You're Welcome!

Catching up on some of my favorite blogs and ran across this wonderful entry by Billie Whittaker over on "Good Company."  As soon as I read it, I knew that I simply had to share this post with my readers!  Enjoy....and kudos to Billie for an insightful and honest look at the different types of "thank yous" we hear on a regular basis!

Thoughts from the Shanghai Circus

Hello, my friends!  I have missed sharing my thoughts with all of you recently, but felt I needed some time away from life in general, so I took a much needed mini-vacation at the end of last week.  Now that I'm home again, I find myself trying to get back into the routine of writing. 

I traveled to Branson, Missouri, a quaint little town in the Ozark Mountains that is known for its family-friendly stage shows.  Since I was essentially taking a vacation from the life of a performing musician, I decided that I wanted to see a show that didn't have a strong musical theme.  I chose to see the Chinese Acrobats of the New Shanghai Circus.  I shouldn't have been surprised, but as soon as I set out to enjoy an evening without thinking about music, my mind was filled with the things I could take from the program and apply to my music.

On Friday evening, I was drawn into the performance by the beautiful colors, the variety of dances displayed, and the artistry of the overall performance.  This program moved from the grace of the butterfly lovers soaring over the stage on their satin ribbon to masterful displays of technique using a child's toy before ending with the heart-pounding excitement of the acrobats with their see-saw.  The connection to music is fairly clear.  By programming recitals that include moments of sheer beauty in addition to moments of exhilarating spectacle, the audience is thoroughly engaged because of the diversity and variety of music presented.

As I left the auditorium, I continued to reflect on the Circus as a whole.  I felt as though some of the routines were severely inferior to the others.  This was made painfully clear because of the act's placement in the show.  Following one of the most beautiful displays of dance I had ever seen came a second-rate attempt at illusion.  The props did not support the intended illusion; the "magician" had little stage presence.  Sadly, this act occurred half-way through the second act.  Just as the ensemble should have been preparing the audience for a climatic finale, the show hit a major snag from which it never recovered. 

It is essential as performers of any kind that we carefully plan our programs with the audience's emotional journey in mind.  While there may be a piece that I would like to play early in the recital in order to navigate a difficult passage without fatigue beginning to set in, I must remember that the program's order is not exclusively about my comfort.  Certainly I must consider what sequence will allow me to give my best performance.  I must also make sure that my preferred order leads the listener from one piece to the next in order to insure that they have a satisfying musical experience.

Lastly, I noticed the audience's response.  By nature, an acrobat's performance will contain amazing feats performed in rapid succession.  While I do not claim to be either a dancer or acrobat, as a performer, I do understand that the most difficult routines also contain moments of simplicity to allow the audience and artist to prepare themselves for the climax to come.  Friday evening's audience was what I consider to be a typical cross-section of the average American audience.  It was amusing -- and actually frustrating -- to sit in the audience and listen to the "oohs" and "aahs" at the beginning of each new act that were accompanied by thunderous applause.  As the routines proceeded, the spectacle became more exciting and impressive, but the audience had already lavished its highest praise and was ready for the next act to take the stage.

Most disheartening, however, was the realization that audiences enjoy thrilling moments because there is always the possibility of failure.  During a wonderfully beautiful segment featuring a cast of young ladies who were balancing spinning plates high in the air while performing elegant gymnastic tricks, one member of the cast appeared to have lost focus momentarily, causing plates to noisily crash to the floor.  These professionals continued to maintain their part in the scene while making every effort to discreetly clean up their mess in order to insure their colleagues continued success in the performance.  While I was thrilled with their commitment to recovery, I was appalled by the audience's response. 

A mature couple sat directly behind me and loudly commented on the accident.  Not only did they point out the misstep and laugh, they made wagers with each other for the rest of the night regarding which performers would be the next to stumble.  (Thankfully, this was the only catastrophe that we would observe on this night.)  What I came to realize is that audiences are often thrilled by technical display not only because of the excitement they provide, but also because of the possibility that they may catch us in an obvious error.  Am I being too pessimistic to think that a performer's mistake gives the audience an opportunity to lessen the talent of the individual and feel better about themselves?  I hope I am only seeing the worst in people, but I fear that it may be all too true. 

I do not intend to end this post with a negative impression.  Facts are facts:  planning is essential, artistry must be the centerpiece of our programs, and audiences can be mean.  The good news is that I am only responsible for two of those aspects.  If I plan effectively and relentlessly pursue artistic excellence in my concerts, I have done everything I can.  While I want the audience to have a pleasing experience, I know that their responses -- whether positive or negative -- do not define my talent, my happiness, nor my success.  That's the biggest lesson I walked away with after visiting the Shanghai Circus while on vacation.

Timeless Musicals

My nieces are visiting me this weekend. The girls, ages 10 and 11, are both musically inclined. While living with me last summer, they both began studying the piano. Since that time, they have left the instrument behind and pursued other endeavors. Kristian, the oldest, plays the trumpet while Sara, her sister, is a budding vocalist with quite a nice sound.

After a busy day of activity, we sat down to watch some television last evening. Kristian browsed the many music DVDs that are on top of the entertainment center that I use in my music appreciation class. One movie caught her eye, however; she and Sara wanted to watch Rodgers and Hammerstein's The Sound of Music.

I must admit that I was flabbergasted at the request. In my mind, I expected that they merely wanted to hear a couple of the more famous numbers and would quickly lose interest. To my surprise (and great pleasure), the girls quickly became enthralled in the plot and found themselves humming along with the memorable melodies.

I began to ponder the appeal of musical theater. When we first look at the form, it doesn't sound like something that should really work. How often do we find ourselves in conversation and then suddenly break into song? If you do break into song, people tend to look at you as though you are INSANE rather than as though they are falling in love with you! Even more rare is for the other person to enter into the conversation by joining you in a second verse of the song.

I think there are a few reasons that the American musical works and continues to be a thriving art form. First, the characters and themes are universal. Whether the story is set in Oklahoma, Siam, or a French barricade, we all understand what it is like to be in love, misunderstood, and unsure of ourselves. We can identify with Annie's longing to be a part of a family or Oliver's search for unconditional love.

Second, music can express emotions more effectively than words alone. The example that is currently on my mind is from The Sound of Music. The lyrics of "Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good" are beautiful alone; once they are paired with a simple, yet passionate melody, however, they take on a life of their own and clearly express the growing love between Maria and Captain von Trapp. Need a few more examples? Think about "Memory" from Cats, Les Miserables' "Bring Him Home", and "He Had It Coming" from Chicago for more examples of emotionally explicit music.

Finally, the musical's power is found in its ability to transport us into the story in a way that movies cannot. While the musical uses the same ingredients as the modern movie -- specifically plot, scenery, and score -- the musical magically draws the audience deep into the action and makes them an active observer in the powerful drama. While I can't explain the "why" behind the phenomenon, I know it occurs based upon my personal experience. It is this quality that makes the American musical attractive to young and old alike, as demonstrated last night in my home.

I have had the joy of watching a classic movie musical with Kristian and Sara. Last summer, they had their first experience with a live show: the national touring production of Wicked. I think it's time to have a return visit to the theater with these girls and see if I can insure that they are bitten by the musical theater bug....it's an adventure that I hope they will continue to enjoy for the rest of their lives.

Beyond the Page

Notes, rhythms, dynamics, phrase markings, tempi......all of these are clearly communicated to the performer on the page. Even when impeccable attention is given to the many details of the score, no two accomplished musicians will present the same piece in an identical manner. This truth speaks to the importance of the musical aspects which are not on the page -- those extra-musical ideas that we bring to the stage.

The importance of the unprinted musicality was made painfully obvious to my own ear recently. I am in the process of recording two CDs and have received an initial version of the Christmas album for preliminary review. As I prepared to listen, I was rather apprehensive because I recalled my emotional and physical state on that Thursday afternoon. My mind was filled with a laundry list of things that had to be completed in the closing days of the summer semester and my body was beginning to drag as a result of the many recent demands of church, home, and work. As I listened to the recording, my concerns were obviously justified; the playing was accurate for the most part, but it was flat, lifeless, and -- well, let's just cut to the chase -- quite BORING! This wasn't an issue associated with the recording technician or the quality of the instrument. The problem was that I was not in a place to communicate musically on the day of the recording.

Many musicians play their instruments with great technical facility and amaze us with their virtuoso displays. For me, such performances are thrilling in the moment, but their power is short-lived. I would rather listen to an interpretation that speaks to me at the deepest level -- one that expresses the unique ideas of the recitalist. In a perfect world, we never have to choose between artistry and technique. Sadly, I'm only human and sometimes find myself having to choose between technique and musicality-- we all do from time to time if we're willing to admit it. Without fail, I choose artistry. I choose to communicate with my audience through the music's voice rather than play merely the notes on the page. Without communication, my performance is nothing more than a metronomic regurgitation of the notes on the page that is no different from that of any second-rate pianist.

Needless to say, I'm arranging a date for another recording session. To get ready for this round of studio time, I am continuing to review notes and fix problematic passages, but more importantly, I am taking the time to rest so I am emotionally and spiritually prepared to musically communicate those messages that are most important to me.

Musicals Galore

My life of late has been filled with watching musicals. Last week, I reviewed a new video production of the classic Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Oklahoma! I was considering showing this new production featuring Hugh Jackman to my music appreciation class. Instead, I opted to stay with the tried and true and showed Sondheim's Into the Woods. On Saturday evening, I headed over to Playhouse on the Square in Memphis to see their production of Hairspray. By the end of the week, you might have caught me humming "Agony" right after a rousing chorus of "Oh What a Beautiful Morning."

I began to think about my fondness for the American musical and tried to understand why they have such a firm grip on my heart. As a child, I had very little knowledge of musicals -- or of theater at all, for that matter. My first experience with the theater was with a community production of Carousel in 1988. I was cast as a member of the chorus, but quickly moved into the role of rehearsal pianist. As a teenager of 16, I had no idea that the score was rather difficult; I just knew that I had found an exciting role that allowed me to be a crucial part of every scene. That was how the musical theater bug first bit me.

I would continue to work with this community theater throughout my high school and undergraduate years. What I was considering a summer pasttime turned out to be a valuable investment in my future. During those summer vacations, I became familiar with the scores to Gypsy, The Sound of Music, The Pajama Game, Oliver!, and Camelot. Every fall semester at Pepperdine University brought a full scale musical. These gave me opportunities to play the scores to Oklahoma!, The Fantasticks, She Loves Me, and Into the Woods. The Fantasticks became my first performing job as I played the show for three different companies in the Los Angeles area in the following years. Finally, a new door opened to me -- musical director of the Santa Monica Civic Light Opera's production of My Fair Lady. Even though I was underprepared for the position, the lessons I learned on the podium were invaluable and have not been forgotten.

Perhaps my love for musical theater is associated with my familiarity with it. I think there is something more at work though. When I am involved with a musical production -- whether as part of the directorial team or as support staff -- I am intimately involved with the development of the show and have an opportunity to influence the audience's experience. Few things are as powerful to a musician than aiding an audience in exploring a character's emotional journey through song.

I suppose that explains my love for the theater better than anything else. I relish the rush that comes from adding music to powerful lyrics and setting the imagination free to explore new realms of human experience and emotion.

How about you? How did your relationship with musical theater begin? Feel free to share the gist of your story in the comment section below.

Playhouse on the Square's Oliver!

On Saturday evening, I finally got to see Playhouse on the Square's current production of Oliver! I went in with high expectations of this wonderful show by Lionel Bart based largely on the reputation of Memphis' professional theater troupe. Oliver! has fond memories for me as well; I have had the good fortune to be involved with two wonderful productions so far in my career. Saturday evening's performance had some surprises and some obvious downfalls. Here's my take on how things went.

First, let me acknowledge that I did see the production during its final weekend on stage. I know the stress that is placed upon the voice over the course of a show's run. I am also aware of the difficulty of keeping a role fresh night after night. Now that I've made the disclaimer, here's what I heard and saw.

This was my first visit to Playhouse's new home on the corner of Union and Madison. What an amazing space! Very intimate in feel, yet able to accommodate a sizable audience. My seat was near the back of the house, yet I felt as though the players were within reach; such a nice effect for the audience.

I expected a sterling performance by Dave Landis in the role of Fagin and anticipated that the youngster playing Oliver (Ty Lenderman) would be the best that Memphis had to offer. To say I was disappointed is a bit of an understatement. Landis' portrayal of Fagin was not bad, but flat. Many times, it felt as though Fagin was slipping into the background--too far for my taste--rather than providing the support the other members of the cast desperately needed. Musically, the character was unmoving. Landis' rendition of "Reviewing the Situation" was superb (not that the music director assisted him much), but by that late point in the show, I had already checked out and was ready for the final curtain.

Oliver himself was painful at moments. Lenderman was cute and looked the role. His dancing was quite good. While his acting was stilted at times, I can even forgive that transgression. But to mutilate beloved songs such as "Where is Love?" is unforgivable! Ty's voice had a gentle, pure quality at times and showed great promise. However, as he moved into the lower registers, he began to take on this pushed belting sound that was contrived and completely out of character. (Imagine a child trying to imitate an adult man's sound while throwing in a bit of Ethel Merman....that's what it sounded like!) Understand, I do not fault Ty for this; I hope to see him back on stage again with the support of a strong musical director that can help him produce the best performance possible. The issue here was the inexperience of the musical director of the show (making his debut with this production). All of the children were singing with a choral "hoot" common in elementary education but inappropriate for the stage. From the opening song, "Food, Glorious Food," I knew we were in for a long night.

Diction was another source of annoyance, but not in the singing where you would expect me to complain. The cast as a whole had been coached in an English dialect due to the setting of the show in Victorian London. While it was effective for the most part in the singing, the dialogue had so many variations of dialect and levels of enunciation that it was impossible at times to understand the actors' mumblings. The worst offender in this aspect was the actor portraying Mr. Bumble (Bryan Robinson). I could overlook singing all of the high A's in "Boy for Sale" in falsetto as well as the general buffoonery of his characterization. However, don't waste my time by attempting an accent that so totally distorts the language that I cannot understand your lines. There is something to be said for the willing suspension of disbelief! As an audience member, I can accept southern accents in London; just let me hear the story.

Despite the negative aspects of the show, there were some wonderful moments as well. First and foremost, the performance given by Stephen Andrew Parker as the Artful Dodger was tremendous! Parker is the all-around performer: beautiful voice, clean dancing, and solid acting. What more could a director ask for? Throughout the evening, I looked forward to Dodger's appearances on stage; Oliver! owes this talented performer for much of its success during this recent run.

The highlight of the evening for this musical director was the adult ensemble. Their gusto combined with fine individual voices created a moving experience into the Dickensian world. "Who Will Buy?" was a treat for the ears as the quartet of singers sang beautifully. An unexpected gift came at the end of this number; a young rose seller (Sydney Bell) sang the final appearance of the theme. The voice was amazing and worth the price of admission! Why Playhouse has not mounted a production of Annie or some similar show as a vehicle for this child actress is beyond me! Her performance as Lucy in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe received great reviews and this theater-goer is ready to see her on stage again.

Will I return to Playhouse on the Square? Certainly. It is one of the finest theaters we have in the area and they constantly produce high-quality work. I will just be a bit more reserved in my expectations, especially when attending a musical in the future.