them made or heard them made, 

But at spring mending-time we find them there. 

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill; 

And on a day we meet to walk the line 

And set the wall between us once again. 

We keep the wall between us as we go. 

To each the boulders that have fallen to each. 

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls 

We have to use a spell to make them balance: 

'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!' 

We wear our fingers rough with handling them. 

Oh, just another kind of out-door game, 

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across 

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. 

He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'. 

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder 

If I could put a notion in his head: 

'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it 

Where there are cows? 

But here there are no cows. 

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know 

What I was walling in or walling out, 

And to whom I was like to give offence. 

Something there is that doesn't love a wall, 

That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him, 

But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather 

He said it for himself. I see him there 

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top 

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed. 

He moves in darkness as it seems to me~ 

Not of woods only and the shade of trees. 

He will not go behind his father's saying, 

And he likes having thought of it so well 

He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

The reason why this poem is one of my favorites is that it is so pervasive in my musical experiences. The wall in the poem represents the fear of change. When it stands we are content and stay safe from what the poem represents through the hyperbole of the Hunters, (what we want to avoid), and the Rabbits in hiding, (us). However it only leads to one style of living- one that is in the dark as depicted by the writer's neighbor toward the end of the poem.

 My favorite line is: "We have to use a spell to make them balance: 'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'" It displays such desperation to use a means that doesn't even exist, (magic), to the point where you are content with the fact of seeing it stabilized just for a second. Then to completely forget about it and walk away. Over the course of Freshmen Year I've slowly learned what it means to become a musician and this line says it all. Through theory and learning music for juries, music isn't something that just happens. I've lived the majority of my life with the thought that everything will magically align themselves. Though it doesn't take a fake sense of reality to make a performance, it takes struggle and the willingness to change. If you take the writer and his neighbor, they did not put effort to make something new but they chose to repair what will always be broken. 

As musicians we need to try hard everyday to make an effort to just be able to do what we can do; even more if you want to improve. If we are so obsessed with what we don't want to do or obsessed with the fact of staying the same we are preventing our own growth within ourselves. It's very easy to become complacent when it comes to music. I've slowly learned that to be and become a better musician you don't stay in a place of contempt and make yourself stagnant, but rather go forth with the unknown and challenge yourself and improve. Why? Well for me it's to become competent leader and musician. What is your drive?