Monday, June 11, 2012

Productivity

After a wonderful few weeks in Connecticut, I'm back in Kansas--packing up my things to prepare to move out and getting ready for my trip to Germany this Friday.  This month has been a particularly productive one for me, and I wanted to share all of the things I've gotten done.

First of all, you may have noticed the design of this blog has changed a bit.  I've integrated it into my website, which was one of the big projects I finished while home.  You can check that out here:


I was also able to finish editing the video and audio for many projects I had recorded/filmed.  This includes the KU Jazz Combo's last concert:



My cover/arrangement of Laura Shigihara's "Everything's Alright:"



Kanako Chikami's and my recording of Peter Klatzow's "Variations on the Theme of Paganini:"



And Joseph Schwantner's "Velocities:"



In addition to these recording projects, I was also asked to do the music for a short film that my good friend Doug Horak was directing, titled "Viridian:"


Viridian from Harshit Desai on Vimeo.

All of the music above (and much more) can also be heard on my SoundCloud page, which I've also revamped.

I've got a few more projects on the way as well--not only did I play on Brian Scarborough's upcoming album, I also did video for it as well (which I will edit and upload once the recording is done!).  I'm also planning on recording Andy Akiho's "Stop Speaking" sometime soon, in order to get better visuals on the snare drum part and a better balanced recording between the snare drum and the digital playback.  I'll also be working more on my website and professional image in general--hopefully with more pictures by Jānis Porietis and a proper set of business cards to go with it.

I'm super excited to be going back to Germany--I'll be there for a long time, but I'm looking forward to playing great music, eating delicious food, and drinking delicious beer.  Before I go, I'll leave you all with one last fruit of this month's activity--I did a lot of work, but I had time to do some play as well :)

Thursday, May 17, 2012

2.B.A. Master

Props to anybody who can catch the reference in the post title.

Ok--it was a long, hard journey, but I finally did it.  I can finally say I am a Master. Of. Music.

School never really got easier.  Okay, I take that back--it got easier as soon as my recital was over with.  But up until that point, it started hard and only got harder.  It amazes me that this level of work is, in many cases, the bare minimum required to be a professional percussionist. It amazes me that this degree, for many of my percussion comrades, is not the final degree one pursues.  I may decide to pursue another degree down the road.  Who knows.

I will say, however, that Kansas University and Ji Hye Jung enormously exceeded my expectations.  I guess you can consider this my public thank you letter to the University of Kansas.  Never did I expect one of the most important influences on my career, musicianship, and personal life to be in the middle of the Midwest, in a state that two years ago, I would have trouble finding on a map.  The opportunities and funding presented to me by the university, coupled by the fantastic instruction I received from all of my professors (not just Ji Hye), left a lasting impact on my confidence and leadership skills, and really helped me shine a light down the previously dark tunnel of my career.  Especially in the last year of my studies, my musicology professor turned classical and romantic era music history from a surface level review of past events into a study of patterns and insightful reflections that finally bridged the gap between what I want to do with my career and how that relates to all of the music that's happened before me.  I had my first experience playing in a upper-level wind ensemble (as opposed to the entry-level wind ensemble at Peabody) and got to watch my professor receive a standing ovation after performing a concerto with us at the brand-new Kauffman Center in Kansas City.  I never thought I would love playing in an orchestra in which half the string section were volunteering non-music majors, but the passion of the director made me have no choice but to love the music we were playing as much as he did.  And for the first time since high school, I finally feel like a real jazz player again. I moved past my greatest concerns in jazz being keeping the form and catching all the chord changes to much deeper pondering of the greater picture of a performance and the relationship between my ego and my instrument.

Of course, the person who had the single greatest impact on me was the person who brought me to Kansas, Ji Hye Jung.  I'm even a little hesitant to try to type anything, because I don't really know if I can adequately put into words how much gratitude I have.  Ji Hye went far and beyond what her job required of her to do for me.  She didn't just teach me, she developed me: not only as a musician, but as a professional and as a person.  She was harder on me than anyone has ever been when I needed to hear it, but was still sensitive enough to help me through my most vulnerable moments with care and understanding.  It was as if making me a better musician just wasn't enough for her, and I don't know many other teachers who are willing to invest the amount of time and energy it takes to completely change somebody's life. For that, I'm deeply indebted.  I really don't know how to repay this level of generosity... I guess I can only hope that I can do for somebody else what she's done for me.
 
This summer, I will be returning to Germany for my second (and most likely final) run of the Neue Eutiner Festspiele.  I had a great time last year, and am looking forward to going back.  I don't know too much about it now, but I'm optimistic that this year will offer many new opportunities for me. In the mean time, I'll be spending a good bit of time working on my professional front (such as the design updates to this blog!), including hopefully getting an actual website up and running.  I've also got a number of musical projects I'm working on--most recently, I've finished uploading all of the videos I can (minus one that has technical difficulties) from my recital, as well as all of the videos of the KU Jazz Combo I performance at the Lawrence Arts Center this spring. I've done recording sessions for Peter Klatzow's Variations on a Theme by Paganini and Joseph Schwantner's Velocities since my recital that I hope to have edited and uploaded soon, as well as video for Brian Scarborough's second album recording project.  I'm also working on my first film score! It's a very short film, but I'm happy to finally collaborate with Doug Horak for the first time in many years.

From here on out, I really intend to try to update more often.  Now that school is over, I'll have a lot more time to think, and with time to think comes time to write.  Follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Google+ or YouTube to keep up with my updates.

Once again, thank you KU.  I had no idea how big of an impact you would have on me. Special thanks to Ji Hye Jung, of course, as well as Dan Gailey, David Neely, Paul Popiel, and Alicia Levin for being a big part of my transformation here--I couldn't have done it without you.  I never thought I'd say it (and I still feel really uncomfortable saying it), but I guess I'll just get it over with:

Rock chalk.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

The future

In getting ready for my recital, my mind has also been swirling with thoughts about the future of the music industry.  My guess is that it's a combination of not being in school, constantly running around to get things done, and trying to cram as much practicing into every day as possible--regardless, it's been making my head spin.  Tom Burritt, professor of percussion at the University of Texas at Austin, as well as the maintainer of the percussion-centered community drumchattr, posted a question essentially asking if we, as percussionists, are finally becoming the driving force of contemporary music.

I posted a pretty long-winded response, addressing his question but also proposing many of my own observations and hypotheses.  It was a long enough response that I figured it warranted it's own blog entry.  So without further ado, here it is:

--

I think one of the most fascinating areas of "musicology," if you could call it that, is the analysis of the present musical climate and the speculation of what's to come. The points you've brought up and the questions you've asked, while pertaining to percussion, also reflect some serious speculation about the future of the industry as a whole.

When I started grad school, I ranked "deficient" in every period of musicology--from the middle ages to 20th century. I'm actually pretty thankful about this, because the level of concentrated study I had to do in order to keep up really helped guide my own views and goals as a musician. I guess the one thing I was left with overall is that nothing in music changes without a reason. Without the significant changes to society, the economy, and most importantly, technology, music would not have evolved much at all. As I finish my last semester of musicology, I finally feel like everything is coming together to create a logical historical narrative--one from which I can use to speculate the next chapter.

I think, in a few decades from now, musicologists will begin to start placing the date in which "20th-century period music" ends and "21st-century period music" begins, and my best guess would be to place it somewhere between 1980 and 2010. At the ripe age of 24, it's not really easy for me to confidently define a musical period as ending before I was born, but the criteria that I'm using is the shift from the dominant compositional innovations pertaining to experimentalism and re-definition of music (through innovators like Schoenberg, Cage, Reich, Ives, and others who leveled the playing field on what music and art can be) to composers of music for mass media consumption--composers like John Williams, for example.

What happened in the period of time I offered was the explosion of communicative technology--in 1980, you sent letters, worried about long distance phone call charges, and listened to music in analog formats only. By 2010, internet speeds fast enough to video chat with someone in another country were commonplace, concerns about long distance charges were replaced by concerns over how much data your smartphone was eating, and music was immediately available all the time through YouTube, iTunes, and other streaming sources and online marketplaces. This is also responsible for the new preference for eclecticism we see in young listeners today--so many different styles of music are immediately available, having a playlist skip from hip-hop to bebop to dubstep isn't really that shocking anymore.

Because of the way media has permeated into our lives, through movies, television, video games, and other things, the music connected to this media plays an important social role as well. When my 17 year old sister hang out with her friends, I always notice how whatever they listen to depends on the group she's with. Just like how our movies and tv shows use music to establish an atmosphere, we do this with our everyday lives. With the wide variety of styles immediately available to us, this has never been easier.

So how does the success of a percussionist in contemporary music reflect this? In society today, once again responding to technology, there's an expectation of versatility and immediate convenience. We expect our phones to take pictures, we expect our video game systems to play movies, and we expect our computers to do everything. This level of convenience is beginning to become expected, and is why digitally-produced music is slowly replacing live recorded music in our media. That all being said, live performances still play an important role in society, and composers and producers alike still rely on performers.

Percussionists, by default, are extremely versatile. Nowadays, a percussionist has to be proficient at mallet instruments, drumming, timpani playing, and anything else thrown our way. The expectation of playing anything thrown at us--whether actually percussive or not--has been integrated into our path of study. We are, in many ways, the "smartphone" of an instrumental ensemble. I think composers trust percussionists more, in this regard, to be able to keep up with the rapidly rising expectation of convenience and immediacy through this versatility. So yes, we serve as strictly "color and texture" less frequently now, because composers are realizing the advantages to working with musicians who can be color, texture, melody, harmony, and groove--and switch between roles quickly.

I think the other circumstance that sets us apart is that our tradition is simply much younger than other instruments. Violins have a long timeline, spanning hundreds of years, in which their instrument has developed, and in which their greatest repertoire has been written. Percussion, however, has a much shorter timeline, and most of our important repertoire was written in the last 100 years. Percussionists don't have as much trouble "adjusting" to contemporary music because we're already used to playing it. For this reason, we're already more willing to play in various settings and styles, appealing to the "new eclecticism" I alluded to above. I think So Percussion is a great example of this--they aren't afraid of mixing classically rooted compositional techniques with a popular aesthetic. I think their collaborations with Dan Deacon and Matmos are prime examples of this, and the minimalist-pop style of Jason Treuting's compositions are really beginning to define the sound of this group.

Whoops, I didn't mean to write an essay here, but these things that you've brought up are things that I think about a lot. It is an exciting time to be a percussionist, but it's an exciting time for music in general. Music's role in society is changing in a big way; I think we all need to take advantage of what our discipline has provided us to keep up with these changes so that we don't get left in the dust, clinging to a tradition of music that may very well be reserved for the textbooks soon.

--

I'm particularly interested in this idea of "new eclecticism;" the more I think about it, the more I want to shape my career around that concept.  Thoughts?

Monday, January 23, 2012

No More School

I think it's only fair to share this, considering it's been such a major recurring theme in my blog entries:

I've decided not to audition for Yale or Curtis this year.

This winter break was a really productive one for me.  In addition to practicing a lot, I got to perform quite a bit as well.  My parents and I played the midnight mass at Saint Joseph's Cathedral in Hartford on Christmas Eve--the very first gig where all three of us were playing together.  A few weeks later, I went down to MAGfest in D.C.  Not only did I have a blast, but I met a bunch of new composers and made connections I hadn't thought possible to make at MAGfest before.  Once that was done, I prepared for my show with Medicine Lake--as usual, it was awesome. And then I came back here.

I had kind of forgotten that I had an ensemble audition for school, so I frantically crammed for that audition.  As my schedule filled up, my heart sank--I was back in school, back in academia.  And what did I have to look forward to?  Getting ready to audition for more school.

It didn't take long for me to realize that what I wanted to get ready for was my career.  I was no long excited about the idea of going to Yale, or Curtis, or any other prestigious school where I would work my butt off and get really good.  Why?  Because I've been working my butt off and getting really good, and quite frankly, I'm getting tired of it.  But to actually reap the rewards--to actually be hired and get paid and be respected as a professional musician, and not a student with potential... this is why I've worked this hard in the first place.  This is what I want now.

This semester is now a lot more exciting for me.  I feel like next year has unlimited potential.  Anything can happen, but I have to work for it.  My priorities this semester will shift from preparing an audition to finishing my degree and finding work.

I am still auditioning for New England Conservatory's Contemporary Improvisation program--mainly because it's something I've never had before, and preparing for it will also be preparing me for the direction of work that I'm interested in.  There are a few main things I'm interested in pursuing right now:  teaching, gigging (with any type of ensemble), and doing "studio" work.  By studio work, I don't mean move to LA and try to be successful in the big recording studios (though, that might something I try down the road).  I'm more interested in collecting the appropriate equipment to have my own personal recording studio, and record myself for independent composers' projects. This is what I will focus on when I audition for NEC.

I've started a project today, in pursuit of this goal.  What if someone contacted me, needing music for something on short notice?  Would my improvisational chops be strong enough to spit out a fitting work in a day's time?  To practice this, as well as start to build a library of music, I've starting what I'm dubbing (for now) my "Improvised Soundtrack" project.  Basically, every day (or as close to this as I can), I'm going to improvise a short theme that could be used as background music in a piece of media--a movie, tv show, video game, commercial, whatever.  I might do just marimba, just vibraphone, maybe some percussion, maybe even a combination of all of them, if I have the time.  I did the first installment of this today:


I think I am headed in the right direction--and I'm really excited about this semester because of it.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Tendonitis of the brain

I took classical music history this past semester in order to fufil one of the musicology diagnostic exams I failed (I failed all of them). I felt like I was learning everything for the first time, which makes sense given my less-than-stellar undergraduate study habits. It wasn't until we got to Beethoven that things began to feel familiar again; I didn't start paying attention in my undergraduate class until Beethoven.

In musical academia, we tend to idolize Beethoven as the tragic hero of romanticism--a man who fought poverty, addiction, and ultimately his own loss of hearing, and was still able to express his artistry through music. His famed Heiligenstadt Testament provides us with a direct account of Beethoven's struggles from the composer himself:
Oh, how could I possibly admit an infirmity in the one sense which ought to be more perfect in me than others, a sense which I once possessed in the hightést perfection, a perfection such as few in my profession enjoy or ever have enjoyed. – Oh I cannot do it... (full text here)
I remembered this quote vividly from my undergraduate class. In fact, I remember the profound emotional reaction I had when reading this quote. You see, the reason I started paying attention when we got to Beethoven in my undergrad was because that was when my injury had fully manifested itself. I could no longer play, so my attention turned towards my academics. Reading this document hit close to home because frankly, I felt the same way.

There are some fairly significant psychological implications of tendonitis and other musical-related injuries, and affects students and teachers alike. I've gotten to a point in my career now that I have been on both sides of this fence.  When dealing with an injury, whether it be your own injury or a student's, there are a couple of things I want to bring to the surface.

1. It's not your fault. 

 For some reason, we human being have a funny fixation with needing to find a scapegoat for all circumstances in which we find ourselves. Identifying the cause of the injury and blaming somebody for it are not the same thing.  More often than not, an injury like tendonitis is rooted in "too much playing."  For a student, that means they are practicing quite a bit.  This puts teachers in a really awkward place.  Is it the teacher's fault for making his or her students practice too much?  Or is it the student's fault for not practicing more responsibly?

From personal experience, let me assure you that I never once blamed my teacher for what happened to me.  My injury stemmed out of a combination of an incomplete understanding of technique, poor practice habits and a whole lot of enthusiasm.  As a teacher, you have to push your students to work hard.  If your student develops a repetitive stress injury because they are trying to do well, the only thing you can be held accountable for is not providing them with proper guidance to heal their injury.

That being said, the worst thing a teacher can do is come down on their student, or allow the student to place the blame on his or herself.  Tendonitis should not be a punishment for working too hard.  Remember, more often than not, this injury came about with the best of intentions.  You want your students to practice a lot, so for a student to feel at fault for practicing too much can be extremely detrimental to his or her success.  Remember, placing blame is irrelevant--focus on identifying the problem and healing the injury.

2. There's nothing wrong with you


When I was injured, I spent way too much time looking for answers in the wrong places.  Instead of searching for a solution to my problem, I spent too much time searching for the cause.  Remember that whole "placing blame" thing I was just going on about?  I was trying to figure out why I was having problems, while nobody else was.

Look, the fact of the matter is getting injured isn't really that unusual.  It is concerning, alarming, even devastating, sure, but it's not unusual.  This is something that I feel like a lot of teachers haven't come to terms with yet, especially those who did not grow up in the digital age.  Society today demands a lot more use of your fingers and arms than ever before--texting, typing, and clicking are all repetitive stressed that get added on top of your regular practicing.  To sustain a repetitive-stress injury is a big deal for a musician--but it's not uncommon.

Don't forget--as musicians, what we do with our bodies is on par with Olympic athletes, just with smaller muscles.  If an athlete injures themselves while training, it's not terribly surprising--in fact, it's so common, that "sports medicine" is a viable career option for many aspiring physicians and therapists.  No matter how young you start playing, or how strong you are, or even how responsibly you practice, you are not invincible.  If your rely on athleticism in your career, whether it be running, constant computer use, or playing marimba, you are asking your body to perform to it's extremes.

So, why is it that some people deal with injury, while others never do?  The answer is simple enough: everybody's different.  I can't really say for sure what it is that prevents person a from sustaining person b's injury, even when they are following the exact same course of study.  Once again--placing blame isn't going to help.  There are instances where a pre-existing condition may cause somebody to be more prone to injury than others, but chances are you would already know about it before you became injured.  For this reason, teachers can have a hard time understanding why their students are dealing with injuries that they never had.  Just remember--your students are different people, growing up in a different time.

3. Do something about it


I'll tell you more about what to do in future blog entries, but what I need to make clear now is that your injury will not go away on it's own.  This was probably my biggest mistake when I first began dealing with my injury.  Taking time off from playing does not heal you.  I can't stress this enough.  In fact, I'm going to say it again, in it's own paragraph:

Taking time off from playing does not heal you.


David Shulman, the Towson-based physical therapist who was largely responsible for healing my injuries, would always tell me: "If taking time off could fix your arms, I wouldn't have a job.  You would go to the doctor, be evaluated, and the doctor would pull out his book, and say 'you have tendonitis--I'm prescribing three months of rest.'  But that's not how it works."

Time does not heal all wounds.  Our bodies are equipped to handle healing things like a cut or a scrape or a bruise or anything else that happens in the daily struggle to survive.  However, playing an instrument is not natural and our bodies aren't equipped to naturally rectify the ailments associated with it.  When you sustain a music-related injury, it is something you have done to your body over a long period of time.  Therefore, you need to do something to your body to get rid of it.  If I had known this from the beginning, my injury would have been much less severe, and would have healed much more quickly.

That being said, it's important to consider the distinction between being sore or tired from a long day of practicing, and actual pain caused by an injury.  If you've been practicing a lot and your arms feel really tired, than you need to stretch, rest, and let them recover.  If you are experiencing pain and discomfort for an extended period of time after practicing from an isolated area, especially if it is painful to touch, you have reason to be concerned.  I'm not a doctor, and I can only speak of my own experiences.  The best I can do is tell you to listen to and trust your body.  It will be very clear when enough is enough.

4. Don't be afraid to play your instrument


This is really a post-injury concern, but is certainly worth addressing.  One of the longest side effects of tendonitis I dealt with was being afraid of having any tension in my body at all.  As I became able to play for longer periods of time, it took me a while to be willing to get a lot of sound out of my instrument, or conjure up more violent and tense spirits in my music that I was able to perform before.

It takes a certain amount of tension to play your instrument.  As I recovered from my injury, I spent a lot of time focusing on reducing the amount of tension in my playing.  I had a lot of really bad habits, and over a long time, managed to get rid of most of them.  However, when it came time for me to play music that demanded a more agressive, violent, or otherwise emotionally tense character, I was pretty unwilling to do this.  Tension is something that needs to be harnessed, not feared.


There are certain parts of your body that hold tension better than others, and there are more appropriate times for those parts of the body to hold that tension.  This is something that I'll go into more detail in when I talk about different muscle groups and their uses.  What needs to be avoided is constant, unnecessary use of tension.  This tension, more often than not, stems from poor technique, and can lead to an injury.  However, proper and efficient use of tension is not damaging, and more musically effective.

Remember that there are ways of reversing the effects of tension, such as massage, stretching, and exercise. The most important thing to know is that while tension should be avoided, do not let the fear of tension negatively impact your playing.  We are musicians first and foremost--even if you recover from your injury, you haven't really fully recovered if you cannot play your instrument the way the music you're playing demands.

Anyway, I want to leave you with one thought.  And it was my thought, during the midst of all of this:

This is what you get for trying too hard.


All of the points I brought up can go back to feeling this statement.  Trying to place blame, trying to understand why I was injured in the first place, trying to figure out what to do about it, and even after I began to heal--it all came back to this idea.  But, I consider myself fully recovered now because I've gotten over this attitude.  My injury, and the process of recovery, lasted about two years.  But without confronting this attitude, it could have lasted for much longer.

I'll leave this here for the time being, but I'm sure there is plenty left to be discussed.  I would love to hear your input!  This is part of a larger project for me, so any ideas, criticisms, and suggestions are welcome.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Back in that chair in the sky...

I guess doing this whole blog thing doesn't really work if all of my updates happen once every few months. Sorry 'bout that.

I could type for days and days about my adventures in Germany, as well as my adventures in school this semester. Things have finally drawn to a close now, and I'm typing this sitting in the Chicago Midway International Airport, one hour into my three-hour layover. I've done all the grading I can do away from an internet connection, so before I arrive home, I thought I would jot down some thoughts I've been wanting to share for a while.

In preparing for my recital next semester (as well as a number of other auditions and competitions I will be pursuing), my professor finally gave me the o.k. to take a stab at learning Joseph Schwatner's Velocities. For those of you not familiar with the world of advanced marimba repertoire, Velocities is a very popular piece that a lot of marimbists attempt to play. It is extremely difficult; it covers the entire range of the keyboard, features numerous rapid interval changes, requires for the performer to use both the head and the shaft of the mallet against the bars, and to top it all off: the piece is a moto perpetuo—the performer isn't allowed any breaks for the entirety of the work.

Normally, I'm not one for showy pieces—I'm certainly impressed when I see one played well, but I'm much more interested in the artistry and musicianship of a performer than his or her technical capacity. A lot of the repertoire that shows off technique normally doesn't suit my fancy particularly well, but Velocities is an exception. Schwatner's intervallic continuity is consistent and precise—resulting in lots of open sonorities that I've always been attracted to. The first time I had ever heard a really well done performance of Velocities, I fell in love.

My love for Velocities wasn't free from complication, however. My first experiences listening to velocities were during the beginning of my encounter with tendonitis—an encounter that would ultimately claim two years of my undergraduate experience. As I watched one of my classmates play Velocities in a studio class (and quite well, at that), I found myself thinking “wow, his arms must be killing him!” about halfway through his performance. It was then that I realized that, no, his arms didn't hurt, because he didn't have that problem. I did.

This was one of the first times that I began to question the reality of my career choice. What kind of a percussionist am I expecting to be if I can't even play my instrument for five minutes? I had to leave the studio class for a few minutes to regain my composure.

Well, as far as my experiences are concerned, that was a long time ago. As far as I'm concerned, I've made a full recovery. Or at least, enough of a recovery that I can be a functional percussionist again. I've made a lot of changes, both in my practicing and in my lifestyle, to facilitate my career goals. I've been fortunate enough to have found some great help along the way, but ultimately, I had to learn for myself how to fix my problems. And now, I've got the score to Velocities in my stick bag pocket, ready to devote this winter break to learning it. For me, Velocities is the final boss in my battle with tendonitis. If I can play this piece, I can play anything.

Now all of this isn't for me to lament my “eternal struggle” with repetitive stress injuries. Rather, it's to share what this journey has inspired me to do. In trying to overcome my injuries, I was presented with far more obstacles than solutions—ignorance, misinformation, and to a certain extent, even malpractice. I couldn't believe how little information was available to a musician—especially a percussionist—who was dealing with an RSI. I should stress that the information I needed wasn't along the lines of “stretch, take breaks, use heat/ice,” and the other suggestions I received ad infinitum from only somewhat-informed percussionists and medical practitioners. Though these folks had the best of intentions, their advice was too little and too late for someone in my position. What I needed was someone who was fully aware of what was going on in my arms, and what needed to be done to fix it.

Now, don't get me wrong—I'm not a doctor, or a physician, or a therapist, or a brain surgeon, or anything else it might sound like I'm claiming to be in my writing. However, I've learned through my own experiences what my problems were, what caused them, and how they can be fixed. The amount of literature available to percussionists who share my situation is remarkable limited. Therefore, I would like to try my hand at writing an article about the injuries percussionists can get, and what can be done to prevent and fix them.

Hey, look at that! This plane has wifi too. Looks like I'll be posting from a chair in the sky again. Anyway, for the next few blog entries, I'm going to write a couple sample portions of this potential article I would like to write. I also my accompany them with some video instruction as well. With enough detail work, perhaps I can generate enough content to provide a fairly comprehensive guide for percussionists to help cope with, treat and avoid injuries altogether. It will be tough to find time for this... I've got a lot of music to learn, and not a lot of time to learn it. But—I think I'm pretty fortunate to get to try learning Velocities this year, and I would be humbled to help ensure that all other percussionists could have that opportunity as well.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Photos


Well, the internet situation here has gotten better, and I'm currently uploading all of the photos I've taken thus far. I'll post a few highlights in this post:

The Barn where we had our first performance
The Bethesda Haus, our residence
Shane Nickels, one of our percussionists
One of the many gardens in Eutin
The Eutin Marktplatz

We've had a number of successful performances of both Don Giovanni and Hänsel und Gretel now, and have gotten mostly positive reviews in the papers, which is fairly encouraging. Tonight is the large chamber ensemble concert--a program I'm not involved in, but will include works such as Mozart Symphony No. 21, Barber's Adagio for Strings, and Copland's Fanfare for the Common Man. I'll post more pictures soon--anyone who is connected to me on Facebook or Google+ will be able to see all of the photos I've taken, but I will only post a select few here!