Do It In Your Sleeve

There's an old Beatles' song called Why Don't We Do It In The Road. This is an interesting slant on that basic premise. 

As a private music instructor I get coughed and sneezed on with alarming regularity. Many times, I have had to take time out of lessons (time that the parents are paying good money for!) to instruct a child on the proper way to cough or sneeze. 

Sadly, it's not always the kids who are doing this. I was at a music conference, sitting and  waiting for a church choral reading session. There were some people standing behind me who were chatting and coughing all over my back and hair. I tried ducking, flinching, scooting my chair, and finally, (I'd been there before they came to stand behind me.) I turned and asked them to please take their coughing somewhere else. I got called a bitch and several other negative words, but, after a pointed cough in my face, they moved. (I wish I was making that up, or exaggerating, but I'm not.) And, guess what? I came home with a bad cold that turned very quickly into bronchitis.

You see, I am one of those people who are prone to upper respiratory infections. A cold, sometimes even allergies, quickly becomes bronchitis. Every year, I faithfully get whatever flu shots are available, as well as the pneumonia shot. (I know we're getting clear of flu season, but allergy season is almost here. It's just as bad.)

And I'm not the only one. Let's join the campaign to teach the proper way to cough or sneeze. It's not hard. And it may save someone you love from a nasty bout of pneumonia.

Please, practice safe coughing. Thank you.

Still My Guitar Gently Weeps

Today's post began life as a look at love songs. But, as I write, it has changed. Today, my older brother, Hal, would have been 61. I still miss him. He was 9 when I was born, and was instrumental in shaping my musical tastes. Dad liked Elvis, Hank Williams, The Beatles, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, and opera. (An odd mix, that.) Mom liked Broadway musicals, opera and John Davidson. Hal saw to it that I was exposed to a wider variety of styles. A teenager in the late '60s, of course he played guitar and was in several bands. I remember sitting on the floor while he practiced his guitar. It was probably 1966, (I was 5, he was 14) and he started slowly playing a new, for him, riff. I was entranced. I had to have a guitar and learn how to play that gorgeous piece. I didn't know at the time that he was practicing the song at a much slower tempo than it should be taken. 

Not long after, I was having a huge fight with my mother about the state of my room: I thought that since all of my toys were out of sight that was clean enough; my mother unreasonably felt that under my bed was not the proper place to store toys. Hal got tired of listening to me sobbing, and came into my room with a deal. If I could clean up my room, with the toys where they actually belonged, by dinnertime, then he would give me his old guitar, a 3/4 size instrument. Not a complete idiot, I jumped on this, and quickly cleaned my room like it had never been done before. By that evening, I was the proud owner of my first guitar, and insisted that Hal teach me to play that song. 

I quickly discovered that proficiency was a long way off. But, I stuck with it and eventually learned how to play my beloved song. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there were lyrics to go with that wonderful riff. And, it was supposed to go a good bit faster than I'd thought.

I was introduced to the pre-fab four - the Monkees; Hal and I used to watch their show together. I thought that was so cool. With our age difference, there wasn't a lot that we did together.

Even as a kid, I noticed things on this video. I noticed that there was no way that what Mike was playing on the guitar could be what we were hearing. And how well could he be playing with that tie constantly flapping into the strings? I began to understand what lip-syncing was.

Hal was constantly in one band or another. At one point, there was a drum kit in the family room. But I was not allowed to touch it, seeing as how it belonged to one of his friends. They weren't allowed to practice at the friend's house, so the drums came to ours. 

The acoustic guitars began to give way to the electrics. His first amp was about one foot squared, but they grew. I learned that amplifiers were different from speakers. He topped out with a 6-foot concert speaker in his bedroom. (Fortunately, it was a very large room.) Even then he could only play it while our neighbors were at work or school. 

We had a wicker swag lamp hanging over the dining table instead of a chandelier. It looked a lot like this one to the right (I guess it went with the Dutch modern style that Mom preferred). When Hal would practice, I'd see the lamp swaying to the beat: I thought that was kind of cool; I don't think Mom agreed. Then Hal took up the bass: That not only made the lamp sway, it cracked the plaster in the dining room. I think Hal's room was directly over that part of the house.

Then came Woodstock. My favorite from that album set was Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit. I'd always like Grace Slick, anyway. 

But, for Hal, Woodstock was all about Jimi Hendrix. Hal worked on that version of the Star-Spangled Banner over and over and over. The swag lamp in the dining room went nuts on that one.

Such concepts as wah, fuzz and feedback were added to the more classical music terms my piano teacher gave me.

Gradually, I began to find my own tastes. This led to my one and only foray into the world of teenyboppers: Bobby Sherman. 

Hal was horrified and ashamed of his little sister for this. He took it as his personal mission to teach me the error of my ways. (Watching this video can still make me smile.) I was 9 when this came out, so I think I can be forgiven for any lapse in judgment. But, Hal, 18 at that point, was determined. He would take me to his room, an otherwise forbidden zone, and play music for me, trying to get me admit that something, anything, was better than Bobby. Crosby, Stills, Nash and occasionally Young, were played for me. I liked them, thought they were really good, but not better. Led Zeppelin - good, but not better. Alice Cooper (Mom would have had a fit!) - fun, but not better.

Part of it was sheer perversity on my part. I knew he was annoyed by my love of Bobby Sherman's music, so I stuck to it.

Then, finally, he played Emerson, Lake, and Palmer. I was entranced. This was amazing. It opened a world of music to me. This was art. Plus, it was just three people! Guitar, keyboards and drums. I could play piano and guitar. Perhaps something like this was possible! (Yeah, in my dreams!) 

My vocabulary expanded to include such words as Moog and synthesizer. 

We lived in a small college town, where Dad taught. I grew up on that campus. Dad's office was just at the end of our street. Hal was a student there. I thought I was grown up and cool. I also knew that I was going to be an opera singer. I'm sure that was a new brand of irritation to a teenager. I began to practice (in excerable Italian) arias that no 9-year old should be singing. Hal, who had practiced so loudly that it annoyed the neighbors, would leave the house when I sang in order to avoid listening. He said that I "sucked."

Not long after, he graduated and got married. But he still managed to influence my musical tastes by introducing me to Elton John, Heart, and Jethro Tull among many others. I'm sure that my love for ABBA, the Carpenters, and Barry Manilow would have been considered blots on my escutcheon. 

Years went by, as they tend to do. We discovered that we both had all of Weird Al's CDs. Hal was shocked that we were both fans. I wasn't: Hal had been important in guiding my formative years. When my kids were surprised to find out the the Billy Idol CD was mine and not their dad's, I knew that was a part of the musical heritage that Hal helped to extablish. 

I played the guitar that Hal gave me until I was 11. He helped to select the guitar that I got for that birthday. We all went to Clarksburg (the closest music store was abut 45 minutes away), and Hal led me to the ones that he thought I was ready for. The clerk came over, and began to talk to him. Hal told him that the guitar was going to be for me. The clerk then became condescending, and started to show me how to hold the instrument. I confidently took it and began to play House of the Rising Sun. I still play that guitar. I have Dad's guitar now, and one of Hal's. 

This is my favorite Beatles' song. George Harrison was a fantastic guitarist, but on the While Album version, the lead guitar was played by Eric Clapton. In keeping with everyone else, Hal thought that Clapton was the guitar god. This version, from 1987, has Harrison, Clapton, Ringo Starr and Phil Collins on drums, and Elton John on piano. All rock stars that Hal introduced to me. It seems a fitting tribute. 

The Voices in my Head

Last week I wrote about several students and their auditions. I spent hours with my brain bleeding out my ears as I watched American Idol auditions. I saw the judges laughing as poor, pathetic singers (hearing Beyonce in their pitiful, deluded heads) gave their all. It was horrible. Then, today, the Nameless Cynic sat me down and we watch Todd in the Shadows give his Top 10 Songs of 2012. I may never recover. 

I know that when I was a kid, adults were sighing over the direction that music was taking, and harkening back to the "good old days," when music had melodies and singers could actually sing. My younger days gave me The Beatles; Journey; Elton John; Styx; and ABBA to name a very, very few. Hmm . . . let's look at what's going on with their music today. 

Well, half of The Beatles have gone to join heaven's rock and roll band.  But, Love was a huge hit, again, for the remaining members. The Cirque du Soleil show that was designed around the songs is still being performed in Vegas. Because of this, I am slowly beginning to accept that remixing can be an art-form. 

Journey is still recording new songs, having made their fortunes with the strong tenor voice of Steve Perry, they are now doing more of the same with the new lead singer, Arnel Pineda. And, no, Don't Stop Believin' was not written for Glee! (Maybe there's a reason that Glee was using so much Journey music? Because it's good!)

This is from a live performance. How do I know? It's different from the studio version. There are changes that were made, some good, some just there, that happen when music is performed live. It's never going to sound like the studio version, and it shouldn't.

Elton John began performing as a solo act in 1968, and has been going ever since. He's added movie soundtracks and Broadway musicals to an already brimming portfolio of work. Yup, he's still standing. (And I'm not using a live version of this because I want to understand the lyrics. I never said that live is always better. That's why it's live, there's the chance for defeat. Not that Sir Elton could ever fail. Just sayin')

Chris and I went to see Styx a few years ago. Nothing was new, but the amount of energy that Tommy Shaw was giving off was electrifying. That little old guy was all over the stage! Here they are singing a slightly more recent hit, from 2005, their version of The Beatles' I am the Walrus. Once again, this is a bit different from the studio version: being LIVE, and all.

And, finally: ABBA. Let's not belabor the point. If you can't find something from the Broadway version of Mama Mia, then rent the movie. I bet it's even on Netflix. (And for the record: they should never have let Pierce Brosnan sing. But, then again, we know that it really was him. They wouldn't have gotten a vocalist who sounded that bad.)

So, the music of my youth is still out there, and still gaining new fans. Why is this? Could it be that so much that is out there right now sucks? 

Auditions?

(It seems like this post has taken forever to write! Part of the problem has been a lack of synonyms for "audition." When you write the same word over and over, it starts to look strange. And then it looks wrong. And finally, it ceases to have any meaning whatsoever. But with a little help from my friends, as the Beatles said, I get by. Many thanks to all of you who helped with this process. I think you'll see some of your helpful words scattered here and there.)

To paraphrase Dragnet: The stories you are about to read are true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

One of my friends, Elliott, says that opera is broken. Opera stages use microphones and singers are cast depending on how they will look in the size 10 dress, and not on how well they can sing the role. Several web articles that I've read say that the music industry is changing: vinyl is dead and gone, 8-tracks and cassettes have gone the way of the dodo, CDs are rapidly becoming a thing of the past as downloads become the standard for music. Autotune allows lovely people with no sense of pitch to have successful carreers as "singers." Performers now routinely lip-sync concerts and even inauguration anthems. (No, I was not surprised.) Music has changed. Perhaps Elliot is right, and opera, and all of music, is broken. But, does that excuse us from trying to keep Art alive?

Over the past few weeks I have helped four of my students prepare for auditions. Nate and Sophy have had their tryouts thus far, and both have done well; Sophy got into the choir, and Nate got a part in the musical. Sarah-Jane and Rose have their skill demonstrations next week. But in all of my years of enduring this torture, and screening the poor torture victims, three of these inquisitions just don't make sense to me. I've been wracking my brain trying to find a kind and diplomatic way to put this, but I'm all out of ideas. Some of these auditions are just plain stupid.

Most vocal skill demonstrations that I am familiar with consist of the singer coming in with a carefully prepared song, and either music for the accompanist or bringing an accompanist with them. So, the equation consists of a singer and an accompanist, usually a pianist. Occasionally, I have had young people bring in a CD and they then sing the piece karaoke-style. And, I must admit, when I see the CD player come out, I cannot help but sigh. I don't want to hear the kid sing a Taylor Swift song just like Taylor Swift. If they have to make me listen to a Taylor Swift song, at least add a some small hint of originality. We're trying to show some level of musical talent, right? Not just mindless regurgitation of what you've heard umpteen gazillion times on the radio. Right? (Please say that I'm right.)

But, in helping these students, I have discovered that there is another type of vocal casting. And it leaves me feeling very confused. In this, the singer comes in, announces the name of their song, and sings. There is no accompaniment, and they don't even get an opening pitch. They just sing. (Rose tells me that they haven't yet earned the privilege of singing with the piano. I've loaned Rose my pitch pipe. She and Sarah-Jane plan on sharing it, to get pitches before they are called into the actual Inquisition.)

Oh, and for Sarah-Jane and Rose, the song must last 60 seconds. Songs that last longer will cause that person to lose points. (Don't even get me started on that!) 

I've been behind the table at several cattle calls, and I've got to tell you that if someone comes in and sings a cappella they are not even considered for a part. This type of performance proves only that you can sing along with the radio, remember what you've heard, and give an approximate vocal rendition of that. And, it's very important to remember that what you are hearing in your head bears very little resemblance to what we are hearing. You may be hearing Katy Perry, but we might be stuck hearing William Hung.

Yes, there's the question of whether the singer has a voice that you'd want to listen to. But what you should also be listening for in a vocal demonstration preparing for a choir or a show includes: 
   Can they keep the beat set by the piano? 
   Can they hit the pitches given in this key? 
   Can they blend with the other voices?
   Can they sing harmony parts, as written?
   Can they portray the emotion of the song? 

For many, though, the "emotion" question comes WAAAAAY after questions involving the music.

How can an a cappella rendition of a song tell the choir director anything? Unless the student's sense of pitch is very, very good, the song will go off into several different keys before it's finished (and sometimes changing key repeatedly in one short phrase, as the notes get out of the person's comfortable range). Unless the choir always sings a cappella, there is a pianist playing under each song. This type of regurgitating fails to show how the singer reacts to singing with the piano. 

Oh, and there's another issue. This type of artistic job interview does not require the least bit of knowledge of printed music. And, contrary to what is shown each week on Glee, school choirs almost always have printed music. Rehearsals consist of working on notes and rhythms, and not just kids who instinctively know complex orchestrations and choreography right off the bat. 

Singing in a group requires the ability to follow direction, and to blend with the other voices, and not just being able to belt out Pink's latest hit. 

I really do not understand what is going on with the music in our schools! I suppose I should just be glad that there is music of some sort there. 

But not all of the casting-calls have been for choirs. Nate tried out for a musical put on by a community theater.  I wasn't there, but I have no doubt that he sang very well: his sense of pitch is excellent. When I found out that the try-out was a cappella, though, I suggested that he take the song down a step. Why sing out his top performance note unaccompainied? The piano can help to give the singer a sense of security that singing alone lacks. He had a piano app on his phone that would give his starting pitch. 

He got a part. Not exactly the one he'd wanted. He'd hoped for the romantic lead. But, being a baritone, he's already getting used to playing a villain. Tenors get the girl in the end;  baritones end up bereft and sad. However, in this case, the villian is also a tenor. The role requires that he sing higher than he actually is capable of going. Several of his lessons have been taken up with me rearranging the part so that he can sing it. 

At no point during the audition was he even asked about his range. They apparently didn't care whether he could sing the part that they were casting him in. (Anybody want to shout, "STUPID!" with me?)

I'm told that American Idol auditions this way, too. You go in, announce your name and the song, and you sing. They hear thousands of people this way. I suppose in this instance, it makes sense. They don't care if you can read music, or blend, or sing what's on the written page. 

They are looking for people who are marketable, whether that means talented, or lovely, or capable of pulling at the heart-strings of the American populace. Often, I think, actual talent is last on the list of what they want. 

But, between Glee and Idol, people have gotten a skewed idea of what singing (and in this case, auditioning) involves. And some of this is coming from the few teachers of music in our schools. I should be surprised. But I'm not. 

Let me tell you about Mickey.  He has a degree in music, and a teaching certificate. He is fully qualified to teach music in our public schools. The bad news is that his degree in not just in music, it's in guitar. 

He cannot play the piano. He cannot even read the bass clef. I've heard him sing: William Hung comes to mind as being better. And he is teaching middle schoolers how to sing in a choir. Is it any wonder that these kids think Glee is real? He is not the teacher involved in the auditions that I'm complaining about, but if that is how "qualified" he is, it's hard to imagine that he's not alone. 

If you're wondering why I haven't talked about Sophy's audition, well, it went the way it's supposed to. We worked on a song; I helped her prep her folder; coached her on how to talk to the pianist, so that he could play in a way that would help her; she went; she sang; she conquered. 

Since I started this, I've gained another student. Parker went to a college, wanting to become a voice major. She had to sing before a panal of the department voice teachers. Having no experience of anything other than American Idol, she walked in, introduced herself, and began to sing a song. We are going to prepare her for her next attempt in the fall. I'm confident that she'll do quite well. 

What are we teaching? Is this the future of all music? Is there still a place for actual talent or is the future going to be auto-tuned to death? I thought our schools were supposed to prepare our young people for the real world or at least college. 

I don't have a resolution or even a summary this week. I feel like Peter Finch's character in  the film Network. "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" But, as long as I have students who are being forced to audition this way, I have to take it. So, I'm just mad as hell.