Thursday, June 26, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Stage Fright: The Hal Galper Story
I'd never heard of Hal Galper before. But he was coming to my university to give a jazz clinic. For the uninitiated, a clinic is a performance that is interrupted by tips for the other musicians in the audience. They're intended for students and amateurs in order to learn more about performance techniques. I had, however, heard of the other two musicians in his trio, the aptly named "The Hal Galper Trio". The drummer, Akira Tana is relatively famous in the jazz world and the bassist, Rufus Reid, is a freaking legend. When Terry, my private instructor, told me I would be performing with them in the clinic, my knees almost buckled.
For the couple of weeks after I knew that my head was going to be put on the chopping block, I practiced every chance I could, trying to memorize and play every jazz standard I knew in multiple keys. I was also practicing for a senior recital. It was, shall we say, stressful. Adding to the stress was knowing that my partner in pain would be none other than Matt Blostein. Matt was six years younger than me but he had always been a prodigy and could play better than me by leaps and bounds. I was sure that I was about to be humiliated but Terry, as he usually did, reassured me that things would be just fine.
On the day of the clinic, I arrived in the music hall early, removed my sax from its case, and began warming up. I was so nervous I could barely play scales. Matt showed up and just as nervous as I was. These were his idols as much as they were mine. But it was little comfort. The kid was better than me and it was going to be obvious to everyone there. I was still prepared for the worst.
Finally, I met the band and the clinic started. They asked me for a song to play to start the show with. I chose an easy blues-based tune I knew like the back of my hand, Now's The Time, by Charlie Parker. Things were going quite well until we started trading fours. Matt took the first four bars, Galper took the second, Reid took the third, Tana took the fourth, and I brought up the rear. Trading fours in a blues tune was usually not a problem. I could hang. But I was so nervous that while the drummer took four (and did some crazy things in those four bars), I committed the ultimate sin: I lost count.
When he hit a crash to bring me in, I froze. The music stopped. I hadn't been that embarrassed since a similar thing happened to me in high school. But that was me at 15, new to jazz and not a very good improviser. But here I was 23 and still losing count. I could feel my cheeks flush as they all started to tease me a little. I think most of it was good natured, but I was having trouble feeling good about my mistake.
At that point, Hal Galper got up from the piano. He was a giant man, probably at least 6' 5" and obese. Plus, his left eye is glass so when he looked at you, the left eye was always stuck in the same position. He lumbered toward Matt and I. His glass eye was pointing hard right away but the good one was fixed right on me. He looked at Matt then. I heaved a sigh of relief.
"Play a scale with a jazz articulation," he said. Matt played it.
"Now play it without your tongue." Matt played that too.
He looked at me and requested the same. I played the first scale fine, but for whatever reason, I could not disengage my tongue from the reed to play the scale with a jazz feel. This part I will never forget. Galper got right up in my face and seemed like he was yelling.
"Don't use your tongue!"
I tried again and failed. He gave up and started dispensing advice to Matt. "You're very good, but it sounds like you've practiced too much with play-along CDs." Of course, he was right. There weren't many opportunities to go to good jazz jam sessions in rural Pennsylvania.
I don't remember what he told me, to be honest, but I do remember that it was much more critical than what he said to Matt. I think it was something about needing a lot more practice before I thought about playing in an environment like that again. I think I almost peed myself. All I remember well was leaving the hall after the clinic was over and thinking that I would never play the saxophone again. And I didn't for a whole week. It stayed in its case, stashed in my locker. When I showed up for my next weekly lesson, Terry was not surprised that I hadn't practiced. He also apologized for how Galper treated us on stage. It was some comfort to know that he, too, thought the man unnecessarily rude.
Unfortunately, the damage was done. It was that day that I acquired my stage fright. I was never again able to confidently take the stage without some significant preparation of my nerves. I won't lie and say that it was all Hal Galper's fault. But he did contribute to my issue and I have yet to figure out how to undo my fears. Maybe I should give Hal a call.
For the couple of weeks after I knew that my head was going to be put on the chopping block, I practiced every chance I could, trying to memorize and play every jazz standard I knew in multiple keys. I was also practicing for a senior recital. It was, shall we say, stressful. Adding to the stress was knowing that my partner in pain would be none other than Matt Blostein. Matt was six years younger than me but he had always been a prodigy and could play better than me by leaps and bounds. I was sure that I was about to be humiliated but Terry, as he usually did, reassured me that things would be just fine.
On the day of the clinic, I arrived in the music hall early, removed my sax from its case, and began warming up. I was so nervous I could barely play scales. Matt showed up and just as nervous as I was. These were his idols as much as they were mine. But it was little comfort. The kid was better than me and it was going to be obvious to everyone there. I was still prepared for the worst.
Finally, I met the band and the clinic started. They asked me for a song to play to start the show with. I chose an easy blues-based tune I knew like the back of my hand, Now's The Time, by Charlie Parker. Things were going quite well until we started trading fours. Matt took the first four bars, Galper took the second, Reid took the third, Tana took the fourth, and I brought up the rear. Trading fours in a blues tune was usually not a problem. I could hang. But I was so nervous that while the drummer took four (and did some crazy things in those four bars), I committed the ultimate sin: I lost count.
When he hit a crash to bring me in, I froze. The music stopped. I hadn't been that embarrassed since a similar thing happened to me in high school. But that was me at 15, new to jazz and not a very good improviser. But here I was 23 and still losing count. I could feel my cheeks flush as they all started to tease me a little. I think most of it was good natured, but I was having trouble feeling good about my mistake.
At that point, Hal Galper got up from the piano. He was a giant man, probably at least 6' 5" and obese. Plus, his left eye is glass so when he looked at you, the left eye was always stuck in the same position. He lumbered toward Matt and I. His glass eye was pointing hard right away but the good one was fixed right on me. He looked at Matt then. I heaved a sigh of relief.
"Play a scale with a jazz articulation," he said. Matt played it.
"Now play it without your tongue." Matt played that too.
He looked at me and requested the same. I played the first scale fine, but for whatever reason, I could not disengage my tongue from the reed to play the scale with a jazz feel. This part I will never forget. Galper got right up in my face and seemed like he was yelling.
"Don't use your tongue!"
I tried again and failed. He gave up and started dispensing advice to Matt. "You're very good, but it sounds like you've practiced too much with play-along CDs." Of course, he was right. There weren't many opportunities to go to good jazz jam sessions in rural Pennsylvania.
I don't remember what he told me, to be honest, but I do remember that it was much more critical than what he said to Matt. I think it was something about needing a lot more practice before I thought about playing in an environment like that again. I think I almost peed myself. All I remember well was leaving the hall after the clinic was over and thinking that I would never play the saxophone again. And I didn't for a whole week. It stayed in its case, stashed in my locker. When I showed up for my next weekly lesson, Terry was not surprised that I hadn't practiced. He also apologized for how Galper treated us on stage. It was some comfort to know that he, too, thought the man unnecessarily rude.
Unfortunately, the damage was done. It was that day that I acquired my stage fright. I was never again able to confidently take the stage without some significant preparation of my nerves. I won't lie and say that it was all Hal Galper's fault. But he did contribute to my issue and I have yet to figure out how to undo my fears. Maybe I should give Hal a call.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Green Tunes: Episode 2
When Nick is fussy, it almost always helps when I put him in his swing and sing him songs while accompanying myself on guitar. I've been able to practice a lot of songs this way and I have noticed that I'm getting better at playing all of them. Sometimes I feel like I'm at open mic night. Anyway, singing songs not only settles him down but is even starting to make him happy when he hears certain songs. I don't know what in particular he likes about them.
So I think it goes without saying that the songs I play to Nick are songs that I enjoy, especially if I can stand them enough to play them the hundred or so times that I need to learn all the chords (always by ear from the track) and the lyrics. So the next few Green Tunes episodes will probably be culled from those choices. The song I present today is, in They Might Be Giants fan circles, a classic. In some cases, even non-fans have heard this song and know it. The song is Particle Man from their 1990 major label debut, Flood. I think this might be Nick's favorite. All I have to do is play the opening chords and he starts to smile even if he's been fussing.
The video I've chosen isn't a perfect performance of the song. That's why I like it, though. One thing music school did for me was to give me a very palpable sense of stage fright. Thanks, Hal Galper! (I'll tell the story later.) Anyway, when I see stuff like this it reminds me that music is fun and that most normal people don't care that every note is spot on perfect in every way. (Although as we should still aspire to perfection, we can't expect to achieve it!) ((Sorry (about) all the) parentheticals!)
So I think it goes without saying that the songs I play to Nick are songs that I enjoy, especially if I can stand them enough to play them the hundred or so times that I need to learn all the chords (always by ear from the track) and the lyrics. So the next few Green Tunes episodes will probably be culled from those choices. The song I present today is, in They Might Be Giants fan circles, a classic. In some cases, even non-fans have heard this song and know it. The song is Particle Man from their 1990 major label debut, Flood. I think this might be Nick's favorite. All I have to do is play the opening chords and he starts to smile even if he's been fussing.
The video I've chosen isn't a perfect performance of the song. That's why I like it, though. One thing music school did for me was to give me a very palpable sense of stage fright. Thanks, Hal Galper! (I'll tell the story later.) Anyway, when I see stuff like this it reminds me that music is fun and that most normal people don't care that every note is spot on perfect in every way. (Although as we should still aspire to perfection, we can't expect to achieve it!) ((Sorry (about) all the) parentheticals!)
Particle man, particle man
Doing the things a particle can
What's he like? It's not important
Particle man
Is he a dot, or is he a speck?
When he's underwater does he get wet?
Or does the water get him instead?
Nobody knows, Particle man
Triangle man, Triangle man
Triangle man hates particle man
They have a fight, Triangle wins
Triangle man
Universe man, Universe man
Size of the entire universe man
Usually kind to smaller man
Universe man
He's got a watch with a minute hand,
Millennium hand and an eon hand
When they meet it's a happy land
Powerful man, universe man
Person man, person man
Hit on the head with a frying pan
Lives his life in a garbage can
Person man
Is he depressed or is he a mess?
Does he feel totally worthless?
Who came up with person man?
Degraded man, person man
Triangle man, triangle man
Triangle man hates person man
They have a fight, triangle wins
Triangle man
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Are You Fussier than a 4-Month Old?: The Stroller Saga Continues
In the past month, Nick has become acclimated to the car seat entirely on his own. He doesn't mind being put into it and doesn't ever cry simply because he's in the seat. Other peripheral issues are an entirely different matter but that's to be expected. The point is that we now know it has absolutely nothing to do with the seat or any of the belt adjustments.
He is, however, still crying in the stroller. I tried taking him out yesterday but he cried the whole trip away from the house. Once I decided to turn around, I took him out of the car seat and just propped him up with a blanket in the stroller proper. Physically, he's not quite ready for that, but I was extremely curious to know if it would help and it was another suggestion I received from an old schoolmate. He was fine the whole way home except for one outburst that I think I can attribute to a combination of wet diaper and being ready for a nap.
Today I didn't even use the car seat. I propped him up in the stroller with the blanket right away and started walking. He did not immediately start crying this time which is a good sign. We probably walked for a good twenty minutes before he started to fuss and even then he never resorted to screaming. I'm going to continue to try this under the assumption that things will get better now that he will have more to look at.
The only thing that still bugs me about him (and this is global, not just relating to the stroller) is that he will rarely fall asleep unless he is in a prone position. Obviously this makes trips to the grocery store or the mall a race against the clock. As nap times get closer and closer, that lower lip starts to pout more and more often until finally the dam bursts and out wails pour forth from his wide-open reservoir. I'm not concerned about this, it's just something one of those behaviors that I wish were different but don't have the energy or desire to change it.
Someday we'll wish this was the only thing we had to think about but I reserve my right to write about all of it anyway!
He is, however, still crying in the stroller. I tried taking him out yesterday but he cried the whole trip away from the house. Once I decided to turn around, I took him out of the car seat and just propped him up with a blanket in the stroller proper. Physically, he's not quite ready for that, but I was extremely curious to know if it would help and it was another suggestion I received from an old schoolmate. He was fine the whole way home except for one outburst that I think I can attribute to a combination of wet diaper and being ready for a nap.
Today I didn't even use the car seat. I propped him up in the stroller with the blanket right away and started walking. He did not immediately start crying this time which is a good sign. We probably walked for a good twenty minutes before he started to fuss and even then he never resorted to screaming. I'm going to continue to try this under the assumption that things will get better now that he will have more to look at.
The only thing that still bugs me about him (and this is global, not just relating to the stroller) is that he will rarely fall asleep unless he is in a prone position. Obviously this makes trips to the grocery store or the mall a race against the clock. As nap times get closer and closer, that lower lip starts to pout more and more often until finally the dam bursts and out wails pour forth from his wide-open reservoir. I'm not concerned about this, it's just something one of those behaviors that I wish were different but don't have the energy or desire to change it.
Someday we'll wish this was the only thing we had to think about but I reserve my right to write about all of it anyway!
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